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All the Time in the World Chapter 4 is Out

The Party does their best to navigate their mental health and school

Warning for discussion of mental health, meds, panic attacks, etc.

Fic under the cut for my non-Ao3 friends:)

(if you do have an ao3 please come say hi💕💕)

Mike plays a round of musical chairs with the therapists they’ve got on hand. The first one is an older man that immediately makes him think of Brenner. It only takes ten minutes into the session before they both agree it’s not a good fit. Mike has to go hide in the bathroom with his head between his knees until he stops hyperventilating.

He puts off trying again until the following week.

The next doctor is a nice, smiley younger man. His eyes are very bright. Mike doesn’t know why he’s so uncomfortable with the guy, because he’s really kind. But he can’t bring himself to open up at all—he ends up snapping at him and walking out.

The doctor he finally settles on is a middle aged lady with red-brown hair and a face softened by age. Her name is Dr. Jackson. She reminds him, a little bit, of Joyce—kind but unwilling to take bullshit. Maybe that’s why Mike feels so safe with her.

He manages to get through that first getting-to-know-you session with only minor anxiety, which he’s going to count as a win. Now that it’s with a person he feels comfortable actually talking to, it’s a lot easier than he expected it to be. She offers him tidbits about her own life throughout the session—allowing it to feel less like a spotlight’s on him, more like they’re just having a conversation.

Afterwards, he meets up with Will to exchange notes on the encounter. It’s probably not what you’re supposed to—Mike thinks he’s maybe supposed to keep what happens in therapy to himself. But he doesn’t know for sure, and they don’t tell each other too much--so it’s probably fine.

Will tells him that his therapist doesn’t remind him of anyone, which is how Will prefers it.

“I’d rather make new memories with this new person,” he says softly.

Her name is Dr. Hewlett, but Will’s been told he can call her Janet.

Janet specializes in different kinds of trauma therapy, and she’s told Will that he might do well with art therapy.

Will’s obviously pleased that he’ll get to do what he normally does anyway—but later that week he shows up to Mike's house after his first art therapy looking drained. The area around his eyes is red and puffy. And he practically collapses into Mike’s arms the moment they’re hidden away in his room, curling around Mike like a limpet.

“Are you okay? Was it bad?”

Will sighs into Mike’s neck. “Not…bad, just a lot. I thought—I dunno—it’d be easier to be detached from what traumas I was drawing, but I couldn’t do it. The moment I tried, it stopped feeling like drawing and started feeling the way it felt to map out the Upside Down tunnels.”

A spark of fear must make its way through their connection, because Will rushes to elaborate. “This time they were genuinely just a flashback, promise.”

Still, the brief scare makes Mike wrap all his limbs around Will and press kisses to his face. “I’m so sorry you had to feel like that again,” he whispers. Will sniffles and hides his face in Mike’s hair. Mike feels himself tearing up, reacting to his boyfriend’s grief. But between the warm contact and the whispered words of comfort exchanged, they both eventually calm down.

And Will’s next art therapy the following week goes much better than the first. Will still shows up at Mike’s teary-eyed and tired, but this time he looks a lot less harried. And he’s exuding a sort-of calm into their mental link that makes Mike feel pleasantly sleepy. And this is helpful, because Mike’s been stressed out himself.

It’s slightly bad timing that they’ve started therapy the same time that they go back to school. If Mike didn’t have the happy newness of his relationship with Will, he thinks he’d probably spiral. Like he had at the beginning of freshman year.

As it is, he’s still pretty anxious about separating from his friends during school time. Thankfully (?) they’re in the same boat, so he doesn’t have to worry about seeming clingy to them. And also thankfully, at least one Party member is in each of his classes (Max, once she’s out of the hospital, will share three). They’re all grouped together for Study Hall, and have doctor's notes that prevent the teachers from separating them. (Mike is particularly happy about this, as, when they were younger, teachers knew to spread them out—usually because of him. He’s never been great about sitting still or keeping his mouth shut. The only teacher that hadn’t separated them was Mr. Clarke, who seemed to empathize with Mike. As well as having picked the Party as his favorites, obviously.)

Since Hawkins and the towns surrounding it are only now (in October) letting kids go back to school, they’re told that it will likely cut into at least a month of summer. Normally this would bother Mike, as he’s historically loved summer, but, weirdly, he’s missed school. He’s missed the normality of it. And, despite it just starting, Sophomore year is turning out to be infinitely better than Freshman year—it’s not a difficult standard to beat, what with there not being any murders (knock on wood) or anymore Upside Down bullshit. But, Mike thinks it’s so much better because Will is back where he belongs.

With Mike the Party.

(The Byers and El being back in general make daily life in Hawkins more bearable.)

It makes Mike more willing to try hard at school, and—at his mom’s gentle request—join a club. Or, maybe, rejoin a club. He’s still holding out hope that they’ll be able to restart Hellfire. Dustin’s gone to the front office to make their case. In the meantime, though, Mike’s trying to make a mental list of other clubs he’d be willing to try if Hellfire is a no-go, while he waits for the others to join him for lunch.

He knows Will will likely go for art club. But even though he loves his boyfriend, Mike has no drawing ability, so he likely won’t join him. He’s not sure if Lucas is returning to basketball (though based on how Lucas has been avoiding those guys, probably not), but even if Mike’s leg weren’t broken, he’s still got no real standout athletic prowess. So that’s out as well.

He’s beginning to get antsy, sitting at their table alone, by the time Dustin’s slouches into the seat beside him with a grumpy huff. Mike sighs, not the least bit surprised.

“No luck on getting Hellfire back, huh?”

Dustin groans. “Course not. ‘The wound is just too raw, Mr. Henderson. Try again next year.’ Fucking bullshit.” He grumbles and puts his head on the table. “The good news is, last time I talked to Steve, he offered up his house for Hellfire nights. Eddie and Mr. Munson are still there, so…”

“So at least we can still play, even if it’s not ‘school official’.”

“Yeah.”

They sit in silence for a moment.

“Hey, do you know why Steve’s parents are never home?”

Dustin shrugs. “It’s not really my place to talk about it, but safe to say—they make your dad look like Mrs. Byers in comparison.”

By that, Mike knows, Dustin is talking about how his dad is mostly hands off, except to berate his children. The man has a special talent for making everyone feel bad about themselves (except Dustin, who is immune). If Steve’s parents are worse than Ted Wheeler…Mike feels an abrupt surge of sympathy for Steve.

And, knowing if he were in Steve’s place, Mike wouldn’t want a non-friend discussing this, Mike changes the subject. “So we’ll talk to the other club members about what days after school are good for them.”

“We’ll have to work around their shit and all our—” Here Dustin pauses, clearly cognisant of the fact that they’re at school. “—important appointments.”

“It’s gonna be fucking annoying,” Mike grumbles, picking at his chicken sandwich (which had gone cold practically by the time he first sat down). “Owens didn’t even have the decency to make sure we all have them on the same days.”

Dustin snorts and rolls his eyes. “Whatever, we’ll find a way to work it out.”

“In the meantime, my mom is still ‘strongly encouraging’ me to join another club.”

“You too, huh?” Mike’s favorite voice says.

Will plops down beside Mike, El shortly behind her brother. “Mom wants us to be more social,” he tells them. “She doesn’t want what happened in Lenora to happen here.” He’s methodical in unpacking his lunchbox, like always, but Mike’s trying hard not to stare at his hands. There’s a bit of paint left on them from art class—it makes Mike want to lace their hands together, for some reason. He’s barely listening to the brewing half-argument going on.

El huffs at her brother. “It won’t. I have our friends here.” She crosses her arms. “And I could take care of people bullying our friends too.”

Will sighs. “El, you’re my sister, I love you, and—in retrospect—Angela getting clocked in the face with a skate was objectively hilarious and a tiny bit deserved, but you can’t hurt every awful person. Schools are always full of them.”

“I mean, if you wanna make a bully pee their pants again,” Dustin says, but cuts himself off at the look Will levels at him. “Nevermind, I am staying out of the sibling chat.”

“I won't hurt a bully unless they really deserve it,” El concedes, pouting. “If we have another Angela I will simply tell Max and she will ‘verbally—” She pauses to mentally sound out whatever she’s quoting (likely from Max herself). “—'eviscerate’ them.”

Dustin laughs. “I think that’s a fine compromise!”

El beams smugly. “Thank you Dustin.”

Will sighs and leans tiredly into Mike the tiniest bit.

Don’t you just love being the middle child? Mike mentally prods, a little gleefully. Will gives him a kick.

They go back to talking about clubs.

“Will and I are going to join the art club,” El tells them proudly. “I like making things out of clay.”

Will smiles at his sister. “You’ve gotten really good,” he praises. “I can’t wait to see what you make.”

“That’s really cool, El!” Dustin says brightly. “Maybe you could make DnD figurines. Like that kickass painting Will made for Mike!”

Mike chokes on his chocolate pudding. “Maybe not exactly like the painting,” he wheezes out, immediately flustered. Will laughs, patting his back. The warm, pleasant touch raises goosebumps, even through Mike’s shirt. He hopes Will can’t feel them.

“Whatever you decide to make,” Will tells his sister, easily steering the subject away from his painting. “It’ll turn out awesome—bitchin’.”

El beams. “Bitchin’,” she agrees.

“So that’s Will and El settled,” Mike says, once the chocolate pudding is free from his lungs. “I’m shit at art and there’s no AV club here, so I dunno what the rest of us are gonna do.”

You’re not shit at art, Will silently reprimands, gentle.

Tell that to my stick figures, Mike replies dryly.

Dustin’s got a contemplative expression on his face. “I mean, Robin says Mr. Hauser is always looking for people for the theater club.”

Mr. Hauser is their English 10 teacher, and, also according to Robin, the best teacher. He seems pretty okay so far, but Mike’s reserving judgment until he gets to know the man—it'll be hard to beat out Mr. Clarke.

Still, Mike considers Dustin’s suggestion. “I think I remember that you were in the middle school drama club, yeah? Was it fun?”

“I mean, I thought so, yeah.” Dustin sighs. “Even if too many people dropped out to ever do a full show. You wanna give theater a try?”

Mike chews on his lip. “If you will, I will.” He’s not totally certain if he’ll be comfortable performing anything—but if his anxiety wins out, he can do tech stuff.

“Hey,” Will interrupts suddenly, wringing his hands together. “Did Lucas never show up?”

Mike shakes his head. “I’ve been keeping an eye out for you guys since I got here. I haven’t seen him since last period.”

Will gets to his feet. “I’m going to look for him.” And he’s gone before Mike can offer to join.

Will finds Lucas sitting outside, watching some other teenagers play a game of pick up basketball. He’s folding and unfolding a creased piece of paper. He doesn’t move when Will sits down beside him. Will gives him the gentlest of nudges.

“What’s wrong, Lucas?”

Lucas sighs and slumps against Will. Will automatically puts an arm around Lucas’s shoulder, giving him what he hopes is a comforting squeeze. The contact makes Lucas’s breath hitch and he turns to hide his face against Will’s arm.

After a moment, he speaks.

“Coach asked me to come back to basketball,” Lucas mumbles against Will’s shoulder. “But I don’t…I don’t really feel safe around those guys anymore. Not after last year. It really sucks, too, because I genuinely like basketball and I’m good at it—it’s just one more thing this whole situation’s ruined.”

Will hugs him, feeling a little helpless. This last year, Will’s seen Lucas sad, legitimately depressed—but that was because of grief. He lost his friend Patrick, and he nearly lost Max. Grief and trauma, Will can relate to and empathize with. But he doesn’t know how to help with this.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. He watches the pickup game for a moment, before his brain sparks with an idea. “What about—I’m probably not great at basketball, but I’d play a couple games with you…if you want, I mean,” he adds shyly. “And I’m sure Steve would love to! And I know I could convince Jonathan.”

Lucas lifts his head to give Will a fond look. “That’d be fun,” he says. He sighs and sits up, looking a little less down. Will takes that as his cue to stop hugging. Lucas sticks the flier he’s been fiddling with in his pocket.

“Unfortunately, Dustin says the DnD club has been banned for this year,” Will says, and begins to catch Lucas up to speed on the Party’s earlier conversation. “You can join me and El at art club, if you’d like—or Mike and Dustin were thinking about joining theater?”

“I’m not any good at art, Will.”

It frustrates Will, a little bit, that neither Lucas or Mike think they’re artistic. “As someone who has watched you create and change your DnD character over the years, that’s not true at all. Maybe you just haven’t found the right medium yet.”

Lucas shrugs noncommittally. “Maybe.”

Will sighs. “Or, I mean, I’ve heard you sing, Lucas. Theater club would be lucky to have you. I know Mike and Dustin would say so too.”

Then he pauses, thinking about the third idea he has—one he’s not even brought up to Mike yet. “The other thought I had was asking Mr. Clarke if he’d be willing to combine the middle school and high school AV club.”

“The high school doesn’t have an AV club, does it?”

“Well, no, but we could start one. And if Mr. Clarke agrees, then maybe we could talk to Erica—”

Lucas snorts. “Good luck convincing her to try something as outwardly nerdy as AV, Will. DnD is the exception to the rule, her words, not mine.”

Will shrugs. “Won’t hurt anything but my pride to ask.”

The others agree that it’s a good idea, though Mike clearly shares Lucas’s skepticism on how Erica will react.

“She’s gonna bully us about it,” he predicts, as the five of them make their way over to the middle school at the end of the day.

“Sure, but she won’t mean it,” Dustin shoots back. It’s a little bit funny and sweet, in Will's opinion, that he’d come back from California to find Erica and Dustin as fairly solid friends. She’s integrated herself into the Party nearly seamlessly, though she bickers with Lucas like usual. She’s a good addition, in Will’s opinion.

Mike and Dustin turn out to both be correct. Erica rolls her eyes and sighs (a little bit fondly, Will notes) when she finds them all sitting outside the middle school. “What are you nerds doing loitering around the middle school?” Then she narrows her eyes. “If this is anything like the last time a couple of you showed up—”

Dustin gives Erica a guilty grin. “Will had a cool idea that we wanted to run by you.”

She stares Will down, which he decides to take as an invitation.

“Since the school isn’t going to let us bring back Hellfire—”

Erica interrupts with a frustrated noise. “Of course not. This school is bullshit.”

“Right? Thank you,” Dustin agrees.

Will sighs. “Since Hellfire isn’t an option, I thought maybe we could do the other thing the Party used to do.”

Erica gives a long-suffering sigh. “And I suppose you’re here to recruit me to your nerd electronics club, huh?” When Lucas looks shocked, she smirks. “Yeah dingus, I pay attention.”

“Robin is a bad influence,” he grumbles.

Dustin snickers. “What d’ya say Erica? Wanna come with us while we ask Mr. Clarke about it?”

“What a pleasant surprise,” Mr. Clarke says genuinely, beaming at his former students. “I’m glad to see you all safe and sound. What brings you all around to my little corner of the school?”

The boys all immediately crowd around him, speaking over each other in an attempt to catch Mr. Clarke up. It’s nice. It feels a bit like being twelve again; not yet ruined by the Upside Down, just Will, and his friends, and their favorite teacher.

Still, Mr. Clarke was the original Party’s homeroom teacher, but Will’s heard from Dustin that Erica only has him for science. So it’s not a surprise that she’s not as close with him as the boys are. She and El are hanging slightly back from the impromptu reunion. But they’re grinning at the hubbub, so Will doesn’t feel too guilty about it.

Eventually the teacher holds up his hands in placation, laughing.

“Boys, boys,” he says. “I can’t understand you if you’re all talking at once.”

Will and Lucas, as the main masterminds, are elected to lay out the idea for him: the potential creation of a high school AV club and then the combination of it with the middle school one. The moment the idea crosses Lucas’s lips, Mr. Clarke’s face breaks into a beam.

“I think that’s a fantastic idea!”

“Will came up with it,” Lucas says proudly, and Will blushes as the teacher’s approving beam turns towards him.

Mr. Clarke is one of the few teachers that the Party comes close to trusting implicitly, so they’ve agreed to mention that their scheduling conflicts are from therapy. His eyes are sad but unsurprised; he doesn’t try to get them to try and talk about it thankfully. He just moves on, saying that he’ll have to talk to the students in the club before things move forward.

“As of right now, there are two AV club members,” Mr. Clarke explains. “They joined last year, before the…‘Earthquake’.”

The way Mr. Clarke says that, makes Will think that he maybe knows more of what went on the last year than the rest of the town. But, then, there’s a reason they’ve gone to him so many times with questions. He’s too smart.

Dustin is frowning jokingly. “Didn’t take long to replace us, I see,” he sighs.

“No one could ever replace you,” Mr. Clarke laughs fondly. “But they’re good, smart kids. I think you’ll like them. I’ll talk to them about it, as well as the principles. I’m sure they’ll agree that this is a good idea. In the meantime, see if there are any of your classmates that would be interested as well.”

He doesn’t seem to notice Erica’s quiet snort, or Lucas elbowing her.

“Will do!” Dustin chirps. “It was good to see you, Mr. Clarke.”

The Party go their separate ways: Dustin to go to Steve’s to inform them about Hellfire, Lucas and Erica to the clinic (Tuesdays are their therapy days), and Will, El, and Mike to wait for Jonathan to pick them up.

It’s as they’re waiting outside the high school, that Will hears a familiar voice.

“Will!”

The voice is one he heard over the phone more than a few times last year. Will smiles and allows the warm hug that is suddenly brought on him. “Hi Rosie.”

When she pulls back, Rosie is beaming at him. “It's so good to see you! I heard you stuck around after evacuation—I was worried.”

Will’s kept up some manner of contact with Rosie since they danced together at the Snowball. She, rather quickly, caught on that he didn’t want to date, and they became fairly decent friends. It was nice to have a friend that liked art almost as much as he did. And the summer after eighth grade, when his friends were off dating each other, or, in Dustin’s case, away at camp—sometimes Will would go over to Rosie’s house and draw with her. It was a calming activity and made him feel a lot less lonely. She even listened to him talk about his (ill fated) DnD campaign.

When he moved to Lenora, Rosie was one of the people who kept in regular contact with him. They’d talk on the phone every other Sunday afternoon, after she got home from church. Art was the only thing they really had in common, but Will was happy to listen to her ramble about researching laws, and in return she’d listen to him bemoaning the difficulty of working with paints.

Obviously, after the shoot out at his house and everything that had happened after, he couldn’t exactly call her up to check in. And in the fall out of Vecna taking the upper hand, finding out what happened to her hadn’t exactly been priority number one.

He’s glad she’s okay.

“I’m sorry that I worried you,” Will murmurs, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. “There’s a lot that’s been going on.”

“That’s alright!” Rosie says brightly. There’s no hint of accusation in her voice or face, so Will stuffs down the guilty feeling. “We’ll have to find some time to hang out soon, catch up.”

Will nods, though inwardly he’s a bit worried that with all the Party’s planning on doing, he won’t have time for much else. (Especially if he and Mike keep wanting to have date nights). With the likely new addition of AV club…Hold on…

Will has an idea.

“Hey, what are your thoughts on AV?” he asks.

“Like, videotaping and radio?” She hums at Will’s eager nod. “I think it’s neat and useful.”

Will grins. “Great! Me and my other friends are thinking of starting one for the high school. Would you be interested in joining?”

Rosie hums thoughtfully. “I mean, I’m signing up for the debate team if all goes well, but I’d be willing to add another extracurricular!” She beams. “And it will look nice on a college application!”

Will laughs. Her thinking as far ahead as college when she herself is still a freshman isn’t the least bit surprising to him. He’d watched her study for the SATs the summer before she’d gone into eighth grade. She’s got big plans, and it’s interesting (if a bit intimidating) to watch.

“Awesome, I’ll try to catch up with you once everything is set up.”

She nods. “I gotta go before I miss my bus. Also, our phone line isn’t hooked back up yet, but as soon as it is, you’d better give me your number, Will Byers.”

Will laughs. “If only to keep me safe from the wrath of a future lawyer.”

He waves her off, grinning.

When he turns back to his sister and his boyfriend, Will can immediately tell that Mike’s trying not to pout. “Who was that?”

“That’s Rosie—you remember her, right? She’s the friend I made at the Snowball. You have to promise you’ll be nice to her, okay?”

Will has a few vague memories of Mike’s frown whenever Will turned down trips to the pool to go hang out with Rosie instead. His burn scar had still been healing then, and he hadn’t exactly told any of them about it.

He’s not sure they know about it, even now.

She called you Zombie Boy then, Mike mentally grumps.

Will sighs. And early in our friendship, she knew not to call me that. Just like she instantly knew I didn’t want to date her.

This mollifies Mike, at least a little.

If Will weren’t a fan of keeping busy, he’d say their schedules are a bit too full. As it is, however, he’s glad to have something to fill up the space in his week. He thinks the Party agrees with him, at least a little.

Once Mr. Clarke has things sorted with administration, the Party’s schedule ends up like this: On Mondays, Dustin and Mike have their therapy appointments—Mike at three, Dustin at four. On Tuesdays, Will and El have art club, and Lucas, Erica, and Max have therapy. Every other Wednesday will be Hellfire at Steve’s, once the rest of the (non-Party) club figure out their own schedules. On Thursdays, Mike, Dustin, and Lucas have theater, and Will and El go to therapy. Every other Friday will be AV club, once everything is finished getting set up.

On a day when Will and El visit Max at the hospital, they talk to her about what her schedule might look like once she’s out.

“Lucas has already talked me into AV, of course,” Max says, more than a little fondly. “But I have an extra class I’ll have to go to on Mondays, after school. Picking up on Braille isn’t going as fast as I want it to.” This last part is said with smarting frustration. She’s clearly mad at herself for it.

