#bubble stickers near by | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stellar-constellations · 9 months ago

Text

Star Patient: Chapter 1 (ONGOING SLOW BURN SERIES)

WARNING: This series will include; possible inaccurate medical procedures and medical setting, gore, toxic relationships that should NOT be replicated in real life, murder, yanderes, cursing, suicide mentions, implications of misandry (male misogyny), and possibly more.

Inaccurate canon-timeline (this is before Ashley and Andrew murdered their parents).

Reader has a small fear of adult men/rape and has a history of suicide attempts.

Incest is not Wincest.

Amnesiac! Obsessive! Patient! Andrew Graves x Yandere! Nurse! Reader:

Wordcount: 8,390 words (I am so sorry for how long the first chapter is).

Chapters: Current chapter, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9 (in the works)

Want to listen to music while reading? Check out the Star Patient's Official Playlists! Multiple different playlists and genres!

“Can you say ‘aaaaaah?’” (Y/N) drawled out.

Her patient, little eight-year-old Lou, opened his mouth widely like a lion and ‘aaaaaah’ed for her as she shined her mediscope light down into his throat, checking his tonsils, uvula, throat's lining, gums, and tongue.

“Mmm, I see. You can close your mouth now. Good job, Lou!” she cheered as the kid beamed. “He has enlarged tonsils. Do you hear him snore at night?” she questioned, turning her attention to the concerned mother.

“He snores so loud he’s woken us up from across the house.” His mother sighed. “Is that bad?”

“Does he have problems focusing in school because he’s tired. Taking naps that are over an hour multiple times a week?” (Y/N) asked.

“Yes. His teacher complained just last week about him sleeping in class during a spelling test.” Lou's mother confirmed.

“I see. Lou, do you have any problems sleeping? Like do you wake up multiple times a night?” (Y/N) questioned, looking over towards the small boy.

“Maybe once or twice a night…” Lou muttered as he thought to himself.

“And does your throat hurt when you wake up?” (Y/N) questioned.

“Sometimes.” He responded.

“How often do you get sick?” (Y/N) questioned.

“Honestly, we’ve lost count. This past year he’s been sick at least three times.” His mother admitted.

“And it’s June. I see.” (Y/N) nodded, grabbing her clipboard of papers and a pen. “Lou is experiencing obstructive sleep apnea due to his enlarged tonsils affecting his sleep, which is affecting his daytime behavior and is the cause of why he gets sick so often. I do recommend surgery to remove them. I’ll write down some children hospitals near your area that specialize in pediatric surgery, that way we can get the right surgeon for the job.” She explained, writing down hospitals, where they’re located, and doctor names specializing in tonsil-study.

“Does this all sound about right, Doctor Ryan?” she questioned, turning her attention to the corner of the room where the doctor and her instructor stood, observing her performance.

“Absolutely phenomenal. You got everything right.” He praised, giving her a teethy smile that belonged on a Colgate commercial while a bubble of pride formed in her chest at his praise.

“Oh thank you, Ms (L/N)!” Lou’s mother smiled as she clutched her hands together.

“No worries. Here you go.” (Y/N) spoke, handing Lou's mother the papers. “Check out will be on your right when you walk out. There will be some ring pops too, go get yourself a reward for behaving so good today, Lou.” (Y/N) smiled as she rummaged through her cabinet for a sticker.

She found one and handed it to Lou's open hand.

“You were my star patient today, bud! I’ll see you in a few weeks for your next check-up.” (Y/N) smiled.

“Thank you again.” Lou’s mother smiled as she held Lou’s hand. "What do we say, Lou?"

“Thank you! Bye bye!” Lou cheered.

“Fantastic work today. We have one more patient before you can head out, okay?” Doctor Ryan spoke.

“Yes, sir!” (Y/N) smiled, excited of who she'd be working with next.

She loved kids and she loved helping them. It made her happy to be able to care for them and help them on their recovery to healthiness and happiness, hence why she's studying to become a pediatrician.

“They’re a bit on the older side, but we’re really short-staffed at the moment so I need you to take care of them.” Doctor Ryan explained.

“How old?” she questioned, noticing they were leaving the hospital’s pediatric branch and going to the elevators.

They both entered the elevator and Doctor Ryan pressed the 4th floor button. The doors closed as (Y/N) held the handle, feeling a little nauseous at being in a closed space with a man. She doesn't mind Doctor Ryan, but she doesn't like being trapped in uncomfortable proximity with a male—just a fear that was installed into her when she was young. Th elevator moved up two floors before the ride finally ended.

“Well… they’re twenty-two.” The doctor sheepishly smiled.

“Sir, I’m training to be a pediatrician, not a regular nurse.” (Y/N) stated firmly as the elevator doors opened, allowing them to walk out into the psychiatric branch of the hospital (must to her relief).

“Yes, but like I said, we’re short staffed. We just need to you re-evaluate his wounds and do a check-up on his physical health. He’s on suicide watch.” Doctor Ryan explained.

She opened her mouth to complain before hearing his last words.

