#been high everyday & doing all my usual bullshit & i feel so guilty i feel so fucking guilty

[missallsundayyy]

Wake me up at midnight

"You know Robin, you've been spending 95% of your time with Law lately. We barely get to see you in the yard" Nami whined, the strawhats were having lunch and all the crew was now gathered in the dining room. All except for Trafalgar Law who was in the library reading his medical texts. Chopper, Sanji, Zoro and Franky are amongst the ones that weren't busy swallowing the food like they've not eaten in 2 years.

"That's not true Nami, me Robin and Tra-guy are always in the medical room and if we're not we would be out on watch" Chopper said with a mouth filled with meat.

"You're only with then because you're in the same field as Law but Robin is with Law most of the time, nyaaah Robin! It's like you don't miss us girl time anymore" Nami complained like a teenager losing her best friend.

"Maybe you'd be third wheeling Robin and Law. Robin probably likes him that's why she's spending so much time with him" Franky shrugged while popping a whole sandwich into his mouth with the help of his tiny robotic finger-hand. This comment raised Zoro's eyebrows and enraged the ships' cook.

"THAT DAMNED PIRATE AND MY ROBIN CHWANNNN TOGETHER!!!? I WILL DRAG HIM INTO THE BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN FLOOR MYSELF~~>¥~€~£\¥" Sanji yelled with strings of curses and inaudible swearing following.

"Shut it up you Ero-cook and let's hear what the woman has to say" Zoro interrupted and then turned to Robin also curious about the new bond relationship forming between his crewmate and the Captain of the Heart pirates.

"Fufufu first off, I apologise if i've not been spending any time with you Nami. However me and Law-kun are simply sharing each others' knowledge regarding the void century and I have been researching on something new." Robin said with a smile.

She was touched that her nakamas wanted to spend time with her and she felt guilty that she failed to notice how she wasn't spending time with them. She was too engrossed with Law's company and the stories he would story tell her everyday when he was done with his work to ask Nami to sun tan or read megazines together anymore or ask the rest if they wanted afternoon tea or coffee. She mentally note that she would definitely make it up to the navigator on the next island they stop at; that would definitely cost her a fortune but its a small price to pay.

TIMESKIP

Law was in the library as usual working on his medical research when he heard the door open and close and he could hear her high-heels click-clack on the wooden floor. He smirked knowing exactly who was coming. Robin found the surgeon behind a pile of medical books. “You know for a doctor, you are quite unhealthy yourself Law-kun.” She crossed her arms staring at him.

“Oh? What makes you say that Nico-ya”

“How many hours did you sleep last night?”

“Enough” he shut her down with his reply but Robin was too experienced for his bullshit.

She walked towards the surgeon who was sitting on the sofa, she made herself comfortable and leaned towards Law who was now confused about what she was trying to do. Soon enough she was in a sleeping position with her head on his lap. Law was taken aback by her actions. Never was he this close to someone in an intimate way before.

“Nic...co-ya...what are you?..”

“It’s peaceful around you Law-kun. I’ve not been sleeping well these few days and if you don’t mind i’d like to be here just for a few hours.” Her bright big blue orbs connected with his and he thought he felt something he had never felt before. He couldn’t say no even if he wanted to and Robin had that effect on him. When they first interacted it would be purely out of curiosity of each other, he could feel the woman’s pain and loss which he himself had first hand experience in. As time went by, they would spend more and more time with each other and he wouldn’t admit it outloud but she was someone he would very much want in his crew. Her intelligence, wisdom, calmness and composure in his opinion would make one of the best asset if she was in his crew. That aside she was very skilled with her devil fruit powers as well, what more would a man...a captain want.

“Alright, you have my company until you’re well rested Nico-ya.” he replied and resumed his gaze back to his papers. While his gaze is towards the researches but his attention and focus was still on the woman on his lap. The woman who trusted a soon to be an enemy of her crew.

“Law-kun?”

“Hmm?”

“I think you’re very handsome when you’re pretending to be concentrated on your papers”

There she goes being the damn tease she is. He was now trying to focus not to be all flustered and then her giggles echoed throughout the room.

“I think you’re a beautiful women Nico-ya. I would have loved to have you be a part of my crew.”

She was now taken aback by his compliment but of course made no intentions to show him, “I'm touched but better not let anyone hear that, it would surely cause another commotion” she grinned at the captain.

“I'm just saying, if i had crossed path with you first…”

“You would have me as your enemy and killed me.”

“That's how you feel about me?”

“That's how i felt”

“What about now?” Law hesitated asking but fuck it.

“I think Luffy’s decision to align with you was one of those rare right choices he has made in being captain so far. I’d put this as bluntly as I can Law-kun, I like you.” A smile crept on his face, she told him exactly what he wanted her to say.

“Shall we continue our research once you’re rested Nico-ya?” he was never good with affections and Robin knew that this was his way of telling her he felt the same way.

“Wake me up at midnight”

So, Law did something he’s never done before and for once he used his hand for something aside his abilities. He ran his hands through Robin’s soft raven locks “Rest well Nico-ya”

[liddolwhynot2000]

For You

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Summary: Humanity's Strongest Soldier had quit the military. For you.

Pairing: Levi/Reader

Genre: Levi in looooveee, liddol angsty, happy ending, drama, dad!Levi

Words: 3.3K

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[Note: This isn't a direct sequel to 'Falling'. But it falls in the same universe. If you want to read about how Levi met and fell for reader in this universe, check out my story Falling.]

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'Levi what are you doing here-'

'I'm about to hold our daughter.'

'I can see that darling, but you're supposed to be at work. '

The short man didn't bother answering you, instead opting to pick up your two year old daughter. Little Kutchel squealed in delight, happily chanting 'papa'.

'Mamaaa.'

You felt a tug at your skirt, your one year old son was clinging to you. Farlan whimpered, his hands raised high, clearly wanting you to pick him up. With a sigh, you did so and realized he needed a diaper change.

'I'll be back in a few, and then we'll talk.'

Your only response was Levi complaining about how 'brat-the-first needed to stop drooling so much' as he raised a giggling Kutchel high in the air.

....................

Usually, once you managed to put your beloved children to sleep with a lullaby, you gazed at them in awe, affectionaly tucking them in. Both of them took after their father completely, his black hair and steel eyes. Farlan's hair was almost the same as Levi's, much to your amusement. Kutchel was a rather active and loud baby while Farlan was a little on the quiet side. You usually missed Levi on nights like these, wishing he could visit more. Tonight, however, you felt more uneasy rather then happy at his sudden presence.

'I quit.'

'You what?'

You couldn't believe your ears, surely you had heard him wrong.

'You heard me. I. Quit.'

'But why?'

No matter how hard you tried, he wouldn't give you a straight answer. No amount of questioning or pouting would work on him. In the end, he strolled up to you, rough hands gently holding your upper arms.

'Look, I had my reasons. Things got unbearable for me and-'

'But don't they need you-'

'They should have thought of that before. Now listen, I've already got another job lined up, so we don't need to worry about moneu-'

'But Levi, I still don't understand why you-'

'Just trust me. It's messed up shit.'

Looking into his eyes, the same eyes you had hopelessley fallen for all those years ago, you gave in. Of course you trusted him, how could you not? You wouldn't have married the man otherwise. ____________________________________

Things began to change as you got used to seeing Levi everyday. When the two of you had met, you had worked as a cook for the garrison engineers living near the Survey Corps Headquarters. Back then, seeing each other daily hadn't been an issue. But after getting married and having kids, you had moved into his house in the nearby village. It meant less time together as a family, but you had wanted your children to have stability.

You sat on the couch, well more or less laid on the couch, watching Levi entertain your children. All three of them of them sat on the floor, with toys scattered everywhere on the carpet.

Farlan played with some blocks, happily gurgling as he tried to figure them out. Kutchel, on the other hand, busied herself with Levi.

You could only laugh at the sight of Levi's deadpan expression as Kutchel climbed all over him. Neither of had seen it coming, but your babies had inherited the Ackerman strength ten fold. Holding up their necks extremely early, climbing out of their cribs, easily lifting things that were too heavy for normal babies.

When Kutchel had been seven months old, the two of you had woken up to find that not only had she escaped her crib, she had managed to climb into your bed and cuddle with Levi. Although befuddled, the sight of the two of them had been heartwarming beyond words, and you hadn't been overly cocnerned.

Her displays of unnatural strength had been, well, less then pleasant for the two of you. It had put you on guard. The near heart attack you had suffered through, when your one year old baby girl had hauled up one end of the sofa with her teeny tiny hand, while trying to get a toy that had gotten stuck there, had almost been too much. Levi had been torn between horror and amusement at the time, before intervening. And well, both of you preferred not remember how Farlan had smacked his tiny fist against the brand new wooden table during a tantrum and caused it to collapse.

'You brats will eat sitting on the goddamn floor for the rest of your lives now. I don't have the money to buy a table if your just going to-'

'Levi, they're just babies, let them be-'

'Oh I see, so we're selling your kidney to buy a new table-'

'Darling don't be so dramatic-'

Kutchel and Farlan merely ignored their irate father, babbling as they played with their toys.

The Ackerman strength was hereditary, the two of you had concluded. Hange had theorised that with every new generation, that unbelievable strength only grew, to the point that they could access it at an extremely young age. It was manageable for now, you mused to yourself, but it wouldn't be long till Levi would have to train them lest they hurt someone by accident. You got off the couch and slid to the floor, cooing to your son. Levi was scowling as he held Kutchel at arms length.

'Stop trying to rip my hair out, you brat.'

Kutchel leaned towards him while babbling. Levi allowed her little hands to rest on his cheeks, his expression softening at her grin.

'Wuv Papaa.'

You beamed at the sight, before turning your attention back to Farlan. He had been avidly bashing two blocks together and would burst out laughing at the sound. You gently caught him before he fell from the force of his laughter.

It had been a while since the two of you had been this peaceful.

...........

When the two of you had managed to put your babies down for a nap, you remembered some things that you needed to buy. Rushing out, you went to the market, hoping the shops you needed to go to weren't too packed today. Much to your suprise, during your excursion, you saw some of the Survey Corps members. You recognised them as the Special operations Squad. While you weren't necessarily friends with them, you did know their names.

As if reading your mind, one by one, they all caught sight of you. Another day, they would waved at you and maybe approached to help woth the bags. However, there were no signs of those friendly expressions today. In fact, you couldn't help but notice how they were looking at you. It made you feel as as if you had been the Colossal Titan that knocked down Wall Maria and ruined their lives. The ginger haired girl, Petra, was the one who really caught your attention. She had looked oddly guilty, and as though she was apologising with her eyes for a moment, before copying her comrades sullen expressions.

Startled and beyond confused, you opted to walk away from their line of vision. Your fears, that you had hoped were baseless, were slowly being confirmed. Levi quitting the military hadn't been well recieved. And if the way his former squad had looked at you had been any indication, they thought you had something to do with his decision.

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Kutchel had been particularly fussy that night, unwilling to go sleep.

'Pway!' she had cried out, struggling in Levi's arms. It had taken a while but soon enough you were lying in bed, both your children deep asleep as you tucked them in blankets. The two of you had been exhausted, so when you heard the knock on the door, a very irritated Levi had quietly gone to check it out.

When he didn't return for a while and you heard muffled noises, you silently went to check on him, stopping short at the door at the sound of Petra's voice.

'-captain please reconsider-'

'Petra's right captain, we need you-'

'That's enough.'

They all straightened up.

'I'm no longer your captain-'

They all deflated, looking ready to argue. Levi held a hand up to silence them.

'I wish you all well in life. Don't involve yourself in this. This is between the higher ups and I.'

'Captain, we know this is because of your-'

'None of you know shit. Focus on going your damn jobs and minding your own business. Now leave.'

Olou, Petra, Gunther and Eld looked despondent as they made to leave.

'Petra-stay back for a minute'

All of them look surprised and curious, but didn't bother asking questions and left. They figured Petra would tell them what had happened later. The conversation took a weird turn you hadn't quite expected.

'You have some nerve coming all the way to my house after all the bullshit you pulled.'

'Captain- I didn't mean to, you know that. I was only following orders-'

'So your orders mentioned you bullshitting to everyone that I left the military because my wife asked me to?'

'...Captain I didn't say that. Everyone assumed-'

'And you allowed it. Don't fucking lie, you just didn't want any heat to fall on you. Stay away from her. Or else. I don't care what you're ordered to do. You've already made the situation worse then it should be.'

'Captain please-'

'Out. Now. Nothing you say can excuse the shit you pulled.'

As you heard Petra leave, you felt that sinking feeling in your stomach grow. So Levi had left the military for you. And the military hated you for it. The real questions was, why? ____________________________________

You watched your husband as he spoon fed mashed potatoes to Kutchel. His face was scrunched up in disgust, as Kutchel made sure that at least half the food ended up on her face and clothes. Farlan was taking a nap, happily tucked away in your arms.

'Kutchel--for the love of- eat your shitty food!'

'Darling, language-'

'I'm trying, just look at the shitty mess she's making, I might have a heart attack-'

'Shit!'

The two of you paused, staring in stunned silence as your two year old began chanting the one word you had hoped she wouldn't pick up from your husband. Levi avoided your gaze, no doubt knowing it was his fault, and instead started making feeble attempts at stopping Kutchel.

'Oi don't say that-'

'Shit papwaa!'

'What? No. Brat-the-first, you better forget you ever heard that-'

You chuckled a little, the sight of your usually calm and composed husband panicking was too funny. You struggled to maintain your smile, however, as last night flashed in your mind again.

Everything seemed fine. Levi was content. Your children were happy. His new job was paying well. He was home more then ever. Even if he had quit the military for you, the two of you were living your life even better then before. There hadn't been any changes in your loving relationship.

But, as you watched Levi scowl and carry a displeased Kutchel off for a bath she very much didn't want, you knew you wouldn't be able to continue on without any doubts. Not until you and Levi properly talked about this.

You didn't care if the military blamed you for Levi leaving and hated your guts. You only cared if the man himself was actually okay with his decision.

You don't want to be the reason for him to break his tradition of living no regrets.

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You ended up putting off talking to him. At first by a few hours, then by a few days. Eventually days turned to weeks and somehow, it had been four months since he had quit the military.

While this could be largely attributed to you being a coward, it was also how busy the two of you had gotten. Farlan had a rough teething phase, Kutchel had decided to make a sport out of kicking the fridge and trying to climb out the window, and Levi's job had a new project he had gotten busy in.

On a sunny afternoon, you held your daughters hand, and kept your son hiked on your hip as you walked out of the market. What you didn't know was that, as you struggled to carry your shopping bags and manage your mischievous children, someone would help you. And, after walking you home, that someone would give you the answers to all the questions you had wanted to ask Levi.

Years later, you would silently wonder if Erwin Smith had come there that day on purpose. It was likely, after too many years of working with Levi, he had known Levi would rather die before telling you something like this.

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In all the time you had known Levi Ackerman, which amounted to a good five years now, you had learned a great deal about him. His strength, strong will, desire to protect, his devotion to being a soldier, his dreams for the future. All his highs and lows, ones that no one else had ever been pivy to, you knew them by heart.

You knew the most regret he had ever felt in his life was when Isabel and Farlan died. You knew his heart ached when even one soldier lost their life in battle. You knew the most flustered he had ever been in his life was when he had wanted to confess to wanting to be in a relationship with you, only for Hange to scream declare his feelings to you instead.

Thankfully, no one else had been there, or else Hange wouldn't be alive right now. And he had made sure to ask you out in his own sweet and romantic way later.

You had seen him get emotional more times then anyone else. At the birth of your children. Their first words. Kutchel learning how to crawl and following him around everywhere, her first decleration of love for her 'pwapa'. Farlan crying everytime he left for work, clinging to his leg as he whined. The two of you had built a family together, leading a largely satisfying life together. However, the danger and importance of his job had never escaped you.

You had always known you were second to his duty as a soldier. He would have to go on long missions, ditch dates, miss birthdays and not be able to tell you anything about his work, but you accepted it.

You never expected more then he could offer, preferring to enjoy whatever time you could have with him. You were fully okay with being the second choice, and so, you certainly hadn't expected him to take such a big decision.

To pick you over duty.

'Zackley.....ordered you to take a second wife?'

Levi winced, his eyes determinedly staring at the floor. There was some shame in his eyes, as though he had committed some crime. With a deep sigh, he sat next to you on the couch and braced himself to give you answers. Your children were sound asleep in your bed, while the two of you sat in the living room.

'Word got around about Kutchel and Farlan having abnormal strength. Zackley initially wanted me to sign a shitty contract and agree to both of them joining the military. I told him to fuck off.'

'The military wanted to use our children as soldiers? Levi you should have told me-'

'I didn't want to worry you. Frankly, I was half scared Zackley would approach you and try to bullshit you into agreeing with him.'

'... What happened after you refused?'

'He started pushing for me to have more kids. One's I wouldn't be..attached to-'

'--with another woman.'

The severe expression on Levi's face gave away exactly how much he hadn't appreciated that particular line of thought.

'I turned him down. But Zackley started placing pressure. The shitty old man just got greedy because he wanted more super soldiers. Kept pushing random women on me, and then someone theorized that if my children with you, a civillian, were that strong, then with another soldier they would be even stronger....'

You frowned, you hadn't wanted to believe Erwin but..

'.. He picked Petra. That idiot didn't turn him down. Mostly because of orders and partially because of that stupid, childish crush she has on me.'

You were at loss of how to respond, feeling too much for you to even think about putting into words. So that's why why Petra had let everyone think it had been your fault Levi had quit the military.

If she had told the truth, she would have to admit that she had agreed to marry and bear the children of an already married man. And while it would have been under orders, it would have ruined her reputation.

Levi mistook your sudden silence as something else, genuine panic flashing in his eyes. He kneeled down in front of you, hands immediately grabbing yours. His voice was shook a little as he hurried to reassure you.

'I swear, nothing fucking happened. I ignored it all as long as I could. Then Zackley had the nerve to give an official written order and threatened to court martial me. I broke the goddamn table and walked away from the military that day and--hey, look at me'

His hand gently nudged your chin up, steel eyes looked sorrowful at the sight of your watery ones.

'.. W-what if you regret it?'