“I mean, it is an entire language,” Will says gently. “As smart as you are, no one can learn an entire language over the course of a month.”

She scowls in his direction. “It’s still annoying that I’m having such a hard time at it.”

El hums contemplatively. “I would like to continue learning it. Books aren’t the best teachers. Can I come along to your classes?”

Max fidgets with her blanket, looking a little bit shy. “If you want, it’s probably okay, yeah.”

El beams. “And Lucas too?”

“Obviously. As long as it’s just you two.”

Will hides a smile. He’s more sure than ever that El has a crush on Max, but thankfully she doesn’t seem the least bit jealous of Lucas. Good, he wouldn’t want to be in the middle of that fight.

By the end of the month, Mike’s gotten three diagnoses from Dr. Jackson: depression, anxiety, and attention deficit disorder. The first two are far from a shock, but the third only makes sense in retrospect. He thinks about all the times he’d disrupted class when he was younger—never really on purpose, but “a distraction” all the same. And he knows his social skills aren’t the greatest—he doesn’t usually mean to be mean, but sometimes the words that come out of his mouth are a little different than they’d been in his mind.

(It’s not my fault you don’t like girls, rings out in his head, and he cringes.)

Still the definition of what’s been going on inside his brain is a little bit of a relief. At least he knows.

However Mike’s hesitant to go on any medicine. It somehow feels like that would make it more real—that “something is wrong with him”. Dr. Jackson allows him to make the choice.

“What works for one person might be bad for the other,” she tells him calmly. “There’s a lot of factors involved. If you think you’ll be fine on therapy alone, then you don’t have to go on medication.”

Mike grimaces and thinks about the panic attack he had at lunch (too many people too many and too close, and he lost sight of the Party for a brief moment). “Maybe something for the anxiety,” he murmurs, curling and uncurling his hands around the rolled up magazine in his hands (a ‘safer’ replacement for his typical hand wringing and nail biting).

“We can absolutely look into that,” Dr. Jackson says kindly. “I’ll talk to our psychiatrist tomorrow morning and see what we can do for you.”

Mike gives her a tiny smile. Even if he’s on the fence about medicine, he’s warming up therapy. Maybe he can allow himself to be talked around to the other stuff too.

Mike talks to Will about it that evening.

(He’s convinced his mom to let Will stay over, even though it’s a school night; under the guise that they’ll work on homework—If cuddling were a subject, he thinks nonsensically, he and Will would pass with flying colors.)

“What do you think?” Mike asks, feeling shy. He doesn’t think Will is going to judge him, but… “Do you think I’m bad enough that I need medication?”

And there is the crux of the matter. Mike still has trouble understanding why he’s taken everything so hard, when, in his opinion, everyone else has had it much worse than him.

When he mentally relays as much to his boyfriend, Will’s eyes go big and sad, and he cuddles closer to Mike. “Hey, this is not the trauma olympics. You’ve been through some horrible things that I wouldn’t wish on Troy Walsh, let alone you.”

Mike’s laugh is wet with tears. “I mean…”

Will snorts. Then they fall silent, still cuddling.

“I've been on medication since the end of my possession,” he says finally, a little quiet. “Anxiety, antidepressant, and an anti-seizure medicine. Though Janet is thinking about switching one or two out. It helped me, so…”

Mike already knew about his PTSD, and the depression and anxiety make a painful amount sense, but the revelation that Will is on anti-seizure medicine comes as a bit of a shock.

In retrospect, it shouldn’t.

One of Will’s doctors saying “he’s seizing” had intermingled in with the rest of his nightmares in the months after they’d first fought the Mind Flayer. In his thirteen year old brain, however, he’d assumed the two seizures Will had had were anomalies. And eventually that specific nightmare had faded into the background with everything else going on.

Mike kind of wants to go back in time and beat up his younger self. When he relays that thought to Will, his boyfriend flicks his nose. “Stop being mean to yourself. Like I said, you were going through shit too.”

Mike grumbles and hides his face against Will’s neck. “So you think the anxiety medicine is a good idea?”

“I think if you’re comfortable with it, yes.”

So, at Mike’s next appointment, he agrees to start. Dr. Jackson’s colleague (an older man named Dr. Day) sets Mike on a low dose of something called Paroxetine.

“That’s the same anxiety medicine I’m on,” Will tells Mike the next morning. They’re sitting at a picnic table outside the school, waiting for Dustin and Lucas. El has gone to put her bag away.

“And it works?” Mike took his first dose after breakfast, so he’s been slightly nervous to see if there are side effects.

Will nods. “Mmhmm. I switched to it right before we moved to California.”

“It made you sleep a lot the first few weeks,” El says, sitting down beside Will.

Will shrugs. “I adjusted.”

“Maybe I should take it at night,” Mike hums. “I don’t exactly sleep well, so if it’s gonna make me tired anyway…”

“It might not be as effective that way,” Will cautions immediately. “Especially since you’re on a low dose.”

Mike shrugs and decides to wait it out for a while. It’s not even been a day yet, after all.

In the end he chooses to keep taking it in the morning. He’s more likely to remember to take it then, anyway. The stress and exhaustion he feels by the end of the day would make that obligation hard to remember.

And, the Party’s agreed to try and keep each other safe and accountable--they can remind each other. Half of them are on some form of medication now (whether for physical or mental things), and it’s easy to forget to take them.

It’s not just the medicine, however. Sometimes one or more of them stop feeling safe in a setting where it’s hard (socially and/or educationally) to escape to calm down.

As they tend to do, the Party comes up with an appropriately nerdy (great) solution.

Lucas is the one to come up with itt. After that first time he didn’t show up to lunch, worrying the rest of his friends, they all know better than to go off somewhere without telling at least one of the others where they’re going.

He and Will are the ones who have kept up with Morse code the most since learning it in fifth grade—it had been what saved their lives when Will was possessed. It’s useful in a less dire situation now. Once the others have had a refresher course, it’s fairly simple to tap out a short explanation against one of the other’s arms, or against their desk.

Mike is the first one to have to put it into action. It’s nearing the end of the day, and it’s not exactly been a good one. He flubbed a project he had to present in History, his food had tasted off at lunch (so he hadn’t eaten), and now in the last class of the day (math, which Mike only like in context of DnD), he’s put in a group of four to work on classwork. Everyone is talking too loud, and the lights are too bright and he’s queasy from being hungry and he doesn’t want to do geometry right now, especially not with fucking James Dante.

(James hasn’t bullied any of them since Troy moved away, but he’s not exactly apologized for being a douchebag either.)

So Mike’s very close to just walking out of class. He catches Dustin’s eye (thankfully across from him) who gives him a sympathetic grimace.

Trying hard to breath through uncooperative lungs, Mike taps at the table with his pen:

.-.. …-, LV - Leave.

……., error.

Since tapping out ‘overwhelmed’ or ‘too much’ would be a lot of tapping, the Party had decided on ‘error’ as the signal that they were overwhelmed.

(SOS, they agreed, would only be used if they needed actual, go get an adult, kind of help.)

Dustin fakes like he’s leaning against his hand while he nods, tapping his pencil in return.

…-., Understood.

Then he raises his hand. “Mrs. Sawkchuck, I forgot that Mike and I need to go help Mr. Clarke with some paperwork for AV. Is it okay if we leave a little early?”

She stares him down for a long moment, lips pursed. But most teachers like Dustin well enough, so Mike’s not surprised when she eventually nods.

“I’ll write you two a hall pass, but I expect those worksheets done before the next time I see you.”

Mike manages a half convincing nod and follows Dustin out of the room.

Then he blinks and realizes he’s suddenly sitting in the AV club with Dustin’s jacket over his head. He reaches up to touch it. “Mm?”

The warm presence next to him sighs in relief. “You said the lights were too bright.”

Mike’s eyes prickle in shame and gratitude. “Thank you Dustin.”

Dustin shrugs. “You’d do the same for me. We gotta look out for each other, right?”

Mike nods. Then he slouches against his knees a little. “How long have we been in here?”

“Like ten minutes. School just ended. I walkied Will.”

Mike’s face burns. “Was I asking for him?”

Dustin’s smile is gentle. “Yeah, but I don’t blame you. His presence is a lot more calming than mine.”

“Shut up, you literally just calmed me out of a panic attack.”

He hopes Dustin hadn’t worried Will. I’m okay, he reaches out. Immediately he feels Will’s relief. Got overwhelmed, but Dustin helped.

Warm affection. He’s good at that.

So, yeah, they all help each other.

And because Mike sometimes needs the extra reminder, Will’s taped a cute little note by Mike’s nightstand where it’s easy to see in the morning. It’s got a small version of Will smiling up at him and a speech bubble:

“Take your pills, Mike.”

It makes his chest warm whenever he looks at it. And it does its assigned job of making sure he takes his medicine.

Max is being released from the hospital at the end of the week. She tells them she won’t be able to go back to school until the week after that, because the extra teacher she’ll need for teaching her braille full-time is driving down from Indianapolis.

“It took a lot of arguing with my mom to not send me to Indianapolis,” she says. “There's a school for blind people there, but I’d rather stick around here.” She squeezes Lucas’s hand.

In the meantime, she’s driving her mother and her physical therapist crazy by attempting wheelies in her new chair. There are a few other kids in the hospital and she’s taken to racing some of them—much to the doctors’ dismay. “Sometimes I even let them win.”

They’re settling into some kind of new normal.

#stranger things #byler #vee attempts to write #will byers #mike wheeler #the party #byler fic #Vee fic #this turned out about three k longer than I was planning lol #long post #lmao seriously turned out like 6k

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fictionalreads · 2 years

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Stranger Things Season 4 Episode 7

Eleven

Awe she can’t help but see what she did.

I don’t like the doctor but he has a point. Not everything is black and white Eleven. Theres good and bad in us all and we gotta own that shit.

Oh fuck we ain’t gotta do all that to two. Could’ve just put him in isolation or something.

She didn’t even tell on two. He gave himself away.

I don’t know if we can trust this guy. Why is he so pushy about her getting out?

Don’t look at the camera.

Y’all are terrible at being stealthy

What is happening.

She’s gonna accidentally kill him isn’t she? That’s what sets her off to kill the others?

Oh. No. NO HES THE KILLER SHE SET HIM FREE DIDNT SHE HE MANIPUDIPPED HER (iykyk)

Yeah. He manipudipped her. I knew he was one.

HOLY SHIT ONE WAS THE KID IN THE HOUSE?! Is he Vecna?

So did she die or…? Oh no. Not dead.

So Eleven created the upside down? Or was that just the first gateway? But she definitely created Vecna.

Hopper

Now I need anxiety meds. Can he just be free and safe already?

NO NO NO WHY IS THE LIGHTER NOT WORKING

Kill it Hopper. Stop playing with it.

HOPPER AND JOYCE!!!!

Very touching. Now get the hell out of Russia.

Dustin and co.

Oh yeah they did get caught.

DUSTIN IS HILARIOUS

Erica the parents don’t know about this shit. Do they? I can’t remember.

What do you know Dustin? Tell me.

Oh that’s not good. The mindflayer is truly coming.

They would be nowhere without Erica.

LMAO THEY GONE

Steve and co.

NANCY TO THE RESCUE

Eddie confused/scared as all hell but going with the shits.

Yeah Robin needs anxiety meds.

No you are not fine Steve.

Okay Eddie give yourself a break. This is a lot to process.

What are we looking at?

How are they in the past?

They’re all looking at Steve the way Hopper looked at Joyce when she went in about the lights.

Stop looking at it and get the hell out.

No one cares about the stains. Just get out.

Watch one of them get stuck cause they take too long. It’s too close to the end of the episode for it to be this smooth sailing. Something has to happen.

WHERE THE FUCK IS NANCY oh it’s in her mind. TOSS THE MUSIC PLAYER DOWN TO HER SING TO HER DO SOMETHING

Save her y’all!

Joyce and Murray

Damn Murray actually kinda looks like him.

Murray this is not a play

Get the damn door open y’all.

Miscellaneous

I’m pissed that this is all I get until July.

You’ve tortured the man so much maybe he can’t talk.

No don’t give them up now.

That was a cool shot. From the kids on bikes to the older ones on bikes in the upside down.

So where is One now? Is he the mindflayer or a part of the upside down somehow? Like did he create it and has he been going after Eleven cause he knows she’s the only one powerful enough to stop him?

Nevermind my last point, I’ve been proven partially wrong.

That shit was crazy.

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deanstead · 3 years

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Halstead!Sister Masterlist

it will get better

Shots

can you come and get me?

Imagine proud brothers at her graduation

I need you to run

Is that blood?

Do you feel nothing?

Migraine

That’s What We’re Here For (Part 1 || Part 2) - Y/N is hiding the fact that she’s having a tough time, until her brothers think it’s time for an intervention

Toxic - Despite her brothers’ concerns, Y/N is in the middle of a toxic relationship but she has to realise it for herself

Not A Child Anymore - Jay finds Y/N in the last place he thought he would

Treat Her Right - Y/N’s brothers don’t know she’s dating Kelly Severide until an accident turns everything upside down

Help Us Help You - Y/N’s brothers find out what she’s been keeping from them (tw: selfharm)

Drugged - Jay gets a call from Y/N when she gets drugged at a frat party.

Have Your Back - Both Jay and WIll are worried when Y/N takes a bad fall while on a call.

Cat’s Out Of The Bag - Jay and Will find out about Y/N’s condition after she gets jumped on a call. (tw: cancer)

Stressed - Y/N has an anxiety attack while she’s deep in preparation for Med School so Jay takes her to Will to get checked out.

Busted - Y/N’s secret relationship gets revealed and Jay can hardly believe what he’s seeing (Mouse x Reader)

Sister’s Keeper - Jay blows his top after finding out who his sister is seeing. Will seeing them together help to change his mind? (Adam Ruzek x Reader)

Wrong place, Wrong time - While making a short stop at a bodega, Will and Y/N find themselves stuck in the middle of a robbery in progress. Meanwhile, Jay has to find a way to get both his siblings out to safety.

Fitting In - When things go too far at a sorority pledging, Y/N is rushed to the hospital.

Family - Struggling her whole life trying to get her father’s approval, Y/N meets another roadblock when she finds out her boyfriend’s secret.

Approved - Y/N finds herself stuck with her brother’s new girlfriend but ends up bonding with her.

Asthma - Y/N ends up having an asthma attack while out for lunch with Jay.

in over your head - When Y/N doesn’t show up at home, Jay knows something is wrong and heads out to look for her.

could have been avoided - When Y/N clashes with the acting squad lieutenant who’s covering Kelly, things get just a little out of hand.

you win, happy? - Y/N deals with the consequences of not listening to her brothers.

where is she? - When Y/N disappears in the middle of a case Intelligence is pursuing, Jay has to find the perp before his sister gets hurt.

Reinforcements - Y/N gets jumped on the way to meet her brothers. After her brothers arrive to help and take her home, she shuts them out and Jay has to call in reinforcements.

all in a day - Y/N's brothers find out by chance who she's dating. Later that day, an incident with a patient sends all three of them rushing to check on her.

Coming Home - Y/N returns to Chicago to surprise her brothers but she’s not telling them everything. Meanwhile, a series of mysterious calls and texts seem to hint at something else brewing in the background.

#Halstead!Sister #halstead!sister masterlist #will halstead x reader #jay halstead x reader #will halstead x reader x jay halstead #chicago pd #chicago med #halstead!sister oneshot #masterlist #fanfiction #jay halstead x sister!reader #will halstead x sister!reader

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doberbutts · 2 years

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I also had someone ask what steps I take that are different for Tater vs the other dogs and they’re all pretty simple II think?

Tater cannot regulate her body temperature as easily as the other dogs. This is combatted by putting her in a sweater (hates it) in the cold and letting her be in air conditioning in the heat. I’m actually pretty happy without AC in the summer, and so is Fae (and so was Creed), as long as we aren’t in heat advisory temperatures... but Sushi and Tater basically melt so I had to invest in AC for them. She adores the heated dog bed and can usually be found on my heating pad whenever I need it for my disability.

She is no longer so wobbley, it’s very subtle nowadays and she gets around just fine. She has a bunch of weird little movements when she’s excited, but nothing that would harm her. She kind of looks like a happy rabbit doing that “binky” movement when she’s exceedingly happy about something. She climbs stairs and jumps on/off furniture and races around the house/yard and wrestles with Fae. But she does tire easily, so when I take her for a walk I have to watch her for signs of fatigue so I know when she needs to be carried. I also have a little pouch she rides in when we’re on a really long walk and I don’t want to carry her in my arms.

Stress worsens the condition and so she lives a pretty stress-free life. She only goes on adventures she finds exciting and fun, what little training we do is no pressure and totally choice based, and I’d say 99% of her day is cuddling either human or dog at this point. She is a very social dog so it works out that I mostly got her as a companion for Fae. She hangs out with Fae and, begrudgingly, Sushi and spends a lot of time curled up with Fae or being pinned and groomed by one of the other girls. I try not to leave her totally alone, not because she has separation anxiety, but because I don’t think she’s ever been 100% alone before coming to me and the transition to occasional solitude (such as when I take Sushi and Fae on an adventure and leave her behind) would cause her unneeded stress when she can just as easily hang out with one of the other dogs.

She is incontinent and does leak if “full” while sleeping. This is probably the worst symptom tbh I’ve seen this dog pass a full, solid turd while snoring away upside down. Combatted by frequent potty breaks and fairly late last-outs before bed, we have drastically reduced accidents to being able to be counted on one hand over the past six months instead of daily. The neuro said he could prescribe her proin if I couldn’t get control over it but that would only stop the urine from leaking, not the feces, so I decided to do it this way instead.

She gets a daily medication, omeprazole, an acid reducer used for heartburn, as it apparently also works on spinal fluid buildup in the spinal cord. Don’t ask me how it works, the neuro said something about the chemical makeup of spinal fluid being similar to stomach acid. At her size it’s hilariously cheap. It did take several days to start working but, in his words, the fact that it worked that quickly means his assumptive diagnosis was correct as he diagnosed her without an MRI. We are waiting on a large study to be included in the search for answers on why some chihuahuas have this problem and others don’t.

Honestly in my opinion outside of these little things she’s not really kept that differently than the other two. She doesn’t really need a hyper-dedicated owner, just one that will be considerate of her needs and will remember to give her her medication. She has a pretty happy life and is bouncey and energetic. I’m glad we caught it as early in the progression as we did, to give her the best chance at a good life. She can live a long time like this, and provided I remember to give her the meds (TBI memory, sorry Tater) she lives fairly symptom-free and pain-free.

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freedomseeker91 · 2 years

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10 Major Takeaways From Grammy Winner Beca Mitchell’s Instagram Live Chat: “I didn’t want to be taken advantage of”

On her early diagnosis:

“I didn’t know what was wrong with me specifically, but I knew that whatever was going on inside my head wasn’t right. I would have these moments of clarity where I would be like I’m not okay, but then there would be this switch and it was like everything would get turned upside down on its head and I was just holding on for dear life.”

On learning to accept her illness:

“Honestly when I was finally diagnosed it was like this combination of relief because it finally had a name, but also fear. Because the reality is, you’re living with this illness that can consume you so completely and push you to the edge of life and questioning how do I relate to people anymore. It took a really long time for me to come to a place of acceptance and a lot of it happened once I started to learn how to handle it.”

On keeping her secret from the public:

“I’ve lived with so much anxiety for so many years worrying about relapsing or having my condition revealed when I wasn’t ready. When you live under a microscope you don’t have the luxury of much privacy. And then you also have the added stress of the pressure to perform and be at your best not wanting to let anyone down. I didn’t actively go out of my to hide it, I just didn’t want the attention. The media and social media can be very unforgiving and unrelenting.”

On why she chose to open up now:

“Seeing what Britney went through, it got to me in a way I didn’t think anything outside of my immediate circle could. That person could’ve very easily been me. There are systems in place that allow callous people to take advantage of people who are perceived by the eyes of the law as vulnerable. If god forbid I ever relapsed I would hope, with advances we have in treating mental illness, that I would be taken care of, not locked in a prison I can’t escape from. I didn’t want to be seem as someone who could be taken advantage of. I don’t want to be taken advantage of and I don’t want to see this happen to somebody else.”

On living with bipolar disorder on a daily basis:

“I’m not gonna say it’s easy. I take meds every day to sit here and be the person that I am right now, in control of my mind and my thoughts. But there are still hard days. I’ll always live with the worry that I will have a relapse or that some day I’ll forget to take my medication and I’ll spiral. But it’s all part of the process, one that I’m still learning and building on every day.”

On the stigma surrounding mental illness and Bipolar Disorder:

“I do think we are getting better at acknowledging mental illness and mental health, but there’s still a long way to go. I mean, even hearing the term Bipolar Disorder, a lot of people still have this perception that if you have it you’re incapable of functioning and that’s not the case at all. It’s such a treatable illness but it does need to be treated. Once you get on that path, your life is yours to do whatever you want with it. If you can keep yourself on track nothing can stop you.”

On whether or not her illness interferes with her career:

“I’m not gonna sit here and say every day is perfect. Like I’ve said there’s a lot of pressure and expectation working in this industry and you’re dealing with all that while having the eyes of the world watching you. There are days where I definitely feel my mind begin to waver especially if I’m stressed. But as I said before those are the moments where I need to check in on myself and make sure that nothing comes before keeping my mind in a good place. If it’s not, then I need to take myself out of the game and recalibrate.”

On finding her soulmate and handling her illness as a couple:

“Having that person who sees you for who you are and not just as this illness, honestly it can completely change how you see yourself. From the day Chloe and I met she has never once made me feel like my Bipolar is bigger than me. Yes it’s a part of me, and we deal with it together, but it doesn’t define me. When I’m with Chloe I feel like the best version of me I could ever hope to be. Being with her has given me focus and purpose in a way not even music could. She’s the lighthouse that calls me home when the tide turns and I feel like I can’t make it back to shore. She is the safest place I could ever hope to land .”