Damn it, suicide watch? I don’t want them dying on my watch. Not only that, but I have experience in that field so I’m decent help for it. She thought.

“I… Yes, sir. I’ll get him checked out.” (Y/N) sighed, caving in.

"Thank you! You know it's been with the shortages of nurses and all, especially for the psychiatric branch." Doctor Ryan sighed out, in relief rather than reluctant-acceptance that (Y/N) did.

"I understand..." She sighed again.

Yes, I understand that the psychiatric branch is full of unstable patients with crazy-strength if set off. How do they expect me to hold up on my own against a fight with these guys? (Y/N) thought to herself.

They walked to the branch's help desk, scurrying through papers before Doctor Ryan made a noise of acknowledgment.

"Ah-ha! Here you go." He smiled, giving the paper packet to (Y/N).

(Y/N) grabbed a chair with wheels and moved it behind her, sitting down and reading the information.

"Like I said, just quickly re-evaluate his wounds and do a check up on his physical health. If he has any information on why he tried to commit suicide, write it down. It can help us with finding a therapist or at least a hotline for him. I'll go and write a report for Lou's visit, get that off your plate." Doctor Ryan explained, turning and walking away. "It's sad how young these kids are when they think all hope is lost..." he sighed.

Twenty-two? That's a pretty normal age for suicide. Try eleven, Doc. (Y/N) thought sarcastically. Well, no time to mope about. Let's get this over with and hope for the best. (Y/N) thought, dreading the interaction.

She wanted to be a pediatrician not only because she liked kids, but because they were much easier than adults. Adults live in a world where they're made to believe their pain is insignificant because elders and children are much more vulnerable to pain and suffering, so adults constantly fight their pain and hide it from others. Adults hide their pain to avoid pity, to avoid the expensive medical bill they don't want to pay. (Y/N)'s morals may be questionable, but if there's anything she believes as a nurse and upcoming-pediatrician, it's that you can't put a price on life. Kids have no shame telling someone if they're in pain, adults act as if they're dishonoring their family's reputation and pride if they tell someone they have a cough.

Not only that, but she doesn't want to work with adult men. It's been proven that some perverted adult men cause injuries to themselves so they can be in the care of gentle women, who they take overpower and advantage of. Of course, women can do the exact same thing too, but it's more prevalent with males. (Y/N) hates working with adults because she doesn't want to be apart of their sexual fetishes or apart of the statistics.

(Y/N) read through her patient's information, gathering the details she needs to access the situation:

Patient: Andrew Graves, 22. Room 402. Reason for admission: Jumped from a third-story building and ended up landing on his legs. By miracle, no injury to spine other than minor bruises. Both legs and ankles are shattered, needs multiple surgeries. Stitches on ankles, change bandages every 4-8 hours. Minor concussion and possible amnesia. Precautions: Patient isn't very cooperative. Use restraints if necessary. Has a sister that is extremely uncooperative and violent, has threatened other nurses. Use extreme caution with patient and sister to prevent any pain or stress that would worsen patient's condition.

(Y/N) put the paper packet down on the desk and sighed, shoving her hands into her face and groaning.

Of course! Not only an unruly patient, but an unruly visitor too? God, if you're real, is this your way of telling me it was a mistake being a pediatrician? (Y/N) thought to herself. Let's just get this damn thing over with, after this, I can go home and rest.

She walked to a medical supply closet in the staff room and took some bandages and anti-septic cream, along with checking to make sure her stethoscope and mediscope was all there. She grabbed two water bottles from the mini fridge and shoved it into her bag along with two mini-bags of pretzels from the snack cabinet.

She shut the staff room's door and locked it, shoving her key and lanyard under her lilac purple nursing scrubs in case some pocket-picker (or someone stupid enough) tries to steal her key. She made sure her bag's strap was secure against her firmly and walked towards room 402.

(Y/N) stopped at the patient's door to collect her breath. She heard voices inside, only dreading the next few minutes once she realized how angry the voices sounded.

"Damn it, Andrew! You just had to fuck shit up like you do with everything else, huh?" a girl's voice rang through the room.

"Isn't this what you wanted? You make no sense..." a boy's voice, Andrew perhaps, sighed.

"I didn't expect you to take me seriously, dumbass! What if you actually died? You'd leave me all alone to deal with the shit you caused!" the girl shouted.

"Keep your voice down! And the shit I caused? You're the one that started it all! If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be on the run!" Andrew hissed.

"Oh, so eating the neighbor was my decision? Is that what you're saying! No, you're the one that fucking said it!" the girl exclaimed.

"You implied it!" Andrew retorted.

"I did nothing! But even then, we would've starved in that damn apartment! Is that what you wanted? And you're the one that killed the warden, then the damn lady!" the girl claimed.

"Hey, the lady was self-defense and you're the one that made me kill the hitman! I killed the warden because you got caught! We would've both been fucked at that point!" Andrew reasoned.

"WE ARE FUCKED!" the girl screamed.

"Ashley! Calm down!" Andrew spoke, raising his tone.