Levi shook his head a little, opening his mouth to argue. You didn't let him.

'The military has been with you for so long. How do I know you won't regret this five years from now? I know you loved that job Levi, I don't want you to give up-'

'I'm not giving up shit. I loved that job because I agreed with where they were heading. Their goals. The moment they started pulling dumb crap like this, I m wasn't going to stick around.'

He sat next to you again, right arm wrapping around your shoulders, his left hand hand tucked between your hands.

'Erwin said it would be better if I just left for a while. Zackley is senile and he's in a stubborn mood. Once the Queen gives birth to her child, which is any day now, she'll end this nonsense.'

'Are you sure?'

'Definitely. That brat hasn't been well, so Zackley has been in complete control this entire time. Its why he got so ballsy, the queen wouldn't approve of this shit. We wanted to avoid risking more friction in the military, and me quitting was the answer. Erwin figured it would be a lesson for them to see how much they needed me or some shit. '

You leaned into his chest, feeling much more calm now. So everything would end up okay, he wouldn't have to leave behind the job he had poured his blood, sweat and tears into.

'This is why I didn't tell you this shit. Fucking politics and crappy old men.'

'No, I needed to know....'

You pulled away from him, only to settle yourself in his lap. Your lips brushed against his gently.

'.. You really do love us, don't you?'

'Tch whatever.'

The slight redness visible on his cheeks gave away how he truly felt.

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A/N: I know, I said I'd consider making a confession chapter. But I got this idea stuck my head and I figured, hey why not just set it in the same universe. Now that this idea is out of my system, I'll get started on it. I hope y'all enjoyed this! My asks are open, so you can make requests or ask whatever you want really. Till next time ⭐⭐

[harryhooksgazebos267]

Shadow~ Part 1

Paring: Stray Kids x Reader; Possible romantic interest in the future 👀 (there are also multiple groups involved in this story)

Genre: Interactive murder mystery

Warnings: Cursing, death (in some chapters)

MASTERLIST

Friday, September 25th~

It had been about a month since school had started. Nothing much had changed, it was the same bullshit every year. Crappy teachers who didn’t care about your education, the same curriculum repeated over and over again. The year had just started yet it was already extremely boring. You lived in District 9, a place that had nothing going for it. Occasionally there would be some juicy tea but other than that, life was ultimately dull. Little did you know how much your life was about to be altered.

“Y/n!” You heard an oddly cheery voice call out to you as you were walking down the hallway. Turning around, you were met with the huge grin of Na Jaemin who had a big cup of, what you assumed to be, coffee.

“How the hell can you be so awake at 7 am?” You questioned as the two of you fell in step with each other.

“Six shots of espresso baby.”

“Makes sense,” you reply with a shrug.

“Hey did you hear about the party that’s going on tonight?” Jaemin questioned.

“Party? Who the hell lied to you? You know damn well high school parties only happen in movies.”

“That’s not true!” Jaemin argued with a slight pout.

“Okay name one party you’ve been to since we’ve been high school?”

Jaemin stayed silent.

“My point exactly, where did you even hear that from?” You asked as you enter your first class.

“I heard some kids talking about it, I could have heard them wrong.”

You gave him a slight nod as you walked to your seat. A smile formed on your face as you sat down. Surprisingly, your teacher was pretty chill so he let you pick your own seats. Naturally, you sat with your friends. Your little “squad” for first period was made up of Jaemin, Rosé, Chan, Yunho, Hyunjin, and Minnie.

“Ah the two princesses decided to show up!” Hyunjin sassily stated giving Jaemin and you a playful glare.

“In my defense I would have been here earlier if y/n wasn’t such a slow poke.”

“Umm excuse me sir, we were walking at the same pace and you literally got here later than me.”

“How does the defendant plead?” Chan questioned Jaemin.

“Not guilty!”

“Your honor, my client has done nothing wrong. We all know that y/n is always late and tends to drag her feet. It’s appalling to me that we are even here in court today,” Yunho said standing up and putting on fake glasses out of nowhere.

“Objection! You have no proof of these accusations,” Rosé said as she wrapped her arms around your shoulders in a protective manner causing you to laugh.

“Overruled, continue.”

“Your honor if I may, I would like to call one of the witnesses to the stand,” Yunho stated.

“You may,” Chan responded, leaning back in his chair.

“I would like to call Minnie to the stand.”

“Minnie wasn’t even there!” You pointed out.

“Yes she was, and she saw that you’re the reason we arrived later than usual,” Jaemin sassed back.

“If I didn’t see her then you sure as hell didn’t! It doesn’t even make any sense, she got to class before us” You countered.

“Fake news, you’re just blind.”

“At least I don’t have to lie to prove that I’m not guilty!”

“You’re not even the one on trail, no one needs you to prove you’re not guilty!”

“So I’m not guilty then? Therefore you agree that I didn’t make you late.”

“That’s definitely not what I’m saying!”

“Order in the court! Order in the court! We will come back together with my verdict after an hour and a half recess because class is starting.”

And with that, you all settled down and turned your attention to your teacher, Mr. Kim. Class went by slower than usual, as it tends to do on Fridays. It didn’t help that today’s lesson happened to be even more boring and confusing than usually. Hey, anything beats taking a test though.

“That’s it for today class. We have a couple minutes before the bell will ring so feel free to talk amongst yourselves.”

Letting out a sigh, you quickly packed up your stuff.

“So Chan, have you reached your verdict?” Hyunjin asked as he also started to pack his belongings.

Chan began to act as though he was thinking very hard before nodding his head yes.

“I hear by find Jaemin guilty of all crimes he has been accused of. This conclusion should not be surprising considering the fact that I fancy y/n more.”

Jaemin let out a hurt gasp as he yeeted Chan out of his seat.

“Someone get this man out of my court!” Chan screeched causing everyone to laugh.

Walking over to him, you stuck your arm out and pull him up to his feet. As Chan opened his mouth to say something, the bell rung. Yunho and Jaemin quickly stood up and raced out of the door, like they did everyday, trying to beat the other one to second block. Rosé and Minnie laughed before saying their goodbyes as they exit the room, leaving Chan, Hyunjin, and you.

“The guys are gonna hangout after school, are you coming?” Chan asked as he rested his arms around your shoulders as the three of you exit your classroom.

“Is that even a question? Of course I am!”

“Chan she’s literally has no other friends and she’s one of the boys. Of course she’s coming,” Hyunjin stated with an eye roll causing you to hit him lightly on his chest.

“I have a lot of friends and you know it!”

The three of you made it to your second block pretty quickly and took your seats. Hyunjin and you luckly sat together at the back of the classroom while Chan sat at the front. He was still salty about the fact that the two of you got to sit together but he’d get over it.

“Hey did you hear about a party?” You asked Hyunjin as you pulled out your notebooks.

“Party?” He questioned with a confused face as you gave him a little nod.

“No, this is the first I’m hearing about a party. Why do you ask?”

“Jaemin said he heard a rumor that there was gonna be a party. I figured there isn’t gonna be one but I thought I’d ask,” You said with a light shrug.

The rest of the day, much like first period, went by slow. To say you were excited for school to be over would be an understatement. The week had felt extremely long and you were just ready to have fun with your friends and relax.

“Y/n!” You heard Chan call out to you as you exited the school building. He was standing on the grass with Jisung and Changbin. All three of them gave you a little smile as you walked towards them.

“What’s up!”

“Do you want a ride over to my place or are you gonna go home first?” Chan asked as he pulled his keys out of his book bag.

“I’ll take a ride as long as Jisung isn’t gonna control the music this time.”

“How dare you!” Jisung gasped.

“I’m with y/n on this one,” Changbin piped in.

“Changbin not you too! Chan?”

Chan just gave him a little shrug causing Jisung to burst into fake tears.

“I thought there was one fake hoe in this friend group, turns out I’m surrounded by them.”

“Shut up,” you laughed out as you all walked to Chan’s car.

Jisung and you sat in the back as Chan drove with Changbin in the passengers seat. The four of you were singing your hearts out to You Were Beautiful by DAY6 when you felt your phone vibrate. Looking down, you saw that you had gotten a text from Jaemin.

Nana ☕️💅

Hey! A few of us are gonna hangout tonight, do you wanna come? I can pick you up 👀

Looking down at your phone you contemplate what you should do. On one hand, you already said you would hang out with the bOiZ but on the other hand, you always hung out with them and you were sure it wouldn’t kill them if you decided to flake just this once. Or maybe you could do both? Just chill with your friends then meet up with Jaemin. After contemplating for a second, you decided to:

A.) Text Jaemin and tell him you can’t since you already made plans

B.) Put in a rain check with your friends and text Jaemin telling him you’ll hang with him

C.) Do both and text Jaemin that you’ll meet him later on and to text you the location

Vote here! (If you’re confused please go to the masterlist and click explanation)

A/n: Sorry if this part was boring but I just had to set it up a litttttle before the story gets juicy

MASTERLIST

Tag list (feel free to ask to be added on the list or if you want me to send you a dm everytime I update): @0leelina0 @emotionalgirl101 @rose-and-the-tea @yup-indecisive-girl-cece @1-800-moatinyghase

Tags that aren’t working :( @linxiu405 @merrymeleoxxiu

[freewheelshippin]

Ranmaru is a musician down on his luck and out of inspiration who got taken in by a sweet old couple running a gardening/flower shop, so while he pulls himself together, he’s grouchily helping out and making bouquets and doling out plant care advice. M is a tattoo artist with not enough clients, confidence in her art, or skills in keeping succulents alive, but maybe the toughie at the store across the street can help her with all three!

and because I’m Like That I got tied up and uh....wrote a little (a lot) of something, focusing on the artistic funk part of the equation. But if you’ll let me have one more indulgence, the headcanon I have is that it eventually Happy Endings into becoming roommates and business partners, starting an indie label to support other artists!!!  

anyways here’s this excessively indulgent/serious fic that came outta this LOL

He was here, folded among big green leaves for much longer than he’d intended. The owners heard he was down on hard times and didn’t have a safe place to call home, so he holed up in their guest room. Before he knew it he was stepping in for them at every heavy mulch bag, every wheelbarrow piled high, every crouch that was too much for their aging bodies.

It wasn’t a bad life. It was an improvement, sure. He was alive and fed every day, and he’d never known a home so warm. But it still wasn’t his. He felt like a houseplant, tended to and placed in warm sun, but just as easily fading into the stillness of quiet moments and the background of everyday. He’d never wanted a life like a plant. He hungered deeply even though he was eating regularly again, and he felt more like a bored tiger, pacing in its cage but nowhere to go.

******

He’d been there long enough to start noticing the regulars. The first was that friendly guy who always got idioms wrong and bought the store out of all their cat grass. The second someone was even friendlier, and he’d bug him for what kind of flowers to get a florist. He kept asking even if Ranmaru never gave him an answer past ‘I don’t fucking know’ as he arranged bouquets that used as many herbs and broad, bold leaves as traditional flowers.

The third was someone who looked like she walked in from his past life (or the one he wanted back, anyway). The shaved head, the denim and patches, the ink peeking out from under her sleeves. She was friendly enough but nowhere near as ready to ask for things or will information about herself as the other two regulars, so he only knew her from her purchases and the name on her card.

It wouldn’t have been remarkable in itself if he weren’t so hungry. He’d burned bridges he shouldn’t have while he was ablaze, and now the only people who thought of him kindly were through this stupidly quaint little shop. He was too ashamed of his bullshit to be ready to show his face in those places right now, but he also craved chasing the stage and the dream he’d stayed alive for.

It was just a made-up story he was attaching to someone, he knew this. Maybe she went home and did everything she could to fade into pleasant background like a houseplant. But he’d rather pretend she went to the shows he wished he were going to, that her fingertips were callused in the places his were going soft, and pretend like he still could smell that stuffy, stale sweat from a venue. Maybe he hadn’t burned it away completely from his life and future.

Occasionally, he still wished he was starving, but he’d bury his hands in mulch and dig space for a new plant before he gave in to dumb thoughts like that.

*****

The first time they had a conversation, it was because she forgot something. A big something, big enough that Ranmaru wondered how someone could have a head on their shoulders but forget this.

It was a long, flat portfolio bag. He flipped through it to figure out what it was and tried to not look past that. It was tempting, though, because the contents made him feel the tiniest bit sated for the first time since he’d started working here.

They were flash sheets for tattoos. It had to be hers, right? There was energy to them that he’d ached for but turned his back from. So when she came back, he brought it up very plainly.

“You forgot something here,” he said when she came up to the counter. He produced the portfolio bag.

“.......Oh.”

“What, is it not yours?”

“No, no, it is! I just didn’t realize I’d even lost it!”

“How the hell did you manage that?!”

“A swiss cheese brain full of holes,” she laughed. “...Also, I’ve been really busy.”

“What would make you so busy you forget a giant stack of art like that?”

“Uh…”

“....Whatever. It’s none of my business.” He started to properly ring her up before something occurred to him. “You bought the same succulent last week,” he commented, furrowing his brow. “And a few other times before. What’s so great about it, anyways?”

She made a face of discomfort and surprise, and he felt the same distant shame that he messed this last (even if imagined) connection to that life, too.

“...maybe you can help me, because I keep killing it.”

“You killed a succulent in a week?!”

“No! I mean. I don’t know, is that even possible?”

“First time for anything,” Ranmaru snorted.

“Okay,” she said, putting hands on the counter challengingly. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not one of those serial plant killers.”

Ranmaru just looked back at her incredulously. “You sure about that?”

“If it’s not a succulent, I know what I’m doing! I got a whole brood of chili plants and herbs and spiderplants…”

“You’re overwatering it.”

“You haven’t even seen the plant.”

“Yeah, I don’t have to. Everything else you mentioned doesn’t shit the bed if you water them too much, and succulents are stupidly sensitive to that kind of stuff. Are the leaves falling off if you barely even poke them?”

“......Yeah…” She looked apprehensive, almost resentful for a moment.

Ranmaru knew he shouldn’t, but he just kept talking. “I can’t tell you what you wanna do with your plants, but it sounds overwatered.  Don’t water it at all for a couple weeks. Make sure the drainage is good, repot it if it isn’t. Bring it in if you’re still fucking it up.”

“You sure are rude as shit when a plant buddy’s life is on the line, huh?”

“What’s the point of buying a plant if you’re just going to kill it?! You’re just throwing away your money that way,” he grumbled, embarrassed. Him, caring about plants passionately. That didn’t feel right for his image, but it felt more wrong to just let people uselessly throw away their time and money just to give a living thing no future.

“I mean, I’m also buying dupes right now to spruce up my workspace, it’s not like I just have a graveyard for my cash and failed succulents.”  

Ranmaru grunted. “Just bring ‘em in if they’re still giving you trouble. I can give you some cartons to make carrying ‘em easier.”

“Ahhhh, nah, don’t worry about it. I work across the street. It’s no problem.”

“Where?” He had a feeling he knew already.

“Oh, the tattoo parlor. I’m actually headed back there right now.”

“....Guess I could just as easily go over there.”

“Hey, and you could get a tattoo from me while you’re at it!” she laughed. “Here, hold on.” She fumbled a little before handing over her business card. Ranmaru studied it briefly before pocketing it gratefully.

When she tried to hand him money, he held a hand up.

“...Pay when you stop killing ‘em. I should’ve checked in sooner, and you get so much from here already, anyways.”

“...You’re sure.”

“If you feel guilty, then take my advice seriously.”

“....Weird business model, but I like it. I can’t give you a discount on ink, if that’s what you’re after.”

“Hell no. Go back to work. Come back when you stop watering them so much.”

“Alright, fine, fine. You drive a hard bargain,” she said with a laugh, scooping the plant into her hand. “I’ll see you next time I fuck ‘em up some other way.”

She left, and Ranmaru realized she forgot her portfolio bag again.

******

He didn’t do much of anything except sleep, eat, take care of the neighborhood strays, and work anymore, but he thought about practicing bass again. He didn’t have amps, pedals, or much of anything anymore, either sold in desperation or lifted by former bandmembers in spite, but his actual basses he couldn’t let go of. Sentimentality or some promise to himself this arrangement was temporary, he guessed.

He studied the business card a lot. Something about the style of the art on it felt right, beyond it being the dose of the studs, sweat, and tears he missed. He didn’t bother trying to describe it to himself further than that; it just felt right, and that’s all he needed to know, but it didn’t stop him from lying awake in bed, staring at it as he struggled to sleep or get out.

Eventually that led to the temptation of looking through the portfolio more thoroughly. He gave in after washing his hands so thoroughly he wouldn’t get the dirt of potting soil or the grease of human hands on it. Not out of secrecy, more out of respect.

Not all of them were things he’d say he was interested in -- science fiction, cartoons, dinosaurs, other stuff he didn’t recognize -- but so much was riffing on images, bands, lyrics, album covers that built his tastes in rock. Even models of bass guitars he’d tried to save up for, once upon a time. It didn’t match the tattoowork he was used to seeing, the lines and compositions feeling more like they belonged in a comic book or a gig poster.

It felt good. It was a small vision of the kind of future he’d wanted. Art and energy like that, paired with his music. He’d forgotten how the excitement of chasing a good future felt, much less feeling like it was even vaguely within grasping distance.

His eyes fell on an image that wouldn’t leave him. A severed, snarling wolf head, out of which winding leaves and vines and stems grew, blooming into orchids.

*****

She didn’t come back for weeks. He went about this life as usual, but some days he’d find his fingers sliding over the smooth neck of one of his basses, missing their calluses as the strings dug into them. But the motions never left him, at least, and they hit notes like barely any time had passed.

He should give that portfolio back to her already. But he’d found himself looking at its contents more and more when he missed the stage so much he physically ached. He couldn’t be imagining this feeling this art made him have, not after this long.

At one point he made a copy of the wolf with orchids growing out of it. He cut it out, unbuttoned his shirt, taped it over his heart, and looked at himself in the mirror, and for the first time since the old couple took him in, he didn’t feel like a houseplant.

*****

He came to the parlor with the portfolio in hand on a lunch break soon after that. She looked uncomfortably unoccupied, her area empty of clients while the other tattoo beds were occupied. He didn’t bother with the receptionist before calling her name. She practically jumped out of her skin from surprise.

He just presented the portfolio bag.

“...Whoops.”