On why she chose the Mind Over Matter Live to share her story:

“This space was created to remind people about how important our mental health is and to create a community where people who are struggling can feel seen and be heard. If ever I was gonna share my story this is the safest place I could have ever done it. Where better to share your story than with the person who makes you feel the safest right by your side in a community that embraces peoples struggles instead of forcing them into the shadows. I’m so proud of Chloe for creating Mind Over Matter and being such a force for good.”

On her hopes for the future:

“The only thing I could ever hope for is to be a small part in this ripple effect that is pushing for change. If my story helps one person then it’s totally worth it. If it somehow reaches someone in their time of need and proves to them that you can be okay, that you can take on the world and win I couldn’t ask for more. For me personally, I just want to marry the love of my life, build a family, keep making music and keep my mind on the right track, cause that’s all that matters.”

#Bechloe #Pitch Perfect #Fic Drabble

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himaboroshi736 · 3 years

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IronDad fic recs

Here. I’m a french reader, but I’ve read A LOT (like...a lot) of IronDad, so, eventually, here my fic rec. (I tried to class it by categories, but well...) (it’s gonna be very long, guys)

Peter Parker has anxiety

Don’t let me get me, by hopeless_hope

He picks up his phone and sends a quick text. "hey, happy! i’m not feeling too hot today, so i think i’m gonna have to cancel. tell mr. stark i’m sorry!"

He stares at his phone, waiting for a response. It never comes, and Peter sighs sadly. There was a part of him, a small part, that really hoped he was wrong. His insides burn, and he curls up tighter into a ball and turns off his phone.

(No one’s going to try to contact him anyway.)

Anxiety has a way of convincing Peter that everyone hates him. Tony has a way of proving him wrong.

Midnight Oil, by @jolinarjackson

After everything that has happened to Peter over the last year - or five, really - he shouldn’t be worried about something as mundane as the ACT. When he fails it, though it sends him into a spiral of self-doubt, which only gets worse when Peter realizes that he doesn’t seem to be able to fix whatever is broken.

Tony Stark has anxiety

do you even remember what the world looks like ?, by @iron--spider

Tony’s heart has been working on overdrive since this whole thing started. Friday has a countdown clock plastered on the heads up display, but it feels like hieroglyphics to him at this point, like some ancient language he could never master.

Because when Peter Parker is missing, things start losing their meaning real quick.

“Should be around here,” Rhodey says on the com. May is still on the other line, listening in, because once a certain amount of time goes by without word from Peter, things move into Extremely Worried Aunt territory. They’re already in Tony Is Panicking territory, and when both of those territories overlap it’s never a good time for anybody.

Time? What the hell is time? His mind is blanking numbers out entirely. Minutes are seconds are hours are years.

not like megatron, by @iron--spider

“Hi! This is Peter Parker, I can’t get to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll call you back later! Hopefully not too much later, but don’t get your hopes up!”

Tony knows that message by heart. He’s heard it hundreds of times, in a greyer world, and it sends shivers down his spine as he climbs into the car.

He doesn’t think about that place. That half-world. No way, that’s done, that’s over, that’s history.

“Hey, kid, don’t you know it’s bad etiquette to go and disappear on your birthday? Not allowed, really, really bad vibes from the universe. What’s going on with your suit? I wasn’t watching. Nope. Just got an alert. What’s going on? Uh, call me back.” He clears his throat and hangs up like a moron, driving out into the street.

Hypothermia trope (i really like it so if you have any suggestions...)

i knock the ice from my bones, by hopeless_hope

Peter tries to move his legs through the water, dread filling him when they don’t move, and he just hangs there, doing anything and everything he can not to focus on the feeling of ice clinging to his bones. He feels sluggish, the world blurring around him, and he rests his head on the ice, not even registering the cold anymore.

He’s just so damn tired.

“PETER!” he hears someone yell, but it’s all muffled, and he lazily drags his eyes up to see a figure descending towards him.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he thinks, This is not how my vacation was supposed to go.

While on what's supposed to be a relaxing vacation with the Starks, things for Peter quickly go south, and he finds himself on thin ice. Literally.

Ice Ice Baby, by @wolfypuppypiles

If Tony, Bucky or pretty much anybody that knew Peter had seen him that morning they would have smacked him upside the head. Helping people was great, everyone should give it a go, but when helping people puts you in danger it’s not so smart anymore.

AKA Peter can't get from Avenger tower to the subway without giving his winter clothes to homeless people and ends up with a severe case of hypothermia

Candle in the Window, by @madasthesea

Finals are over and Peter just wants to go home. The weather has other ideas.

Burn This Out, by @ephemeralstark

It's summer and Peter is free to be Spider-Man all day which is great, but it's summer and Peter is out as Spider-Man on the hottest day of the year which is not great.

Or, Peter gets heat stroke because he can't thermoregulate and things could not go worse for him.

(yeah, it’s not an hypothermia, but it’s linked to the fact that Peter can’t actually thermoregulate)

Post-Endgame (really like this trope too lmao)

the first birthday after, by iron_spider

(Endgame spoilers. But The Thing doesn't happen.)

The rain falls harder and Tony turns, his neck creaking and cracking, and he sees Peter asleep over by the window. He’s holding a small, flat box, and he’s slowly slipping to the right side of the easy chair he’s in.

Tony thinks about letting him sleep, but he finds himself speaking anyway. “Pete,” he says, his voice rough and raspy.

Peter immediately startles awake. “Happy Birthday,” he says, almost like he’d fallen asleep practicing it, planning to say it as soon as he woke up. He blinks at Tony, shivering a little bit, and then he smiles. “Happy Birthday. Happy Birthday.”

Tony snorts, smiling back. “Thanks, bud,” he says.

Second Best, by Rowan_M

Tony had adjusted to parenthood quickly when Morgan came along, and was always conscious of making sure Peter isn't left out ... Almost always. When Peter gets hurt while taking care of Morgan, Tony obsess over his daughter and takes his anger out on Peter, without even checking to see if he was okay. Steve finds Peter later that night in serious pain and in need of immediate medical attention.

Or, Peter gets hurt while taking care of Morgan and Tony basically ignores him.

when you’re feeling empty keep me in your memory, by JkWriter

after everything with thanos he forgets it's his birthday. he just assumed everyone else did too.

All For You, by @ironxprince

Three weeks after the snap that saved the world, Peter learns he was the reason behind it. He learns that Tony risked death, and now has to live with the ramifications, both physical and mental, all because of him.

This doesn't sit right with him.

you save everybody, but who saves you ?, by @iron--spider

Tony doesn’t sleep, because he can’t, because too many things are plaguing him, most of all where Peter is and what he’s doing. Tony has a good view of the hallway through the windows to his room, and he stares and stares until his eyes cross, until he hallucinates, until he knows he’s going insane.

He sees Peter sneaking into the med bay at about four in the morning.

The kid’s mask is off and he’s got two short, harsh slashes across his cheek, and he’s bleeding from a slice across his neck. His suit is ripped in a few places and he’s holding onto his middle, and Tony can see his hands are shaking.

It’s like something splinters in Tony’s already broken brain, like his world narrows and there are hazy edges, both weakness and strength entwining in his veins when he sees Peter struggle up onto one of the beds in the main atrium, starting to tend his wounds without calling anybody to help.

BAMF Peter Parker

Pizza, a Movie, and... an Attempted Kidnapping ?, by Pogokitten

“Tony. We’ll be fine,” Peter tells the man for what must be the tenth time in the last half hour.

Peter’s sitting on the couch of his and May’s apartment and building Legos with Morgan as they both watch their father’s methodical, yet anxious, pacing. He’s dressed to impress, as is Pepper who is watching the scene slightly exasperated.

“Are you sure? We can ditch the gala, kid. Just say the word,” Tony offers, halting in front of his kids.

Or: Tony and Pepper leave Peter in charge of Morgan while they go to their first gala since the third snap. Peter is expecting a calm night in with his adopted sister, but some thugs throw a wrench in his plans.

he’s good like that, by @iron--spider

“Get the hell outta here, boy,” the man says. “Or you’re gonna watch your boss die in front of you.” Then he grabs Tony by the shoulders hard, and shoves him down to his knees. The gun is louder now, like it’s filled with words that are eager to be shouted, and Tony winces when he feels the barrel press against the back of his neck. His knees weren’t ready to hit the ground that hard, and he tries to keep the pain from reaching his face.

He must fail, because Peter looks pissed.

“You’re not gonna shoot him, mister,” Peter says, somehow still trying to maintain a respectful tone, despite the clear anger written all over him.

stark robotics and technology conference, by @iron--spider

Peter leans against the wall while Tony chooses their floor, and the doors close. “Do you, uh, want me to do some interning stuff? Like go and get you coffee? Make sure the, uh—programs are all ready? Make sure the paintings are straight in the ballroom? Make sure the chairs are—”

Tony snorts. “Kid, I just thought you’d enjoy this. May told me about when it came through Queens but you two couldn’t make it because she was working and didn’t want you to go alone, and I thought, after all the shit you’ve been through lately, that you deserved something fun. No interning for you. That’s just an excuse.”

Peter remembers that. It was six months after Ben died, and he wasn’t gonna bother May too much about the conference. He didn’t know how much tickets cost anyways, or if kids his age could even go.

He really hung onto the idea of Iron Man after Ben died. Peter held him closer than ever.

Peter and Tony fighting

dinner and a jailbreak, by killerqueenwrites

“I’m not your kid!” Peter shouts.

“Don’t walk away from me, I’m not done–“

“You’re not my dad!”

Peter fitting in after the Blip isn't as easy as Tony hoped it would be. He wants his kid back, but they can't seem to stop fighting.

and then Peter goes missing.

my old man, by parkrstark

"I just want to help you. I want to help you understand what's wrong here and how to stop it. I used to be the same way until my father showed me how to be a man." He glanced back at Peter to sneer. "He's old enough to know better by now, but it's not your fault you didn't know how to teach him." "Teach him what?" Tony asked even though he didn't want to know the answer.

"Discipline, of course," Junior said with a wink.

Tony takes Peter on a weekend trip to try and change his mind about college and things go wrong. Then, they go even more wrong.

Between how it is and how it should be, by @frostysunflowers

''Doesn’t Captain Rogers ever…wonder,'' Peter winced as he fumbled for the right word, ''where you are?''

Bucky smirked. ''Steve’s a regular mother hen. Used to be me that worried about him.'' He gave Peter a pointed look. ''Better question is, isn’t Stark wondering where you are?''

Soulmates trope

presumed dead, by killerqueenwrites

Tony gets his first soulmark when he’s fifteen, his second when he's thirty. He's forty-six when his third appears, and forty-eight when it fades to grey.

did you see the flares in the sky ?, by justt-ppeachy

‘hi’

One simple word was displayed proudly on the inside of his right wrist. Tony wasn’t sure when this word showed up or how long it had been there.

A line formed underneath the word and Tony could almost feel the pressure on his arm from the marker his soulmate was using to push one phrase from their skin into his.

‘i loev yu’

The letters were written slowly and messily as they showed up upon his wrist while he watched in disbelief. Not sure if he was hallucinating or just going insane, Tony rubbed at the writing, wondering if they would disappear once he looked again.

The words were barely recognizable, but they were still the best thing Tony had ever seen.

IronDad Fluff (yeah)

peter wearing tony’s hoodie, by killerqueenwrites

Tony’s used to his clothes going missing. His MIT hoodie doesn’t often leave his closet, though, which is why he notices its absence straight away. There’s a lifetime of safety and comfort in this old hoodie, for both of them, and that’s all Tony could ever wish to give Peter.

Career Day, by @superhusbands4ever

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Peter’s enhanced senses picked up the familiar voice from outside the door. “I had a meeting this morning and then I got lost looking for the class… anyway, I’m here for Peter? Peter Parker?”

He frowned at hearing his name, still unsure what exactly was going on. He watched as his teacher continued to stand and stare out the door for a minute before seemingly remembering herself and taking a step back.

“Of course! If you could just go sit next to him until your turn, he’s in the back on the right side.”

The man stepped through the door and Peter gaped with the rest of the class as Tony Stark, in his signature suit and goatee, sporting a pair of red sunglasses and carrying a suitcase walked through the door.

Kryptonite, by forensicleaf

The kid is acting weird.

Tony tries to figure it out.

father’s day, by @iron--spider

It’s Father’s Day, and Tony never really had a father. Not in the real sense of the word, not in the way that counts.

Peter Parker doesn’t have a father, either. Not anymore, anyway, not since he was little, and the amount of years that have passed since then outweigh the amount of time he got with Richard Parker.

Tony wouldn’t call himself Peter’s dad. He wouldn’t, he doesn’t, he doesn’t think of himself that way, no way, no way.

He stares at himself in the mirror. He pulls down on his cheeks, makes his eyes water. He runs his hands over the roughness of his jaw and sorta hates everything about himself right now, because he’s acting like a goddamn idiot. It’s Father’s Day and he’s not a father. He doesn’t know why the hell he’s pining for something that isn’t his, shouldn’t be his, can never be his. He isn’t a father, he isn’t Peter’s father, so there’s no reason on God’s green earth for Peter and him to do something for Father’s Day.

ain’t no valley low enough, by @iron--spider (yes, again, ‘cuz she’s the best)

Peter snorts. “You know I didn’t apply anywhere in Florida.”

“Please, kid, you know all you have to do is write a beautiful essay with my recommendation attached to it and you’re in. You’ve got the scores.”

Peter has a list. Of all the places he applied to, all the places he got into. A lot of it was encouraged by the adult role models in his life, some of it by Ned daydreaming about places like California and Colorado. Mostly, Peter just applied everywhere he could think of, because he’s known for a long time that Tony was gonna help May pay for it, and he didn’t wanna limit his options. Thinking about college has been strange for him, strange to the extent that he had a full blown panic attack about it in the middle of Avengers taco night last month. He can’t really understand it, doesn’t get why it feels like the end of the world—because he’s experienced the end of the world, and it’s not which campus has a bowling alley and which school has circus classes. But he nearly blacked out all the same, sobbed in Tony’s arms on the balcony until Tony proposed this. The road trip.

and when it’s hard, i’ll place your head into my hands, by hopeless_hope

“Tony,” Pepper sing-songs to get his attention. “Your mother hen is showing.”

“What?” he snaps indignantly. “I am not a mother hen. This is just... concern. Of the average kind. Perfectly normal.”

“Of course,” Pepper humors him, and he shoots her a dirty look as he types out a quick text to Peter.

It's been five days since Tony's heard from Peter, who's away at college, and Tony is not coping well. (Neither is Peter.)

Peter likes cuddles (and Tony too, but he always denies it... until he can’t)

my arms will hold you (keep you safe and warm), by parkrstark

“So, you’re telling me your body...is going through Oxytocin withdrawals?” Tony asked slowly.

“Cuddle withdrawals,” Peter corrected him. “Mr. Stark cuddles.”

TW : Rape/non-cons

make me strong, by parkrstark

It all started when Tony introduced Peter to Skip Westcott. He just didn't know until it was too late.

(There is a lot more, but I can’t find it rn ;-;)

5+1

5 times peter clung to tony, by parkrstark

... and the one time tony clung to him.

You are my Dad, you’re my dad, boogiewoogiewoogie, by Hittinmiss

“Peter? What’s going on kid?” Tony asked, him popping up on the phone’s screen.

“Hey da-” Peter started automatically before immediately noticing his mistake, the look on Ned’s face proved that yes, he almost called Tony Stark dad. He needed to try recover quickly because the look on Tony’s face seemed confused, especially with his slight pause. “-aaaaaamn Mr. Stark I really like your shirt. Where’d you get it?”

Smooth.

---

5 times Peter called Tony Dad and the 1 time Tony called himself Dad

5 Times Tony Took Care of Peter..., by As_Clear_As_Crystal

“Think if I coded a sign into your suit that says ‘Baby on Board,’ maybe criminals wouldn’t be so enthusiastic about murdering you?” Tony asks airily, poking at the bottom of Peter’s foot.

Peter halfheartedly kicks at Tony with his toe. (“That’s offensive, Mr. Stark.” )

- - -

aka: Five times Tony took care of Peter, and one time Peter took care of Tony.

5 times Peter is stuck with Tony, by @iron--spider

(...and one time he’s stuck alone.)

“I wonder if Pepper’s reported me missing yet,” Tony says, with an exaggerated sigh. “I wonder if this is some kind of scheme to kidnap me or something.”

“I think the ride’s just broken,” Peter says.

“Today of all goddamn days,” Tony says, exasperation clear in his voice and in his eyes. “Ruining our trip—”

“It’s not ruined,” Peter says. “Look, we’re hanging out."

“Real quality time,” Tony huffs. “Us, a few other trapped members of the general public, and a handful of animatronic pirates. Drunk pirates. Repeating themselves.”

5 times tony forgot peter was just a kid, by @parkrstark

...and the 1 time he didn't.

Or the one where it was hard for Tony to remember that the kid fighting next to him was still just a kid.

can i get a good night’s sleep ? can i PLEASE get a good night’s sleep ?, by peterstank

The doors open and there’s Peter, perched on a gurney with his shirt gone and a whole lot of blood staining his side. He’s bent awkwardly, clearly trying to feel his way around whatever wound he’s got.

“Um,” Tony says, approaching, “What.”

Peter looks up and—yeah, he’s lost a lot more blood than Tony had originally thought. His face is completely fucking drained. “Hey,” he says, offering a jaunty wave before returning his attention to his side. “I got shot.”

“Oh!” Tony nods. “Oh, okay. What the fuck, kiddo?”

or: five times peter doesn’t sleep + the one time he does

Five Times Peter and Tony Had Each Other’s Back, by Sahiya

... and One Time They Needed Help.

Peter is Tony’s Biological Child

I Had the Dream Again, by Skeeter_110

Peter calls Tony in the middle of the night crying.

Congratulations, it’s a Boy, by capiocapi

"Sir, I have the results.”

“Okay, Jarvis. Hit me.”

“It’s a match. 99.9% chance that he is your biological son, which is the percentage needed to be recognized by law as a biological parent.”

Tony’s stomach did a funny swooping dance. “Great. Congratulations to me then, eh? It’s a boy.”

You Are My Sunshine, by @iamconstantine

Tony Stark had always been a man of science and he always would be. It was his personal and fundamental belief that everything had an explanation. His eventual encounters with Norse gods, alien life, and sorcerers did kind of quake this a little bit, but still.

One thing that had always confounded him as the one thing that had no scientific explanation was fate. Murphy’s law, Finagle’s law, the butterfly effect, the domino effect, the snowball effect, and the wisest of all: “Shit happens.”

So how peculiar was it that one of the greatest things to ever happen to him began with a tray of champagne?

Serie i love you more than anything, by @iron--spider

The highs and lows of Tony unexpectedly becoming a single dad at 31– from Peter’s early baby years, all the way past the defeat of Thanos

May’s abusive boyfriend trope

A Peter Parker Problem, by @spagbol99

Peter Parker was back from the dead. At least that is what everybody told him. He'd been snapped out of existence until some sort of time travel and an active death wish by his mentor had saved him and the universe. Just your average sort of life for a 16 year old from Queens.

Peter comes back to find May has a husband and a kid. A new family he has to fit into. But he has done it before, he can do it again.

The only thing that feels solid is Tony: the Blip and fatherhood have mellowed him and Peter loves the bond they have now. He knows Tony would be there for him through anything. But Tony needs to focus on his own recovery - not small time Peter Parker problems. When things at home take a turn for the worse, Peter decides that he'll handle it himself. He is Spider-man. He's been to space and fought aliens. He can get through anything. After all, if May is happy, he is happy, right? Right?

(again, I’ve read a lot more but can’t find it...)

Peter Parker Whump (everyone’s favorite trope)

Danger Pizza, by alice_in_ink

The window was pushed open, and Iron Man’s head popped into his bedroom. “Here’s where I’m confused—why lock the front door but leave the fire-escape-accessible windows unlocked?” He clambered through said window. “Seems like a safety hazard.”

Peter eyed the metal suit as it straightened to a standing position. “Did you break into my window to kill me?”

The face plate lifted, and Tony’s eyes quickly looked over the teen. “Christ, kid. It looks like you’re halfway there.”

...

A wild night on patrol leaves Peter with a broken back, and boy, does he want to be able to move without dying. (So he calls Anthony Stark, obviously.)

If You Can’t Catch A Breath (You Can Take The Oxygen Straight Out Of My Own Chest), by @losingmymindtonight

"And I would hurry. Little Peter is about to be under quite a lot of pressure, and it might get a little hard to breathe.”

I’ve Got You, by @thedumbestavenger

Peter runs into a Copycat Vulture out on patrol, from there, everything escalates.

Meetings and Migraines, by AllThingsGeeky

Peter has another migraine at an unfortunate time and despite his best efforts he can’t ignore it forever.

The Most Important Thing In The World, by S0lstice

Peter’s door creaked and began to bend under the force of the crowbar and for the first time since regaining consciousness, fear began to press into him. Something very bad was happening and it was happening fast - too fast for his sluggish mind to keep up.

He went with his instincts instead, the first one always being, Help Mr. Stark.

Friendly Fire, by @jolinarjackson

Finding a careful truce with the government, the “rogue Avengers” are allowed to return to the Compound where they are put under house arrest. Peter coming to spend one week at the Compound during his summer break couldn’t have come at a more inconvenient time as the opportunity to bond a little more with his mentor is overshadowed by a conflict he doesn’t quite understand. When he starts to develop a mysterious medical condition, however, the former team is forced to work together – not just to protect Peter’s identity from the DODC, but also to find the cause for his illness before it’s too late.