"ME CALM DOWN? HOW CAN I BE CALM AT A TIME LIKE THIS?!" the girl, Ashley screamed, sounding crazy enough to potentially be pulling her hair out.

"Well you're going to have to! Someone might discover we're on the run!" Andrew hissed through his teeth.

"Don't you realize, stupid?! If you died, you would've left me all alone in this shitty world. I can't live without you, Andy..." Ashley muttered.

"My name isn't Andy, Andy is dead. It's Andrew." Andrew stated firmly.

"Fuck you, Andrew! I hate Andrew! I want Andy back! At least Andy still liked me!" Ashley shouted, her tone sounded like she was close to breaking down in tears.

"Ashley, come on... We've gone over this. I like you." Andrew sighed.

"Yeah right! You tried sleeping with that lady at the apartment complex!" Ashley accused.

"Damn it, Ashley! I already told you, she tried to kill me so I killed her! What part of that involves sex?" Andrew hissed.

"I don't want to hear it, you bastard! The second you get a girlfriend, I become invisible to you!" Ashley complained.

"As if! I was always ditching Julia for you! Even then, you fucking convinced her into breaking up with me!" Andrew huffed.

"I was weeding out the whores that sprout their legs open! She doesn't deserve someone like you, Andy!" Ashley shouted, then took a deep breath. "I'm your sister, Andy. I know what's best for you! I know who's best for you! She wasn't shit!"

"You're stressing me out, Ashley..." Andrew groaned, his voice muffled (presumably shoving his face into his hands). "I don't want to talk about this... I don't even know how we got on this topic but just shut up about it... We'll leave as soon as I heal up some."

"That'll take too long. We can leave now!" Ashley whined.

"And what? You want me to run on two broken legs? Are you going to carry me?" Andrew spoke, verbally knocking some sense into her.

"I-I'll find a damn wheelchair! We'll put you on a wheelchair and run." Ashley spoke, suddenly not sounding as confident and aggressive as she was previously.

"Run where? There's no where we can go! Mom doesn't want us and we can't just live on the streets forever. This is a good opportunity for us to rest here and think about our next move." Andrew explained.

"Says you. You get a nice bed and food provided to you while I'll be stuck outside, cold and alone while I rot away outside." Ashley snapped, exaggerating her voice on the last bit.

"I'm sure you'll figure something out. You have a way with getting what you want." Andrew huffed.

"Not all the time..." Ashley muttered. "I still think we should take a wheelchair and-"

"Leave, Ashley. Visiting time is over." Andrew spoke firmly.

"But-" Ashley started, but was cut off.

"No buts, Ashley. Leave... You're just making me feel worse..." Andrew sighed in frustration.

Good, stand your ground against her. I don't know their full story, but Ashley sounds really manipulative to me, but Andrew definitely doesn't sound like a victim either... (Y/N) thought to herself.

"Fine, I'll leave and I'll never come back! You can't live without me, Andy!" Ashley shouted before walking towards the door.

Sounds like a threat... (Y/N) thought.

Damn it, she's infuriating. As expected of her though... Andrew thought to himself.

(Y/N) realized that Ashley was coming her way. She didn't want to seem nosey so she quickly ran to an open hospital room, making sure to redirect her weight to her legs so her footsteps wouldn't make noise in case it alerted Ashley. She heard Andrew's door open before slamming close, then footsteps walking past the room (Y/N) was in.

(Y/N) held close to the wall where the door was, hiding herself in case Ashley peeked into the room on her way out. (Y/N) waited a minute after the footsteps vanished, just to be sure that Ashley wasn't on her way back. She walked back to the door before stopping, realizing what the siblings revealed to her.

They're murderers. Not only that, but cannibals too. They both confessed. I have to be careful about this guy, two broken legs or none, he's dangerous. (Y/N) thought to herself, then held her fist up to the door.

She gently knocked three times, then opened the door, not caring for a response back. She saw Andrew staring out of the hospital's window (one without bars, (Y/N) believes that's a stupid decision since this is a known suicidal branch on the fourth floor). His reflection showed his eyes closed, his eyebrows pinched in frustration.

"I said leave, Ash—" Andrew's head turned to look at the nurse and his eyes only hardened, as if seeming more mad at the nurse than at Ashley who ran off.

Watch it, buddy. I can make your death look like an accident... (Y/N) thought inside of her head, only proving her dislike of caring for adults.

"Expecting someone else?" (Y/N) spoke, forcing a polite smile on her face.

I'd rather not have to try and fight him into restraining him against the bed. She thought.

Andrew stayed quiet as he glared at her.

The previous nurses that entered his room weren't very kind to him, they were old and seemed annoyed to care for their patients. They got an earful from Ashley. Not only that, but they sure were rough with re-doing his bandages, sloppy too. He didn't want to deal with anyone else today, he just wants to go to sleep.

Maybe a permanent sleep like jumping out of this window... At least I wouldn't hear Ashley complain so much. Andrew thought to himself.