“Do you just not want your art back?”

“...It just slipped my mind.”

Because you’ve been busy, Ranmaru thought to himself as he looked at the empty tattoo bed.

“Did you kill your new plants yet?”

She straightened up and her whole demeanor changed, from the moon to the sun. “Now that I can rub in your face. Look, look, come see.”

She had a small planter of succulents, nestled among spideplants and a red prayer he remembered selling her. The spiderplant and red prayer looked healthy. The succulents didn’t look amazing, but they certainly weren’t on their way to meet their maker.

“Not bad. I’ll rec you some better succulent soil next time you come in. Whenever that is.”

“I figured I’d wait more than one watering cycle before I came in parading like a pageant queen.”

“Too many and I bet you’d be holding another plant funeral,” he said with a wry smile. “But take your shit back already. I’m tired of all your art being at my place where I’m the only one looking at it.”

“...Wait, hold on. Did you look through it?”

“....Sorry. It’s been weeks. I liked your business card and curiosity got the better of me.”

“Oh…” She looked not disappointed, just surprised. “So...you mean, like. Thumbing through the pages looking at it, not just staring at the bag look at it.”

“Is it a secret project or something?”

“No, no. Just…” She hesitated. “Some flash sheets that didn’t do well is all.”

“Really?” Ranmaru was surprised. “These?”

“...Yes? Did I forget something else in there?”

“No. Just. Surprised they didn’t do well. I like ‘em. There’s a good energy to them.”

“Well, that makes you the first,” she said with a hollow laugh.

Ranmaru barely considered with his head what he was about to ask. He’d already chewed it over so much and knew in his heart his answer that he didn’t need to hesitate.

“If nobody else claimed it, I want one of them,” he said resolutely. “The wolf with the orchids.”

“...What, like, now?”

“I’m on lunch, I can’t do now. But….when’s the earliest you got?”

She laughed grimly. “When do you get off work?”

“Six.”

“Then I’m available at six.”

“Then I’ll be here.”

She looked at him in disbelief.

“...You really want it that bad?”

“Don’t tell me what I want,” he growled. “I saw it and it felt right, thinking about it on me. Orchids are a part of my name, anyway.”

“....Okay, you know what? Let’s do this properly. We’ll do a consult at six. I’ll edit the design so it’s more personalized to you, then we’ll schedule an actual appointment you’re actually prepped for so you don’t pass out on the table. And don’t -- “ She caught him about to insist before the words could come out of his mouth. “-- I’m sure you think you’re real tough, but you can’t just tough guy your nervous system into taking more pain unprepared.”

“Fine. See you at six.”

Ranmaru wanted to tell her the hurry was less because he thought he could take it, and more because he was so ready to have it on him. He didn’t, though, and just left, head buzzing with hazy, overwhelming excitement he didn’t know how to express.

*************

Consulting with her on the drawing was more fun than Ranmaru had had in weeks, maybe months. She stayed past her coworkers to do the consult, so they had the parlor to themselves to discuss edits. She played doom metal in the background, sludgy and slow enough that they could properly have a conversation, but the energy as she discussed the drawing with him, drew in edits, and made conversation was exhilarating like a concert.

It was so easy to talk. Even if he was short or blunt, it didn’t seem to stop her from continuing the conversation, and every development they pushed it in just felt good. He didn’t feel invaded, but he didn’t feel insignificant, either, and the way the drawing was going, he felt a kind of known he had lacked.

“I still can’t believe you want your first ink on your pec like that,” she remarked as she refined linework. Ranmaru enjoyed watching how her pen moved.

“It’s over my heart. Not just my chest.”

“That’s, uh.” She hesitated before capping the pen. “.......Are you really sure about this?”

“...” Ranmaru felt himself recoil at the thought of telling her the depth of what this drawing made him feel, but he wanted to communicate, somehow, that he couldn’t imagine regretting this. “I’m absolutely sure.”

“.......” She hesitated again. “This isn’t….a pity thing, right?”

The thought to hold his tongue actually managed to occur to him in time. The doubt she expressed pissed him off in so many different ways. That she was unsure enough to tell him, and that it was there to begin with. The thought of throwing away this connection just to be pissed made his stomach twist, and he thought of the person he saw in the mirror with the drawing taped to his chest that first time.

“This isn’t a pity thing,” he said stiffly as he forced his voice down. “....I saw that drawing and imagined myself with it. And I liked that vision of myself more than the current me.”

“Oh god,” she said, her face bright red. “That’s so goddamn deep. My dumb fuckin’ wolf really made you feel that?”

“It’s not dumb!” he barked. “Why’re you calling it dumb to me? I’m about to get it tattooed on me, aren’t I? Be prouder of your work!”

She took a deep breath after a moment of being totally taken aback. “....You’re right. Thanks. I should be more professional about this. So….my absolutely majestic, heaven-sent fuckin’ wolf really made you feel all that?”

Ranmaru felt his mouth crook into a smile. “Yeah. I want it to be mine, and I want that better me to be mine, too.”

She smiled back widely. “I’ll do your tit justice, then.”

***************

The appointment was that weekend. When she pressed the stencil against his bare chest, he felt the hunger in him sated for just a moment. Not in a carnal urge sort of way, but more like the path forward felt brighter. Possible. Changes and connection and a future was possible again. He wanted more ink from her already, but he also wanted it to not just be that. He wanted a friendship.

“Okay,” she said as he laid on the table in front of her. “Ready?”

The whir of the machine and needles started and stirred a nervousness in his gut that he hadn’t expected, and he hesitated and gasped for a sec.

“...You OK?”

“Yeah,” he grunted. “Just…nervous.”

“Take a deep breath. It’s not too late to rethink or reschedule if you need more time.”

“No.” He was resolute. “I want this.”

She paused. “....I can’t do this the whole time. But just to get you comfortable.”

She offered her left hand to him to squeeze. He hesitated for a moment before taking it, folding each finger over hers. He can’t remember the last time he touched someone like this.

“...Okay. Deep breath. Let out out slowly…there we go. Ready?”

“Ready.”

The needle plunged into him, and while it hurt, he felt excitement and renewal spreading through to his fingertips.

[spicykoreantatertots]

roadtrip - part two

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: angst, fluff, and eventually smut; high school au, friends to lovers au

warnings: hospital, medical stuff, anxiety, angsty high schoolers being angsty high schoolers

word count: 3.5k

summary: After your friend and long time crush, Min Yoongi, has a near death experience, you realize that your friend group is starting to grow apart. A cross country road trip brings adventure, bonding, tourist attractions, and romance. But will it be enough to salvage your friendships?

part one - part two - part three

The final bell rings at school and everyone excitedly spills out into the hallways. Most people are headed to club meetings, sports practice, or to meet up with friends. You rush to the main office to pick up Yoongi’s homework packets. He’ll be missing another two weeks of class and with finals coming up, you and Namjoon promised to help him stay caught up. 

You stop short of the office when you see Hoseok and Ami walking toward the gym for tennis practice. You take a deep breath, planning to call out to them, but something stops you. An uneasy feeling rising in your chest. You don’t want to interrupt the conversation they seem to be enjoying so much. Ami is laughing pretty hard... Instead, you continue into the office and pick up the hefty envelope with Yoongi’s name scrawled across it. 

The band hall is the last stop before heading to your car and driving the now familiar route to the hospital. After mulling over the day’s less-than-exciting events you turn your attention to the French Horn case carefully placed in the passenger seat. It’s staring back at you, making you feel a bit guilty. Since Yoongi’s accident five days ago, you had visited him in the hospital everyday. Spending hours at the hospital with him (and usually at least two or three other friends) meant less time spent practicing. 

You had been enjoying the time you’ve spent at the hospital, helping Yoongi with his homework between card games and planning movie nights you had all agreed to have in the summer. Remembering the time spent with your friends over the past few days brings an uncontrollable smile to your face as you step off the elevator and walk to Yoongi’s room. You feel really happy for the first time in a while. 

Lightly knocking on the door, you poke your head into the room before entering. Yoongi is laying in the bed as per usual, but the doctor and a nurse are standing over him. Yoongi gives you a small wave as you walk in. His mother sitting next to the bed, frantically typing on her laptop. She hadn’t been here in a few days, work is surely keeping her busy.

“Go ahead and lift your shirt for me.” The doctor instructs Yoongi. You intended to look away, but you catch a glimpse of his form and your eyes can’t help but linger. Under the harsh lighting of the hospital room, his body looks even more thin and pale than ever. The next thing you notice are the bruises that are finally becoming slightly less purple and more yellow. The doctor then reaches down to pull back the bandaging across your friend’s abdomen. This is when you decide to avert your eyes. 

“It actually looks like you’re healing well. What’s your pain level today?” You are looking out the window, but you can tell the nurse is now putting fresh bandages on the wound. 

“Maybe a three?” Yoongi responds before he sharply inhales. You look up to see the doctor pressing firmly on his stomach. 

“Mr. Min, I know you’re ready to go home but I think you need to stay at least another day or two.” The doctor continues to tell the nurse to add this or reduce that, lots of medical terms you can’t quite wrap your brain around.

“Hey.” Yoongi smiles over at you when they finally leave. He pushes himself up into a sitting position.

“Hi. How are you feeling?” You move your chair to the side of his bed opposite from his mother. The three of you make small talk for a few minutes before Mrs. Min quickly puts her laptop away and stands. 

“Well I’ve got to run a few errands. I’ll leave you two alone.” The look on her face causes you to blush against your will. The crush you’ve had on Yoongi over the years has come and gone many times, so it’s not surprising that she seems to know about it. 

Mrs. Min squeezes Yoongi’s hand before leaving the room. You pull today’s work out of your backpack and hand it to Yoongi.

“Should we start with English today or Stats?” You’re hoping he will wait until Namjoon or Ami stop by to work on his Statistics homework because you still aren’t sure if you fully understand the lesson yourself. 

“Well...” he starts, looking thoughtfully at you, “there may or may not be a Harry Potter marathon on ABC right now.” He reaches for the remote, scooting over in the upright hospital bed. He knows you can’t resist a Harry Potter marathon. Without hesitation you join him on the narrow bed, your side flush with his. As the two of you settle in, he grabs your hand and laces your fingers together. Skinship amongst friends isn’t new to you, but skinship coming from Yoongi is. You feel the blush returning to your cheeks. 

Yoongi turns on the tv and you can see that third Harry Potter movie was just starting. The movie is entertaining enough, but soon Yoongi is asking you about your day, wanting even the mundane details. Apparently he’s been very bored within the walls of the hospital. 

“Oh and I ran into Hoseok and Ami on their way to Tennis practice.”

“The gym is a long way from the band hall.” He laughs when you roll your eyes. “Well what did they say?”

“I didn’t get a chance to talk to them, actually.”

“I thought you said you ran into them?” he questioned.

“Well they were busy so I didn’t want to bother them.” You let out a sigh.

“So I guess things haven’t changed that much then.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You sit up slightly from the bed and look back at him. He’s looking at the TV.

“Ever since my accident you’ve been here talking about how you missed your friends and you’re planning movie nights, trying to get everyone together, but you won’t even talk to Hoseok at school.”

“It’s different there...” You begin to chew on your bottom lip. 

“He would have been happy to see you. Anyone would be happy to see you outside of a practice room.” Yoongi continued. “I guess... I thought you... I thought things would really be different.” You pull your hand from his grip to rub your face. 

“Well you’re one to talk.” You half mumble. Who is he to say these things when I pretty much haven’t heard from him since his last basketball game?

The awkward silence between the two of you only lasts for a moment because there’s a knock on the door. You look over to see Namjoon standing in the doorway. How long has he been standing there? The look on his face shows that he heard at least some of the conversation. 

“Hey. Oh, Harry Potter marathon, nice.” He takes a seat at the small table on the other side of the room. You stand from the bed and pick up the envelope of homework. 

“We’ve got English and Statistics today.” You say as you hand the work to Namjoon. He opens the packet and starts to pull out the worksheets. 

The night progresses slowly as the three of you work on your assignments together. The three of you huddled around the small table. The movie marathon still playing in the background. After giving up on the statistics homework you begin to think of ideas for your English assignment. It’s the weekly creative writing assignment. 

Write one page about the last thing that made you smile.

You look over at Yoongi, he was the last thing that made you smile and also the last thing that upset you. His brows are furrowed, he’s clearly thinking about something. You realize he’s also started the English assignment. He’s got about a quarter of a page so far. You can’t quite make out the words on his page, but you can’t help but wish they are about you. 

“I don’t know what to write about. What are you writing about?” You ask, looking down at your own blank page.

“I’m writing about the last thing that made me smile.” A smirk creeps across Yoongi’s face. He doesn’t even look up from the page. Before you can respond Namjoon chimes in.

“I’m writing about Monie.” He smiles brightly, his dimples coming into view. You suppose you could just make something up. Creative writing has never been easy for you, but you probably could write a few pages about Min Yoongi... 

After about an hour, you manage to bullshit a decent paper about how successfully playing a difficult piece of music made your chest swell with pride and a smile shine brightly across your face. Yoongi and Namjoon finished a while ago. They were picking at the food tray that was dropped off for Yoongi’s dinner. 

“Well...” You stand and stretch your arms over your head. “I should probably get home so I can practice before bed. Do you want us to go get you some real food first?” You point at the mushy looking meal in front of Yoongi, but he shakes his head.

“Jimin and Jungkook are on their way with pizza if you want to stay, though.” Yoongi says, but you shake your head.   

“I’ll go with you.” Namjoon reaches for his bag. “My shift starts in an hour.”

You walk over to the bed that Yoongi has settled back into. You place your hand over his and give him a small smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” 

“Thanks for coming.” His eyes meet yours for the first time in a while. He looks tired. 

~~~~~~~

“I heard the... argument? What was that about?” Namjoon turned to you in the elevator. You were hoping he wouldn’t bring it up. You try to think for a moment, not really sure where to start. You try to briefly explain the situation.

“So he basically called me a hypocrite for not talking to Ami and Hoseok at school.” You finish quickly when the elevator doors open on the ground floor. “I guess he’s right.”

“No, that’s not totally fair.” Namjoon quickly responds. “He knows about your anxiety. It’s not that simple.” 

“I just... I hate disappointing Yoongi.” You pause as you reach your car and look up at your friend. 

“Are your feelings for him coming back?” Namjoon looks down at you, already knowing the answer. He’s been there for you through several bouts of being love struck by Yoongi. There have been other crushes and a couple of boyfriends, but Yoongi was different.

You lean your forehead against Namjoon’s chest and sigh as he wraps his arms around you. “Joonie... I’ve loved that boy since I first laid eyes on him.”

~~~~~~~

After an hour of mediocre practice, you decide to get ready for bed. While brushing your teeth, you absentmindedly cycle through the social media platforms to see various celebrities living it up and acquaintances from school posting thirsty selfies. A message pops up in your notifications. An Instagram direct message from @lilmeowmeow. 

You chuckle to yourself. It was the nickname your friends called Yoongi back in the day. You tap the notification to see what he sent. 

Yoongi: I’m sorry about earlier today...