“He’s my kid,” Tony said, his voice hoarse. “He’s my kid and I failed him.” He covered his eyes and took a few deep, shuddering breaths. “All I ever do is fail him.” Natasha knelt down in front of him and cupped his face in her hands, waiting for him to meet her eyes before she said, “Right now, he doesn’t need you to fix this. He doesn’t need you down here. He needs you over there, in the medbay, by his side.” She thumbed tears from the corners of his eyes and ignored the ones running down her own face. “You haven’t failed him yet.”

alarm bells and panic levels, by @iron--spider

Tony lands heavy on the dock, the wood splintering hard under the metal suit. He’s having trouble breathing, his nose is bleeding, he most definitely has more than the recommended amount of broken ribs. But none of that fucking matters. The sky is clear, the assholes are down, but there’s one thing missing.

He looks over his shoulder when Rhodey lands too. His suit is dented in a few places but other than that he looks alright. His face mask flips up and Tony lets his mask retract.

“Where’s Peter?” Tony asks, his voice rough with the amount of yelling he’s been doing. Fuck these stupid assholes. They were supposed to go mini-golfing today. The kid had been looking forward to it for weeks.

Rhodey looks around, breathing hard through his mouth. “I thought you knew.”

there’s something wrong, by @iron--spider

“I’m sorry, Pete,” Tony whispers. “We should have checked you for something like this when we were resetting your arm and checking on the concussion. Goddamnit. We didn’t think.”

“He poisoned us both?” Peter asks, trying to open one eye to look at him.

“Yeah,” Tony says, brushing Peter’s hair back from his forehead. “He’s dying. He got the brunt of it, a nice fucking cocktail of bullshit, including mercury and a bunch of other toxic shit—”

“Am I dying?” Peter whispers, voice breaking.

Fitting In (Tiny Spaces), by aloneintherain

Peter's trapped beneath a collapsed building during a mission, hurt and unable to move. Luckily, his comm still works. Unluckily, the Avengers don’t realise how bad of a state Peter is in, and Peter isn’t inclined to tell them.

“Spidey, they’ve got reinforcements. We’ve hit a bit of a snag here, and I don’t think anyone will be able to help you for a while. Think you can sit tight while we deal with this?”

The pressure on his lower back and legs was becoming too much. Peter swallowed thickly, fighting down panic. He could handle this.

“Yeah,” Peter said. “I can do that.”

Collections/Series (’cause I could make an inventory of all @iron--spider stories, you know, but you have to read all of her work, if you haven’t yet) (God she doesn’t even know who I am)

iron dad bingo, by @iron--spider

stay at home, by @iron--spider

whumptober, by @iron--spider

Whumptober 2019, by @marvelous-writer

Day in the life of the Iron Family, by @marvelous-writer

The Tumblr Archives, by @losingmymindtonight

Everything comes back to you, by @losingmymindtonight

Nice work, kid, by @madasthesea

Irondad Bingo 2019, by sahiya

The Adventures of Spidy-son and Iron-dad, by eva7673

Tony adopts Peter (why everyone kills May, btw ?)

Accepting the Tides, by @emma--anacortes

Tony had dragged Peter from the depths of despair after May's death. It was normal that he'd grown to care a little about him, right?

Yeah, okay. He freaking loved the kid.

So naturally he would feel a little weird when Richard Parker randomly shows up in Peter's life. Naturally he'd feel protective, nervous, and confused because where has Richard been all this time? And why does Tony feel sick every time he sees him around Peter?

All he knows is if Richard hurts his kid, Tony's gonna give him hell.

Series Out of Darkness, by @starryknight09

“Is this Peter Parker?”

“Yes…”

“This is Dr. Nguyen. I’m sorry but your aunt’s been in an accident and we’re going to need you to come to Queens Memorial as soon as you can.”

Peter's life shatters with a phone call. The last person he expects helps him pick up the pieces.

#irondad #irondad spiderson #irondad fic #fic recs

211 notes · View notes

splendidly-secret-sick-fics · 3 years

Text

I’m Fine: An AtsuHina sick fic (Part 1)

@wraithpoison said:

an atsuhina sick fic please <3

This is a request from my other blog! I’m sorry it took me so long. Honestly, I had a lot of trouble with this one for some reason? I rewrote it like three times :/ and this one is actually going to be in two parts too! This part isn’t too AtsuHina heavy, but the next part will be.

I’m Fine: an AtsuHina sick fic (part 1)

Part 2

Pairing: Sick Atsumu, caretaker Hinata (also caretakers Rin & Osamu)

Word Count: 2,360

Trigger Warnings: vomiting, swearing, stressed Hinata :(

“I’ll be home as soon as I can, Tsumu,” Shoyo frowned at him through their FaceTime. Unfortunately, the redhead was in an airport, sitting at his gate waiting for his flight and not currently with Atsumu. He had headphones in, but they were picking up all of the noise around him and it made Atsumu’s head pound.

“I know, Sho. Try not to worry so much, alright? Imma big kid now. I can take care of a little fever by myself,” Atsumu responded sleepily. He was curled up in a blanket, lying on their couch.

The Jackals were given about 2 weeks off and Shoyo decided to use that time to go visit some of his friends in Brazil for a week. He invited Atsumu, but the latter declined, saying that he wanted to go home and see his mom.

Atsumu got home last night and Shoyo’s flight was set to arrive tomorrow morning. The plans worked out perfectly so that they’d have a week on their respective vacations and a week together.

While Atsumu was driving home last night, he started feeling lethargic and heavy and just overall Not Good. He brushed it off as exhaustion and went straight to bed when he got back, only to wake up this morning feeling worse. It didn’t take long for him to figure out that he had a fever. The sticky sweat that plastered his clothes to his body despite the chills he felt were a dead giveaway.

Shoyo called him when he got settled at the gate. Atsumu tried valiantly to appear healthy, but after 3 years of dating, Shoyo knew him entirely too well to be fooled. Now he was all anxious and trying to magically make the 24 hour journey from Rio to Tokyo happen in less time.

“I know, but I’m just worried. And I feel bad that I’m not there to help you,” Shoyo pouted. Atsumu rolled his eyes.

“It’s fine, Sho. I’ll see ya tomorrow and you can make me better with all the overdue cuddles I’m owed.”

Shoyo’s lips quirked up ever so slightly and Atsumu felt a little better.

“Did you take something?” Shoyo asked.

“Yeah.”

“Are you staying hydrated?”

“Yes, baby.”

“Did you call Samu and Rin to let them know?”

“I just texted them. They’ll come runnin’ if I need ‘em,” he sighed.

“Do you want me to order you some soup from that one restaurant?”

“What? Sho, no-“

“They’ll deliver! I can do it from here. The airport has wifi and I might have to pay for it but that’s okay and if it means that—“ Shoyo started rambling frantically and Atsumu’s head spun.

“Shoyo, hey. Shut up, will ya?” He chuckled and Shoyo’s mouth snapped shut.

“Sorry, Tsumu. I just wish I was home already,” he looked down. (Atsumu obviously wasn’t with his boyfriend, but if he knew him at all, Shoyo was nervously picking at the hem of his shirt.)

“I know. Me too,” Atsumu replied. Truth be told, he was feeling a lot worse than he let on. At the least, he hoped Shoyo couldn’t tell.

His head felt like it was being squeezed, he was congested, those chills were still pretty prevalent, his body felt like it weighed 1000 pounds and he felt vaguely nauseous.

That’s what he was most afraid of, honestly. He really, really didn’t want to throw up. He’s never liked it; never handled it well. Hopefully he could stave off the nausea, at least until Shoyo got home.

Shoyo looked back up at him and Atsumu wanted more than anything for him to be home right now so he could physically rub away the anxious lines on his boyfriend’s face.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured. Shoyo nodded.

“I’m gonna take a nap, okay? Yer flight leaves at midnight yer time right?” Again, Shoyo nodded. Perfect. That meant that he’d be home by noon tomorrow. It was about 10 in the morning in Tokyo (so 10 in the evening in Rio), so Atsumu only had to wait about 26 hours for Shoyo to get home. Hopefully, he’d be sleeping most of that time anyway.

“Okay,” he said, “can ya stop worrying? It’s just a little fever.” Shoyo groaned.

“Fine! Fine. As long as you promise to text your brother if you start feeling worse. Please don’t push yourself, Tsum-Tsum,” Shoyo all but begged. Atsumu gaped at him.

“Me? Overwork myself? I’m offended at the implication, babe” he teased. Shoyo rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m serious, Atsumu. You always push yourself more than you should. Don’t do that this time, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I gotcha. Honestly,” he resituated himself, “I’m prob’ly just gonna take a nap and order take out. I don’t feel much like doing anything anyway,” he shrugged. And oops, he probably shouldn’t have said that. Immediately, Shoyo became more suspicious.

“You? Agreeing to rest? Are you sure it’s just a fever?”

“‘Course!” Atsumu forced a laugh and Shoyo’s eyes narrowed. “Have I ever lied to you, baby?”

“Yes,” Shoyo deadpanned, “all the time.” Atsumu bristled.

“Not about anything important, though! And my health is important,” he assured.

“Atsumu, please take this seriously. Fevers are no joke, okay? I know that all too well,” Shoyo said, a serious look on his face. Atsumu wanted to wash it away. He frowned, remembering nationals his second year of high school, watching Shoyo collapse on the court. They may not have been close yet, but it was scary nonetheless.

“I know. And I promise I am taking care of myself, alright?” he said, no longer trying to joke, but simply reassure. He hated causing Shoyo any sort of anxiety.

“I’m gonna go now, okay?” He said and Shoyo nodded.

“Okay. Alright. Take a nap. Stay hydrated. Text Osamu if you need to. Don’t be all proud,” Shoyo instructed.

“Yes, yes, okay. I love you. Have a safe flight,” he smiled. Shoyo’s face brightened and Atsumu felt slightly reassured that maybe, just maybe, Shoyo wouldn’t spend his entire 24 hour journey home worrying about him.

“I love you, too. See you tomorrow,” Shoyo replied and with that, the call ended.

As soon as Shoyo’s face disappeared from his phone, Atsumu sank into the couch and exhaled exhaustedly. Keeping up the appearance that he felt alright took way more energy than he thought.

He curled up on his side and wrapped his blanket tighter around himself. A nap. That’s what he needed. If he was asleep, he could ignore the headache and the nausea and the chills. And hopefully, when he woke up, he’d feel better.

With that thought, Atsumu went to sleep.

***

Shoyo stared anxiously at the screen that previously had his boyfriend’s pale, flushed face displayed on it. Atsumu was definitely more sick than he let on and Shoyo might punch him later for lying, but for the time being, there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t make his trip home any shorter.

Instead of letting panic take hold, he did the next best thing. He texted Osamu and Rintaro.

From: Shoyo

“Did Atsumu text you guys?”

From: Osamu

“Yeah. Sorry your boyfriend’s an idiot.”

From: Rin

“Samu, while you’re absolutely correct and should say so, maybe not right now.”

“Don’t worry, Sho. Samu is an ass, but he’s worried too. We’re gonna go check on that pig later today.”

Shoyo breathed a huge sigh of relief towards the ceiling. Osamu doesn’t show it, but he does care about his brother. And Shoyo could always count on them.

From: Shoyo

“Thank you guys. Let me know how he’s doing?”

“I just got off FaceTime with him and he was putting up a brave front, but he didn’t look good.”

From: Osamu

“Of course he was. I gotcha, Shoyo. I’ll knock some sense into the big stupid.”

From: Rin

“In other words, yes, we’ll keep you updated and make sure that he’s well taken care of. Don’t stress. Just focus on getting home and leave the time in between to us.”

Shoyo did feel better knowing that Rin and Osamu were so close to Atsumu and could check up on him. He’d be okay. So, for the time being, all he could do was wait.

***

Atsumu woke up to conversation. He squeezed his eyes and shifted around, groaning. Whoever was talking needed to shut up. The tightness in his head hadn’t let up at all and he was absolutely freezing.

“Oh, yer awake. Finally.”

Atsumu scrunched his eyebrows together and blinked his eyes open, only to find his brother and Rin sitting on the love seat next to the couch.

“Samu?” He croaked.

“Yeah. We’re actually here. It’s not some crazy fever induced dream,” he said in his usual monotone.

“More like a nightmare,” Atsumu mumbled. He sat up and the room spun. He moaned and put his face in his hands.

“How are you feeling?” Rin asked him. Atsumu glanced at his phone. It was about two thirty in the afternoon. Twenty one and half hours until Shoyo was home.

“Fine,” he responded, but it was muffled by his hands. “I told you you guys I’d let ya know if I needed ya. Why’re you here?” He looked at them again.

“Shoyo asked us to come.” Rin shrugged.

“‘Course he did,” he sighed.

“Well, it’s a good thing we did. Ya look like shit,” Osamu said bluntly and stood up. He left the room, but came back a second later with some soup and a ginger ale.

“Eat. Then take some more meds and then we’ll get outta yer hair.”

Atsumu stared at the soup for a second and his stomach turned itself over. He really didn’t want to put anything in his body right now.

“Did ya poison it?” He tried to disguise the involuntary curl of his lip off as an insult towards his brother.

“Wha—no, you stupid pig, we didn’t poison it.” Osamu almost yelled, his eyebrows furrowing together. In fact, Atsumu was sure that if he wasn’t feeling so awful, his brother would have yelled and smacked him upside the head. But Osamu also happened to know Atsumu entirely too well.

“It’s from some restaurant that Shoyo told us about. He said it was your favorite,” Rin said, his tone quiet. Probably because Osamu knew Atsumu had a headache and warned Rin.

Atsumu felt his chest twist. Shoyo sent them? And told them about his favorite soup? Atsumu wanted to cry.

“Are you crying?” Rin asked, wide eyed. Oh, maybe he was crying. He couldn’t tell, honestly. His face was hot, regardless.

“Ppppfttt,” Osamu held back a laugh.

“Hey! Don’t be an ass. I don’t feel good and I miss my boyfriend,” Atsumu sniffled. “Need I remind ya of the time Rin was gone for a week and ya whined to me about it nightly,” he shot back. Osamu shut up.

“Just eat it,” was all he said. Atsumu must look at lot worse than he thinks because Osamu wasn’t fighting back. He only did that when he knew Atsumu really wasn’t feeling good—physically or mentally.

Staring at the soup, he couldn’t help the twist of his face again.

“Tsumu,” Osamu sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Does yer stomach hurt?”

Atsumu blushed (or was that his fever?) and shook his head rapidly.

“No! It’s...it’s fine. I’m fine,” he said probably too hastily.

“Don’t lie, please.” Osamu put a hand on his hip and stared Atsumu down. Rin looked between them curiously. Atsumu glared at his brother.

“It’s a little uneasy. But I’m fine,” he insisted.

“Are ya sure you don’t want us to stay with ya until Shoyo gets back?” Osamu asked gently. From the corner of his eye, Atsumu saw Rin’s eyes widen at the abrupt softness coming from Osamu.

Atsumu hesitated. Did he want them to stay? They were offering. It’s not like he was inconveniencing them in any way. Osamu may be a dick, but he was still his brother. And if he was going to puke later, he’d want someone else here. He opened his mouth to say yes please stay I don’t want to be alone, but was cut off by Sunarin.

“Samu, we can’t stay. We promised Akaashi we’d take the twins overnight since they went out of town with Kuroo and Kenma,” Sunarin said. He pulled his lips into a tight line and picked at his fingernails.

Clearly, he didn’t want to leave Atsumu alone. But the Bokuto twins were handfuls at best and nightmares at worst. There was no way that Rin could watch them alone. And Atsumu couldn’t very well go over there and risk getting them sick.

Osamu looked between the two of them and bit his lip.

“Rin, would you mind if—“

“It’s fine, Samu,” Atsumu interrupted. It wasn’t fine.

Osamu’s eyes burned holes into Atsumu’s face. He knew. He knew that Atsumu was nauseas. He knew that Atsumu hated vomiting. Atsumu appreciated it, he did. But he didn’t need his brother to come to his rescue.

“Sho will be home tomorrow morning. It’s fine. I’ll call if I need ya,” he tried to sound confident, but his voice shook. His throat hurt.

Osamu obviously didn’t believe him, the frown on his face and the pull of his eyebrows giving him away. He exhaled through his lips and nodded.

“Okay. But seriously, you can call if ya need to,” he resigned and sat down beside Atsumu on the couch.

Rin and Osamu stayed for a few more hours until they absolutely had to leave. Osamu was still reluctant and it made Atsumu happy when he remembered how much his brother cared, despite the way it looked to outsiders. With another promise to call if he needed to, the two of them left Atsumu alone once more.

He surveyed his body.

Headache? Crushing.

Fever? Scorching.

Body Aches? Heavy.

Nausea? Prevalent.

He moaned and curled tightly in on himself once more. The DVD player under the TV said it was nearly five pm. A little more than 17 hours until Shoyo was home. He could do this. He’d be fine.

***

He was not fine. He was absolutely not fine.

Atsumu heaved into the toilet, gripping the seat tightly. Everything happened so fast. One second he was asleep on the couch and in the next second he was sprinting to the bathroom, just barely making it before projectile vomiting into the toilet.

The room around him swirled and his throat burned with every aborted heave. What time was it? Would Shoyo be home soon? He felt so so terrible. It was so hot. Sweat covered every inch of his body, making it difficult to keep his hold on the toilet. Despite that, he was still trembling. His fever was probably way too high. He should do something about that, right?

His stomach lurched again and he belched wetly, but swallowed down whatever tried to come up. He refused. The loss of control that accompanied throwing up made him feel helpless and horrible and dammit what was that high pitched whine? It cut through his brain like a knife.

Finally, he was granted a reprieve and gasping, he sat back on his heels. He needed to move, needed to do something while he had the time. If he knew his body at all, he knew this was going to be a long fight that he would inevitably lose. It was such a surprise he didn’t have time to prepare. He wiped at his face.

Oh, he was crying. That was probably the whining that still hadn’t stopped. Pathetic.

Okay, it was fine. He could do this. Grabbing onto the sink, he hoisted himself up on unsteady legs.

In the next fifteen minutes, he managed to grab a blanket, a pillow, his phone, some crackers (not that he really wanted to eat them) and one of Shoyo’s nasty fruity sports drinks. The whole endeavor took way longer than it should have, but all of his movements were sluggish and difficult. It also became blatantly obvious that the battle against his stomach was not one he was going to win.

Just the thought of puking more kept a steady flow of tears streaming down his cheeks the entire trip.

Finally, he made it back to the bathroom and set up camp for the night. Smacking the screen of his phone, he checked the time.

“12:27 am” taunted him. Less than 12 hours. Good. He managed to sleep for around 5 hours.

Nausea swirled in his gut and he whimpered. Several unproductive heaves later, he was left reeling.

Somewhere in the haze of his mind, he thought to contact his brother. He couldn’t open his mouth though. No chance. Then he’d for sure puke. Where was Shoyo? He wanted Shoyo.

He picked up his phone in shaking fingers and sent a slew of what he hoped were coherent texts to their group chat with Osamu and Rin. Slowly but surely, he was losing his grasp on his surroundings, the fever messing with his brain.

Help. He needed help. He was scared.

Disgusting gurgles sounded from his stomach and he choked on a sob. He rested a cheek on the toilet seat, and gagged.

“No, no no no,” he cried, but he couldn’t stop it. He was too sick. Too weak. Too tired. Instead of trying to force it back down, he dropped his jaw and burped. Vomit poured out of his mouth and he sobbed between heaves.

When the fit ended, he collapsed onto the floor, gasping and crying. Why was this happening? Where was Shoyo? Why wasn’t his boyfriend here? Did he get tired of Atsumu and leave him? What about Osamu? Was he sick of Atsumu too?

Of course. Of course they were.

Shoyo. He just wanted his boyfriend. Why wasn’t he here? Why why why what did Atsumu do to chase him away?

Those were the last thoughts that plagued Atsumu’s mind before his surroundings faded away completely.

#haikyuu sickfic #sick atsumu #caretaker hinata #vomiting #atsuhina #side pairing sunaosa #suna rintarou #miya osamu #miya atsumu #hinata shoyo #my fic #tw vomit #request

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kihaku-gato · 2 years

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So, retrospect of 2021 and myself (don’t read unless you wanna drown in moodyness, which the doctor does not prescribe);

Trainwreck. More meltdowns/tantrums this year than even last year even though it looked like I was going to get to the rhythm of things. I became significantly more temperamental/angrier and toxic than before, and its become a war to try not to be.

My health is... still bad but at least improving. After TWO ENTIRE YEARS OF BLEEDING OUT UNDIAGNOSED I actually got to a doctor this year, he identified the problem, prescribed me some meds, and although my issue isn’t cured yet, I’m in far better straights than I was before the diagnosis. My diet isn’t great but has expanded enough that I can now go back to having 3 different meals again, meaning I wear out a little slower during the day. I also may be able to actually explore into berry/fruit smoothies this year to further improve my diet.