To be honest, Andrew doesn't exactly remember much. For some reason, he only has memory of the past three months and that's it. All of his memories consisted of being locked in an apartment with little food, to no food, for three months with Ashley, rotting away. Then Ashley had the bright idea to eat the neighbor after breaking into his apartment and seeing him fail a seance to a... demon? As crazy as that sounds.

Well, she didn't exactly say it, but she placed the thought into Andrew's head then forced Andrew to say it to make it seem like it was his idea. Then she started chopping the neighbor up to eat him, then the warden came and Ashley got caught, which resorted in Andrew having to kill the warden so the warden wouldn't contact any other wardens with his walkie-talkie. Ashley had the bright idea to escape the apartment complex by completing the seance and offering live human. Andrew eventually agreed to it.

Then they ran from the place and ended up in a lady's apartment. Turns out she whored herself to get food from the wardens, so they used her to escape. While Ashley left to do the seance, Andrew had to hold her hostage so she wouldn't try to call for help from the wardens. He made the mistake of taking his clever away from her neck and letting go of her, but she got ballsy and tried to kill him with a nail gun, resulting in Andrew killing her. Then Ashley came back and started to freak out, saying that Andrew was trying to get in the girls pants (however she came up with that conclusion, Andrew is unsure).

They completed the seance by sacrificing a warden and escaped the apartment complex, finding themselves on the run as wanted felons. It was then when Ashley and Andrew got in a fight and Ashley told Andrew to kill himself, to make it easy for her and the police. Andrew was fed up of running and listening to his sister's idiotic (and borderline psychotic) ideas that he actually did jump (to which Ashley brought him here instead of just letting him bleed out, much to his dismay).

But before all of those events, everything else is blurry. He has no recollection of himself or his family after all the horrid memories trapped in his head.

(Y/N) felt a little unsettled under his very judgmental gaze, remembering that he confessed to killing at least two people (possibly even more).

Is he sizing me up to be his next victim? (Y/N) briefly thought before pushing that thought away. No, he said that they would've starved in their... apartment? What did they mean by that?

As much as she wanted to find out, she didn't really feel like wanting to die either. Her college debt would go to her family, and it'd be too bothersome to die. Too much time wasting on dying (she'd be too impatient to die slowly).

“I’m a student studying nursing, please call me (Y/N) despite the name tag.” (Y/N) smiled.

I'd rather not tell him I'm studying pediatric nursing. I don't want him freaking out or anything since I'm technically out of my field. She thought.

“They couldn’t bring a real nurse or doctor?” Andrew huffed.

Great, if she makes any mistakes, he might have to stay here longer than necessary, and Andrew does not want that.

“Unfortunately, we’re short-staffed at the moment. No one here likes working the night shift.” (Y/N) sighed. “But, luckily for you, I happen to be a very good student. I even dare to say better than some of the other nurses here.” (Y/N) joked, a smile on her face to try and brighten up the murderous aura surrounding Andrew.

Andrew stared at her in silence, unamused.

“Tough crowd…” She muttered. “Alright, let’s get this over with first.” (Y/N) spoke, walking closer to Andrew (whose guard only raised even more at this). “How many fingers am I holding up?” she questioned, holding up two fingers.

“Four.” Andrew huffed, crossing his arms.

“And now?” she questioned, holding up one.

“Two.” Andrew answered.

“Last time.” She commented, holding up two fingers again.

“Four.” Andrew spoke.

“Okay, are you thirsty right now?” (Y/N) questioned.

“I guess…” Andrew muttered.

“Here.” (Y/N) spoke, digging into her medical bag and grabbing the bottle of water she shoved in there from earlier. “Hungry too?”

“No.” Andrew answered, resulting in her placing a bag of pretzels and water on his nightstand.

“They're for later. It’s important not to have them now even though you’re thirsty. Just trust me.” She spoke before continuing her little survey. “Feel any pain anywhere?”

“My legs.” Andrew spoke, pointing out the obvious in a ‘duh’ tone.

“Other than there?” (Y/N) added. “Such as a headache? Behind the eyes?”

“Both.” Andrew answered.

“Have you vomited? Do you feel nauseous at the moment?” (Y/N) questioned.

“Haven’t thrown up, but I feel sick” Andrew admitted.

“Have you or your sister noticed any gaps in your memory? From today to a few months or even more?” (Y/N) asked.

“Yeah, actually…” Andrew muttered.

(Y/N) took a few steps towards him, basically hovering over him.

“What the hell are you doing?” he snapped, but didn’t pull away or shrink from her.

“Calm down. Are your hands clammy?” she questioned.

“A little...” Andrew muttered, not breaking eye contact from her.

She broke the eye contact as her eyes swept through his face, looking at his disheveled black hair and electric green eyes, a beautiful combination, she noted. She also noted how pale his skin was along with the sweat running down it.

“Andrew, open your eyes wide for me, please.” She spoke, reaching into her bag and pulling out a mediscope.

Andrew complied with a little bit of hesitancy, allowing her to watch as his pupils shrunk from the light. She looked closely at his retinas to make sure there was no tear along with the hydration in his eyes. They did seem a little blurry, she noted.

“Open your mouth, please.” She requested.