@lilmeowmeow sent a post

You can’t help but laugh (and almost choke on spit and toothpaste) at the video of a kitten chasing a laser pointer. Yoongi knows that cute animal videos are the quickest way to earn your forgiveness. You double tap his message to let him know all is well.

~~~~~~~

The new after school routine continues the next day. Pick up Yoongi’s homework, grab your French Horn, and head to the hospital. Upon your arrival, you notice Jin is standing outside the room. 

“Hey, what’s up?” You nod toward the closed door to Yoongi’s room. Jin notices the flash of worry that crosses your face momentarily. 

“Nothing, the doctor wanted to talk to Yoongi and his mom alone.” You let out a quiet sigh of relief and lean against the wall next to Jin. “Does he have a lot of work today?” 

“I think it’s just statistics. I swear she’s trying to drown us. I mean we’ve got three weeks left of school and she’s the only one still giving real assignments.” Jin nods along to your complaints absentmindedly. “What’s going on with you, Jinnie?” You bump him lightly with your shoulder. 

“Oh, I’m just tired.” he leans his head back against the wall. You look tired, Jinnie. When did we all start looking so tired all the time? “I’ve been staying up here until they kick me out around one or two.”

“Oh my gosh. And don’t you have theater practice at seven?”

“Only for a few more days. The play is on Friday. You’re still coming, right?” He looks over at you expectantly.

“Of course I am.” Oh shit I almost forgot. Mental note: pick up some flowers for Jin, Jimin, and Taehyung on Friday. “Why have you been staying so late?”

“Well, Yoongi hasn’t been sleeping well in the hospital and I hate to leave him alone at night.” Jin responds. 

“If you want to take the night off, I’ll stay late tonight.” You look over at Jin who has now closed his eyes.

“What about practicing?” He asks, eyes remaining closed.

“Yoongi did say I should spend less time practicing and more time with friends.” Jin lets out a small chuckle.

“I’m sure he did say that. He’s missed you.” Your heart skips a beat. It’s nothing. You’ve missed your friends too. 

“Oh?” You try to hide the surprise in your voice. Jin laughs. He’s known you just as long as Namjoon and Yoongi and he knows about your feelings toward Yoongi. He turns to you when he stops laughing. 

“Of course, Y/N. We all have.” See he didn’t mean anything by it. “Well maybe Yoongi’s missed you a bit more.” The wink Jin gives you sends your heart a flutter again. Your friends have often hinted that your feelings may not be totally unrequited, but you’ve never been bold enough to make a move. Just the thought of admitting your feelings to Yoongi knots your stomach. Before you can prod for more information from Jin, the door finally opens. 

A doctor you don’t recognize leaves and he is followed by Mrs. Min. The doctor is dressed in a suit rather than the usual scrubs and white coat; you can’t help but eye him suspiciously. Mrs. Min gives you a small wave before heading off to the elevator. Jin heads into the room and you follow behind him.

“How did it go?” Jin takes a seat at the end of the bed, and you take the seat next to the bed. Yoongi looks so defeated. His only response is to shake his head. “How much longer do they want to keep you?” Yoongi shakes his head again, looking like he might be close to tears. Your heart drops at the sight and your hand instinctively finds his. 

“How bad is the homework today?” Yoongi asks as he blinks back the tears that have formed in his eyes. 

“Just another page or two of stats...” you answer softly, with your head bowed. “You know, I could just do it for you today. It doesn’t look that bad.” You look over at Yoongi again, he’s smiling now. 

“I appreciate the offer, but I would like to pass the class.” A small wave of relief crashes over you as your friends begin to laugh. 

“You really are terrible at math, Y/N.” Jin adds. Jin lets out a big sigh and flops his body across the foot of the bed. You all sit in silence for a few moments before Yoongi speaks again. 

“Jin you’re already falling asleep. Just go home dude.” Jin’s eyes remained closed. “Jimin promised to bring tacos for dinner so you don’t have to stay. I’m sure he’ll bring Tae or Mina with him.”

“Oh well I told Jin I would stay late tonight so he could get some rest anyway.” Yoongi looks surprised.

“You did?” 

“She did.” A small smile spreads across Jin’s face.

“But only if you want me to.” 

“Of course I want you to.” Yoongi responds quickly and you try not to smile.

It seems as though Jin is trying to fall asleep. Yoongi lets go of your hand and moves to get up from the bed. You try not to notice how his dark gray sweatpants hug his hips in just the right place. 

“Let’s go for a walk. I think he needs a nap.” Without hesitation Jin takes over the bed without opening his eyes. You hold back a laugh as you follow Yoongi out of the room. “God I’ve been in that bed all fucking day.” He stretches his arms above his head as you walk down the hallway and you finally realize that he’s been disconnected from all his machinery. 

“So if they unhooked you from all the stuff, why do they want you to stay longer?” Yoongi hesitates to respond as you round a corner. 

“It’s complicated.” He pauses for a moment as though he’s trying to think of a response.  “Can we talk about literally anything else?” He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it, so you drop the topic. 

The cold and sterile hallway soon gives way to the bustling nurse’s station. A series of large counters connect to form a circle at the junction of several different hallways. About a dozen men and women dressed in brightly colored scrubs are working at different stations. Yoongi briefly introduces you to a few of the ones he’s come to know over the past few days.

“Hey there handsome. Good to see you walking around.” A beautiful young nurse smiles at Yoongi as the two of you approach her station. Is he blushing? You try to swallow the lump forming in your throat.

“Hey Rachel, this is Y/N.” She’s smiling brightly at you. 

“Oh I’ve heard a lot about you.” Did she just wink at me? Suddenly the lump in your throat vanishes.

“Oh really?” You giggle. Yoongi clears his throat and grabs your wrist to pull you away from Rachel’s station. “Nice to meet you!” You call back to her, still laughing. Yoongi leads you to the elevator and presses the button for the second floor, the cafeteria. 

“So you talk about me to the nurses?” You prod.

“I also talk to them about the rashes I got from the steroids they gave me, so don’t feel too special.” He laughs, his cheeks still a rosy color. 

A mixture of mostly pleasant smells hit you as the elevator door opens. 

“Wow...” Is all you can manage to say. The large space was filled with tables and chairs and a variety of stations from soups and salads to burgers and pasta. Most of the tables were full of people eating dinner. Some hospital staff, but mostly people who looked like visitors. You look around for a moment before your eyes land on the dessert station. Your eyes widen as you survey the plates full of cake, brownies, cookies and finally, the soft serve machine. 

“And that’s why we’re here.” You are brought back to reality only to notice Yoongi smiling down at you and the dumb look on your face. “They’ve got chocolate and vanilla swirl.” Your slack jaw quickly turns to a wide smile.

“You know me so well, Min Yoongi.” You grab his hand and carefully lead him to the ice cream machine. After making two too-big ice cream cones, Yoongi leads you to a table next to a large window that looks out into a small courtyard area where a group of five boys are passing a soccer ball back and forth. 

Your conversation about soccer doesn’t last very long, but your conversation about the courtyard’s questionable landscaping lasts surprisingly long. The overgrown shrubs and lack of biodiversity really seem to annoy Yoongi. Your gaze falls from the window and meets his dark eyes. You feel the blood running to your cheeks again. 

“I’ve really enjoyed spending so much time with you these past few days.” Your thoughts seem to be spilling out of your mouth rather than staying inside your head. “I really have missed you.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi smirks. “I have too.” His eyes drop to his hands. He’s fiddling with a napkin. 

“Yoongi, I love you.” Words continue to fall out of your mouth before you can stop them. But it’s not a confession of romantic feelings. You reach over a squeeze Yoongi’s hand. His eyes find yours again.

“I love you too, Y/N.” Your heart is beating fast, but try not to analyze his words or tone or the way he’s looking at you. You just accept this platonic love from your friend and for now, it’s enough.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! I know we didn’t see much of the maknae line in this chapter, but they’ll be back! I welcome all questions and comments about this fic! Always need feedback! I’ve got lots planned for this fic and we are just getting started! 

I’m just getting started in the fan fic community, so let’s be friends! Need beta readers and more than happy to be a beta reader! Let’s collab or just chat for a bit! :)

Big thanks to @maptoyoongi​ for proof reading for me. Love you! <3

[i-am-a-shining-star]

Pear Hips

Read it on my AO3! : https://archiveofourown.org/works/20177488

Kurt is a little self-conscious after Sue makes an insensitive comment about his figure, so Blaine makes it all better.

Cheerio!Kurt and Dalton!Blaine (even though they technically didn’t know each other yet lol)

-

Curled up on the sofa next to Blaine, the pair of them buried underneath heavy, knitted blankets and looking at the spread in front of them, Kurt began to reconsider some of his choices. It wasn’t any different from their usual Friday movie nights- his finest selection of soppy romantic comedies and a ridiculous amount of junk food for just two people to share. He had to agree with himself, maybe two cheesecakes and three different types of Ben and Jerry’s was a little excessive, but it wasn’t like they had planned to eat it all at once.

Not most of it, anyway.

He had never worried too much about his eating habits before. Always sticking to a healthy diet of organic, homemade meals- gluten AND GMO free- he had figured that one or two cheat days were allowed from time to time. And, although puberty hadn’t been particularly kind to him by leaving him with the same soft, round cheeks and pitchy voice he’d had since he was six, his metabolism had finally kicked it up a notch, giving him a bit of leeway when it came to letting himself enjoy his guilty pleasures. Or so he had thought, until this afternoon when Coach Sylvester had dragged Mercedes and himself out of Cheerios practice and into her office for a stern warning that they both had until the end of the week to drop fifteen pounds each. Some big magazine interview and photo shoot was coming up and she was pulling out all the stops to make the team look as visually pleasing as possible.

As if he wasn’t offended and embarrassed enough, she went one step further and insulted his girlish figure by calling him ‘Pear Hips’. ‘Pear Hips’! He tried to disguise the hurt on his face in front of her (and Mercedes, because she had gotten it a lot worse from Sue than he did), but once he had gotten home after what was surely the most painful and intense circuit training session she had ever put them through, he hadn’t been able to rip his gaze from the mirror.

Running his fingertips along the smooth plane of his midriff, he cringed at the gently sloping curve that stretched from his waist to his hips. So, he was a little curvier than most guys his age, still carrying the tiniest bit of leftover puppy fat that made him look more childish than he cared for. He reluctantly poked and prodded around his stomach, soft and pale from years of shielding his alabaster skin from the sun, but nothing a couple of hard sessions at the gym couldn’t fix.

With a long, weighted sigh, he pulled his uniform shirt down and stared at his reflection one last time, his eyes swooping up and down his sides. Whilst he wasn’t fat, Sue was right. He could stand to lose a few pounds. And if she had noticed, what’s to say everybody else hadn’t, as well? What if, God forbid, he accidentally forgets to turn around when they were changing later, and Blaine suddenly sees every single imperfection on his body and realises he wanted out of their relationship?

The thought alone made him shudder. Blinking away tears he hadn’t realised were there, he promptly clambered back upstairs to make the trip to the store and pick up their sleepover supplies, smiling unconvincingly when Blaine had asked if he was okay.

Which lead him to where he was now- watching the Princess Bride for the third time this month (it was one of their favourites. Well, one of Kurt’s favourites) with Blaine snuggled into his side, eyes flickering between the screen and the still-sealed pint of Cherry Garcia as he decided whether it would soothe the pain of his perpetual teen angst or just make him feel worse...

“Hey, you’ve barely touched anything,” Blaine said when they were about halfway through the movie. “Are you okay? Do you feel sick?”

Kurt flushed, the tips of his ears burning. “No, I’m fine. I guess I’m just not that hungry, I kind of filled up at lunch.” Bullshit; Sue had them eating nothing but peeled celery and forced them to do jumping jacks whilst they queued to use the water fountain in the cafeteria. He was just glad Blaine wasn’t there to witness him clumsily smacking some poor freshman’s lunch tray twenty feet across the room, splattering tomato sauce all over the walls.

“Oh. Okay.” Blaine shrugged, burying himself a little deeper into Kurt’s side, letting his fingers settle around the waistband of his pyjama pants, gently tugging at the elastic and brushing the bare skin of his hipbone in a way that would have made him shiver with pleasure had it not made him even more incredibly self-conscious than he already was.

Kurt couldn’t keep still when he moved an inch or two over to his stomach, grazing the little bit of pudge just below his belly button. He flinched hard, his hand quickly clamping over Blaine’s to peel his fingers away, suddenly feeling very exposed. Blaine jumped, sitting up a little and looking to Kurt with sad, confused eyes.

“What happened? Did I make you uncomfortable?” He asked, panicking a little.

Kurt shook his head, dropping his hand and pulling the robe tighter around his waist, smoothing down the fabric so he was fully covered. “No, no. Sorry, you just surprised me…” He said, squirming a little under Blaine’s concerned staring.

“Kurt, are you sure you’re feeling alright?” He reached forward and clicked the volume of the TV down, turning so that Kurt was forced to look at him. “You’ve seemed a little off since we both got home from school, did something happen?” He paled. “Is it that Karofsky kid again?”

Blinking, he thought about earlier this morning when he had been thrust into his locker with a snarl for what felt like the hundredth time that semester. “He never takes a day off. But… But, no. That’s not what it is.”

Kurt felt a soft, warm hand slide into his own, squeezing encouragingly. “Then what is it?”

Taking a deep breath to try and alleviate the tell-tale burning sensation welling up behind his eyes, he looked up at Blaine- and then, almost immediately, back down to his lap.

“... Do you think I need to lose weight?” He whispered.

Blaine’s face dropped, completely shocked. Kurt barely caught the little gasp that left his lips before he felt hot, wet tears roll down his pink cheeks.

“No! No, I don’t! Hey, hey,” He paused their movie, using both hands gently cradle his face so he could see him properly, his chest aching when he saw his red-rimmed eyes and trembling bottom lip. “Where’s this coming from, huh?”

“We had Cheerios practice today, and Coach Sylvester took me and Mercedes into her office.” He swallowed, sniffling miserably. “She told us we had five days to drop two dress sizes.”

Blaine sighed, unbridled rage swelling in his gut. As if this poor boy didn’t already go through hell everyday when he showed up at those school gates- the faculty employed to protect him was beginning to turn on him, too? Holding back his angry outburst for later, he rubbed Kurt’s arm reassuringly and allowed him to continue.

The shame and embarrassment from earlier prickled across the back of his neck again, but he forced himself to ignore it so he could share the last, painful detail. “... She told me I had ‘pear hips’.”

“Oh, Kurt...” Blaine pulled him into his arms, hugging him close and rocking him slowly to soothe the shaky breaths coming from between his bitten lips. Taking the corner of his blanket, he gently patted his tear-stained face dry.

“Don’t listen to her. Or anyone who tries to tell you that you’re anything less than perfect.” He pulled away, hands resting on Kurt’s shoulders. “You’re beautiful, Kurt. Just the way you are.”

“But she’s right, Blaine,” Kurt whimpered. “Everybody lost their puppy fat years before high school, and mine just won’t budge. It’s not like doing this every weekend helps, either,-” He gestured towards their feast on the coffee table.

Blaine furrowed his brow, upset that Sue has managed to get so into Kurt’s head about this. He had never mentioned anything to do with how self-conscious he was about his body before. In fact, it seemed to be the least of his worries when things had gotten a little frisky during their most recent make-out session, with curious hands fumbling around underneath shirts in search of warm, smooth skin.

Kurt sniffed. “I’m just worried that you won’t find me attractive anymore if you see what’s hidden underneath all of this…” He plucked limply at the fuzzy material wrapped around his middle.

Blaine’s heart just about broke when he heard that. It was decided; he would find a way to take down this evil cheerleading coach, even if it killed him.

“Kurt,” He took both of Kurt’s hands back in his own, breathing deep and never breaking eye contact. “You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever laid eyes on. Seriously. I don’t know how I managed to get so lucky. But I’m not in love with you just because I think you’re hot. You’re a kind, generous person. You’re sarcastic and witty; funny and smart… There’s so much more to you than the way you look. No change to your body could ever stop me from loving it, or you.”

The corners of Kurt’s mouth twitched with the tiniest smile. He brushed stray tears from his eyes, collecting them on the sleeve of his button-down pyjama shirt. “Thank you, Blaine. I guess I just got a little too obsessed with what she said.”

Blaine pressed a sweet kiss to the tip of his nose. He had finally stopped crying, but still looked far too sad to Blaine’s liking- and that certainly wouldn’t do. Luckily, an idea had popped into his head.

“Lie down.” He whispered, pushing his own blanket off of his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground in a crumpled heap.

Kurt looked at him nervously, but obliged, sliding down the sofa until he was almost flat on his back with Blaine straddling his upper legs. He began to pull at the tie of Kurt’s robe, taking his time to push back the thick, woolly fabric to reveal his blue silk pyjamas.

“Wh-What are you?-” He was cut off by a pair of soft, rosy lips pressing chaste against his own.

“Just trust me,” Blaine said, nosing Kurt’s cheek. “We can stop if you’re not comfortable with it, I promise I won’t do anything you’re not a hundred percent sure of. But I want to help you.” Pressing another kiss to the corner of his mouth, he ran the satiny material of his shirt between his fingers. “May I?”

Kurt let go of a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, and nodded.

Blaine smiled, settling back and trailing his fingers down Kurt’s clothed chest before he arrived at the hem of his top. Carefully, he began to undo the buttons from the bottom upwards, the fabric sliding off his sides to reveal an expanse of smooth, pale skin.

Kurt’s eyes flickered around Blaine’s face, anxiously looking for signs of disappointment or regret, but he was instead met with a warm, and surprisingly genuine, smile. Feeling some of the tightness melt from from his clenched muscles, he smiled back timidly.

Leaning forward until his dark eyelashes brushed against quivering skin, Blaine began to press small, gentle kisses to every inch of bare chest he could reach- each one sending a tiny, feathery jolt of electricity up Kurt’s spine. Tilting his head back, Kurt’s eyes slid shut, his vision blurring at the edges as he focused on the tingling sensation that was left behind each time he moved a little further down. Slowly, Blaine allowed his hands to slide up his sides, squeezing lightly as he nuzzled his nose into the soft flesh of Kurt’s stomach, continuing to peck kisses all around his abdomen.

Kurt began to giggle quietly, trying to hold still but unable to help twitching at the pleasantly ticklish touch, all of his panicked thoughts about not being worthy of intimacy starting to fade away. Blaine looked up at him from his current position, relieved to see a smile on his face and chuckling at Kurt’s adorable reaction.

“Someone’s having fun,” He teased, pressing a wet, noisy kiss directly to his belly button and blowing a raspberry, causing Kurt to squeal and shove at his shoulders, playfully yelling that he was the biggest dork he knew. Blaine couldn’t help but break out in a silly grin of his own, giving Kurt a few seconds to catch his breath when he was still hiccuping with laughter before letting his hands slide down to settle over the bump of his hips.

Kurt tensed, the last traces of his smile disappearing. His fingers dug into the plush material of his tangled blanket as he drew a sharp breath in. Blaine noticed, his fingertips swishing lightly across his skin as if to ask permission to touch there. Kurt settled back a little- cautious, but willing to let Blaine carry on with his work.

He didn’t need words to reassure him, communicating only with the delicate, methodical movement of calloused fingertips against baby-soft skin, tracing swirling circles and admiring the goosebumps that shivered to life whenever he found a sensitive spot. Drifting over the curve of his hips, he took note of every fine, blonde baby hair; the tiny freckles that must have escaped his meticulous SPF routine earlier this year; the slight roundness of his hips that Kurt had spent the past few days loathing. Blaine made sure to leave lots of kisses there, storing all of these tiny details to replay again in his head when he found himself caught up in sappy Kurt-centric daydreams during History class.