I have become more sick of cattle husbandry than I already was before. Because my uncle has gone south in health we now have to not care for just 1 barn like before, but his too, making THREE barns with entirely different layouts, problems, and problematic animals. Does not help that we had more cattle/calf fatalities (both on our farm and my uncle’s farm) this year than I have ever seen before. Some just went skin-and-bones and shut down despite high access to food, others would fill up like goddamn balloons and suddenly we’d have a bloating emergency on our hands (not even the easy gas-bloat we’ve dealt with in the past, but instead difficult to cure, very specific foam bloat). One cow had literally toxic milk and from it killed both her calf and ANOTHER calf that wasn’t even hers in the process, we even had MULTIPLE cases where animals would just suddenly go dumb and drink from shit/mud puddles rather than the clean water reservoirs that were RIGHT THERE IN FRICKING ACCESS. Don’t even get me started on cattle that just want to MURDER you for even being in the same space/pens as their calves (its to the point now that I have to accept the very likely possiblity that they are likely going to kill me one day, and that the best I can do is at least make it that if one day they try that I’ll at least try to take them down with me), it was HORRIBLE this god damned year. As much as I’m skeptical that my sis’s plans to introduce Shorthorn to the bloodline will do any good to increase docility, I sure pray that it does.

Personal work projects have not been that great. Despite great help from contacts giving me seeds of various species, I cannot bring myself to garden to any usable capacity anymore. I was burnt out start of this year and it has not improved. I was given maple and oak seeds this autumn 2021, and I STILL haven’t even SOWN the damn things, AS DECEMBER IS NEARING END. Viability of those is likely going to be nonexistent if I ever muster to sow them. Many plants, both indoors and outdoors are either dead or dying, and it takes a disproportional amount of energy and effort to even get basic gardening jobs like watering and weeding started much less finished. If I can somehow keep the the stock in the greenhouse alive, once its sold, I plan to only grow a third to quarter of what I grow now, cause I cannot keep fighting to keep stuff alive when its not even going to be bought. My ineptitude for marketing/advertising while I have so much anxiety has not done me any favours.

Artwork. I accepted a quite a while ago that as long as my mental state is such a mess I can’t expect such a high bar of myself to draw at all. I mourn over a lot of ideas that will unlikely reach paper due to how hard it can be to get to drawing. On the upside for this paragraph at least, I drew OC/OC art of my own and a friend’s OC flirting/interacting, and I attempted to draw one of 3 NSFW-themed OCs, that’s not much if we were still in the art golden age, but it’s still something to be proud of. I got some polymer clay for christmas, so if I can stop being a chicken I’ll prolly seek my plans to do some polymer clay sculptures to vent the creative energy that has so far struggled to come out in drawings (perhaps more handsy art may do me some good).

I was hoping to explore myself both in my OC persona as well as irl for style/hairstyle, but that kind of flopped, especially in the latter. As much as I have ideas for a redo of my catboy persona, I’m hesitant to try since I fear I’d attach too much of the negative traits I’ve acquired this year.

Reading. Moreso than I have been for a long while. It too takes a fair bit of effort but I’ve been enjoying myself if I can muster myself to read. Thanks to a friend archiving her own collecting as well as buying manga again, I’ve been at least picking up some books and manga and reading new ones while also rereading old ones. Part of me is tempted to write manga/book reviews of the stuff I’ve been reading, since I’ve grown some enjoyment in picking apart what it is that I like about a manga or novel. I also got some collector’s-lvl books for christmas this year and I’m quite happy about that. Through my friend I also ordered $214 worth in manga....... that was fun but next time my personal budget is gonna be a strict $50 cause JESUS FUCK THAT’S WAY TOO MUCH MONEY WHAT WAS I THINKING-

While I hope 2022 will be kinder and easier than 2021, I don’t expect it to be so. I will be trying to explore more positive things while things are rocky both out in the world as well as in my mind. I hope many of you have a kinder/gentler 2022, and congratulations on surviving 2021 along with me.

#ramblings #wall of text #2021 #self retrospect

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jeranasblog · 3 years

Text

Starker Kink Advent Calendar - Day 16

Summary: Peter marries Tony because he wants to keep working. Tony marries Peter because he doesn’t want the boy’s brilliance to go to waste. Neither one of them expects an overwhelming attraction to unfold between them. Feelings, insecurities, and doubts tangle together until they find themselves inextricably linked. And what happens when a surprise turns everything upside down?

24 days, 24 chapters, 24 kinks

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark

Rating: E

Notes: Hey guys. I’ve decided to write a “Starker Kink Advent Calendar” this year, so 24 chapters with 24 different kinks. Enjoy <3

Warnings: Check all the sex tags on Ao3

Read on Ao3

~⭐~

Day 16 - Praise Kink for Jess <3

“Peter?” MJ looked at him confused when she opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

“Can I c-come in?” Even though Peter tried to keep his voice neutral, it started to tremble after the first syllable.

“Eh, sure.” She took a step aside to let him in.

They stood there awkwardly, Peter with his hands in his pockets and MJ with a concerned look on her face. Peter had never been standing on her threshold at 8 pm on a Sunday evening before.

“Sit down.” MJ gestured to the couch in her small apartment. “Can I offer you something to drink? Beer, coffee, I even have half a bottle of wine left.”

“Just a tea maybe?”

“Of course.”

MJ disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Peter alone in the living room. He sat down on his best friend’s worn-out couch, his posture stiff and uncomfortable while he waited for MJ to come back.

The tea was hot, too hot, but it didn’t stop Peter from taking a sip when MJ pressed the cup in his hands. Anything to occupy himself.

“So, what happened?” MJ asked and sat down next to him.

“How do you know that something has happened?”

She raised her eyebrows and gave him a funny look. “Peter, it’s a Sunday evening that you don’t spend fucking with your Alpha. You are the least spontaneous person I know so everything is screaming ‘emergency’. Did you have a disagreement with Tony?”

No, he didn’t have a disagreement with Tony. He had run away as soon as the realization had kicked in. Tony was probably worried. Usually, they never separated that quickly after a scene. “Not yet.”

“Alright, tell me.”

Peter didn’t want to talk. He wanted to run away or to wake up and everything would be fine again. It wasn’t about being pregnant. Sure, Peter was probably too young, but he had always wanted children. Being pregnant, well, that Peter could handle. But he couldn’t handle messing things up with Tony. The Alpha deserved everything in his life, not a pup when he wasn’t ready.

“You know that Omegas sometimes have to switch to another birth control pill after mating?” Peter didn’t look at MJ while he was speaking, his gaze fixed on the cup of tea. “Hormones can get all messed up and the doctor gives you new pills. I thought I couldn’t stomach my meds anymore so I made an appointment with my gynecologist next week.”

“Oh, yes. Marie had the same problem. She threw up a few times.” MJ had claimed her omega a couple of months before Peter’s wedding and it had messed with Marie’s hormones as well.

“Yeah, I do that too.”

MJ looked at him with pity. “I’m sorry. Good that you made an appointment.”

Peter swallowed. He shouldn’t drag this out. He was here to tell MJ the truth. If he didn’t talk to his best friend, how would he ever manage to talk to Tony?

“It’s not only about the nausea. I eat a lot more and sometimes I hate the smell of coffee. I usually love coffee.”

“Well, that can happen, can’t it?” Technically, MJ was right. All of this could be signs of the wrong birth control meds, but it was rare.

“Probably. But it’s not everything.” Peter paused after the words and took a deep breath to calm himself. “I went to visit May this morning and Tony couldn't come. I was there for an hour until the headache started. MJ, I felt separation anxiety.”

“Peter, you shouldn’t feel this for months,” MJ said slowly. “Even if the bond is new. It’s only coming so fast if-”

“If an omega is pregnant, yes.”

There was silence between them, and MJ’s expression told Peter that she understood. The nausea, the cravings, all of that could be symptoms of Peter’s pregnancy as well. Peter didn’t dare to look at her, afraid he’d start to cry, but as soon as she pulled him into a hug, the tears came anyway.

“Oh, Peter. Have you already taken a test?”

“Not yet. Bought one on my way here though.” He had stopped at a pharmacy to pick up a test, but he was too scared to do it at home so he’d walked straight to MJ’s apartment.

“Do it now,” MJ said firmly. “It won’t change if you wait longer.

“But what if I’m pregnant? What if Tony doesn’t want to be a father?” What if Peter fucked up Tony’s entire life? Bonded to an Omega he hadn’t married out of love, and now there might be a child on top.

Thankfully, MJ pulled him out of his thoughts before he could start to cry again. “Sweetie, your Alpha kisses the ground you walk on. Let’s think about that later. Test first, alright?” Peter nodded so she sent him to the bathroom.

~⭐~

After he had peed on the test, Peter had to wait three minutes for the results. Three minutes had never felt so long before. He sat on the floor of MJ’s bathroom, anxiously staring at the pregnancy test in his hand. What if it would be positive? What if he was actually pregnant with a pup?

Peter’s eyes darted between the test and his watch, counting the seconds until three minutes would be over. He wasn’t even two minutes in when a second stripe appeared on the test. Not a faint color but clearly visible.

His stomach churned when he saw the result. There was almost no doubt that he was pregnant. He didn’t know if he should be happy or upset, all he felt was numbness. The whole time, his birth control hadn’t messed with his body. Quite the opposite, it has malfunctioned after the mating.

Peter’s body screamed for his Alpha, screamed that he wanted someone to protect him and his pup, but he couldn’t move. He was sitting here frozen, staring at the test in his hand.

“Peter?” MJ was knocking on the door. “Can I come in?”

He didn’t react, sitting silently on the bathroom floor while his hand wandered protectively to his stomach. It didn’t matter if Tony wanted children or not, Peter would protect his pup. He would run if necessary, anything to keep the tiny baby that grew inside of him. Peter told himself over and over again that Tony’s reaction wouldn’t matter.

“Peter, open the door, please.”

The knocking stopped, but Peter noticed it only dimly. He was caught in his own thoughts, anxieties, doubts, and plans. To make it even worse, the pain of the separation started, his body was screaming for his Alpha, but Peter’s fear kept him frozen on the bathroom floor.

“Open the door or I call Tony.”

MJ’s words forced Peter to come back to himself. Not Tony, not yet. He wasn’t ready yet!

“Just a second,” Peter’s voice was rough, and he washed his face before he turned the lock of the door.

He had wanted to stay strong, but as soon as he looked into MJ’s face, Peter started to sob. “W-what if he doesn’t want it? What if he wants me to get rid of it?”

She pulled him out of the bathroom into a tight hug, her hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. “Peter, baby. Tony wants kids. And even if he doesn’t, we’ll make it work, okay? You don’t have to get rid of it!”

Peter really didn’t know how this could turn out to be okay but for a moment he let himself believe her. At least, he had MJ at his side.

~⭐~

When Peter came home this evening, he was bone-deep tired but still couldn’t sleep. He sat on the couch, cuddled against his Alpha while they watched a movie together. His thought kept wandering away, and he was pressed stiffly against his Alpha’s side. At one point, he had to talk to Tony, but he wasn’t ready yet.

“Are you okay, Peter? Did anything bad happen to MJ?” Of course, the Alpha had noticed that something was up.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Tony gave him a concerned look, but he didn’t pressure Peter into talking. “Can you just… hold me close, Alpha?”

Tony was a good Alpha so he didn’t ask any questions. He manhandled Peter until the Omega was sitting on his lap and turned off the TV. Being so close to his husband felt wonderful, closeness helping with the anxiety and Peter relaxed against his Alpha’s chest. Finally, the tension was draining from his body.

They sat like this for a few minutes, Tony’s arms wrapped around him and shielding him from the world. Suddenly, Peter was overcome by the urge to feel his Alpha. Tony didn’t protest when Peter took off their clothes, desperate to bring them closer. He didn’t protest when the Omega fingered himself open and took the Alpha’s cock in one go. Tony stayed still, trying to be what Peter needed him to.

“You’re perfect, Peter, do you know that?”

The words hurt so Peter hid his face against the Alpha’s neck, trying to hold back the tears. His hips started to move, slowly, carefully, while he clung to his Alpha, afraid it was the last time they could have this together.

“You’re the most beautiful Omega I’ve ever met, inside and out.”

The arousal almost hurt, pleasure, guilt and fear raging through Peter while he tried his best to keep his emotions at bay. Thankfully, the scent of Peter’s arousal was stronger than his distress so Tony would smell nothing but cinnamon and vanilla.

“I’m never gonna let you go, Peter. You’re my Omega. Mine to protect.”

Peter’s body was shaking, his hips only barely keeping up the movement. How could Tony say something like this when Peter was going to ruin it? He would spill the secret, there was no way Peter could get through another day.

What if Tony didn’t want it? What if something was wrong with the child? What if Peter had trapped his Alpha? What if…? What if…? What if…?

“You’re the best husband I could’ve ever imagined. I didn’t only marry you out of pity or because you’re beautiful, baby. I wanted you.”

Peter started to sob, his entire body trembling while his legs gave in. He was still sitting on Tony’s cock, his thighs still wet with his slick, but his thoughts were far away. How could Tony say something like this? Words so beautiful that they hit Peter’s core? He wasn’t crying like he usually did during sex, no sweet tears of desperation. Instead, Peter was driven by fear.

“Hey, baby, Peter, what happened?” Tony, always insightful, lifted Peter’s hips so Tony’s cock could slip out. He pulled his Omega against his chest, the thick erection still pressed against Peter’s ass while he let the Omega cry on his lap.

“I-I fucked u-up, Tony?”

“Hey, baby, shhh, what’s going on. What did you do? I can fix it, baby.” The sympathy of his Alpha almost hurt and Peter pressed closer.

“Y-you can’t fix it, A-Alpha.”

Peter wanted to withdraw from the embrace, but Tony wrapped his arms even tighter around his Omega as he tried to pull back.

“Whatever it is, I’m gonna fix it, baby. Do you need money? I give you all the money you need, baby.”

Peter felt his nausea coming back again. How could Tony promise something like this? He didn’t even know what Peter had done.

Before he could change his mind, before Peter got any opportunity to drag it out again, he slipped from his Alpha’s embrace and got the jacket he had worn this evening. Taking a deep breath, Peter pulled out the pregnancy test and dumped it in his Alpha’s naked lap.

“Seems like I’m pregnant.”

Peter closed his eyes before he could see his Alpha’s reaction.

#starker #advent calendar

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shhhlikeme · 4 years

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Can u do a headcanon of some haikyuu boys (kageyama,akaashi,iwaizumi,ushijima)having a gf with an eating disorder.Its okay if not.Tysm love ur writing btw:))❤️

Thank you sweetheart! ❤️ I sure can. Wishing anyone going through this all the best. Private message me for crisis resources.

Disclaimer: I am not trying to claim that I know anything about Eating Disorders (ED) my intention is only to hopefully make a reader smile by replying to this request. I sincerely hope I don’t offend anyone.

Ushijima | Kageyama | Akaashi | Uwaizumi x S/O with an Eating Disorder

————————————

Kageyama

The same way he is determined to be the best at volleyball, he would be just as incredibly determined to help you get through this chapter in your life

And yes he always makes sure to refer to your ED as a “chapter” because he believes chapters can be closed and he promises you will get better one day

He’s so convincing you start to believe him

His belief in you is so infectious that you unintentionally inch toward putting your ED behind you.

Even though you live pretty far from him he walks you all the way home everyday to make sure you’re okay

Sometimes he wakes up early to walk you to school as well and even after you beat the ED he continues to do this

He skips practice or a game whenever you need him even though you tell him not to

Constantly checking up on you but never to the point where you need him to stop

He tells you that there is absolutely no rush to recovery and to go at your own pace however he sternly needs you to promise that you at the very least want to get better and that’s enough for him

Despite your ED insecurities, He doesn’t treat you like a case, he’s still the best boyfriend who makes every day brighter than yesterday so that you want to continue to spend your days with him

Akaashi

He understands that it is imperative that he keeps your eating disorder a secret because you asked him to

He is your calm through the storm. When you are having an episode he is so serene and soothing while he rubs your back and tells you how much you mean to him .... having him there helps a lot

Created a ‘code word’ for the two of you to use in public or at a social event when you feel you are about to have an episode or may be tempted to..... so that he can skillfully excuse you both and make a fast departure. You feel less anxiety in public because of this

He reads up on everything there is to know about your eating disorder every night so that he is prepared in various circumstances

At some point he decides to go into Pre-Med to devote himself to finding cures for EDs

He wants to help you so bad and sometimes he stays awake at night for hours wondering how he can steer you away from what’s hurting you

He tells you everyday more like every second how beautiful you are but rarely if ever specifies anything physical, only calling out your internal attributes that he’s in love with so that you key in on the fact that beauty is only skin deep

Luckily, he is very vocal with you and tells you what it’s doing to him to see you going through it and you both wrap yourselves in each other’s arms until you feel better. It’s soothing

He talks you into seeing a specialist, and he makes sure to sit in the waiting room during your time in there so that his smile can be the first thing you see when you walk out

Iwaizumi

Even though he says he will keep it a secret, he goes behind your back and asks his big sister for help and advice because she had gone through the exact same eating disorder

Your boyfriend is very nervous about telling someone else because he doesn’t want you to dump him so he only tells his sis the basics then asks her to write you a sealed letter so that he wasn’t overstepping. Respectfully, he never opened that letter and gave it directly to you one day

“This is for you, Y/N. I‘m worried about you. I really really hope you don’t break up with me.”

Instead of confrontation which you wouldn’t have liked, his sister had written you a letter detailing her understanding of your eating disorder and wrote things she herself did to get out from that dark time. She specified how much better life is post-ED. In the letter she begs you not to be mad at her brother because looking back she wishes she hadn’t dealt with it alone for so long because when it came out her brother was her backbone

Iwaizumi apologizes profusely for telling your secret but it was for the best

When things get better and you follow in his sisters steps to recovery, Iwaizumi attends all of your appointments and while you’re in there he goes to the shops nearby to get you cute trinkets so that you smile each time you come out

He is such a supportive, loving boyfriend in which when he sees you staring at food apprehensively he makes sure to hit shittycawa upside his head just to make you laugh instead

He constantly checks in with his sister to make sure he is doing the right things. When it comes to you all he ever wants to do is the right thing.

Ushijima

When you tell your boyfriend Ushijima about you ED his face softens before he kisses your forehead and admits that he already knew

He asks you if there is anything that he can do and you replied that you need him to just be him because that’s why you fell in love with him

he took that advice very seriously

Ushijima, coming from wealth, immediately went home and paid for the top specialists and treatment centres in the country to aid in your recovery.

Before you argue just know everything is non refundable and that it is available when you are ready - he wasn’t going to force you

Of course, after some time when you tell him that you are ready to start treatment you are awarded with his usual stoic expression breaking out into a handsome ear-to-ear smile

He’s gorgeous

You will do anything to see him smile like that again,

And you do. Because every time you reach a “sober” milestone he smiles just like that and tells you how proud he is to have such a strong love of his life

Ushijima makes a small bet with you that on your good days (which means a day without an episode) He will put $10 into a bae-cation travel fund to your dream destination anywhere in the world. On your “bad” days (when/if your ED does get the best of you), he puts in $5.

Your man’s purpose of this is not only to give you an incentive to strive for health but more importantly he wants you to know that No matter what — whether you get better or not — he will still be taking you on your dream getaway because none of this is your fault and you deserve it.

No matter what.

He never admits to you that that $10 entry he promised is really $100-per-good-day and that that $5 entry is really $50-per-bad-day until it’s too late to yell at him for spending so much money on you because

“Y/N, you better hurry up and pack because our flight leaves in 12 hours.”

Your pouting doesn’t last long on the flight because your broody man was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and an oversized floppy sunhat. you could just eat him right up

He loves you more than anything and, eating disorder or not— nothing about you is going to change that.

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu headcannons #ushijima x y/n #kageyama x reader #akaashi x y/n #akaashi x reader #iwaizumi x y/n #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu scenarios #disclaimer #angst #sfw #haikyuu stories #bell lets talk

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meetthetank · 3 years

Text

Starved

Rating: General AudiencesArchive Warning: No Archive Warnings ApplyCategory: F/M Fandom: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse) Relationships: Steve Burnside/Claire Redfield, Steve Burnside & Alexia Ashford (kind of) Characters: Steve Burnside, Claire Redfield, Alexia Ashford (kind of), Jill Valentine Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Touch-Starved, Post RE Rev2, Therapy Group - Freeform, Read A/N for more context, Steve is a sad sad man who missed out on A Lot, Angst, Subtle love languages Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29232369 Summary: Months after being rescued from his second island prison, Steve Burnside tries to adjust to a normal life while dealing with the scars left both physically and mentally. Luckily, he has some help. Notes: Sooooooooo here's the thing. There were worms in my brain. Real bad. So this is like... a manifestation of a longfic that I want to write later down the road. Some things to know before going in. 1) Steve revived on an island meant to store "failed" B.O.W. experiments that was left abandoned. He was there for a year and some change. 2) Allie is a child clone of Alexia who was in the same facility and befriended him. They live together and Steve is her legal guardian. 3) Jill runs a victims of B.O.W. experimentation which includes Steve, Manuela, Sherry, herself, and some others. I think that's everything but if yall have anymore questions feel free to ask. This is incredibly self indulgent to write but I hope you guys enjoy it too.

“Please stop pacing,” Allie sighs, “You look like a caged beast.”

Steve glares at the child, a clone of the insane woman who killed him, as she sips her tea at the other side of their flat. She glares back, her hazel eyes sharp as ever. She’s waiting for him to retort so she can shoot him down with a smart ass remark like a shark circling a drowning bird. When all she gets is an indignant huff she sips her tea and rolls her eyes.

“You do this every time she comes over. If she didn’t run away at the first sight of your ghastly visage she’s not going to run now.”

Steve sighs, “Yeah, but-“

“What absurd thing are you putting in your own head this time?” Allie snaps, setting her dainty pink teacup next to her stuffed dragon, “You’re going to stink up the room if you think too hard.”

He tunes out the insults with a scowl, but Steve knows the kid is right. He’s thinking way too much about this. Claire didn’t run away screaming the first time they met since he came back, she’s not going to do it for the seventh.