Andrew sighed but listened as she did. She checked his tonsils, throat lining, tongue coloring, gums, and uvula.

He felt awkward having her do all these procedures and asking all these questions, whether it was her job or not. He wouldn’t deny it, she was pretty, prettier the woman at the apartment complex he murdered.

Wow, nice thinking… Andrew internally scolded himself as he looked away from the girl. Comparing your nurse to a dead girl you killed really isn't a sign of insanity or detachment.

At least he was self-aware?

“And real quick, let me look inside your ears, please.” She requested.

Andrew stood still as she shined the light in his ear, checking through the tiny camera to see if there was any ear infection or something out of the ordinary. Nothing.

“Last thing.” She spoke, placing her mediscope in her bag and switching it for her stethoscope.

“Can I ask why you’re doing this? All these questions and procedures?” Andrew questioned, adverting his eyes from her as she started listening to his heart.

There was a moment of silence as she focused, looking at her watch as she listened to his pulse.

It's 102 beats per minute, a bit quick for his age, but it's not too worrying and it can be easily caused by the stress and trauma of his situation, she noted.

“Are you telling me the other nurses didn’t do all of this to you?” (Y/N) asked as she responded his question from earlier surprised and a little concerned.

“Nope.” Andrew replied lazily.

“Ugh… elders.” (Y/N) muttered quietly, earning a small smile from Andrew (one he quickly hid with a cough as he adverted her gaze). “They’re supposed to check you for any possible illnesses or worsen conditions. I know you came in here because you jumped a three-story building, but it can be linked to serious health concerns. You can develop future problems we can identify and fix right now if we take the time to look.” She explained.

“So what did you discover, doc?” Andrew questioned in a monochrome tone (she wasn’t exactly sure if he was making a joke or being serious or even sarcastic).

“Well, you have internal bleeding.” (Y/N) spoke, not bothering to even try to sugarcoat it or break it to him lightly.

“What? How bad?” Andrew grimaced, afraid of the reaction Ashley would give when she hears this.

“How much blood did you lose when you fell? Were you conscious when you hit the ground?” (Y/N) questioned.

“I mean, I was conscious till I hit the ground. After a couple of minutes I woke up and was in pain, understandably so, until my sister dragged me to a hospital. So I was probably out for five maybe ten minutes.” Andrew explained.

That’s not good, along with all the other symptoms he’s experiencing. She thought to herself.

“How about this. On a scale of 1-10, how much blood did you think you lost?” (Y/N) rephrased.

“Seven, maybe eight.” Andrew huffed. “I don’t really know.”

“No worries. It’s not a big deal. They said you shattered the bones in your legs so you’re going to need surgery for it. Luckily they were able to reposition and place back your ankles.” I explained. “You’ll be bedridden in the hospital for a couple days, then you're going home and being bedridden for six months, minimum.” (Y/N) emphasized the last word to show the most importance to it.

“Fuck... What about the internal bleeding?” Andrew sighed, dreading the lecture Ashley would give him.

"For your severity, you'd need surgery. It'd take a couple weeks for you to heal, but your internal bleeding should be healed by the time you're discharged." (Y/N) explained. “Now, bear with me for a second. I’m going to level your legs and it’s going to hurt.” She spoke as she walked to the tall hospital cabinets, taking three soft and limbless pillows from it.

“Ugh…” Andrew groaned, already dreading that part as she walked back to him.

“Take a deep breath.” She instructed.

She waited for Andrew to audibly breathe in. He did what she requested, his chest and shoulders rising (he ignored the shock of pain that came with it, but she noticed and figured it was due to the internal bleeding).

“Hold it in.” She spoke, then lifted his heavily bandaged legs with one hand (with a bit of struggle) and placed the pillows under him.

She gently rested his legs onto the pillows and looked at Andrew face, seeing his eyebrows furrowed and his fists clenches tightly.

“Breathe, darling. You’re all done.” (Y/N) instructed, letting out a deep breath for him to mimic too in case the pain was too much.

Andrew let go of his breath, regaining control of his lungs after a few manual breaths.

“You did so well, my star! Do you want a sticker?” (Y/N) questioned.

Andrew adverted his eyes from her smile, his face red from what he wants to be because of holding his breath, but it was instead caused by her praise and pet names (or maybe both).

“No…?” Andrew muttered.

“Mm. What color do you want? Gold, pink, blue, red, purple, or gray?” she questioned.

“Why do you have a gray star?” he questioned.

“Good choice!” (Y/N) spoke, rummaging through her bag for her stickers.

She found them and searched for a gray star, finding one and undoing the paper back. She sticked it on Andrew’s chest, clothed with the blue hospital gown.

“Tah-dah! You were my star patient today!” (Y/N) beamed.

“Are you done?” Andrew sighed dully, adverting his eyes to hide his blush.

“Nope! I have to redo your bandages. This’ll also hurt, but I’ll be gentle with you.” (Y/N) explained.

“Hurry up.” Andrew huffed.

“So soon to have me leave, huh?” she sighed jokingly. “Hurts my heart.”