The apprehensive, worried look on Kurt’s face from before was softening as he lost himself in the sensation of Blaine’s roaming hands, comforted by the familiar roughness of his skin from years of violin and guitar lessons- even though he had tried for months to teach him the wonders of a weekly home manicure. The tension that wound tight around his shoulders was draining out at last, pooling around him as he allowed his eyes to close again and let himself drown in Blaine’s touch, realising it wasn’t so bad to let himself be loved because of his imperfections, rather than in spite of them.

Continuing until Kurt was lax and boneless beneath him, Blaine eventually came to a standstill, pressing one last, lingering kiss to each hip bone. Shuffling back so he was sat on Kurt’s thighs, he looked down at him adoringly.

“So… How do you feel?”

Kurt huffed a little laugh, his eyes twinkling as they fluttered back open and his cheeks glowing pink. He tugged Blaine back down on top of him, their lips crashing together.

“Wonderful.” He whispered when they pulled apart, gazing at him lovingly. “I love you.”

Blaine giggled. There would never be a moment in time where those words didn’t elicit the same schoolgirl-esque reaction from him, no matter how much they wore it out. He wriggled out of Kurt’s grasp, locking eyes with him.

“And I love you,” He said, chin propped up on Kurt’s sternum, poking his already-pink cheeks for effect. “Every little curve and freckle. I love it all.”

Kurt flushed even more, wrapping his arms around Blaine and cuddling him close so the pair of them could bask in the happy, tingly feeling that coursed through their bodies, setting every nerve alight from head to toe. He breathed deep, his nose pressed into Blaine’s shoulder. Glancing over to the TV, he saw the screen was blank.

“Can we put it back on? We’re almost at the end and I want to watch Mirror, Mirror next.”

Blaine sat up, quirking an eyebrow. “Sure we can, but I think it’s time we had a discussion about your Armie Hammer obsession…”

Kurt gasped. “I’m not obsessed! He just has nice eyes! And a perfect smile. And amazing pecs.”

“I knew you only wanted to see him shirtless.” Blaine rolled his eyes fondly. “I’m just glad that my competition always happens to be tragically straight.”

“Hey, he’s not your ‘competition’! And besides, even if he were, you’d be winning.”

“Oh, really?”

“Of course.” Kurt winked. His gaze settled on the coffee table. “Especially if you were to pass me that cheesecake…”

Blaine laughed, kissing Kurt’s smiling mouth before he sat up to grab the remote, looking forward to spending the rest of the evening arguing over who was the more swoon-worthy male lead whilst feeding each other bites of cheesecake and ice-cream, too blissed out to care about all the extra cardio they would wind up doing to burn it off later this week.

[hanksthompson]

Eddie has always been different. That much, he was certain of. Has he always known what the extent of it was? Not necessarily, but something always felt off. Not like he could ever identify that for what it was at the time, though. It was only prevalent when he got closer to his teen years, of course, but he supposes it was just a fact about him way before then, too. Outcast was putting it lightly. He was more than aware of the insults he’d get not only at school, but on the streets, too. That’s just how Derry was, he assumed. Should he be surprised, at this point? It didn’t look like it was changing anytime soon, and it’s not like he wasn’t used to another lifestyle. He just grew accustomed to that, really.

He’s not particularly sure what made him a target for bullying in the first place, actually. In Eddie’s opinion, there wasn’t anything really remarkable about him. He had always looked like a normal kid, really. Maybe he was smaller than most, or a little more fragile-looking in comparison to the kids who actually got exercise. But outside of that, he didn’t think he was all that different, really. Maybe he took care of his appearance more than most kids?

Always keep your hair neat! I don’t want my son to look like the other boys in the neighborhood.

That was one of the earliest instructions Eddie had gotten from his mom, and one he never really understood growing up. Never understood why it had to be kept neat at all. But he listened. He didn’t have any reason to object to it at the time, and he was young enough to blindly follow whatever his mom would tell him, even if there was a small, nagging part of him that felt weird about it. But he listened. He remembered an old photo that still had his dad in it, his late dad, and while he was still young when he passed, he remembered he would look up to him at that young age. He always liked how his dad was around him...how he felt when in his company. He took to combing and parting his hair every morning, in an attempt to match that old picture. His hair was a little longer than his dad's, sure, but the simplicity of it was enough to make him happy.

His mom never seemed to notice how he chose to style his hair though, he wasn’t sure if she remembered much of her late husband at all. Eddie always thought that was weird, but it wasn’t anything he could question, really, not when his mom had started piling on more and more concerns for him, and for his health. But with those concerns came restrictions. He didn’t remember having any significant allergies before, but he remembers being told not to roll around where the grass had been freshly cut. The specifics of that also seemed weird. But he was young enough to buy into it. Young enough to believe whatever concern and crocodile tears she threw his way, so much so that he had grown concerned for his own health as well, at that point. And it had only gotten worse as he got older.

Don’t you go running outside, you could trip, scrape your leg, and get infected!

He always wanted to run. Always wants to take part in P.E. Actually play baseball with the older kids by his house.

Stay away from heights! You could just as easily fall and break something!

He had always wondered what that would be like. Falling. Experiencing something. Truth be told, he was less eager about dealing with a broken limb, something he was always told would be the worst pain imaginable. But he’s still curious. About falling. About knowing what that, alone, would feel like. He imagines normal kids get to know what that’s like.

Any two men who keep their house that nice must be queers.

That was one he never understood either. His mom’s supposed hatred for one of their neighbors, the Tracker brothers. Or why she had always defaulted to the same assumption every time. Or why it had made him feel weird at the time. But phrases like that weren’t exactly new to him. Not just from his mother, but from graffiti in Bassey Park, or even on the Kissing Bridge, one such place he always had to cross by when he was in High School. It always made him feel…dirty. But he just accepted those, as well. It wasn’t until he started going to Church or had encountered a homeless man at Neibolt, that he had started pushing those thoughts away from himself. And, as a result, grew that much more uncomfortable with religion, as a whole.

He couldn’t shake the feeling away that he had done something wrong, just by existing.

But even in spite of that, Eddie really only got a chance to feel…maybe normal isn’t the word for it, but how a kid is supposed to feel when he was with the Losers. They never smothered him. Never made him feel any less of what he really was. Never treated him differently than they treated each other…because he could handle the teasing and the insults and the jokes just as well as anyone else.

Part of him had always felt guilty when he had thought of them as family. That he was betraying his parents in some way. That he was betraying his dad somehow when he had always looked up to Bill the way he thinks he used to look up to his dad.

He had always tried to justify that thought process, though. That it was normal to have people in your life that share similarities with your actual family. Or he did until he had reached his early 30’s.

If Eddie had been aware of just everything he had forgotten about after leaving Derry, he would’ve been more acutely aware of just how that affected him. How going back to living with his mom’s strict parenting style, and not being around his friends, had taken his own strength from him. The idea of it sounds cheesy, really, and if he were told that, both as a 13-year-old and a 40-year-old, he’d probably dismiss it. It sounded ridiculous. But that was his life, starting at around 14. She was still just as smothering and manipulative as she always was, except this time, he got back into the habit of letting this happen. Of letting her treat him this way, even if he now knew his medicine was fake.

I just want what’s best for you.

She always said that a lot. And damn near every time, it felt like utter bullshit. But he still listened to her. This was what love had felt like to him at the time. A woman watching over him, a woman fueling his anxieties to the point where he felt he had to rely on her. It was never something he could for himself. He was always the weak one when it came to a loving relationship. That’s what he truly believed.

He wasn’t even sure how old he was when he finally got to move out of his mom’s house, he had to guess it was early to mid ’20s, and he had remembered there was a lot of tears on her end. Tears to the point where he had felt uncomfortable with the whole display. Because he couldn’t figure out if this was her usual method of manipulation, where she’d resort to crocodile tears just to get him to do what she wanted, or if the display was genuine. But judging how guilty he felt because of it, he was more than content assuming it was the former, and that alone got him out of the house and on to his own life. He figured so, at least.

He wasn’t sure exactly how it happened if he had to think back on it, but he remembers he had met her through work. Risk analyst, on a surface level, seemed like a weird and unheard-of job. But it was one he was drawn to, nonetheless. But it was one that served to make him feel better in his everyday life. Even after he moved out of his mom’s house, she could still hear her nagging voice whenever he would want to do the simplest of things, and it only added to his paranoia. But that had dwindled when he got his new job. It made him feel better when he knew the statistical odds for anything bad that could happen, because he knew they were low. Low odds made him feel better. Like he was actually in charge for once. That he could live his life, free of paranoia. But that only lasted so long.

Myra. Someone who always had an uneasy sense of familiarity, but with that familiarity, came a sense of comfort. He thinks maybe that's why he was drawn to her in the first place, or that’s the excuse he likes to make. It wouldn’t be the only one. From the minute they had started talking, he had noted that familiarity, as well. But that hadn’t stopped him, really. She had always felt…safe, for a lack of better words. That’s what he told himself as well. And what he continued to tell himself when he had reached 34, and he was looking into engagement rings. Told himself it was normal when he couldn’t even look at the pictures of his own mother anymore, because of the relationship. Tried to convince himself that this was normal. Normal for adulthood, anyway. That this would be a normal marriage.

It was a disturbing thought to Eddie, however, that the minute they had started living together, that nagging voice from his mother would often get mistaken for Myra’s voice invading his thoughts. So much so, that the worse it got, the more they both blended together, until he was certain it was just Myra in his head. Of course, the first month or two was fine, and he had managed to convince himself that this would be a fine life, that he could love Myra.

You shouldn’t use ingredients like that. It’s not good for your health.

He was willing to pass that off as normal. It seemed natural to worry about what your partner was eating, about how it could affect them. But the health-related concerns had quickly started to get out of hand. To the point where he was, once again, reduced to taking over-the-counter medicine for the smallest of issues. It was a habit he hadn’t questioned getting back into, but just accepted for what it was.

You really should shave more. You’re starting to look unkempt.

Growing stubble or a beard was never something Eddie really wanted to do, but even the slightest hint of one had always sent Myra off. He, of course, never saw the issue with it, outside of it being something he was indifferent too, but Myra had always made a big deal about how he presented himself for work. Buying razors and shaving cream at the store felt more like an obligation, than anything.

Patterned shirts are childish, aren’t they? You should toss those out, Eddie.

There was maybe a small part of him that was aware his sense of fashion as a kid was anything but perfect. Oversized shirts and sports shorts and a fanny pack and slip-on shoes. It seemed ridiculous, thinking back on it, but he had always loved those clothes when he was a kid. He liked the bright shirts with patterns, they always seemed fun to him. Even when he wore simple polo shirts, they were almost always pastel. He liked that they were bright. And maybe he didn’t always wear every single one of those things now that he was an adult, but he still kept some of that old fashion sense. He would occasionally wear graphic shirts to bed, and sometimes kept the same sports shorts whenever he would want to exercise, but that’s usually it.

Myra never cared for them, though. She thought they were unprofessional for someone who worked for a business firm. And it was a subject she had continuously pressed until she had eventually got her way. Graphic and patterned shirts were replaced with strictly polo shirts, button-ups, or cardigans. Stupidly short shorts were all replaced with either lounge pants, khakis, or jeans. He still convinced himself that he could be alright with that. That this was just another part of adult life.

Are you watching that comedian again? Switch it back to cable, my show is about to start.

Dictating whatever they watched seemed like a stretch to him, but one he couldn’t bring himself to complain about when she had insisted they watch something other than the Netflix specials for a certain comedian. He couldn’t bring himself to complain, because he isn’t even sure why he was watching it in the first place, or why he continued to watch whenever there was a new one on Netflix. He didn’t even like the jokes. They felt…wrong to him. Wrong in a way he couldn’t even explain to himself. It was weird. And it was weird when he kept watching. He thinks maybe a small part of him was drawn to it, in the same way he was drawn to Myra in the first place, but he dismissed that thought. It sounded stupid to him, anyway. And he thinks that maybe, maybe, he can bring himself to like Myra’s shows. It would just take some time.

You can’t go on that business trip, Eddie. You can’t leave me here alone.

That was a rare one, but one he had always heard, nonetheless. Of course, only when he was supposed to go out of town, and he always did, mind you. But he had always felt guilty about it, especially with Myra’s constant calls to him during the trip itself, whenever he would have a free moment to himself. He remembers those calls very clearly, because each and every one of them was the same. He would always stay on the phone with her to try and calm her down, and would stay on that call even if it was exhausting to him, and she always asked him to say the same thing, at the end of every single one.

Can you say you love me?

And he always obliged. Even if it felt weird for her to ask that, he still listened, and gave her what she wanted to hear. Maybe it helped that he was out of town, and when he was away from her, he always felt more certain of the fact that he loved her. Or maybe it was the guilt. The guilt that he left her alone, and she always sounded like she was near tears when she would call. Guilty that this was his fault, somehow.

He thinks one of the first nightmares he gets, after he’s married, revolves around that specific guilt. That reminds him of a specific nightmare from when he was a kid, of a time where he couldn’t save his mom in the basement of the pharmacy. Except now, it’s Myra, and he remembers feeling useless in that nightmare, remembers being berated for not being enough, when he was needed. He thinks he remembers not getting a lot of sleep that night.

I just want what’s best for you.

The phrase had felt so familiar coming from Myra, that he had felt obligated to believe it. That every little thing she had nitpicked at, even when it had annoyed him, was for his best interests. That she was genuinely worried about his health, that she wanted him to make good impressions, even if he had barely left the house outside of when he had work. That she wanted him to be safe. Even if, for a majority of the marriage, he was the one looking after her, because she had consistently put herself in situations where she was the one who needed to be comforted. He felt he could empathize with that, to some degree, so he had always given her what she wanted in those moments. He was used to it, anyway. Putting others before himself. That was something he was good at.

[changesxnight]

1-50 Steve Randle for the the excessively detailed headcanons

What does their bedroom look like?- messy as hell- he never makes his bed - his desk is the only thing that’s organized because that’s where he does homework

Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?- playing football with the gang is his favorite - the gang just does athleticy things at least twice a week- any day that it’s sunny, they’ll go out and do something

What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?- the kitchen is never busy at his house - but if somehow his father was making dinner for himself of course, cause fuck Steve, Steve would just go out to eat or to the Curtises’ house

Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.) - the office at the DX is a mess, no thanks to Soda- so he tries to clean it up- he’s usually a tidy guy but laziness overpowers his will to clean - there’s a method to his madness - for example, his clothes aren’t in his closet but rather on a chair in his room but he’s meticulous about where the groceries and dishes go  

Eating habits and sample daily menu- he eats when he’s hungry - which is all the fucking time - he loves burgers and fries - will never admit how much he loves milkshakes

Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time- he loves to go bowling with Dallas- and play pool. they’re both amazing at the game - if he’s not blowing off smoke with Soda, he’s messing around with Two-Bit and/or Dallas

Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging - milkshakes - he doesn’t care about indulging. he works too damn hard to not treat himself well

Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such?- he lives with Dick Randle - what do you think - Evie thinks he’s mentally ill but he doesn’t wanna hear it - “I already knows there’s something wrong with me” “Steve, that’s not what I said!” “but it’s what you meant, isn’t it?” - half the gang is traumatized by their parents’ actions can you guess which three

Intellectual pursuits?- he wanted to join the math club but didn’t cause the gang would never let him hear the end of it- could totally go to college but didn’t have the money - he’s insanely smart and would win the spelling bee or geography bee if he wasn’t so ashamed of being smart - he’s a genius. but he’s a greaser. those two things shouldn’t go together, as his father would tell him. so Steve’s always kept his intelligence a secret - teachers hate this though because he’ll get As on his homework and then randomly choose answers on the test and end up with a C

Favorite book genre?- he loves to read, surprise surprise - like Soda has almost caught him with a book at the DX a million times - like now, Steve just reads with the owner’s manual in front so it looks like he’s reading about cars - Soda’s like “hey buddy…what ya doin’? you know everything about cars, more than I do.”- he prefers non-fiction or really old stories - Mythology and lore are his favorites

Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?- a closeted bisexual - he doesn’t have a problem with anyone who doesn’t cause him harm so if someone’s gay and a decent human being, he’s fine with them

Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.) - his nose is chronically broken - he’s allergic to crying, jerks and bullshit

Biggest and smallest short term goal?- biggest: win a game of chess against Ponyboy because the cocky son of a bitch…- smallest: doing inventory. it’s so boring

Biggest and smallest long term goal?- biggest: own his own auto body shop. or marry Evie - smallest: get through high school. it’s easy but it’s taking forever. senior year sucks  

Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress- clad in denim 24/7- if he’s not in jeans, he’s not Steve Randle - he doesn’t mind his uniform. he wears it proudly because he’s paid to do what he loves

Favorite beverage?- we all know he loves beer - but he also loves coffee

What do they think about before falling asleep at night?- he thinks of Evie and of his mother. would they’ve gotten along? of course they would’ve. would Dad be a different man if Lily died and Mom lived? what would life be like with his sister? what would life be like with his mom? - the “what if"s torture him

Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?- if he got sick, his father wouldn’t take care of him - so he tried his damnedest to not get sick- he’d get colds on purpose cause he knew he could defeat them- but let’s say strep throats was going around school. he’d avoid everyone like the plague. he doesn’t have that kinda money to buy antibiotics

Turn-ons? Turn-offs?- turn ons: confidence, standing up for what you believe in, musicians, just Evelyn Green in general… - turn offs: nothing this horndog will find anything sexy

Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?- he’d probably start doodling - or write a love letter to Evie because he loves her more than words can say. xxx ooo xxx

How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?- he’s actually very organized- he couldn’t stand a mess but he got used to messiness since Soda can’t keep anything in one place

Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?- he loves history - he’s amazing at math shh don’t tell anyone - and of course, English class

How do they see themselves 5 years from today?- at 17, he wants to be married to Evie by 25. she’s the love of his life - again, he wants to have his own auto body repair shop that he shares with Soda- he wants to be stable and away from his father. maybe even emancipated from his dad

Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?- marry Evie - open up his own auto repair shop- have a family and be a good dad- be financially stable - die happy

What is their biggest regret?- after years of his father convincing him he killed his sister, he regrets that- as he gets older, he regrets not applying himself in school- he’s very smart and pays attention. he does his homework but never hands it in. he aces his tests but because he doesn’t do his homework, he averages out with a C

Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?- Soda is clearly his best friend- aside from him, I think Two is his other best friend - he’s his own worst enemy

Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?)- if Evie is there, he gets her out - if a dog is there, he gets them out - if Ponyboy is there, he gets them out - basically, he makes sure that everyone is safe before he worries about himself

Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)- numbness and drinking to keep the numb feeling - he just loses it - angry and fighting - he can’t process his emotions

Most prized possession?- either his switchblade or his car

Thoughts on material possessions in general?- he’s not very religious so he doesn’t have that “why gain the whole world and lose your soul” mentality- he’d love to be rich. never have to worry about money or paying bills or anything - he isn’t a hoarder but he definitely has possessions he couldn’t live without and doesn’t see any harm in it

Concept of home and family? - if it weren’t for the gang and Mr. and Mrs. Curtis, he wouldn’t know what family is - Evie is where he feels at home

Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)- with Soda or Dallas or Two, he gives too much information - around people he doesn’t fully trust, he barely gives any information out at all

What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?- like Dallas, he loves to bowl and play pool- he considers homework a waste of time so he doesn’t do it - he doesn’t consider reading a waste of time, per se, but he loves it and won’t ever admit it

What makes them feel guilty?- thinking about his mother and sister- it’s my fault. I fucked up. I didn’t protect them. - his father is an evil, twisted man that can’t take responsibility and now Steve is more mentally fucked up than anyone could ever believe

Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making?- he tries to be analytical, thinking of Soda, Evie and the rest of the gang - he doesn’t do anything too stupid because he doesn’t want to die - but sometimes he’s impulsive and does what he wants in the moment

Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality? - type a- he takes his work very seriously, whether it’s for school or auto body repairs - he’s an organized leader, when given the chance - feels and fights violently and aggressively  

What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?- sex- coffee - hot showers

Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?- well after a lifetime of being told he’s a murderer, Steve hates himself - but he also hates his father - he hates being oppressed by Socs and wants to fight back (and does)

How misanthropic are they? - he only truly hates his father and Socs

Hobbies?- aside from cars cause that isn’t all Steve does - he’s on the football team - he loves to go fishing and bowling with Dallas - badass at pool, taught by Dallas Winston himself - pulling pranks with Soda is the best - he’s a champ at beer pong

How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education?- he loves going to school and he loves to learn. but he hates the peer pressure, he hates the stress and he hates the judgement - he’s learned a lot on his own and from his friends; he has to, he’s a greaser.

Religion?- introduced to Christianity by the Curtises - but after Mom and Dad 2 died, he’s been losing his faith - now he’s just angry at God and doesn’t know what to do- and when he reads the Old Testament, it seems like there isn’t a single thing he and God can agree on

Superstitions or views on the occult?- claims he’s not superstitious but totally is - except he picks and chooses which he follows and when it’s convenient - stays away from black cats but walks under ladders like it’s no big deal

Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?- deeds, for sure- when it comes to the people he loves, especially Evie, he can’t form a coherent sentence while making eye contact - so he writes what he truly means - and shows how he feels through actions

If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal?- a hardworking, loving woman. he wants someone who’s earned what they have and they stand up for themselves. a woman who isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty or her voice heard. someone who isn’t too dependent or easily offended. a strong woman who’s been through some shit and is understanding- so Evelyn Rose Green

How do they express love?- aggressively and passionately - he’ll take Evie out on random dates, either it’s a romantic candle lit dinner at his place or just stare gazing in the back of his truck - he writes the most beautiful love letters - when he’s scared, he’ll try to act tougher. so when he senses danger, his grip on Evie’s hand gets tighter

If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like?- he’s always fighting, let’s be honest - it’s the only way he’ll feel anything

- he’s an honest greaser and he fights fair- but he always wins - fighting gives him this kinda rush that just can’t be replaced - he’s stealthy and always makes sure that he knows the terrain and uses it to his advantage - he likes to get hyped up before a fight but not so that his senses are outta wack

Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not? - he’s only afraid of dying because he’s got people to take care of - but he also knows that getting into a serious fight could end fatally- so he’s smart with who he fights and who he keeps his mouth shut around

[redditnosleep]

Man Up

by Pippinacious

When the bookstore at the mall put up its help wanted posters, I jumped at the chance to put in my application. Between being an avid reader who had practically lived amongst the store’s shelves in high school and a broke community college student taking a semester off to save money, it seemed still customer service.

I got used to people coming in and asking for “That popular book, the one made into a movie” and the edgy teens who moved the Bible from the religion section to fiction. Finding half eaten pastries from our cafe hidden in all sorts of creative places that weren't the conveniently placed garbage cans was an everyday activity and gently reminding parents that we weren't babysitters was a frequent thing.

It was far from all bad, though.

A lot of our customers were quiet and pleasant, it was clean (for the most part), management was nice, my co-workers friendly, and I got a tidy little discount on my own purchases. After a few months of employment, I even had some regulars that I was on a first name basis with.

One of them was Eddie.

He was a polite kid, a few years younger than me, maybe sixteen, and he loved fantasy. It wasn't unusual to go down to that section and find a tall, lanky guy all in black kneeling in the middle of the aisle with a book opened in front of him. The first few times I came across him, he'd look up with this guilty expression, like I'd found him doing something wrong, and quickly put the book he'd been reading away and get up to leave.

He was always alone and often had headphones on; I imagined they were blaring one of the bands whose t-shirts he frequently wore, Iron Maiden or Metallica or something hard and heavy like that. At first, he struck me as the intentional outsider type, rebelling against The Man, an embittered youth who thought of himself as a lone wolf who didn't need anyone else.

When I finally spoke to him, though, I found that I'd been very wrong.

I found him in his usual spot one afternoon and, as usual, he started to pack up the minute I came around the corner. Instead of just letting him go, I decided to try reaching out with a smile and pointed to the book he was putting back.

“R.A. Salvatore’s a good author, huh?” I asked while I reorganized the shelf next to him.

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and answered with a tight lipped nod.

“I was a big fan of Drizzt when I was in high school,” I said.

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. “I like Wulfgar.”

“He's pretty cool, too.”

We chatted for a bit longer about the series and I was surprised by how he lit up; he had such enthusiasm for the books that it almost made me want to go out and re-read them. We traded names before Eddie had to go and I went back to work, amused at how wrong I'd been about him. Instead of being the angry, closed off guy I'd expected, he was a huge, but shy, geek.

Whenever I saw Eddie after that first conversation, we'd exchange pleasantries and talk about the new releases that had just come in. I wasn't the fantasy buff that I'd once been so sometimes it could be hard to keep up, but Eddie just seemed to like having someone to talk to and he kept me company while I stocked and straightened shelves.

I didn't comment on the fact that he was in almost every afternoon and often stayed until it was just about closing time. I figured he wasn't causing trouble so it wasn't my business.

One afternoon, after I'd just finished helping a nice older lady find her way to the recently popular 50 Shades, my co-worker, Janelle, came up to me.

“Hey, Danielle, you know that kid who follows you around? The goth one?” She asked, like I had more than one.

“Eddie.”

“I guess. He's, like...over in the back corner crying. It's weirding people out. Could you talk to him and get him to leave?”

I told her I'd check on him and hurried to find Eddie, who was sitting against the wall in the farthest corner of the store between the cooking and self-help aisles. When he saw me, he quickly wiped his eyes and sat up a bit.

“Hey,” I said softly. “You ok?”

He shrugged and clenched his jaw to keep any more tears from escaping. I noticed that his hair and clothes looked damp.

“What happened?”

“Just dickheads,” he mumbled.

“Where? Here?”

“School.”

I frowned and crouched down. “Are people bullying you, Eddie?”

He let out a short laugh, sad and cynical. “It's nothing. They were just having fun, right? It was just water balloons.”

“Do you want me to call someone? Your parents or-”

“No,” he said quickly, getting to his feet. “I'm leaving.”

“Wait, if you need to talk-”

“I just need to man up, right? Bye, Danielle.”

He walked away with his hands shoved in his pockets and his shoulders hunched and my heart broke a little for him. I shouldn't have been surprised he was bullied, but I'd gotten so used to him that his dark appearance didn't even phase me anymore. I doubted the other high schoolers were quite so blind to it.

Eddie stayed on my mind well after I'd finished working. From the defeat in his voice and the way he'd dismissed my concern, I knew this was far from the first brush he'd had with these bullies and that nothing had been done about them. I didn't know if he'd tried to tell anyone and I doubted such a sweet kid would fight back, but I hoped he'd find a way to make them leave him alone. He deserved better.

My dreams that night were filled with screaming. With gunfire. With an image of Eddie in his black clothes, blood upon his hands.

I woke with a start. Sweat trickled down my forehead in chilly little beads and uneasiness slithered in my stomach and it took me a few long moments to tell myself it had just been a dream. A very vivid dream that had left the smell of iron in my nose. I shook it away and flopped over, determined to forget it and get back to sleep.

The water balloon incident seemed to be a turning point for Eddie, and not a good one. He'd started avoiding me, but I still saw him around the store, reading and minding his business as he always had, except now I couldn't help but notice that he sometimes had tears in his clothes or that his belongings looked wet and abused. He trudged about like someone carrying a too-heavy load.

And every night, the same dream. Gunfire in the distance, somewhere in the mall. Screaming. Panicked footsteps stampeding towards exits. Eddie in the entrance to the bookstore with red hands and splatter across his face.

It was hard to tell myself that something I saw so clearly wasn't real and it was even harder not to watch Eddie with a new, heightened sense of caution. Whenever I caught sight of him, I'd find myself unconsciously searching him for the blood that marked him in my dreams.

The only blood I saw was his own, when he came in at his usual time one afternoon with a black eye and one of his nostrils coated in crusty, dried red. He disappeared into the bathroom to clean up, I assumed, and, when he came out, I was waiting.

“Who did that?” I asked sternly and he looked surprised to see me.

“Nobody,” he grumbled, turning away.

“Eddie, if someone is hurting you, you should tell someone.”

“Why? I know what I need to do.”

“What?”

“Man up,” he snorted to try and hide that his voice had cracked just slightly.

He'd said that once before, I remembered. “You need to get help, talk to someone.”

“Only pussies tattle.”

It was obvious he was repeating someone and I felt such a rush of anger towards them for putting that bull in his head. I followed him down the aisles to the fantasy section, where he pointedly tried to ignore me, but I was persistent.

“Eddie, come on. You can talk to me!”

After minutes of not responding, he finally sighed and looked at me. There was anger in his face, sharp and deep, but it was clouded heavily by the sadness I saw there, too.

“It doesn't matter. I just have to get through two more years and then I'm out.”

“But you shouldn't have to put up with this!”

Tears had welled in his eyes and he shrugged. “Nobody cares.”

“I'm sure that's not true; I do. We're friends.”

The phone in his pocket went off loudly and he scrambled to grab it. Before he'd had a chance to get it out, the call dropped and a man I'd not seen before came around the end of the aisle with a scowl.

“I should have known you'd be here looking at this bullshit. I've been waiting in the car,” he said.

“Excuse me?” I started to say at the same time Eddie said, ‘Sorry, Dad.”

Eddie’s dad took a step towards us without so much as a glance towards me. “Are you crying, Edward?”

“No!” Eddie said.

“God, when are you going to man the fuck up, huh? No wonder you get your ass kicked,” he shook his head in obvious disgust. “Get moving, Mom’s got dinner waiting.”

I was in too much shock to say anything as Eddie, head hung low, followed his father out of the store. I wished immediately that I'd said or done something, that I'd stuck up for poor Eddie, but I'd just stood there, gaping like an idiot, and then they were gone.

That night, I had the same dream again. Gunfire, screaming, running, panic, and Eddie. Bloody hands, blood splattered face, coming towards the store. All I could do was watch him get closer, until he was reaching for the handle so that he could pull it open and come inside. His dad’s rough voice, so withering and filled with contempt, rose around us.

“Man the fuck up!”

I shot upright in bed, grasping at my pounding chest and trying to calm my breathing.

“Eddie wouldn't hurt anyone,” I whispered, “he's a good kid.”

I wondered how many people thought the same thing about others right before they lashed out.

Usually by morning I'd managed to shake off most of the unpleasantness of the dream, but that day, it stayed with me, following me like some kind of terrible spectre. I'd never been one to put much stock into dreams, but I'd also never had one that had been so real or that recurred every night.

I went into work for my evening shift feeling shaky, but silly. I just had to get through six hours and then I'd realize how dumb I was being.

It was six o’clock, three hours into my shift when I heard the first loud pop from off in the distance. The screams that followed were exactly the same as they'd been in my dream. The store had gone very still all of the sudden, and all eyes had turned towards the glass front doors that led into the mall.

“Was that a-” someone started to ask, but another series of shots rang out. It was all the answer they needed.

Chaos erupted. People were diving between book shelves, overturning chairs to duck behind, a few even clamored behind the counter with me and a couple coworkers. There was screaming and crying, the occasional plea for others to be quiet, but nothing seemed so loud as the gunshots echoing throughout.

It was all too familiar.

Automatically, without thinking, I turned towards the doors.

There he was, dressed all in black, coming towards us, reaching for the handles with his red hand. There were drops of blood splashed across his face and one trickled down his cheek like a dark tear.

He stood in the doorway for a moment and our eyes met.

“Help me,” Eddie said.

I blinked stupidly.

“Danielle! Please!” He turned and waved a hand behind him, “This way, come on, we'll hide in here! Hurry!”

A man half-carrying a woman came into view behind Eddie. Eddie held the door open with his foot and slipped one of the his arms around the woman's waist. He pressed his other hand, already wet and red, over a bloody wound in her stomach. Together, he and the man dragged the woman into the store.

“There's another out there. I saw him,” Eddie said as he passed the desk. “Can you hold the door, Danielle? I'm going to get him.”

I stammered at him, too terrified to form words.

“When you see me coming back, get the door. Please.”

I saw the same fear in him that I was feeling as he ran back out of the store and into the mall, where the gunfire continued.

I crouched behind the counter, barely able to breathe, shaking, half afraid that I wouldn't be able to move when he came back, if he came back, but I stared at those doors and I waited like a rabbit waits for the wolf to pass. So still, but every inch of me burning with a tense electricity that screamed, “Run!”

Amidst the rush of people desperately trying to escape, a tall, lanky boy dressed all in black dragged a wounded elderly man away from the madness back into the book store.

I made sure I was there to open the door for them.

He would go out twice more when he saw others staggering towards us, in dire need of assistance.

When it sounded like the shooter was getting closer, we huddled together in the fantasy section with a few others and we listened to the rapid POP POP POP coming from just outside our doors.

We got lucky, though. The gunman never made it into the bookstore. With police starting to pour in, he turned his pistol on himself and put a bullet into his brain.

The all clear was given moments later.

I had to help Eddie to his feet; he was trembling and sobbing and staring down at his blood stained hands. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, the reality of what we'd been through, what he'd risked, were sinking in.

“I'm sorry,” he kept saying, trying unsuccessfully to stem his tears in shame. “I need to man up. I'm sorry.”

I wanted to tell him that that was stupid. That crying and being afraid didn't make him less of a man. That “manning up” was a stupid, bullshit concept and his dad and his bullies were stupid, bullshit people for making him feel bad for being different, for feeling. I wanted to tell him that he was a hero.

And I would, eventually, but in that moment, all I could do was hug him.

[leyrza]

20:28 I’ve been thinking for the past hour already, I think? And it’s getting heavier and heavier by the minute. I accidentally lashed out to a friend, letting my anger speak rather than my usual calm and collected self. I feel horrible. Although it went unnoticed, I still feel horrible that I said something so rude and mean like that. And now the feeling just won’t leave. Some family members were video chatting about an hour ago. I was talking to my cousin. Everything was just normal, nothing too special. It happens everyday. Then my mom said something. “Go say hi to them.” I felt sick. I wanted to cry. Thoughts are running through my head, it’s a completely tangled mess. My heart felt so heavy just thinking about facing them and even worse, talking to them. Sounds mean? Yes, I guess. But it’s nothing compared to the trauma and self-hatred they left and imprinted in me. I’m turning 20 this year. Twenty. I’ve been alive for almost two decades now. Two fucking decades. And a quarter of it was filled with nothing but insecurity. I don’t know where it started. All I know is as soon as I got consciousness and started understanding things and words, I’ve always been fat-shamed. I remember being three or four years old in kindergarten and being called fat by my classmates and my family.

I was 4 years old. All I knew was to eat, play, go to school, sleep, have fun. Like what a normal four-year-old should be doing. And the one family member suddenly called me fat. They told me I’m fat, and I’m too big for my age and I should lose weight. That I should diet to lose weight and stop being fat. A four-year-old. I was taught that being fat is bad. That I should not be fat and just be thin like what normal people should be. I was very sad that time, because I feel like a different person. Why am I fat? Why am I like everybody else? Why do I wear large clothes while my friends wear size small?

I was 4 years old. All I knew was to eat, play, go to school, sleep, have fun. Like what a normal four-year-old should be doing.

And the one family member suddenly called me fat. They told me I’m fat, and I’m too big for my age and I should lose weight. That I should diet to lose weight and stop being fat.

A four-year-old.

I was taught that being fat is bad. That I should not be fat and just be thin like what normal people should be. I was very sad that time, because I feel like a different person. Why am I fat? Why am I like everybody else? Why do I wear large clothes while my friends wear size small?

I was four years old. And my thoughts were infiltrated by such negative thoughts.

Being in elementary school, I was always bullied. Why? Because I’m fat. Whenever I join games with my classmates, I always lose because my body is not as flexible as them. I can’t jump as high as them. When I jump, they make fun that there’s an earthquake because of how heavy I am.

I started excluding myself in their games. I prefer just watching them, seeing them jump high and have fun, laugh at themselves and enjoy the game. I was envious of them. They’re very light and can jump so easily in the air. I can’t do that. I was too heavy to do that.