Even still, as Steve passes by the mirror in the front room he jumps at his own reflection. The person inside doesn’t look like him, it doesn’t feel like him. Their ginger hair isn’t wild and tangled, it’s washed, brushed and tied up in a small ponytail. Their shocking green eyes aren’t sunken into their sockets, and there’s a splash of red sunburn on their skin. He can even see a smattering of freckles across their nose and cheeks. They look like a stranger, but the deep, ragged scars across his face remind him of his past. The biggest and ugliest of the marks starts well above his hairline, drops down over his right eye and curls over his lips. A few smaller ones run across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, but they aren’t nearly as deep.

He always thought scars were sexy when he was a kid. Manly. The marks of some action hero or badass. Now they just… Make him look tired and scared.

A small hand grabs onto one of his. “Did you take your medicine today?” Allie asks without a trace of her previous vitriol.

Steve shakes his head. “I’m out of the anxiety pills. Ms. Valentine said she’s going to bring them over when she comes to pick you up.”

“Okay.” Allie says with a curt nod.

“You got everything for your field trip?” Steve meanders over to the kitchen again, eager to change the subject.

“Can I have some spending money?”

He raises an eyebrow, “How much and what for?”

“Fifty for museum books.” Allie puts her hands on her hips and glares up at her guardian with defiance sparkling in her eyes.

Steve crosses his arms over his chest, “Twenty.”

Allie lifts her chin, “Forty-five.”

“Thirty.”

“Forty-five and I buy you a cool rock from the Natural History Museum.”

“Deal.”

With negotiations done (and Steve down forty-five bucks) the only thing left to do is wait. He switches the tv on to drown out his own thoughts. Some hockey game. It’s not his team so he doesn’t care too much, but it’s a comforting familiarity. At least sports didn’t change too much since ‘98.

Steve let’s himself zone out as much as he can to the game. At one point he thinks about getting a beer but decides against it. He’d probably have one or two with Claire at dinner. That, and his meds don’t mix well with alcohol if he hasn’t eaten. So instead he bounces his leg, bites his nails, and busies his hands with whatever he can reach.

Did he used to be like this? It’s hard for him to remember past his awakening and even harder to think past Rockfort. He was a neurotic mess out of necessity on the Storage Facility Island, a place where any sound could be death, and Rockfort was a similar story with the addition of his teenage bravado, but before he was taken? He barely remembers what his parents looked like, let alone what social masks he had to put on. Steve lets out a long, quiet sigh. It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s like this now, and that’s all he needs to know. At least now he has a support system.

Just as Steve starts to calm down, the doorbell rings.

He jumps out of his chair and bolts to the front door, heart in his throat and stomach upside down. His hands begin to shake as he reaches for the knob-

“Hi, Steve.”

“Oh,” Steve sighs, a bit too loudly judging by the way the visitor raises an eyebrow, “Hey, Jill.”

She gives him a warm, knowing smile as she fumbles with her shoulder bag. “Claire coming over today?”

“Yeah.” Steve scratches the back of his neck, “That easy to tell?”

Jill laughs, “Careful now, Redfields can smell fear.” She hands him a paper bag from the local drugstore, “Here. I know you said you were out of the anxiety meds, but I got everything refilled for you.”

“Oh! Uh, thanks!” He tosses the bag across the room to the chair he had just left. “So what museums are you hitting today?”

“All depends on our little cruise director.” Jill says with a small laugh, “Speaking of-”

Allie brushes past Steve, the charms on her backpack jingling with each step. “Air and Space and Botanical Gardens! Oh, and Natural History too. I promised I’d buy Steve a cool rock.”

“Easily bribed, I see.” Jill smirks at him quickly, then turns her attention back to Allie, “Sounds like a deal, kiddo.”

Eager to get on her way, Allie all but jumps out of the door and runs to where two more members of their little therapy group, Manuela and Sherry, wait. Both women greet her with smiles and hugs, and she wastes no time in launching into sharing things she had learned since the last time they had spoken.

“I’d stick around,” Jill says as she backtracks to the group, “But I feel like if I wait any longer there’s going to be a mutiny.”

The rumbling of a motorcycle echoes down the street, and Jill turns back to Steve with a quick smirk.

“Besides, you have company.”

Jill darts over to the group, casting a wave back to Steve and over to the biker before motioning to the ladies to begin their trek. Steve watches with wide eyes and a thundering heart as the biker dismounts and pulls off their helmet, revealing short auburn hair and stunning blue eyes. She gathers up a few plastic bags from her bike before jogging over to him, while he stands there like a deer in headlights.

“Hey, Steve!” She says with a bright, radiant smile and shoves some of her bags in his hands.

“W- Hey, Claire.” He fumbles with the grocery bags, “What’s all this?”

“Dinner. Figured making our own burgers would be better than ordering out.” Claire explains and shuffles inside the door as Steve moves aside for her. “And more fun.”

Though Steve can’t deny her claim, he also can’t fight the apprehension that coils in his stomach. He can cook, sure, he had to or die on the island, but he has no idea how to use any of the kitchen gadgets Jill’s group and Terra-Save set him up with. None of it is as simple as a slapdash firepit and some scraps of metal. Maybe if he’s lucky Claire will know what to do and he can just chop vegetables or something. The last thing he wants to do is make more of a fool of himself.

“Uh, sure!” He blinks his thoughts away, shuts the door and retrieves his bag of medicine from the chair.

By the time Steve turns back towards his kitchen, Claire is already busy setting up groceries and making herself at home. He watches her take off her heavy bomber jacket, revealing a thinner red and black flannel, and set it on the back of a chair at the kitchen table. She drops her plastic bags on the counter and grabs a beer out of his fridge; she looks like she’s been coming here for months. Something about the image before him makes Steve’s chest tighten. He’s not sure if it’s a bad feeling or not.

“-Steve?”

“Huh?” He snaps out of his stupor with a jolt.

Claire wiggles the opened bottle in her hand, “Did you want one?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” He stammers and rubs the back of his neck but walks across the room to take the beer. Maybe he did need something to settle his nerves after all.

Claire smiles at him like she’s known him all his life, like she knows what’s going on in his head and she understands why he’s so awkward and nervous around her. What was it that Jill said before? Redfields can smell fear? He knows it’s a joke but the way Claire seems to understand his fidgeting and hesitation leaves him wondering if there’s some kind of truth to it. A few gulps of beer (technically a hard cider, his first beer made him vomit) gives him enough bravado to at least go into the small kitchen with her.

Thankfully, she doesn’t ask him to work any of the gadgets. Claire’s hands glide over buttons and knobs, setting temperatures on his stove and placing pans. She directs Steve to break the ingredients out of the bags. Ground beef, cheese, brioche buns, vegetables, and a myriad of spices.

“This is a lot for just burgers, isn’t it?” He asks, mouth full of stolen tomato.

“Come on now, you know I wouldn’t do just burgers.” Claire laughs a bit, a sound that makes Steve’s heart stop. “This is an ancient Redfield family recipe.”

“Should I be worried?” Steve can’t help but smile back. She has this way about her that makes him feel lighter, like everything takes a backseat to just… being around her. He can joke, come out of his shell a little. She won’t hurt him.

Claire giggles at him, “It’s the way our dad used to make them. Chris held onto the secret ingredient till he was… Thirty something I think. I basically had to interrogate him for it.”

He raises an eyebrow and grins devilishly, “So...what’s the secret?”

“Oh, just a blend of spices.” She shrugs, “Nothing that inventive. But it’s special to Chris, so don’t go telling him I told you.”

Claire winks at him then turns back to mashing the ground beef into patties, leaving Steve to gawk at her. She’s delightfully impish when she wants to be, he can see himself getting into all sorts of flirtatious teasing matches with her… if he weren’t so weird. She directs him to chop up the tomatoes and onions after she catches him staring, again with a playful smirk and slug to his shoulder.

Something he had to become good at while on that remote island, alone aside from Allie and the wild B.O.Ws, was how to observe. The more he watches Claire out of his peripheral, the more she reveals to him. He watches the way her face falls as she focuses on the burger patties, as if she gets lost in her own thoughts and forgets where she is for a split second. It isn’t hard for him to see the sadness she hides from the world, it’s the same kind as one he carries. The reason Steve still roots for his hockey team, or even still watches the sport is because it reminds him of his dad. It’s the last connection he still has to his late father, and of a time mostly lost to him. He feels more special than he should that Claire would choose to share something like that with him.

Suddenly a sharp pain shoots up Steve’s arm. He drops the knife, now streaked with red and pulls his hand close to his chest with a hiss. His heart races and his eyes dart around, searching for other dangers in the area. Anything might be lurking in the shadows waiting to take advantage of his weakness. He scans back and forth for threats, eyes wide and alert. Nothing catches his attention except-

“Steve?! What happened?”

Claire drops her own knife and rushes over to him overcome with worry, but stops in her tracks when Steve backs away from her. He looks like a frightened animal, eyes wild and darting to anything that moves even the slightest bit.

“Did you cut your hand open?”

Her voice is soft and gentle as she approaches, hands low and outstretched to him. She doesn’t step closer, she waits for him to bridge the gap. Steve can see the caution in her face. Like she’s trying to coax a stray kitten out of hiding.

It works.

“Y-yeah,” Steve says, dropping the tension in his body a little. “I uh, wasn’t paying attention and… I guess it slipped.”

He opens his hand enough for Claire to see the small streaks of red that pool beneath his thumb. It’s superficial, barely deep enough to scar. The virus would already be hard at work stitching the burst blood vessels together, but he should still clean and bandage it. He has a bad habit of picking at the scaly scabs that form over wounds.

“Are you okay?” Claire asks, taking a small step forward. The gap between them is barely a foot wide. “That looks like it’s bleeding a lot.”

As Steve starts to relax further, Claire’s fingertips brush against his hand for a split second. The shock is enough to send him reeling back, his heart leaping into his throat. His instincts tell him to run and hide or fight his way to a safe place. Somehow he finds the self control to speak.

“No!” He yelps, loud enough to startle Claire. He lowers his voice but takes another step back. “No, I got it. It’s fine.”

He doesn’t stick around long. He can’t bear the worried, somewhat hurt, look on Claire’s face. Steve hurries into the bathroom around the corner and shuts the door before the fear and guilt tear him to pieces from the inside out. With trembling hands he turns on the sink faucet and lets icy water run over his open wound. It stings a little, but nothing he can’t endure. The excess blood trickles down the drain and vanishes in seconds. Just as he thought, the cut isn’t deep at all. That eases his anxieties somewhat, but not enough to stop the oncoming panic attack. Before it overtakes him, he wraps a washcloth around his hand to contain the blood as best he can.

Steve sinks to the floor and puts his head between his knees. It’s a struggle but he forces himself to take deep even breaths, just like Jill had taught the group. Though his head still spins, it helps to calm his heartbeat enough that it doesn’t feel like he’s about to have a heart attack. The trembling stops once he lets his consciousness fade to survival mode; he only thinks about his breathing and that he is safe.

Claire isn’t going to hurt him. No one is. He’s safe here. He’s safe with her.

Claire isn’t going to hurt him.

The world slows down, finally. Steve isn’t sure how long he’s been here but it can’t have been too long. Claire hasn’t come knocking on the door looking for him yet, and the savory scents of meat and spices being seared drifts in from the kitchen. His stomach tightens at the smell, helping to distract him further. Though his whole body feels heavy and drained of energy, Steve finds the strength to push himself to his feet once again. He cleans the now dried blood off of his hand, sloppily wraps his hand with a bandage, and dumps the rag he was holding into the wastebin before leaving the sanctuary of the bathroom.

When Steve returns to the kitchen, he expects Claire to rush at him and assault him with questions, but the only question is in her eyes. Wide, blue, and deeply worried about him. She doesn’t say anything or move to approach him, she only watches and waits for him to be ready. The way her brow creases and turns upwards at the ends make her look guilty, and that sends a pain through his gut he can’t identify right away.

“All good.” He announces, showing off his slapdash bandages. “It’s not deep. Just wanna keep it from getting dirty. And keep myself from picking at a scab.”

Claire looks at him with such intensity that Steve almost shrinks back from her gaze. It’s like she’s staring right through him.

“You sure?” she asks, keeping her voice low and gentle.

The genuine worry throws Steve for a loop. “Yeah.” He flashes her a wry, lopsided smile full of false confidence; as if he didn’t just have a panic attack. “I’ve had a lot worse.”

Claire studies him for a moment, then scoffs and shakes her head. A small grin finally appears on her face and it takes his breath away. “Yeah, I was there for some of those.”

She turns back to finishing up dinner. A shadow crosses her face as she grills the burger buns as a final touch, but it’s gone in a flash. Steve busies himself with getting drinks and plates, and thinking of something to say that might distract Claire from whatever sadness is eating away at her.

“You’ve had a lot worse than that.” He says with a grin, and immediately regrets it. Why did he think it’d be a good idea to bring back those kinds of memories?!

But Claire turns around and smiles broadly at him. “Oh you have no idea.” She drops a plate of burgers and a plate of toppings on the table, then as if to give Steve another heart attack, she props her leg up on the chair and rolls up one of her pant legs. A long, wide scar follows the length of her toned calf. Tan with age and wear, it stands out against her pale skin.

“This was from the Tyrant in Raccoon City.” She smirks, almost proud of her scar. “I was lucky it didn’t hit bone with how deep it was.”

There’s an edge to her voice, testing him. Teasing him. Steve grins. If Claire wants to have a scar battle, then he’s more than happy to show off.

He points to the largest scar on his face, “I got this from-...” Shit, he can’t tell her it was from falling down a mountain. That’s not cool. “...I got it from this big… Turtle thing.”

Claire raises an eyebrow at him, “Turtle thing?”

The lie spins out of control in his head, faster than he can stop. “Yeah! It was like...a big armored reptile B.O.W. Had these nasty claws for diggin’ in the ground. I got too close to it and it swatted at me. I’m lucky I didn’t lose this eye.”

He puts his hands on his hips and puffs out his chest a bit. He can’t pinpoint why showing off his trauma like this makes him happy. Maybe he’s just happy to share it at all. It doesn’t matter to him now. Claire is smiling. He’s smiling.

They go back and forth, showing each other their scars and places where bones were broken while eating homemade burgers and fries. Claire shocks Steve with just how many scars and injuries she suffered over her years of fighting bioterrorism, and he astounds her with his stories of his misadventures on the B.O.W. storage island and his encounters with all manner of beasts. Watching her listen to him with such fervor and interest almost makes him forget how horrific it all was. It helps in a weird way.

But that changes in an instant.

When it’s his turn to point out a scar and tell a story, he stops thinking. He lifts up his shirt, exposing the most gruesome scar on his body with an excited grin. A scar that stretches from his collarbone and disappears beneath the waistband of his pants, with dots alongside it on either side. Instead of a jagged outline like the scars left by accidents and B.O.W’s, this one is straight, clean. Surgical.

“This one was from when they autopsied me.” He explains, far too excited about the grim display he presents Claire. “It still itches like hell where the staples were-”

Steve snaps to reality once he looks up to see Claire’s awestruck face. Instead of excitement, it’s horror. Her hands cover her mouth and her eyes, brimming with barely restrained tears, lock onto his stomach and a wound so old he had almost forgotten about it. Beneath the autopsy scar, beneath the scars from man-made beasts, there’s a circular mark a similar color to the scar on Claire’s leg. It’s old, faded, but still aches from how deep the tissue reaches inside him. The gravity of the old wound may be lost on him, buried under the countless others that mar his body, but it’s fresh and raw to Claire.

He hastily pulls his shirt down, “Shit- I’m sorry, I didn’t-... I forgot that…” There’s nothing he can say that will ease her mind. He reaches out to her with one hand, stopping just by her arm before pulling back and sinking back into his chair. Another muttered apology falls from his lips as he hangs his head in shame.

He doesn’t notice Claire get up and cross the gap to him. Not until she takes a knee in front of him and brushes his unruly hair out of his eyes.

Claire’s touch is feather light and tender, but even that sends shocks through his skin. It jolts him out of his shamed stupor, and Claire pulls her hand back a few inches. Her expression is something he can’t make out. Somewhere between pity, sadness, and guilt. Before Steve can properly figure out what she’s thinking (something he’s never been good at) Claire runs her thumb across the large scar on his face, slowly and gently. He doesn’t flinch away from her this time. Then, something mundane yet earth shattering to this broken man out of time happens. Claire cups his scarred, stubble covered cheek in her hand.

Something breaks within him. A dam he didn’t know existed anymore that kept everything back, every trauma, every broken piece of him; some of which he didn’t even know were broken. Claire’s hand, her warm hand marred by callouses but still soft despite it all, molds to the contours of his face. There’s such tenderness, unrestrained kindness in her eyes and her touch and he can’t fathom how it can be directed to him. He doesn’t notice the tears in his eyes until they spill over.

Steve tries to calm himself with deep breaths but they come out stuttered and shaking. His shoulders heave, a lump in his throat chokes him. He screws his eyes shut, trying to shut out the vision of someone caring about him that deeply, but she’s still there. He can still see those piercing blue eyes boring into his soul and reading him like an open book. The moment Steve opens his eyes he sees the blurred outline of Claire Redfield wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

He wants to yell at her to leave, to tell her that he’s a lost cause and there’s no helping him. He’s too damaged, too broken. He’ll never have a normal life. He’ll never be able to pretend he isn’t a monster. He will never be able to have meaningful relationships. But all that comes out of his mouth is a broken, choked sob. Someone is touching him, someone cares about him. And he can’t understand it.

Despite himself, Steve pulls Claire into a tight embrace and sobs into her shoulder. Her fingers run through his hair, while her other hand rubs his quaking back. Steve can’t stem the tears, that’s a feat that even a mighty Redfield can’t achieve, but he can’t deny that simply being in Claire’s arms replaces despair with a strange warmth. For the first time he can remember, he feels...safe.

Eventually, the tears stop, and Steve is able to breath easily again. Claire doesn’t let him go for a minute and for that he silently thanks her. It isn’t until he begins to pull away that she too lets her arms down and pulls back from him.

“I’m sorry…” he mutters, wiping the stray tears from his eyes, “I don’t-”

“Shut up.” Claire commands and takes Steve’s hands from his face. “You have nothing to apologize for.” Darkness crosses her face for a moment. “I should be the one apologizing… I know you-... It’s hard after a while, not being… Not having human contact like that for a while. It’s not something they tell you about in therapy.”

Steve shakes his head, “I needed it. I really… Really did.” He sighs, “I...I didn’t know how much I...everything… still hurts.”

With that same kind smile, Claire leans forward and kisses his forehead. “It takes a lot of strength to admit you’re hurting that much. Give yourself some credit.”

“Maybe…” he says with a sad smile. “... Thank you, Claire. For everything.”

She takes his hand in hers, tracing the callouses and scars with her thumb. “Thank you for coming back.”

#Steve Burnside #Claire Redfield #resident evil #resident evil fanfic #tank fics #Holy shit yall i had the brainworms bad

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cake-writes · 5 years

Text

Compromise (Part Four)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Story Warnings: Mom!Reader, Dad!Bucky, Ex-Relationship, Co-Parenting Drama, Angst, Fluff, Separation Anxiety

Summary: You didn’t want to trust him again, because every time you did, Bucky broke your heart just a little more. Deep down, though, you wanted to get along with him. You wanted to be amicable. You wanted your daughter to know her father. You’d always wanted that. It just required a compromise.

Part Three / Master List

After breakfast, Bucky went to change into a pair of jeans for your ‘family outing,’ as it were. Car shopping, just as promised. Why the prospect of that made you so nervous, you weren’t sure, but you had to tell yourself that you were doing this for Winnie and Winnie only. Not for you. As nice as it might have been to spend time with Bucky, and not to have him nagging you about your old car – your daughter was more important.

Anxiously tapping your nails (or at least what was left of them) against the kitchen counter, you waited for the sink to fill. He’d made breakfast, so you thought it would be good to do the dishes as a thank you. And, well, that was how the two of you used to split those chores when you and Bucky were still living together. Whoever didn’t cook did the dishes. That was the norm.

You didn’t notice until the sink was full and you were scrubbing away that you’d already fallen back into an old routine. In an instant, you froze.

What were you doing?

Playing pretend. Like everything was peachy keen, and the last three years were a fluke. Like he hadn’t broken too many promises to count.

That was what you were doing.

You were acting like the fool you’d always been for him. Hell, you’d already fallen back into the same stupid routine. Would you fall back into bed with him, too? Lord knows you wanted to, and that made you feel even worse.

How stupid could you be?

With a huff, you did a quick scan of the living room and found Winnie happily absorbed in the same cartoon she’d been watching yesterday. Bucky must have put it on for her before he went to change. She looked so sweet and innocent – happy – yet here you were, thinking about a pipe dream that would just hurt her.

There was no way this was going to end without her getting hurt, let alone you.

“You okay?”

At the sudden sound of Bucky’s voice, you jumped and dropped the plate in your hands into the sink with a loud splash.

“I’m fine,” you replied, tone short, refusing to look at him in favour of washing the plate. Your movements with the sponge were brisk, almost like you’d be able to just scrub away your worries. No dice. The leftover syrup may have come off, but your thoughts were still a mess.

There was a brief pause where you felt Bucky’s eyes on you, studying you, trying to figure you out. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that something was wrong. These days it was like your mood changed at the drop of a hat; you were entirely too on edge around him, and for good reason.

You didn’t want to get hurt.

That was when he placed his hand on your shoulder – kind, familiar. The warmth from it seeped through your blouse, and the way he spoke to you was so incredibly gentle that it made you wish for a brief moment that things were back to how they used to be. It was so much easier to argue with him than it was to feel like this. “What is it, sweetheart?”