She reached into her bag and grabbed bandages, gauze, and anti-septic cream.

“So, Andrew. Kinda curious, what made you jump?” (Y/N) questioned, remembering her superior's words as she started undoing Andrew’s bandages on his legs.

“Why would you need to know that?” Andrew growled, becoming defensive.

Ah, I pissed him off. But this is important information for his health, murderer or not. (Y/N) thought to herself.

“You know, I tried killing myself too. I was eleven. Failed multiple times. But you had the courage to jump. I didn’t do that.” She explained.

“How’d you try?” Andrew questioned, a spark of curiosity in him.

“I’m not giving you any ideas, mister.” (Y/N) laughed, giving him a playful yet stern expression before switching her gaze to study the stitching on his ankles. “But, I gave up and made an oath to never harm myself in that way again because it really affects the people you care about. Your sister was probably very sad when you jumped.”

At least the surgeons did that good, so no worries there. Luckily the swelling is just from the breakage and replacement of bones, so his stitches aren’t infected. She thought to herself. But let’s add anti-septic cream just to be safe.

"How long ago was that?" Andrew questioned, ignoring her comment about his sister.

"Ten years ago." She hummed.

She must be around the same age as me. Andrew thought.

“Did it get better?” Andrew questioned as (Y/N) applied the cold cream onto his wounds.

The temperature of the medicine barely even got a reaction from Andrew since he was so focused on the conversation they were having.

“At the beginning? Of course not, in fact it spiraled downhill from there. Overtime I started picking myself up and it helped. It helps to surround yourself with people who cared about you. And if you have no one who cares, then learn to care for yourself. Your confidence in yourself will attract others to you.” (Y/N) explained. "We humans need to be there for each other, you know? We're social creatures after all."

“Hm.” Andrew hummed in acknowledgement, not really paying attention to her optimistic speech.

It's not like he had anyone to turn to. He remembers his girlfriend breaking up with him on the phone while he was rotting away in his apartment. Ashley had verbally abused her enough that she didn't want to see him or Ashley anymore. He doesn't have any other family than his parents who rejected him because "he and Ashley were too close and had to learn independence" his mother said on the phone during their last phone calls in quarantine. He's not exactly sure what she meant by it (especially with his memory gone), but so far all Ashley's done is pissed him off these past months he's remembered, so he really doesn't want to see her again anytime soon. He doesn't remember if he has friends or not either.

“Andrew, what do you like to do? What do you do in your free time?” (Y/N) questioned.

Andrew thought about her question. The three months that he remembers, all he did was sleep, starve, and watch TV (all with Ashley). He read books from his parents room out of boredom before losing the energy to even try and keep acting like he was actually remembering the plot—it took too much energy remembering the events that happened in the book.

When Ashley and Andrew did talk to each other during the time, it was to bicker and complain to each other about food and the other’s company (Ashley always started it).

“I don’t have any… None that I remember at least.” Andrew admitted.

“Don’t stress it. Your concussion could be affecting your ability to remember. We’ll find some new hobbies for you.” (Y/N) reassured. “Maybe books, card games, video games? I’ll find something.” She spoke as she redid the bandages on his ankles.

“Why are you even bothering?” Andrew sighed. “After some months I’ll be gone.” He pointed out.

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t want you to be bored the entire time. Personally, I would hate being bedridden with nothing to do.” (Y/N) admitted.

What a sympathetic girl... Andrew thought.

“Whatever…” Andrew muttered, crossing his arms.

“Voilà! Whaddya think?” she questioned.

“It’s tight…” Andrew admitted, it didn't hurt much, but it did feel a bit annoying.

“That’s to keep your ankles in place. Your bandages aren’t bleeding much, so you should be ready for casting. I’ll leave a note for that.” She explained. “Any requests before I go?” (Y/N) questioned.

“You’re leaving?” Andrew questioned, sitting up and straightening his back before cringing at the pain shooting up his legs (and the pathetic tone in his voice).

“Yeah, my shifts almost over...” She paused and checked her watch. “It’s actually been over for 20 minutes now.”

Andrew muttered something under his breath, adverting his eyes as he looked away from her.

“You’re coming back tomorrow, right?” Andrew questioned.

“Ah… I don’t know. I don’t work in this branch, I work with kids in the pediatric branch.” (Y/N) smiled nervously.

I hope I’m not upsetting him. She thought to herself.

She tolerated Andrew’s company, for a man of course. It was surprisingly refreshing and the atmosphere is much more comfortable than it was when she first entered.

Andrew huffed, looking back at her.

“I like you better than the other nurses.” He admitted, crossing his arms and looking away again so she wouldn’t notice his red face.

“Aw. I’m sure you’ll enjoy Penelope tomorrow, she’s a wonderful nurse!” (Y/N) smiled. “I’ll make sure to visit you tomorrow before I leave work and check in on you, make sure you’re still intact and dandy, okay?” she smiled.

It’s like I’m making a promise to a child. She thought to herself.

Her thoughts were backed up by the spark in his eyes as he looked back at the nurse.

“Okay…” he muttered, pushing down the urge to smile.