Even at home, it never stops. I was always made fun of at how big my arms and thighs are. I’m always teased that I’m always in the kitchen that’s why I’ve gotten this fat. I stopped eating snacks in hopes that I’ll lose weight.

Fifth grade. One of my worst years ever.

I tried to kill myself.

My mom was working in Singapore, my dad is studying to be a teacher, my brother started kindergarten. I was left with just my grandparents who also have their own lives to leave.

My parents were still fighting everyday. My dad told me that starting that day, I’ll be the one responsible for getting the money from my mom and not him anymore. I broke down in front of him, words couldn’t find its way to my mouth.

I remember our English requiring us to write in our daily diary to keep track of our life. I just bullshitted my entries there, saying I’m happy, everything’s fine, Miles is very normal :D

I love collecting notebooks. And each notebook there was at least one written goodbye letter in it. It became a habit. I write suicide letter whenever I could. I could die any day, and I want to leave a letter.

I found them again recently. I was nine years old and my letters were full of anger. Full of spite, full of hatred, full of bitterness. I was nine years old. Thinking about it now, how fucked up was I that I started writing suicide letters full of hatred at the age of 9?

It was horrible, and I kept thinking everyday that it will be the last day I’ll live. It was too tempting to jump off our building from the fourth floor, imagining my bones crack at the contact with the concrete floor. Thinking of how my blood gets splattered on the floor as I twitch in pain and take my last breath.

Thinking about it was satisfying to me.

Seventh grade came and I grew up. I grew taller and lost some weight. Still, I was bullied and kept thinking how fat I am.

It was a horrible year too. I felt so excluded from our class, I was still being shitted at home like it usually does. I think I forgot what happiness was during this time.

I have really few friends. And this one friend influenced me the most.

I saw scars on her wrist. I was confused. How can someone get scars that many? So I asked her, genuinely curious. What happened to her? I was concerned, of course.

She told me she was cutting. She wasn’t clear why but it’s understandable. It must’ve been too personal. I asked her how it felt and why she kept doing it. She said it feels nice and it makes her feel alive. She loves the feeling of cold blade slitting through her wrists, she loves the way the blood comes out of her cuts. I was confused why.

Then one day, we had to go to her house to do a project. We finished it early and so we watched a movie and still, we have a lot of time left. Suddenly, she closed the door of her room and smiled at us.

“I’m gonna show you how I do my cuts.”

I was very curious. My other friend and I couldn’t say anymore since she already had the blade in her hands. She showed it to us closely, showed us how she pushed it against her skin, how the blood started coming out, and then she sliced it open.

She did more of it, my friend and I just watched. We were all young and we didn’t know it was bad. I didn’t think of stopping her, we didn’t do anything about it but watch. Watched as she smiles while harming herself.

It got to me soon. I was curious. I kept thinking how did it feel good when you hurt yourself? How do you feel alive by hurting and leaving a mark on yourself that you know will never leave?

I went to the nearest store with a twenty-peso bill in hand. I asked for a blade. They gave me one and I paid for it. I hid it from my grandparents as I went up the stairs and into my room.

I stared at it for a long time, playing with it in my hands. Twirling it around, feeling the sharpness against my fingers. It was really sharp and it already gave a small cut on my skin.

Slowly, I sank the blade into my wrists. It felt good. I smiled. Now I understand why my friend liked it. The pain felt good. Physical pain felt better than the mental and emotional torture I carry everyday. The physical pain made me happy.

It was so fucked up. I got addicted to it. I carved “FAT” on my arm since that’s what I was anyway. Everyday, I kept looking at the freshly-carved scar on my arm to remind me what I am. What I really am.

Fat.

It went on until I’m in 8th, 9th, 10th grade. Everyday I would have fresh cuts in my wrist and arm. It was hard to stop when the pain was addicting. But I kept track of myself. I really wanted to be clean already.

It went on until I’m in 8th, 9th, 10th grade. Everyday I would have fresh cuts in my wrist and arm. It was hard to stop when the pain was addicting. But I kept track of myself. I really wanted to be clean already.

Looking back at my 9th grade photos, I kept thinking this waa the healthiest I’ve been. My body was just right because I lost weight. But it was also the worst year of my mental health.

My old habits were back. I write suicide letters everyday, I kept on wanting to kill myself, I do more and deeper cuts than I usually do.

Still, I kept thinking I was fat and I should lose more weight. I was 55 kilograms, and my goal was to be 35 kilograms. I was 15 years old.

I wanted to die everyday. I loathe myself, I hate seeing myself, I kept thinking how I wasn’t good enough in anything. I’m a huge failure, I’m the most stupid in the family, and I’m the most worthless of them all.

My senior years in high school might be the healthiest years of my mental health. I was happy, I was doing good in school, I stopped cutting myself. There’s still the insecurity, of course, but it was milder than it usually is.

I still think I’m fat. The thought never went away. But during this time, I didnt care.

The last two years of me as a teen was probably the worst and the most exhausting yet.

My suicidal thoughts were back. I feel pressure everyday to the point where I don’t want to do anything anymore. I’m more scared to do things now than before. I’m scared of trying because I’m scared of failing. I’m fucking scared of living my life.

Not a single day passed where I never thought of killing myself. Just the mere thought of me dying was enough to comfort me. To take my last breath, my last grip, my last everything. I love thinking of it.

And yes, I’m still fat. And I’m more insecure now than I ever was.

This summer was the worst of it all, on top of all the gruel things happening in the world. Every single fucking day, I hear a comment about my weight, about my appearance, about how I should lose weight.

I’ve come to the point now where I eat once a day, sometimes nothing at all just to lose weight. Even when I do eat, I try to get it out of my system as fast as I could. I feel guilty for eating that I have to get it out immediately.

Still, I get called fat and was always told to lose weight.

Sometimes I just want to cry in front of them. Tell them this, tell them that I’m really fucking trying. But I know they wouldn’t understand. No one does.

I lost energy to do anything now. I hate writing, I hate making videos, I hate everything that I do. Whenever I do something, there’s a voice inside my head telling me to stop it because I’m ruining everything. Stop because I’m no use. Stop because I’m gonna fail anyway.

I’ve planned to go see a therapist multiple times already but it was too expensive. I don’t want to tell my parents because they wouldn’t understand. They would just say it will be a waste of money, that it’s all in my head and that I’m ungrateful for not being happy when I have all that I want.

It’s hard battling with my own mind everyday. It’s very tiring and I wish it would just stop. I want to rest. I want to rest forever. I want it all to stop.

When I was a kid, I’ve always thought I’d never reach the age 20. Maybe I was right though. I still got a few months left to make it true.

All these thoughts were gathered by a single non-harmful sentence: “Go say hi to them.”

Say hi to them and fat? Hear their comments about my weight, my ugly face, and make me feel insecure? Say hi to them and let them pick on me and push me down even farther that I won’t be able to get up.

Until now that I’m typing this, I can hear their voices making rude comments about me. Insulting me. Badmouthing me.

And then they wonder why I lock myself in my room during family gatherings :)

[thatthingcalledfate-phff]

Chapter 5

AN: So sorry for not posting for a few days! Had to go to a sort of ‘soul searching’. <3

Trouble Finds You

Ever since Bella had been back in England, the rumors started getting worse. It would range from Bella and Harry being engaged soon to the couple having broken up because they rarely see them together. Everyday is a different headline that Bella had become immune to it- until one of her patients wold ask her about her relationship with Prince Harry.

Truthfully, as she would think about it, Harry seemed to have gotten it easy between the two of them. However, she does not blame him. She’s an easier access than the prince.

“Breathe in deeply.” Bella calmly instructed Elizabeth Edwards as she checked the dilation of her cervix. The pregnant woman whimpered but relaxed after a few seconds. “Well, you’re three centimeters dilated.” The doctor said pulling her hand out of Elizabeth’s opening and giving her a small smile as she took off her gloves. “I would like you to be admitted as soon as possible. If you can, you can go straight to the Admission Office after your check with me- I’ll send over my request to them.”

Jerry Edwards, Elizabeth’s husband, smiled at the doctor. “Is a normal delivery possible?”

“Of course.” Bella smiled at the husband who’s now helping Elizabeth sit up. She watched as Jerry smile at his wife, who looked nervous, lovingly. “Nervous?” she asked making the Edwards look at her.

Elizabeth licked her lips and nodded, “I’m scared of the pain.”

“We can use a half body anesthesia, you’ll be awake but there won’t be pain.” The doctor offered and she saw Jerry gulp. She can see that the Edwards is not as ‘financially gifted’ as her other patients. From what Elizabeth had told her during her check-ups, Jerry works as a humble baker for a small bakery down in Reading and he really is working hard to have Elizabeth be checked by Bella because the doctor had been recommended for high risk pregnancies. Both in their mid-thirty’s, they haven’t had the chance to finish school due to lack of finance.

Elizabeth sighed, “No, no. Doctor, it’s ok. We don’t have-“

“-I insist.” Bella said cutting the woman off. “It’s on me. I’ll do the best I can to help you. Please, just use the money for your baby’s needs.”

“Oh you’re too kind.” Jerry said smiling. “Thank you so much. You don’t know what this means for us- now we know why the prince likes you.“ he continued, his eyes tearing as he sent a loving look again at his wife.

Bella just smiled before finishing her request leaving the couple alone to compose themselves. As she got out of her consultation office, she saw Kathy talking with a male nurse by the reception desk all the while twirling her hair. Bella smiled and decided to pass her request to the admission office personally. “Doctor Clarke.” Francesca Meyer, the admissions manager, greeted standing from her seat when Bella came in the room. “What can we do for you?”

The doctor smiled at Francesca, “I have an endorsement for admission.” She answered handing over her request. “And can you advise the accounting office that I want no bill for this patient?”

“Free of charge?”

“Yes.”

Very rarely does the Clarkes give a patient a free bill. Actually, they never had; the most the Clarkes usually give is not charging Professional Fees to the patients. Reluctantly, Francesca nodded and said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

As soon as Bella got out of the Admission’s Office, her phone started vibrating in her pocket and she looked at the screen and saw Harry’s name and picture. She smiled and answered it immediately with a coy, “Hey, hot stuff.”

Prince Harry, who had been in Las Vegas with a few of his mates, gave a little laugh. “How’s my doctor?” he asked before shushing Thomas who suddenly tried to grab Harry’s phone from him. Harry quickly locked himself inside the bathroom. “I hope you’re doing well without me.” He said sitting on the toilet.

Smiling, Bella teased; “I hope you’re on your best behavior there without me.”

He groaned knowing what Bella is talking about, “You know I’ll never do that to you.” He said seriously. “You know I only want and love you.”

“Huh.” Bella breathe, goosebumps rising on the back of her neck. She got in her office and quickly closed her door afraid that anyone would hear what she’s going to say. “I miss you a lot.. I want you here with me, beside me..” she teased seductively and she heard Harry groan from the other end.

“Bells, seriously.. I just woke up and..” he trailed off looking down at his morning wood and Bella gave out a giggle. “Don’t laugh.”

Bella tried her best to stop giggling. “So, how was your weekend?”

“Pretty boring without you.” He answered glumly and suddenly, a few of his friends are banging on the bathroom door yelling about how of a traitor Harry is. “Oh sod off!” he yelled and Bella, who can hear the commotion on Harry’s side, laughed. “I want you here.” He then said seriously. “I want you here with me, please.”

For a moment, Bella thought that he’s still joking around or teasing until she realized that he wasn’t anymore. “Are you serious?” she asked thinking that she got his tone wrong.

“Yes. Very.”

“Harry..” Bella sighed. She had been absolutely reluctant to go out and about with Harry. For the past month since she had arrived back in England, she had been the constant prey to the paparazzi’s; one single picture of her even doing the mediocre things such as grocery shopping ends up in a few websites. One time, she and Harry went out and they were hounded; it was ok for Bella, she didn’t think that she should stay away but it’s the paps questions that bother her most time.

‘We heard Meghan Markle is currently back into shooting a new season of Suits- what are your thoughts?’

‘Do you feel guilty for stealing Harry?’

‘How does it feel to have a prince as a boyfriend?’

‘Do you want to be a Duchess?’

‘Do you think the king really likes you?’

 And still, both she and Harry kept their mouth shut and braved through the paps.

“We’ll be careful. Please, I just want some alone time with you.” He said pleadingly and Bella bit her bottom lip. “I promise. And I think it’s time for you to meet my friends. It’s just for two days.”

After a bit of consideration, Bella sighed and said, “Ok.” She knows that she cannot let her fears hold her back when it comes to Harry. In their relationship, it is apparent that she should have a thick skin. “I’ll tell my mom to handle my patients. You’re lucky I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They kept on talking for a while up until Arthur Landon started banging on the bathroom door telling Harry that his bladder is about to burst. “Well, I’ll see you soon?” he asked Bella finally standing from the toilet and unlocking the door before going out of Arthur’s way.

“Wait, you invited your hot girlfriend?” Arthur asked completely forgetting his bladder and turning to walk to the door making Harry stop on his tracks. “You invited the hot doctor? We’re going to meet her?”

“Go pee.” Harry grumbled not really happy that his friends think that his girlfriend is a bombshell. He then shook his head. “Don’t be so flattered, you.” He then told Bella who’s giggling on the other side. “You’re not going near them.”

“SELFISH GIT!” Skippy then yelled after he heard Harry’s statement. “You can’t do that! You’ll introduce her to us! I thought we’re friends! I want her as a friend!”

 Harry groaned, “I have to go. I’ll send you the details of our suite and..”

“I know, I know.” Bella said shaking her head at the commotion now going on at Harry’s side. “I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Harry said in a rush as Skippy tried to grab his phone from him again. He quickly hang up.

Bella smiled at her phone briefly before placing it back inside her coat. She started writing down her notes for the day about her patients just in case her mom would need it. After an hour, Kathy knocked on her door before peeking her head in with a smile, “Your mom had an emergency and is asking you to handle her consultation appointment. Possible ovarian cyst and uterine fibroid.”

“Yeah, sure.” Bella said nodding before closing her folder and standing from her chair. “What’s the name of the patient?” she asked following Kathy towards Doctor Georgia Clarke’s consultation office.

“Oh.” Kathy said before opening the folder she is holding. “Marianne Cavill.” She said before closing the folder again clumsily, making it fall to the ground. “Oops. Sorry.” She apologized picking it up quickly.

“You sure are out of it today.” Bella commented teasingly and Kath blushed.

When she got inside her mom’s consultation office, she politely greeted the blonde middle aged woman sitting on the Gynecology chair. “You’re Isabella Clarke.” She said realizing who Bella is. “Oh my God.”

Bella politely smiled and sat in front of Mrs. Cavill; “Yes, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You’re politer than how the paps painted you to be.” Marianne said leaning back and watching the young doctor put on gloves in front of her and the doctor only smiled. “I know the press can be very misleading at all times. My son had bullshit news about him as well.”

Bella sat in front of Marianne and politely asked to place her legs on the holder. “Your son?” she then clarified not wanting Marianne to think that she’s a snob. “This might hurt a bit.” She then said.

“Henry Cavill.” Marianne smiled not feeling hurt at all. “He plays Superman.”

Bella, being completely focused on feeling the cyst on her patient’s ovaries, didn’t process what Marianne had said quickly. “Ah, Superman.” She then mumbled pulling her fingers off of Marianne and then removing her gloves before placing it in the bin before raising the auxiliary table for Marianne to put her legs on. “I knew I heard your surname somewhere.” She said smiling briefly at the patient before going on to pull the cart of Ultrasound towards the Gyne chair.

Marianne smiled raising the hospital gown she’s wearing and Bella smiled at her thankfully. “Yes. He found you incredibly attractive when he first saw you in the breaking news.” She said and Bella, busy looking at the ultrasound and taking screencaps, didn’t understand what Marianne said and just nodded. “He thinks the press are probably blowing things out of proportion.”

“Well, send my thanks to Mr. Cavill.” Bella said giving Marianne a smile before grabbing a tissue paper and wiping the gel off of Marianne’s stomach. She then proceeded to print out the ultrasound screencaps she had taken while Marianne got dressed back to her clothes.

Marianne Cavill watched the young doctor study her ultrasound intently in her hands. At first when she saw the news about Harry running from his wedding to be with another woman revealed to be Isabella Clarke, she thought that the doctor might just be another bimbo. But when she talked to her son about it, as a way to keep her always busy son on the phone, she started recanting her thoughts about Doctor Isabella Clarke and found herself actually defending the doctor to anyone who says badly about her. She’s not to be blamed. Even if I were Prince Harry, I’d choose her. She thought still staring at Bella who now turned to look at her with a smile. “So, what’s the diagnosis, doc?”

“Well, I had found a tumor in both of your uterus and cervix.” Bella had started after Marianne had sat down in front of her. “Don’t worry, it’s not cancerous.. yet.”

Marianne breathed suddenly nervous and scared, “Should we take it out?”

“Yes.” Bella said simply and she watched Marianne’s breath hitched. “This is a prevention, Mrs. Cavill. This is easily prevented than cancer.” She continued. “Not to worry, my mother is one of the best in this field. You’re in good hands.”

After the consultation, Bella found herself waiting inside her mother’s consultation office with Marianne to be picked up. They were talking about their hospital and its history- well, Marianne is asking questions and Bella politely answers. “Aren’t you a bit young to be a doctor with specialization?” Marianne suddenly asked when Bella answered her age.

“Everyone says that.” Bella chuckled. “I skipped a lot of grades and did a lot of advance lessons.”

Marianne made a disgusted face. “My dear, have you lived your life?”

Bella can only smile. Had she? “I think so. I’ve travelled a lot and did a lot the past year.” She answered.

They stopped talking when someone knocked on the door and Bella quickly called for the person to come in. A raven haired man peeked his head in and Bella instantly remembered who he is. “Are you ready to go?” Henry Cavill asked Marianne coming in fully in the office.

“Yes. Yes. Dear Henry, I would like you to meet, Isabella Clarke.” Marianne said quickly ushering her son inside the room. “Oh. Doctor Isabella Clarke.” She then corrected herself.

It would be a complete and utter bullshit if Henry says that he doesn’t have a profound crush at the woman before him. To be completely honest, he had been having a crush on Isabella Clarke ever since he first saw her on the tabloids when Harry came over to her home. “Doctor.” He greeted with a formal smile and a handshake.

“Nice meeting you, Mr. Cavill.” Bella smiled accepting the handshake. “It’s nice meeting you.” She said before pulling her hand away.

Henry smiled, “It’s nice meeting you as well.” He said staring at her face. The brown doe eyes, the long lashes, the button nose, the pink lips- a face not caked with make up. But still, he knew that he had to keep his cool- this is Prince Harry’s girlfriend; one that he ran a wedding for. “I hope my mother didn’t give you any trouble.”

“Henry.” Marianne scolded scowling.

Bella shook her head chuckling, a smile still on her face. “No. Not at all.” For a moment, Bella observed that Henry’s look towards her is intense- as if his blue eyes is penetrating her warm brown ones. She started feeling heat radiate to her neck and she quickly cleared her throat. “Well, I’ll see you around, Mrs. Cavill.”

After the Cavills left, Bella sent Harry a text message telling him that she had met Superman. As to which Harry responded with, ‘You should have told him to not mistaken you as Lois Lane or else.’ And he quickly followed it with, ‘You have a ginger Superman right here. He very much loves you and he doesn’t want competition when it comes to you.’

Bella had to laugh and mumble, “Jealous Harry strikes again.”

Little does the both know, fate might have another plan.

[theambivalent]

Letter to the Breathless