You let the plate go and rest your hands on the counter in front of you, letting out a shaky breath. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

His hand slowly moved from your shoulder to the middle of your back, before he asked softly, “Then why are you crying?”

What?

The tears blurring your vision were unmistakable. You never used to cry so easily. Why now?

“Just got something in my eye,” was the flimsy excuse you gave him, an obvious lie. After you wiped your hands on a dish towel, you finally turned to face him; there wasn’t really any other option, because it was the only way out of the kitchenette and you needed to get away from him, from this.

He was too close. He always got too close.

Once upon a time, you would have loved that. Not now.

Bucky’s eyes were the softest blue on yours, and although you could tell he didn’t believe you, he didn’t press further. Instead, he hesitantly pulled his hand away and stepped aside, offering you a sympathetic smile. “Go get it, then. I’ll finish these.”

He knew, but he chose not to say anything. That was even worse than being called out on your lie. You didn’t want his pity. You didn’t want anything from him.

Except you did. That was the problem.

You brushed past him without a word, somehow keeping your head held high and your pace steady as the tears rolled down your cheeks – but right before you shut the bathroom door, a sob escaped you, one loud enough that he definitely would have heard it even without his enhanced hearing.

God, you were an idiot.

Why were you letting him back in? He didn’t deserve it after everything he’d put you and Winnie through. He’d abandoned you both when you needed him, and now, two years later, he wanted to be involved again – now that it was convenient for him.

Not for you.

No, your entire life was being flipped upside down, and you had no say in any of it. After all, the whole reason you’d brought your daughter here was because he’d strongarmed you under threat of legal action. It wasn’t because he cared. No, it was a power play, and his offer to buy a car for the two of you was just another one. You’d be so indebted to him that you wouldn’t be able to say ‘no’. And then he’d take and take all over again.

The water ran ice cold from the faucet, jarring you from your racing thoughts. In the mirror, you looked like hell: red-rimmed eyes, flushed nose, blotchy complexion. You quickly washed away your tears and blotted at your face with a hand towel, trying and failing to ignore the nostalgic scent of his fabric softener. You had to stop buying that particular brand after you left.

He couldn’t do this to you and Winnie again. He couldn’t.

You wouldn’t let him – and you were out of the bathroom before you knew it.

“Winnie,” you called out, voice rough from crying which quickly drew her attention from the TV to you. Immediately, those big blue eyes of hers were wide in alarm, but before she could say anything you instructed, “Get your things. We’re leaving.”

While normally she might have whined or argued, she didn’t this time. Instead she did exactly as she was told – hopped down from the couch and ran to her room to retrieve her belongings.

Then your eyes fixed on Bucky. He was still at the sink, hands covered in suds, staring at you with a mixture of shock and indignation – which, of course, soon gave way to annoyance.

“What the hell did I do this time?”

“Everything,” you bit out, collecting your purse from the coffee table. “This was a mistake. I never should have brought her here.”

“A mistake?” he asked, angrily wiping his hands with the same dish towel you’d discarded on the countertop. “I’m her father!”

“Yeah? Then where the hell have you been?” you snapped. “Because I don’t remember having any help raising her. It was all me.”

Bucky let out an exasperated sigh and dropped the towel back on the counter. “We’ve been over this a hundred times. I had to work.”

“Oh, of course. You had to work.” Snorting derisively, you slung your purse over your shoulder. “Who takes her to the doctor, Bucky? Who takes care of her when she’s sick? Buys her meds? Packs her lunches? I do. And guess what? I have to work too, but you don’t see me using that as an excuse��”

He interrupted you by saying your name in a tone that caught you off guard – harsh, biting. “You’re the one who left.”

If you stayed, you wouldn’t have had to work. His salary was more than enough.

“I’m not a fucking housewife, Bucky!” you hissed. “You think I want to wait around all day for you to come home? Fluff some pillows on the sofa, maybe bake some cookies? This isn’t the 40’s!”

“Trust me, sweetheart, I’m well aware,” he said, voice laced with sarcasm. “And for the record, I never asked you for a damn thing.”

“Yeah, because you were never here,” you bit out, fingers tightly digging into the strap of your purse as you held it on your shoulder. “Why should I be forced to rely on someone who’s never here? Who never wanted to be? Christ, Bucky, maybe if I was with Hydra then you’d actually listen to me for once!”

At those final words, a flash of hurt came across his face, one that instantly let you know how out of hand this argument had gotten – but it disappeared as quickly as it came, replaced by a certain hard edge to his features that made your heart ache.

That was out of line. Way, way out of line.

You knew you should apologize, but as always, your pride got in the way. Bucky had put you through too much, hurt you and your daughter in too many ways. He didn’t deserve an apology. Not when he still had yet to apologize for everything he’d done to you and Winnie.

Right?

“Stop fighting,” came Winnie’s wavering voice from the hallway, then, and your eyes shot to her. She was peeking her head out of her room, chin wobbling like she was about to cry. “Please?”

Oh.

Oh no.

“Damn it,” Bucky swore under his breath, not loud enough for her to hear – then, louder, “It’s okay, princess, we’ll stop.” After that, he knelt down and beckoned for her to come over. “Come here. It’s okay.”

The heartbroken expression on her face immediately turned the fire of your hurt, your upset, your anger into an insignificant smoulder. You were a hypocrite; you’d just gotten on Bucky’s case less than a day ago for starting an argument in front of her, and now you’d done it, too.

“Why do you always have to fight?” she asked quietly, fidgeting with the hem of her dress as she approached the two of you.

You swallowed thickly, throat dry. While there were a million answers you could have given her, you couldn’t think of a single one. All you could focus on was how upset you’d made her.

Bucky gently brushed the hair out of her face. “Sometimes Mommy and Daddy don’t agree on things, but that doesn’t mean we don’t love you, Winnie. We love you more than anything.”

“That’s right,” you chimed in, getting to your knees, too. “We love you so, so much, baby.”

“But Mommy and Daddy don’t love each other,” Winnie said with a frown. “How come?”

Plenty of lies came across your mind, but you didn’t want to lie to her – so you decided to tell her the truth. “Mommy does love Daddy. It’s just… complicated.”

Bucky tensed up beside you at the admission. Of course he did. He probably thought you were lying.

“What’s ‘com-pa-cated’?”

You chewed your lip for a moment, trying to formulate a good answer.

“Do you remember Brandon from preschool?” When she nodded, you added, “You like Brandon a lot, right? But he picks on you sometimes, even though you’re friends. That’s complicated.”

“So Daddy picks on Mommy?” she asked.

You gave her a shrug. “Mommy picks on Daddy, too.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

“Because we want things we’ll never have from each other,” Bucky told her.

It might have been a jab, but you got the feeling that it wasn’t. Honestly, you had no idea what the hell he meant by that on his side of things, but on yours, it was pretty clear.

“Are we still leaving, Mommy?” Winnie asked with a frown. “I wanna stay.”

“Well,” you began, smoothing her collar down for the umpteenth time – another distraction, “I guess that’s up to Daddy.”

She looked over at him, but you didn’t.

You needed to apologize.

“Yeah, princess, you can stay.” Hesitantly, he brought his hand to the side of your neck, cool vibranium against flushed skin. Your eyes immediately snapped to his. “I’d like you to stay, too. I’ll listen.” Then his hand fell to his side. “If… If you want.”

At that, your heart skipped a beat.

“Okay,” was all you could say. “We’ll stay.”

Just for a few hours.

Just for today.

Part Five

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #compromise

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breakingsomething · 4 years

Text

to remember

basic summary: marvin's spiraling.

trigger warnings: mentions of abuse and self harm, flashback to a suicide attempt, much talk of medications, violent thoughts, themes of memory loss, extreme distress

it started with little things.

first he'd forget where he left stuff, like his phone or his cup of tea. that was just normal. but then he'd forget having ownership of certain items altogether. chase had once gotten mad at marvin for leaving a full mug next to his laptop, and it had taken five minutes for marvin to remember he'd made the drink in the first place.

as the weeks went by, thing continued to slip his mind. just small things. street names, words he should know, inside jokes from a while ago. he'd stumble before saying the name of an old friend, hesitate before mentioning that so and so had blonde hair because hadn't they dyed it, or had that been year ago? which of chase's kids liked sonic the hedgehog again? oh, chase kids were missing and he shouldn't bring them up? yeah. he'd forgotten that too.

then it was his medication. he'd been prescribed small tablets of paroxetine to take every day, which he'd done at the beginning. then he'd get so caught up with other things that it'd only be every few days that he'd remember the meds and a jolt of realization would hit him that he hadn't taken them in ages. but it was fine. he'd set a reminder on his phone! which worked for a while, until he'd read the notification and swipe it away with the intention to get up right away, but then get distracted, or even if he didn't get rid of it it would just get buried in his notifications bar and he wouldn't think twice. but it was fine! he was just a bit forgetful. silly billy marvin. so what if he sometimes forgot what his girlfriend looked like or when henrik's birthday was? that was normal, silly stuff. he was just fine.

"marvin, how long has it been since you've eaten?"

oh, someone was talking to him! he startled at the sound, whipping round in the kitchen doorway to face whoever it was and breathing a sigh of relief as he recognized him. jackie. his sweet big brother jackie, big brother who helped him keep his head on straight and comforted him through nightmares of events that marvin wasn't sure had really happened. how much of reality was he making up anymore? he wasn't sure.

"i just ate this morning," marvin said certainly, flashing the hero a smile. "what about you? i haven't seen you eat recently at all."

jackie crossed his arms, narrowing his dark eyes underneath his glasses. "me, chase and henrik ate breakfast together this morning. we had toast and wheetabix with bananas cause chase is on another health kick. where were you?"

marvin's confident grin slipped. "i - i had toast too," he said, trying to keep his voice steady so as not to reveal his uncertainties. "this morning. you guys must have - left."

marvin's heart was racing as he racked his brain. he had eaten, hadn't he? oh, oh, he didn't know. jackie's disapproving gaze was burning into him, making him feel smaller and smaller, like a child on the receiving end of a lecture.

"you can't skip meals, marvin," jackie sighed. he tilted his head and slowly reached his hand up to marvin's face, touching his forehead. even with the warning, marvin flinched. "are you feeling alright? apparently a lack of hunger or a feeling of sickness are side effects of the new medication, so -"

"shut up, jackie!" marvin hissed, face flushing. jackie raised an eyebrow at marvin's response, and the magician unconsciously flinched again. fuck, what was wrong with him lately? he knew jackie wasn't going to hurt him.

"there's no need to be embarrassed about medication," jackie said coolly. "i take paxil for my anxiety. it's nothing to be ashamed about."

"i know," marvin mumbled. he rubbed his skin comfortingly beneath his hoodie, wincing at the feeling of the scars all up his arm. self inflicted. couldn't blame anti for that. "it's not - i don't know. i'm new to all this. the whole - the whole…"

"mental illness thing?" jackie said with only a small hint of amusement in his voice. marvin snorted. the situation wasn't funny at all, so they had to make it that way themselves for it to be survivable.

he hummed, not looking jackie in the eye. another thing he was struggling with lately. he had always been good with things like that, something he excelled in that jackie did not. something else that had been taken from him. "i don't know. my head feels a bit weird all the time, but i don't think i'm sick. i should be ok, but, uh, thank you for the concern."

jackie kicked at a broken panel of wood on the floor, still not moving out of marvin's way. "speaking of medication," he said, and marvin's heart sank. "have you been taking them?"

"yes, jackie," marvin lied, swallowing hard, clenching and unclenching his fists. he couldn't stay still, why couldn't he stay still? his legs were shaking. "taken them every day."

"you're lying," jackie said flatly. marvin breathed in sharply at the undertone of disappointment in his voice, and just managed to look up at his face, cringing at how tired jackie looked. he rubbed at the bridge of his nose, pushing up his glasses. "henrik says you would have needed a refill by now if you had been taking them regularly. but you've barely touched the second packet."

marvin shook his head, breaths quickening. "i - yes i have. i finished the whole box." he'd dump them somewhere when he got a chance alone.

jackie sighed, shaking his head. "stop it, marvin. i looked in your room yesterday. the box was on your desk."

marvin gave a strangled cry. "you - you were in my fucking room? when i wasn't there?" god, he sounded like a child. but jackie knew that things were different after anti. marvin needed his space. he glared at his brother angrily, mouth hanging open with words he couldn't get out. "you fucking asshole, i thought you were going to respect my fucking privacy?"

jackie grimaced, scratching the back of his neck. "we're - we're worried for you, and -"

marvin didn't even say another word. he just shoved past his brother and stormed upstairs, slamming the door behind him.

sometimes he didn't remember his brother's names. that was just something that happened sometimes though, right? sometimes he forgot his street name. that was just a funny little mishap though, wasn't it? sometime he woke up and didn't know where he was and cried himself softly through his panic attack, curled up in the middle of his bed, too afraid to move in case someone came to hurt him, until he passed out from the headache that all the tears ended up giving him. that was normal though, wasn't it? just a silly little one time thing. it didn't mean anything. it could happen to anyone.

and then it happened again. and again. and again.

he awoke from nightmares he didn't remember. he thought about names that meant nothing to him, mouthing the words "dapper" and "naomi" and "jack" to himself. he held knives and thought about stabbing himself in the chest with them just to see what would happen. he shut himself in his wardrobe, shaking so hard he couldn't breath, feeling something hot drooling onto his neck.

the others began to properly notice the day marvin got lost.

he was just going to the corner shop. he bought a bottle of milk, a loaf of bread and a small packet of gum. he left the shop and was instantly hit with a dizzying wave of vertigo, like he was standing on top of a building. he didn't know where he was. he didn't know.

it was fine. there were three streets that branched off of this one, he was bound to belong on one of them. eeny, meeny, miney, mo, and he set off down the street to the left, which went down a small hill. that street then branched off into two other streets, and a long flight of stairs. marvin stared at them, head spinning.

he was suddenly so fucking scared.

he set off down the street to the left again. this one was sloping even further down a hill, tall, pretty looking houses with trimmed gardens and shiny cars parked neatly outside. marvin didn't live in a house, did he? he was certain he lived in a flat. there were flats somewhere in the distance, he could see. he set off towards them purposely, milk carton smacking against his thighs painfully.

it was so quiet. marvin felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, his chest tightening painfully. he wasn't supposed to be here. he wasn't supposed to be here. someone was going to stop him and tell him to turn around and he was lost, he was scared, and -

and the road ahead branched off into three separate roads, all of which were lined by blocks of identical flats.

he wasn't going to cry. he wasn't. he set off straight ahead, down a hill, frantically looking at the buildings around him. it was early spring, and some families were out in the gardens, playing in sprinklers and having barbecues. marvin was too hot in his long hoodie, sleeves covering the ugly scars on his arms. he couldn't breathe. he couldn't remember. nothing was familiar and the world was upside down and he was fucking terrified, was this a prank? was this a prank for his brother's youtube channel - which brother had a youtube channel, why couldn't he remember, he was scared, oh, he was scared!

eventually he collapsed in an empty bus stop, just across from a construction site surrounded by a red fence. he remembered that. there was a field behind it, and there was an abandoned waterworks, and a farm with lots of cows. he rapped his knuckles on his thighs, trying to ground himself. what else could he remember? he knew his own name. marvin mcloughlin, that was him. he tipped his head back and let out a shaky sob, stomach churning. nothing was right. he was too hot and the milk had gone warm and his palm was sweaty from holding the bread.

he sat there for an hour, numbly watching the sun go down. his head hurt from crying. he was too hot and tired and scared and he felt like a fucking child. marvin sat up, scrubbing at his eyes with his sleeve, scratching his sensitive skin. his mind felt like soup.

my name is marvin mcloughlin. i'm twenty nine years old. i have been on this planet for three years. i'm bisexual. i have three brothers. i have a girlfriend named naomi gudmundson. i used to be part of an organization called hecate's international network of magic.

it was night before his mind returned to him.

he fucking sobbed when it did, immediately scrambling to his feet and racing in the direction his mind was telling him to go before he forgot it. the milk and bread bashed his sides as he ran, and he definitely looked like a goddamn idiot, crying and darting through the streets with his shopping in hand. by the time he got to a street he recognized, a street he remembered, he was full blown sobbing, so hard it was difficult to catch a breath. and oh, when he saw chase sitting at the window on his ds, marvin could have cried out in relief. his little brother must have sensed him coming and turned to look at him, grinning, but his face fell as soon as he saw what state marvin was in. he leapt down from the window and disappeared, and marvin fell against the front door, not caring anymore if anyone saw him. he was scared, he was just so scared, he was just so, so scared.

as soon as the lock clicked and the door swung open, marvin threw himself into chase's arms, dropping the warm milk and crushed bread to the floor. "chase, chase, chase, chase!" he gasped, heart racing as his legs gave out, feeling like jelly. "oh my god, chase, chase..."

"what happened?" chase cried, clearly alarmed. he ran his hands across marvin's back soothingly, knowing not to touch his hair in case he set him off further. "did someone hurt you? do you need henrik? marvin, talk to me."

he couldn't talk. he was so overwhelmed, so fucking terrified out of his mind that he couldn't manage words, he just couldn't. all he could do was dry heave, coughing into his arm but still trying to cling to his brother because if he didn't he would disappear and marvin would be alone again and he couldn't be alone again he couldn't anti would get him anti would hurt him and dapper again and he'd punish him because kitten had disobeyed the rules and cut off his hair and anti would make him go into the spare room by himself again without anyone to touch him or talk to him fuck fuck fuck he was so scared!!!

he slept in jackie's bed that night. he couldn't speak, too overwhelmed, too afraid he'd be punished. he curled into a ball and hugged himself, confused and delirious, too shocked to speak. anti in his head. anti in his bed. dapper, anti, kitten, which name was his again? none of them sounded right.

everything came crashing down on him the next morning when he woke.

oh, oh, oh, had that all really happened? had he really gotten lost going to the corner shop, had he really had an hour long panic attack in broad daylight while clutching a bottle of milk and a bag of bread? a slapping wave of humiliation washed over him, and he shuddered, sitting right up in bed. was that real, had he made it up? he groaned softly, clutching his head. let it have been a nightmare, please, please.

he knew it hadn't been when jackie woke up and immediately started badgering him.

"who hurt you?" were his first words. "who upset you? what happened, why were you gone so long, tell me!"

"no one hurt me," marvin croaked. he hadn't spoken in hours, and his voice was hoarse. he curled tightly into himself, gently gracing his fingers across the skin of his neck to soothe himself. "just my own head. just my own head, jackie, jackie, jackie."

the conversation went by in a blur. marvin couldn't remember it.

my name is marvin mcloughlin. i'm twenty nine years old. i have been on this planet for three years. i'm bisexual. i have four brothers. i have a girlfriend named naomi. i used to be part of an organization called hecate's network of magic.

he didn't care what his brothers thought anyway. he was fine. it was just a silly memory lapse. ptsd? henrik, you're being ridiculous. jackie, don't agree with him! is anyone here on my side? chase? well, fuck you guys, i don't need you! no more doctors, no more doctors, i don't need you!

naomi was there for him. naomi, his best friend, his girlfriend, girlfriend, there was a change! he'd never loved that word more than now. he'd never loved her more than now. she was wonderful. she didn't treat him like he was fragile. he loved her.

"so how've you been?" she asked one morning when he was round at her shop, nai's blomma magi, yet again. he was there often, especially as of late. he didn't want to be around his brothers. all they did was talk in hushed voices and look away when he entered a room and speak to him gently like he was a bratty child. naomi didn't. naomi looked at him like he was her best friends and she loved him. he was so grateful for her. he thought she was the string holding him to the earth to stop him flying away.

"i've been good," he said cheerfully, swinging his legs on the counter where he was perched. naomi leapt up next to him, blowing upwards to push her caramel hair from her face. marvin wasn't used to it being so short. he thought it looked pretty. he stretched out a hand to run through it as he spoke, because they were dating and he could do that now, though he kept his eyes trained on naomi's despite how hard it was for him just in case she showed any signs of not liking what he was doing. "been busy. lots to do these days you know." he shot her some finger guns. "vibing."

she chuckled, rolling her eyes and shifting closer to him, knocking their legs together. "oh, the usual then," she joked, returning the finger guns. ""it be like that sometimes" and all that? are those the vibes, pye?"

he snorted, elbowing her side. "i am begging you to stop trying to use teen lingo. or - is lingo a word people use anymore? god, i don't fucking know. my point is please, please stop this madness."

she took his face in hand and titled it towards her, booping her nose against his. "ah, but you love me and my attempts at speaking like i am generation z," she laughed. "don't deny."

he knocked his forehead to hers, realizing how unprofessional they would look to anyone who might come inside. but honestly, he didn't care. he had no dignity left to lose. "i do love you," he murmured, before gently pressing his lips to hers, fingers brushing her warm cheeks. he couldn't stop himself from grinning ridiculously, giggling slightly as he pulled away. "ah, naomi, i'm bad at this."

"i'm no better," she admitted. her dark eyes flickered from marvin's lips to his eyes, making him automatically glance down at their entwined hands despite wanting to continue looking at her face. "i haven't had a relationship in years. what do we do? i mean, i won't lie, i enjoy what we're doing now. just this."

he kissed her again, just wanting to be close to her, not wanting to think. "naomi, naomi," he said softly against her lips, like a chant, like he was an actor memorizing his lines. "love you, naomi, naomi."

"that's my name," she whispered, her breath warm on his face. her fingers traced the scar on marvin's lip, the one anti had given him that day he tried to run away and he had made dapper slash his face with his knife as punishment. "you have a pretty name too, marvin. i should say it more often. marvin, marvin, marvin."

he felt light as a feather all of a sudden, like the air had been let out of him with just one stab of a knife to the face. marvin, marvin. forbidden. he didn't know that name.

he pulled away. stared into those chocolate eyes, his vision blurring as his exhaustion began to catch up to him. marvin, marvin, marvin, he didn't know a marvin.