“I’ll see you later, star!” she smiled, referring to his sticker on his chest. “Door open or closed?” she questioned.

“Closed.” Andrew answered.

“Alrighty! Click the button on the side of your bed if you need a nurse or need to ask something. In an hour you can drink a little bit of the water, but hold off on the pretzels until tomorrow. Make sure you get good sleep! Body’s natural way of healing.” She explained, flashing him a smile. “Goodnight, Andrew.”

She closed the door and took a silent breath in.

That went surprisingly well… She thought to herself.

She walked back to the staff room and unlocked the door, opening it to find Ruby, an old and stern nurse who worked day shift.

“You’re clocking out late.” Ruby gruffed. “Heard they were understaffed tonight.”

“Ah, yes. I had to go to patient 402’s room.” She smiled politely despite it being very draining to.

It's hard acting so happy all the time with her patients and coworkers. She liked work, but her face wasn't friendly, so she had to resort to smiling a lot (as annoying as it was for her).

“The moody patient with the psycho sister? How’d that go?” Ruby questioned.

“How did you know?” (Y/N) questioned, sparing her a glance.

Ruby’s day shift, so she comes in at 7 am and leaves at 7 PM. How would she knows about Andrew? she thought to herself.

“Penelope was in near tears when she clocked out. Told me how closed off the boy was and the sister was screaming and yelling at Penelope, talking about how she’s trying to steal her brother away from her—something like that…” Ruby muttered the last part to herself.

Psycho sister indeed. (Y/N) thought to herself.

“The girl wasn’t in there when I entered. The boy is reserved at first, but if you keep talking to him he’ll respond. Just be patient.” She spoke, shoving her leftover medical supplies into the supply closet.

“I swear, Penelope gets too butt-hurt about these patients. And I don’t understand how you can deal with those kids, snotty and crying all the time.” Ruby complained as (Y/N) snagged a computer seat and sat down, typing up her report on Andrew Graves condition.

“The kids are just scared. Give them a lollipop and it’s like Christmas.” She laughed, straining a smile. “Good talk rubes, but I’m going to head out.”

“See you tomorrow.” Ruby responded lazily.

“See ya. Good luck on your shift.” (Y/N) spoke.

She walked out of the staff room and locked the door behind her, taking the elevator to the first floor. She exited the elevator and walked out of the hospital lobby, walking to the staff parking lot to her car. She grabbed her keys from her scrubs pockets and unlocked her car, opening the door and buckling her seatbelt before driving off.

The drive is longer than she likes from her apartment but at least her thoughts plagued her so she didn’t have to be bored.

A murderer and a cannibal? Not one but two! Should I call the police? I mean, they must have reasons. They were locked in an apartment and resorted to eating their neighbor? Why would they be locked in an apartment? I’m sure if they went to the police they would’ve been understanding, I mean it was life or death and one dead is better than two. What am I thinking? I shouldn’t be thinking that at all, I’m a nurse. (Y/N) thought.

“Ugh…” She groaned.

She made it to her apartment and unlocked her door, opening it and closing it behind her, making sure it was locked before she walked into the kitchen.

I don’t feel like cooking, I don’t have the time for it anyways. She thought, opening her freezer.

She grabbed a quick microwaveable meal and put it in the microwave, setting it at the box’s desired time before walking away and grabbing her computer.

She checked her emails then started her medical essay for pneumonia and bronchitis. The microwave ringed and she grabbed her food and some drink, walking back her to computer and continuing her work while eating.

She finished her dinner and the final touches of her essay before sending it her college professors at her university. She stood up and stretched, walking to the kitchen and cleaning her dirty dishes before going to her room and picking out a nightgown. She walked to her shower and undressed, washing her hair and allowing the water to relax her nerves and sore legs from standing all day.

Check-ups tomorrow should be Rachael Gardener and Joseph Stall. I'll meet a new patient, Lily Wells, since she's switching healthcare. After that, it's walk-in's from there. I'll pay a visit to Andrew thirty minutes before my shift ends and check up on Hailey. (Y/N) thought in her head.

Andrew. He's sure a special case at the moment. Nurses are going to have to keep a watchful eye on him to ensure his condition doesn't worsen or cause any harm to himself or others. (Y/N) thought. Two broken open-fracture ankles and complete fractures in his legs. Just thinking of that pain makes me squirm. She cringed, stopping herself from washing her hair to shake the imaginary chills she created.

Not to mention his internal bleeding from his brain, his concussion from his fall must've caused that. Luckily he doesn't have any other injuries otherwise I'm pretty sure he would've been dead. She thought as she stepped out of the shower, drying her hair and body.

I should find some video games and books to keep him from being bored. I need to get some new books for Hailey to read too, my bookshelf is going dry for her. She thought as she started getting dressed. I'll also do a quick google search of Andrew and Ashley, get some information out of their situation (or at least the most of it).

Andrew woke up and stared out of his window blankly, watching as people walked in and out of the hospital, some in wheelchairs and some in casts. In a while, that'll be him leaving this place.