I’m sorry I had to cancel going to the high school reunion. I had to take mom to a doctor’s appointment - it was her blood again - too thick for her fragile veins. After her appointment, I just had my energy drained. Yours would be too if you had to spend 4+ hours in waiting rooms. -and of course… I get no cell phone signal there. Shit.

I try to message you on Instagram, but you deleted it. I message you on Facebook. Nothing. It doesn’t even say it’s been read. I wonder if you’re going off-grid. “Un-plugging”, the kids call it. I like to call it real life. Two weeks pass… more than enough time to ‘unplug’. I Email. Text. Nothing. Nothing. Are you ignoring me on purpose? Did my cancelling really get you that angry with me?

It had been the second time I’d cancel spending time with you because of family or work. No bullshit. If  I just ‘didn’t want to’, I would have told you. The first time, you wanted to meet for lunch, and I said yes. You seemed happy. I seemed happy. Then my husband’s car broke down [fiancee at the time] and I had to pick him up. Could you blame a future wife for not wanting to leave her man stranded?

Months pass, and i beat myself up trying to figure out what I did or said to you that you would be so angry with me to the point that you’d delete your Instagram and stop contacting me. Did your old lady find my messages and take them the wrong way? Did she get angry? Did she leave you with your son? I push that thought out of my head. I’m too dramatic. Way too dramatic. That’s such a lame reason to fight.

We’ve been friends for a long time. We were best buds in elementary school; you were my ONLY friend at one point. I was a bit of a loner in the beginning. I didn’t know how to socialize, and you were the only one in my ESL class that would actually talk to me. You were nice to me when no one else was. I needed that. You took the long way home from school just so you can walk me home on the way. Too nice. My family teased the crap out of me for that one. Thanks.

But you moved away and we never saw each other again. I was angry with you that you moved, so I ignored your calls & snail mail. Blamed it on my super hard 5th grade homework. Stupid.

We get in touch a few years later, then a few years of nothing. Then ‘remember me?’, and we connect again. Then another few years of nothing. That’s just how we are. We don’t find it weird.

We just reconnect in time my for high school reunion - which I invite you to. And then… I have to cancel.

So, okay, you’re not logging into your Facebook. Fine. You ignore my texts. Double fine. I begin to get angry. Facebook is telling me the last time you logged in was months ago. The most recent things you posted… you sounded sad. You talk about driving off cliffs and doing drugs. Not like you. Except for the drugs. You know I’m against that. And you never listened to me in those regards. But that’s not the version of you that I know. Every Time you spoke to me, you sounded happy. Maybe not ‘over the moon’ happy; you had the usual everyday complaints that I had or any other person would have about work, traffic, just… life in general. I had never seen  your actual posts since I only  used Facebook for ‘messenger’. I scroll down all of your posts. They’re all very cryptic. Some are lyrics of rap songs you like. So maybe everything you post is rap lyrics and I don’t listen to Drake so I assume you’re okay, just upset with me.

Months roll around and your birthday pops up. I send you a ‘happy birthday’ message. Last time i did that, you got so happy that I remembered. This time...nothing. Why are you ignoring me? I get emotional. I want to talk to an old friend and he doesn’t talk to me. Voiceless. Breathless.

Angry. I put you in the back of my mind.. Is this going to be one of those times where we take a break for a few years.

Okay. we’ve done this before. Give him space.

Give him his 

S

P

A

C

E.

A year rolls by. It’s your birthday again. I message you: happy birthday. It’s not read. You’re not responding. Again. I go to your profile. And there it is. The latest post on your profile was by one of your friends. “We really miss you bro, but we know you’re looking down on us everyday”

Eyes open wide.

What.

The.

Fuck.

This is some sort of prank. I furiously google your name, which is extremely difficult because your name matches some famous dude’s name. A conqueror from history. What were your parents thinking? I get frustrated and stop searching. I can’t find you anywhere. Where did you go?

Finally. I get a hit. An obituary. I am at work. I freak out. I cry. No one hears me crying. I go to my car in the parking lot and just let it out. I want to turn back time and just message you like we always do when something insanely terrible happens in my life.

I do nothing for 2 weeks and try to clear my mind. What happened? Was there an accident? Then I remember your last few posts. I remember how sad you sounded. I cry again. I message your friend that left that post on your page. He tells me you never told him about me. Why? Did you not want anyone to know about me? Was I a secret of yours? Or was I just nothing to you? He tells me that your family didn’t disclose how you died… not to anyone.

No one wanted to be disrespectful, so no one asked. He tells me you were depressed, but even more so right before you passed away. It is March. You passed away September the year prior to that. One year and 5 months ago. It was the same day I cancelled meeting you at my high school reunion. He says you went to his house that evening and looked terrible. Hung out for a bit. You looked like you were on something. And you weren’t seen since. He thinks you might have overdosed. Could this be true? I don’t want it to be true.

My stomach feels heavy. My insides fill up with bricks & stones and i am heavy. When I get home, I sink into my bed and just… go numb. So much pain. The same night i cancelled? Was that just coincidence? Did something else happen to you that night? Why didn’t you come to me? Did you feel that i was pushing you away? Sometimes I do that, I’ll admit. But considering how we are with each other... Our huge gaps in-between speaking to each other… could something worse have happened to you that night? Was it planned? An accident? I may never know.

I don’t understand. I replay all of our conversations from that time in my head. On repeat. Trying to find a moment that stood out. Something to tell me that it was all because of me. You’re gone because of me.

I join a chat group to grieve. People who’ve lost loved ones to suicide. I’m still not sure if that’s how you went, but so far, all evidence points to that. They all had one thing in common. They all blamed themselves after the incident. It’s natural to feel guilty, they tell me. I’m numb. How can I be sure? I can't, they tell me. I say it’s insanely unfair. They send me virtual hugs and somehow I feel better. Until i go home and have nothing to think about but you. And it took me almost a year and a half to find out about you being gone. Breathless. And i feel guilty again.

My husband gives me the space i need. 

S

P

A

C

E

I’m in awe of him. What he puts up with [me]. He knows I’m upset about you. What happened to you. Whether you did it to yourself or not. It’s not fair.

I only have one picture of you. The one from your online obituary. I have it hanging on my cubicle at work. I see your face everyday. You look sad in the picture. Tired.

I managed to track down your brother online and he [of course] doesn’t know who I am. Your little secret. I still don’t know how to feel about that. He offers to meet me at your grave site. You were cremated, but you have a memorial. He looks like you. It hurts to see his pictures. He is like the version of you I knew. He looks happy in all of his pictures, and I turn down his offer. I don’t have the courage for this.

This fall will be 3 years since you left us. Next month will be one year since I found out. I still have not visited your grave. I want to. Badly. Maybe if I see it, then it will be real. Too real. I’m too fragile for that. 

For fuck’s sake, you had a kid. A little person was depending on you. 

*Anger. Confusion. Sadness. Emptiness.*

I breathe. In. Out.

Eyes closed. I feel your presence, but you’re not here. 

Not breathing. In. Out. 

Breathless….

[datesfordummies]

Just because 1-65 you don't need to do them all if you don't want to

challenge accepted.

but just remember, you asked for it.

1: Do you have a crush at the moment?

yeahhhh #mountainman

2: Have you ever been deeply in love?

not romantically but i do have a crazy deep amount of love for my friends and dog. does that count?

3: Longest relationship you’ve ever been in?

3 months

4: Have you ever changed for someone?

I think I’ve gone along with things that I wasn’t totally a fan of for someone. Also, I’ve tried new things to impress someone else but lucky me I ended up liking those new things a lot

5: How is your relationship with your ex?

My last actually ex, we don’t talk. My most recent thing tho was a summer fling and we’re still friends!

6: Have you ever been cheated on?

not that I know of…

7: Have you ever cheated?

nope!

8: Would you date someone who’s well known for cheating?

probably not. like i’d have to really really really like them and know that they really really really liked me

9: What’s the most important part of a relationship?

being happy with each other

10: Do you like to be in serious relationships or just flings?

serious relationships. flings are just consolation prizes when college and summer camps and other such things limit the time together.

11: When you are dating someone do you believe in going on “breaks”?

not really. unless maybe i would get it for like temporary long distance, ya know? like when we are in college we date, when we go home for holidays we go on a break. but idk, i’d have to trust them.

12: How many people have you ever hooked up with?

just 1 :)

13: What’s one thing you regret saying/doing in a previous relationship?

my first boyfriend i know nothing about. all we did was makeout and he was very pro-pda and i was not but i was not yet pro-speaking up for myself sooo i kinda got a reputation from that relationship that followed me all the way thru high school

14: What age do you think is appropriate for kids to start having sex?

i don’t know that there’s an age. like teens at least. but, when you are mature enough to talk about it with the actual sex words like penis and vagina without getting squeemish then you’re ready

15: Do you believe in the phrase “age is just a number”?

yeahhh #mountainman #14years…oops

16: Do you believe in “love at first sight”?

nahhh, but lust yes

17: Do you believe it’s possible to fall in love on the internet?

yeah! love is 1. a choice 2. an emotions thing and emotions can be conveyed thru the internet (also god bless skype y’all)18: What do you consider a deal breaker?

mean to strangers and like employees/ wait staff. like just don’t be an asshole.

19: How do you know it’s time to end a relationship?

i don’t have a set rule…i can just kinda sense a shift in the energy between us. is that too hippy-dippy bullshit of an answer??

20: Are you currently in a relationship?

nahhh #lookinatyamountainman

21: Do you think people who have dated can stay friends?

of course! i don’t see why not, given it was a mutual split. after sometime, come back and be buddies!

22: Do you think people should date their friends?

if they like their friends then yeahhh

23: How many relationships have you had?

really real relationships? 1

24: Do you think love can last forever?

since i strongly believe we choose to love people then yes, if you care enough to stick it out

25: Do you believe love can conquer all things?

i don’t see why not?

26: Would you break up with someone your parents didn’t approve of?

nahhhh

27: If you could go back in time and give yourself one piece of advice about dating what would it be?

communicate ya feelins!!!!28: Do you think long distance relationships can work?

yeahhh, it takes work but if they’re worth it then yeahhhhhhhh

29: What do you notice first about another person?

hair usually

30: Are you straight, bi, gay or pansexual?

straight

31: Would it bother you if your partner suffered from any mental illness?

nahhh

32: Have you ever been in an abusive relationship?

not romantically?

33: Do you want to get married one day?

it’s not a goal of mine. like i’m happy if i never do. i’m happy if i love someone enough and it feels right and i do.

34: What do you think about getting your partner’s name tattooed?

noooo don’t do itttt like love can last forever, but it could end in an unforseen break up sooo yeahhh nahhhh

tips from mountain man: only get name tattoos of your own kids or dead relatives.

35: Could you be in a relationship without sex?

yeahhh my sex drive is low af actually

36: Are you still a virgin?

depends on your definiton of sex. like i say i’m not bc i’ve recived oral but i’ve never even touched another person’s genitalia actually ((is this oversharing??))

37: What’s more important: Looks or personality?

personality!! i feel people start to look like how they act the more you get to know them

38: Do you enjoy love films?

yessss. my favorite is An American in Paris

39: Have you ever given anyone/received roses?

i got a rose today from my friend! and sometimes i get them after plays that i’m in from my wonderful fam and buddies. and i have also given them to my buddies. never romantically tho.

40: Have you ever had a valentine?

nahhhh

41: What’s your imagination of a “perfect date”?

we take our dogs to the dog park (bc they’d have a dog let’s be real) then get tacos and smoothies and sit somewhere to watch the sunset

42: Have you ever read “Romeo & Juliet”?

yeahhhh #hamletisbetter43: What’s more important: Your partner or your friends?

friends are ride or die so…yeahhhh

44: Would you consider yourself “romantic”?

i can be. i mean, you’ve all seen my blog sooo

45: Could you imagine to date one of your current friends?

my close friends no but like one of my side friends maybeee, i had a fling with one of them so yeahhh i would date him.

46: Have you ever been “friendzoned”?

yeahhh but he’s like my dad now

just to clarify: not my actual dad. he’s just the dad of our friend group so we call him that.

47: Which “famous couple” is your favorite?

if the obamas don’t count then i’m not participating.

48: What’s your favorite love song?

That’s All by Nat King Cole i think

49: Have you ever broken someone’s heart?

yeahhhh i still feel guilty to this day

50: If you’re single, why do you think you are?

i keep comparing everyone i meet to a wonderful man who probably sees me as like a child #mountainadult

51: Would you rather date someone who’s rich but a douchebag or someone who’s poor but a nice guy?

poor and a nice guy

52: Are you good at giving other people advices regarding dating/ relationships?

nahhh the absolute worst, right guys???

53: Are you jealous of couples when you’re single?

only when they’re like super duper cute like my friend’s bf just posted this really great pic of her on insta and said ‘just an appreciation post bc i’ve never been so happy’ and like when will i ever??

54: How important is it to make a relationship official (p.e. on facebook)?

not that important. like make it official in ur hearts don’t worry about fb.

55: Would you consider yourself “clingy”, “overly attached” or “jealous”?

i don’t think so?

56: Have you ever “destroyed” a relationship?

no?

57: Do you think it’s silly to consider suicide because of a broken heart?

i won’t say silly but also don’t do it because i love you and that’s just one of sooooo many eligible people who would love ya wayyy better

58: Are you the “dominant” or the “submissive” part in a relationship?

i like balance but i’m probably more sub by nature like i’m super passive and like follow other’s flow

59: Have you ever forgotten important dates like your partner’s birthday or your anniversary?

i ALMOST forgot a birthday and ended up making brownies at like 3am the night before

60: What’s your opinion on open relationships?

not for me but if it’s your thang and your partner is down then go for it!

61: Who’s more important: Your partner or your family?

welll family is the og ride or die

62: How do you define “cheating”?

physically being/ go on a date with or attempting to be with another person when you are committed to someone else

63: Is watching porn while being in a relationship inappropriate?

nahhh

64: Do you think Valentine’s Day is overrated?

nahhh, i’ve made it my self love day (although that’s kinda everyday for me)

65: Would you consider yourself a “cuddler”?

i used to hate it but it’s actually my job now like i go to people’s homes and cuddle with them as a form of therapy so yeahhh

thanks for asking and ya the real mvp if you read all of those!

anyone who wants to answer all or some do it! and tag me so i can know all of your secrets!

[ask--kay]

[1:EX] Hi. I'm a sophomore in college, going through a rough patch with some issues I need advice on. My mom has been a drug addict my whole life and relapsed, and I'm trying to fix it all before I leave back for school so my brother isn't stuck in the middle of it. I'm trying to be strong, always have been, but there's something pulling me apart. I dated someone through high school and part of college, named John. He was my first everything, and between us we both felt something unexplainable.

[2:EX] and I don't use that lightly. I was against relationships for the longest, and I finally opened up to him. We clicked so much on everything, we communicated better than any relationship I'd seen and loved so deep. But we were young..he went on spring break, got high, and slept with a girl our senior year. I've never felt a pain like that, and that's coming from someone who's seen her mom passing out at the wheel since I was a kid. I stuck with him, and we tried to work it out.[3:EX] He hated himself for it, and I found out he was flirting with a younger girl. I broke it off at the point, and watched him with that girl everyday for months. I had panic attacks in the bathroom at school, no one knew. He eventually came to me, saying that he couldn't ever be with someone else. He wrote me a note and told me he couldn't give up on something extraordinary, that he wouldn't hurt me. We slowly came back together. We went to concerts and did what we could to keep it alive..[4:EX] but I was so insecure, so hurt, I felt worthless. When my mother was on drugs, she would call me worthless, but I never truly felt it till John. We got high once, and I don't usually, so I had an awful reaction and cried in the middle of sex, shaking because I felt so awful. He held me and tried to help. Eventually, I started getting angry as did he. He would accuse me of cheating if I didn't answer, and would call me a prude if I didn't have sex with him. He is bipolar, so I tried to5:EX] keep that in mind. I would be afraid to be away from my phone in fear he would get angry. I told him I couldn't do it, I couldn't keep crying and staying in a relationship that my friends and family hated. He understood, angry but understood. We got together one more time, at a music festival, and I hate to admit it but it was magic. It was our music and experiencing it with him was amazing, and being with him after was amazing. I don't think I could even kiss someone like I did him.6:EX] After that festival, I felt guilty. I felt like he would cheat, would hurt me again, and I was so scared. But nothing felt better than being in his arms and kissing his forehead. His family went through addictions like mine did, and I always felt he understood me unlike anyone did. We stopped talking for a while. Then, right before Christmas I went to a new OBGYN, and he tested me for all types of things. He told me I tested positive for an STD. Wasn't even over the relationship yet..[7:EX] and I was hit with that pain. I almost threw up..I was so disgusted. I had to call him and tell him, only been with him so not like I could have gotten it from someone else. He didn't believe it, and told me he would call me later. He went to a party the night he found out, and never called me. I sent him the name of it and the medicine to take, and that was it. He texted me merry Christmas and happy new year, and asked if we could go eat and talk. I said no, I guess I couldn't handle it8:EX] I have tried to be with other people. New Years I was with a guy all night just talking and he was nice, but nothing feels right. Nothing feels like what I had with John. Everyone else is just "okay" compared to the connection we had. I know he's a dick, I know. But I miss him and being with him so much. I can't find anyone attractive anymore. I'm just in this limbo still missing him, knowing he's a asshole, but not being attracted to anyone else. I want to hold him and love again.9/FINAL:EX] I guess I just want to know what you think of all this. My heart aches a lot, and with my mom relapsing, school coming up again, and just finishing my STD medicine I just want unbiased opinion...I know I shouldn't love him, but he's my first and only. He texted me today saying he's sorry and I know it might be bullshit but fuck man I really try to like other people but no one makes me feel like he did. I'm so sorry this is so long, I just needed help. Thank you..........................Okay, I'm going to get right to the point. This guy is not good for you. You should not give him any more chances. I get it that you love him and you have some great memories with him, but you need to think about what's best for you. He sounds manipulative and controlling, and he has cheated on you several times. Why would you tolerate that treatment? He is not going to change. You've given him so many chances and he has let you down each time. He takes advantage of you and treats you badly, and he knows he can keep crawling back to you. Don't put up with that! Force yourself to move on. Choose to let go of him. You say you can't feel this way about anybody else but that's not true - it just means you haven't moved on yet. You need to give it more time. You should break things off completely. I mean a clean break - delete/block his number, delete him on social media, throw away any things that remind you of him. Don't even give yourself the option to go back to him. You deserve better, and you know it. Ultimately, it's all up to you. If you want to let him treat you like that, and you want a crappy relationship, that's your choice. I just feel like you'll be SO much happier once you take out the trash. I know it's hard. Be patient with yourself. Let yourself mourn the good memories. It's okay to miss him and it's okay to be sad.. it's not okay to accept less than you deserve. Hang in there. If you need to talk again, I'm here!-Kay-