"i don't understand," he mumbled.

the woman frowned, eyebrows furrowing. "what's wrong? pye, are you ok? you've gone very pale."

his fingers had gone very numb. he clumsily pushed himself off the counter, head swimming dizzily, his body moving sluggishly like he was wading through honey. "i'm not meant to be here," he slurred, tongue too big in his dry mouth. "i can't - i don't understand."

anti, anti, there was a name he knew. where did he go, kitten didn't know where he was or what he was doing - pye? pye wasn't his name. he didn't know what was. anti would know.

"marvin," his girlfriend was saying, naomi something, naomi gudmundson, his best friend. "marvin, hey, calm down, it's - uh, it's ok, i'm here. i - do you have your phone? i'm going to call jackie."

her voice was so lovely. marvin remembered days spent hypnotized out his mind, so desperately trying to remember the girl who called him names he wasn't allowed to know in his dreams, the two of them performing magic together. kitten wasn't allowed to perform magic anymore. his hands burned, and he clutched them tightly to his chest, tears forming in his eyes.

his phone had fallen out his pocket. "password, marvin," she asked, but he didn't know. he was suddenly so deep in his own head that he didn't know where or who he was. he was dimly aware of someone taking his hand and pressing one of his fingers to a sensor, of words being spoken, of a man with anti's face arriving and walking him home, of babbling tearfully about monsters and names and memories and girls in his dreams and twins who spoke with hands and charcoal and chocolate eyes and knives slitting his face and ropes and chains and predictive dreams and a man who held him tightly, crying, whispering "marvin, it's ok, it's ok, it's ok."

my name is marvin. i'm twenty something years old. i have been on this planet for three years. i'm bisexual. i have five brothers. i have a girlfriend. i used to be part of an organization called hecate.

they took him to a doctor.

jackie went with him. he was the only one marvin trusted, the one who's reddish hair and dark blue eyes and splattering of freckles across scarred cheeks was most comforting, warm, safe. the doctor's name was - something. she was kind, dark hair and glittering black eyes. she asked him questions. "have you been in any accidents recently?" she started in a tinny american accent. like chase. chase had an american accent.

jackie answered for him. "he's recently had a bad concussion, fell down the stairs and hit his head. that's the main thing we can think of."

that wasn't true. and yes, jackie and henrik had argued about lying. "they could incorrectly diagnose him, and then he could be put on the wrong medications, he's already on antidepressants and we can't risk something making his condition any worse!" henrik had cried. "this won't work!"

"then what do we say - "our brother deeply hypnotized him and locked away a ton of his memories, gaslighting him so badly he didn't remember his own name for like three days?" no!" jackie had hurled back. "a concussion is something more easy to explain. i can fake hospital records, aaron can help me if i need it, and -"

"we can't fake this!" henrik despaired. "this is a genuine problem, this is his life, we can't just fake hospital records and hope they magically come up with the correct diagnosis based on the lies you tell them -"

"this isn't your thing, hen, this is marvin and i am doing what's best for him -"

marvin had been sitting at the top of the stairs listening to them fight. he rubbed his burning hands together, wincing at the pain of the contact. how long had it been since he'd been able to use his magic? months. but he couldn't use it. he'd get in trouble. it wouldn't be ok, though. anti would let him use his magic before he exploded.

chase came to sit next to him. "i'm sorry," he said softly. "this is - shitty, i know."

everyone was always sorry. marvin shoved his hands between his knees and didn't respond until chase got the point and walked away again.

eventually, they had just gone with the concussion story.

the doctor turned back to him, smiling reassuringly. marvin fucking hated her. "does anyone in your family have a history of alcohol or drug misuse?" she asked.

chase, marvin dimly thought. then she realized he didn't mean that. "don't have parents," he said hollowly. "all i have is -"

"- is us," jackie interrupted, shooting marvin a look. "our parents are dead. there was no history of any of that, no. not that i'm aware of."

she glanced at her computer, ponytail swinging as she turned in her chair. "i see you're currently taking paroxetine, two 10mg tablets per day?" she asked, and marvin nodded. "have you had a history of mental health issues before this?"

"recently got diagnosed with depression," marvin mumbled, looking at his purple boots.

"have you ever self harmed or made a suicide attempt?"

"what does this have to do with memory loss?" jackie suddenly snapped, squeezing his brother's hand. marvin smiled, but shook his head at him, clearing his throat.

"it's ok, jackie," he said softly, and turned to the doctor again. "uh...yes to both."

"ok, ok." she was silent for a moment as she typed. "i don't see a log here for… any time recently. when did you make said attempt?"

a knife that anti hadn't taken back. he was out, gone away doing whatever he did, and marvin was in the bathroom, blade pressed to his wrist. it could all be over. dapper, brother, don't rewind, i want this to be permanent.

marvin turned to jackie, panicked. the older man immediately spoke up, leg bouncing rapidly. "i - last year, around july. he - there should be records, uh, i can see…"

jackie's boyfriend was going to be busy with these fake records, marvin thought, amused. records for a concussion, records for a suicide attempt - marvin hadn't yet met aaron, the man who had swept jackie off his feet while he was away, but he got the feeling the poor bastard was going to think he was a total nutjob.

no, that wasn't a nice word. naomi wouldn't like him using that word. a pang of guilt went through him; he'd left naomi for a full year with no explanation, kissed her a few times, freaked the fuck out and dipped. maybe she'd think he was insane too. no, no, bad word. he shouldn't be thinking such things about himself. naomi would never think that.

the doctor asked him a few memory related questions: what he'd had for breakfast, what his parents names were ("jack and… donna," he'd said), his address, ect ect. then he did something called a "mental state examination" that honestly felt like a test at school. he did a quick physical exam. then they'd asked to draw his blood.

that had been an immediate no from marvin.

"you - you can't do that," he stammered, pulling his hands inside his sleeves and wrapping them around himself. just the thought of someone coming near him with a sharp object sent him into an immediate sweat, his fight or flight instincts kicking in. "i - i don't like - i can't do that."

the doctor sighed. "we have to test for certain things, such as vitamin b-12 deficiency and thyroid disease," she said, like she was reciting from memory. "although given all i've heard, i think we may be able to diagnose you, but we have to make sure. we'll likely still have to do an mri to make sure."

"i can't do the blood, i can't do the blood," marvin chanted. he was shaking so ridiculously hard. when did he get this pathetic, this weak? "i - i'm sorry, i'm sorry, can't have sharp objects, jackie, jackie, jackie -"

jackie took his both his hands, glancing at the doctor helplessly. "he - he gets scared around sharp objects," he said apologetically. "marvin, hey, it's ok. no blood today, no blood."

"we'll have to reschedule if we can't do this today," she sighed again. marvin was getting sick of her doing that. "can we do tomorrow at… right before ten? maybe five two? that's when the trucks come to take away samples, and results would be quicker if we could get it done sooner."

jackie hesitated. "marvin?"

marvin couldn't breath. couldn't breath. "no, no, no, i didn't do anything wrong," he sobbed, flapping his hands in a circle with his eyes screwed up tight. "don't hurt me, i didn't mean it, i'm sorry, i'm so sorry, leave me alone -"

he thought he blacked out. memories were fuzzy. days passed, maybe. maybe he got his blood drawn somehow. he didn't fucking know. time meant nothing anymore.

my name isn't mine. i'm too old. i have been on this planet for so long. i'm real, maybe. i have a lot of brothers. i have people who i think love me. i used to be somebody.

they diagnosed him with ptsd and memory loss. then he got started on donepezil as well as his paroxetine. two medications for two of the many things that were wrong with him.

he visited naomi and told her the truth.

"i lied to you," he said. he stood in front of the counter like a customer, eyes dry and voice flat. "i wasn't staying with a friend last year. i told you that because the truth is fucking awful and i didn't want to burden you with that."

naomi looked unsurprised, but concerned. she frowned, raising her hand like she was going to touch him, but held back. "marvin," she said softly, and the name grounded him. "you can tell me anything."

she shut shop for the day and he told her.

they were both crying by the end of it. it was a lot, to be fair; marvin had years of trauma to unload, though most of it had happened within the last year and a bit. he almost expected her to kick him out - he was damaged goods, too fucked in the head to even function without constantly being doped up on meds. but she never did. instead, she pulled him in for a proper hug, kissing the side of his head and gently rubbing his back. "marvin mcloughlin," she said, naomi said. "i can't even put into words how fucking sorry i am that all that happened to you, i - my fucking shit, that's so horrible."

marvin had been so unbelievably touch starved for so long that for a moment all he could do was linger in her arms, stunned, eyes so full of unfallen tears that he couldn't see. "please don't let go," he choked out, and he was still scared, but he knew her, had known her for a long time, and trusted her with his life. he somehow always had. maybe he'd fallen in love with her the moment they'd met. "you don't hate me. you don't hate me?"

he heard her snort, shocked. "you think i would - hate you for what?" she almost laughed, her short hair brushing marvin's forehead and getting caught in his barrettes. "marvin, you are more than just my boyfriend. you're my goddamn best friend and i love you more than i ever have loved anyone, and that is - väldigt läskigt, i am forgetting english. but i would never, ever hate you. well, do you - do you want the truth?"

he nodded into his shoulder, the movement making the tears overflow and spill down naomi's back. he quickly scrubbed at his face, embarrassed, but naomi hardly seemed to notice. she buried her face into marvin's neck, her voice slightly muffled as she spoke her next words.

"i was so lost when you left," she murmured. "i had made you my anchor. i blamed myself for you leaving; blamed my bpd, blamed all the depressive states you'd seen me go through, blamed all the mania you'd had to talk me out of. but you know what? i got a therapist and i learned i couldn't blame myself for the actions of others and i continued to love you every second you were gone. i knew you'd be back. i did. i never doubted you and i loved you, so so much, and with the help of my therapist i think i figured it all out."

she sat up, knocking her nose against marvin's. "you are a person and not an anchor. not a - a puppet or a magician for your brother to use. you are a person and so am i and this makes no sense, i don't even know if i'm speaking english but i do know i have always loved you and always will and i'm so glad you're alive."

and it was those words that finally broke marvin. he let out a noise that was almost a wail of despair, shoulders shaking as his chest heaved against naomi's body. she was crying too, he could hear her. so for a long while they just held each other through the pain, and eventually marvin wasn't sad or mourning, he was just hugging his best friend. just comfortable, just warm, just happy. just in love. just alive.

he would be ok.

and as he kissed her once more, this time certain of who he was, where he was, what he was, this time certain he knew he was ok; as he did that, he remembered himself one more time.

my name is marvin mcloughlin. i'm not dead and i'm not going to let myself hurt anymore and anti can suck it if he thinks i'm going to fall to his whims anymore. my name is marvin mcloughlin and i love my family and my friends and myself. my name is marvin mcloughlin and that glitch bitch better hide as well as he can, because a storm is coming and i'm going to be in the eye of it.

#jacksepticeye #boop writes #marvin the magnificent #chase brody #jackieboy man #henrik von schneeplestein #naomi gudmundson #arc three: righting wrongs

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tales-of-two · 4 years

Text

Brothers Reunited And...?!? Part 2

Zero started to tear up purple tears streamed down his cheek bones, his voice became shaky "P-Papy..?" Akarui's eye lights shrunk and wobbled in place, recognizing his brothers voice immediately "..Bro?" Zero stood up "I-it's me Papy.. I know I look different now but..I-" Before he could finish his sentence the tall skeleton scooped Zero up into his arms with ease and fell to his knees with him in his arms letting out a cry. Pink tears trickled down his face burying it into Zero's shoulder, holding onto the back of his skull as he repeated "I'm SORRY! I'm sorry little bro! I'm so sorry!" Zero clutched onto him as if he would disappear crying out in a shaky voice "It wasn't your fault Papy! It really wasn't! You didn't know what would happen!" Akarui sobbed into his shoulder rocking him back and forth clutching him tighter "I left my little bro to fend for himself! I could hear your cries of pain and agony, bones breaking, all of it! Father hurt you every day! You did all that for ME!! You stupid stupid skeleton!"

Zero sobbed as he shut his eye sockets tightly. His soul pulsated, but instead of his soul slowly breaking in pain, Akarui's soul pulsated in response, their magic stabilizing each other since Akarui had half of Zero's original soul attached "I don't fucking care anymore, you were worth it Papy..H-he's gone, I DUSTED him brother! D-don't hate me for it please!" Akarui rocked him back and forth shushing him "Shh shh if you don't fucking care I don't fucking care little bro...You come first."

Obscure was stunned at all the information he heard, but stepped away a bit to let the brothers reunite in peace. He was happy Zero was finally reunited with his older brother, he couldn't keep the smile off his jaw, glad he was able to do this for him.

After awhile of talking, Zero explained to Akarui the short version of what happened. Akarui nodded, he knew they had a lot of catching up to do, but now was not the time. When they had both stopped crying, Zero snapped his fingers. Now Akarui was wearing a sweater, shorts, along with his glasses. Giving his new threads a nod of approval, he picked up Zero and carried him over to Obscure "Yo, sooo you're the one that gave me a brand spanking new body?" He spoke in a lazy and mellow tone.

Obscure pulled up his hood looking down and gave a slight nod. "Yeah.." He said softly. He looked back up looking at the two brothers. "Um, we need to get going here soon.."

"First off, thank you. My lil bro and I are in your debt, thank you for taking care of him." Akarui gave a grateful smile then nodded "Yeah, he caught me up a bit let's go, nyeh heh. Also keep your hands to yourself while around me." He set Zero down wrapping his arms around his shoulders from behind giving Obscure a pointed look "Got it edgy boyfriend of his?" Zero sputtered embarrassed "Papy be nice!" The younger brother rolled his eye lights flushed then he cleared his throat. "Let's go Obscure." He wrote out multiple kanji and castes the same spells as earlier over himself and his brother, keeping them both hidden. Akarui was surprised at the new type of magic, but soon had the eyes of a doting proud sibling.

Obscure nodded nervously and closed his eyes allowing the black to vanish. Within moments they were back in the med bay...

and they were not alone.

Nightmare had been waiting for them and quickly coiled a tentacle around Obscure. Obscure grunted in pain as Nightmare made his grip tighter, nearly crushing him. He addressed the seemingly empty room with a sick grin. "Did you have a good time? A little birdy told me you have been up to no good!" Nightmare waved a phone, in the text box it read 'Message from Saide'.

Zero tried to reach out to stop him, but Akarui blocked him with his arm. Zero looked at the phone and once he saw text that was written his eye light turned red.

Nightmare gave a nasty smile "I'll make this simple. You go back home, and Obscure here gets to keep his life and we pretend this never happened. Got it? 5...4...."

Zero knew he was talking to them and they had been ratted out. He snapped his fingers revealing only himself keeping his brother hidden. Zero's heart eye light was flaring red but soon turned blue "Stop! I'll leave don't kill him!"

"Then get going." Nightmare hissed. Obscure looked at Zero and gave a smile, hoping to look reassuring "I-I'll be fine...I promise..!"

Zero looked hurt seeing Obscure in pain, but he nodded in his direction "I love you" he stepped back with a palm over his brother. Raising his hand he snapped his fingers teleporting them back into Zero's room. Zero's heart eye light flared red as magic seeped out of his eye socket. Snarling he stormed out of his room, slamming the door open looking down into the living room. He growled while his hate kanji pulsed as his eyes landed on Saide. He yelled out in an angry tone for the first time "Sadie!!!"

Saide and Bass snorted awake at the yelling and she looked around confused. "wasswrong.." She mumbled rubbing her eyes. Bass groaned and gave a few beeps and tapped his speaker "Ugh...wha time issit.." He grumbled.

Zero stomped down the stairs and grabbed her by the front of her shirt lifting her from the chair. "You think you can just play with Obscure's life like that?! Why did you fucking rat him out!? I thought you cared for your creations, do we mean so little to you!?" He growled as Akarui rushed down stairs grabbing Zero by the arms pulling him away from her as she dropped to the floor. "BRO stop!" Akarui's left eye light was also red, he could feel his brother's emotions now as he thrashed in his arms. The yelling woke Zayne and Smol as they rushed out of Akarui's old room "Zero what the fu--" he stood there stunned staring down at Akarui. Smol Chan ran out and gasped cupping her mouth in shock once she saw Akarui as well.

Saide gasped in fear as Zero shook her and dropped to the ground looking at him hurt and confused. "Zero what the hell?!" She yelled standing up. Bass quickly got in between her and Zero protecting her "Easy brah, explain whats got ya actin so wack." Bass looked at the other skeleton confused. "Eh?"

Zayne fell to his knees still stunned "...That's Zero's brother, back from the fucking dead.." Smol chan placed a hand on Zayne's shoulder rubbing his back looking down at them. Akarui looked confused by everyone else, but shook his head pulling Zero further back "BRO calm down!" He forced Zero onto his back sitting on top of him holding him down by his wrists. Zero grunted and kicked trying to get out of his hold, but Akarui was too strong. He growled clenching his fists looking up at Saide glaring "You told Nightmare where I was and where we went with Obscure!! You texted him and now Obscure is in danger!"

Saide and Bass looked at him stunned and confused, but shaking her head Saide snapped out of it first "What the fuck are you talking about?! I was sleeping the whole time! I didn't even know you left!" She yelled back glaring. Smol Chan added in "Zero she was here the entire time, I could hear her snoring from upstairs! She's not lying!" Zero scoffed at Smol Chan "Tch! And what secrets are you hiding old creator!? Let me guess, you two worked together and Nightmare just randomly received a text message from another Saide!?" Smol Chan looked hurt as her little ears lowered. "I'm not the creator anymore.." Akarui sighed "I didn't want to do this bro but-" He pressed two fingers on the side of Zero's neck causing him to immediately fall asleep under Akarui and his arms and legs went limp.

Saide held her stomach as it started to hurt from the anxiety she was feeling from this mess "I didn't do anything..I swear" Bass hugged her as she started to cry. Bass looked over at Zero worried "He's not hurt...right?" He asked softly.

Akarui picked his brother up and set him on the couch "Nah he's okay, he always had a bad temper and trouble sleeping. One day I found out he had a very sensitive spot on his neck and if you pressed down hard enough he'll go right to sleep." He leaned in and kissed Zero on the forehead he turned to Saide, his red eye light turned blue as a sign Zero was feeling sadness, the other stayed pink "Is she okay? I can explain what happened and what we saw?" Meanwhile, at the top of the stairs Zayne was clutching Smol Chan in his arms as she cried quietly. He looked down at Zero giving a soft scoff "Puh idiot.."

"She's hurt, and will be hella mad later...but I think an explanation will be helpful..." Bass frowned worried. "What was with that creator stuff, I never heard him talk like that before..."

Akarui nodded in response and moved to sit closer to the pair. As he walked over to sit on the glass coffee table, he noticed his eye light in the reflection, not expecting the color change. He stared at it strangely before shrugging and laying across it staring up at them upside down resting his hands behind his head winking "Kay, first off my name's Akarui nyeh heh I'm Zero's older brother back from the dead with the help of my bro and his edgy boyfriend. I woke up in a dark place." He waved at them "I think he's been telling Zero stuff about how creators shouldn't be trusted, dunno, my bro gave me the short version of it. Still weird he changed his name, but he's still adorable. Anyway, next thing we know we're in a medical room and on the cell phone from a tentacle. hentai looking monster the receiver read "Saide". Think that's what caused his cute tantrum, next thing I know, boom we're back home." He held out his arms and legs as if presenting the end of his story. From upstairs Zayne groaned "Too much thinking, I'm gonna keep Smol in my AU for awhile till thing's settle down." He looked down at her to check if that was what she wanted and she nodded. Taking out her miniverse gun she opened a portal allowing Zayne and Smol to walk through.

"Laters Zayne.." Bass called out softly. "Man...Well, first of all, welcome back to da world of the livin dog. I'm Bass. Zeros Edgy boyfriend number two, his other boyfriend Mist and I all belong to Saide here." Bass introduced. Saide collected herself and wiped her face "I didn't text anyone.." She said softly. "Also, its nice to meet you.." She added quickly not forgetting her manners.

Akarui's eye sockets went blank at Bass's comment "How many boyfriends does he have?!" He rolled over and clutched at Zero's limp form protectively "Don't worry bro, I won't let the hungry beasts take your innocence, nyeh heh heh!" He rubbed his cheek to Zero's "Keep yer mitts to yourself Bass I can steal my bro's heart back from you in a second." He clicked his tongue and finger gunned him smiling before setting Zero back down. He stretched his arms out and sat properly on the couch "This body feels weird, but it's good to be back! Pleased to meet cha fellow weeblets, I dig the speaker Bass I love music, and you too sweetheart~" he blew Saide a kiss before sitting on Zero crossing one leg over the other lazily resting his arms on the couch settling over him "Sorry bout him sweetie, I believe you, do you know anyone else named Saide baby maybe?" He rhymed to make the sentence exciting as he grinned.

"Ha! first of all, I am not dating Zero, My boo is a skeleton snake." Bass laughed. "Second, if you like music then you're a skeleton of good taste." Bass shot finger guns back at him grinning. Saide Blushed a bit at the flirty comment and sadly shook her head. "I really don't know..and unless I prove it... Zero will never believe me.."

((Hnng sorry this took a little more than 2 hours xD I wanted to add in a few scenes, the first half can be found here @mistrealm ))

#skeleton oc #zero the skeleton #undertale oc #saide #obscure #obscure the skeleton #bass the skeleton #zayne the skeleton #smol chan

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