Or with the pace Ashley wants, tomorrow. Andrew thought, a frustrated huff escaping his mouth.

Who could blame him? He tries to kill himself and all of a sudden he lost basically all of his memory from when he was born to three months ago, that's almost twenty-two years of his life lost in just a flash!

Ashley told me to jump too. I shouldn't have listened to her and her damn rants, it would've caused so much less trouble, but I was going insane listening to her. Andrew thought.

Andrew's been wishing a lot of things lately. He's been wishing he could remember everything about himself, wished he never drank that supposed contaminated water that got him locked in the apartment which got him here in the first place, and wished he could get up and walk out of here.

Ashley visited him earlier. Something in him was happy to see his sister, but dread filled his stomach at seeing her walk into the room.

"Thought you said you weren't ever coming back?" Andrew spoke, recalling what Ashley said yesterday.

"I might've been a bit hasty... and inconsiderate" Ashley huffed, crossing her arms and glaring at Andrew. "I found a hotel nearby. I'm staying there until you get better."

"How will you pay for it?" Andrew questioned.

"Easy! I'll just kill people and take their wallets!" Ashley beamed, getting an glare sent her way.

"Don't do that, idiot. You'll get caught easily without me." Andrew sighed, already finding himself frustrated at their conversation so early in.

"Well, I could stay here! I'll stay in the bathroom when the nurses are in the room. I can keep you company and sleep in the same bed as you as we used to." Ashley teased.

"I have two broken legs, remember?" Andrew pointed out.

"I'll be extra careful." Ashley smiled, as he looked at her unamused. "Hmph! Be that way!" Ashley huffed, giving attitude as she crossed her arms. "Was it lonely without me last night? Did you have any nightmares?" Ashley questioned, her tone teasing with a hint of suggestion.

Nightmares? About what? Andrew thought. And what's with her damn tone?

He paused as he thought about anything the past three months.

"No. Why would I have any nightmares?" Andrew questioned

"Did you hit your head when you fell?" Ashley teased harshly, poking his cheek roughly. "Your nightmares! About that girl we killed back then? What was her name?"

"I don't remember." Andrew admitted. "Wait, we killed someone else?!"

"Wow, you must've actually hit your head hard." Ashley spoke, a little surprised.

"A nurse said I had a concussion and internal bleeding, so my memory isn't sharp at the moment." Andrew explained, still worrying about who else he's killed in his past.

"Ugh. That'll only slow us down..." Ashley sighed. "Would you like to know?"

"Might as well." Andrew sighed.

"You killed that girl when we were young! She had an asthma attack in a box and it was hilarious!" she cackled.

"That doesn't sound funny. She was a kid, wasn't she...?" Andrew murmured.

That nurse, (Y/N), she works in the pediatric branch. I don't think she'd be happy if she heard that. Andrew thought to himself. Why am I caring about her all of a sudden? I think I really need my brain checked out... hopefully by her...

"She had it coming though! She liked you and she was trying to separate the two of us!" Ashley tried to justify, noticing his reaction.

"Whatever you say, Ashley." Andrew sighed.

"I don't like this... I miss you, Andy! We were really close! You didn't need a girlfriend because you had me by your side!" Ashley whined. "It's because of one of these slutty nurses, huh? They're just holes for you to stick your dick into! You don't need them like you need me! I'm all you need!" Ashley started shouting.

Andrew's really starting to think their sibling-ship is bordering to relationship the way Ashley's been acting and saying.

Gross... Andrew thought.

He remembers the downright suggestive comments Ashley spoke in the apartment (and just a few minutes ago), along with the overprotectiveness he's experienced at times with her. Even if, just a bit, if their relationship was that (incest-like), it hasn't gotten physical since he places money that they would've done something while trapped in that apartment for three months. Andrew let out a sigh of relief, glad their relationship hasn't escalated to that point.

So there's still a turning point to get out of that. Andrew thought to himself.

It's simple really, separate from Ashley.

That's all he has to do, but with her co-dependency, it won't make it easy. Unless, all he does is reject Ashley's advances towards stepping-up their relationship and trying to escape the hospital.

"Andy, fucking listen to me!" Ashley shouted into his ear.

Andrew was snapped out of his thoughts as the world around him spun. Ashley was holding his hair and shaking his head back and forth, creating a headache behind his head and eyes.

"Ashley, let go! What part of concussion and internal bleeding didn't you understand?!" Andrew shouted, grabbing her hands as he fought them away from his hair.

He succeeded in pulling her hands away, but she didn't want to let go without locks of hair in her fists.

"I hate you, Andrew! I hate you! You and this stupid hospital and those stupid damn nurses! I hate it I hate it I HATE IT!" she screamed loudly.

The hospital door opened and three nurses came in, their hair disheveled and bun's messy from racing down the hallway.

"Ma'am, calm down. Otherwise I'm going to have to ask you to leave." One of the nurses spoke, their name tag reading Penelope.

"DON'T YOU TELL ME TO CALM DOWN, BITCH!" Ashley screamed at the poor woman, her finger jabbed into the nurse's chest. "I bet it's you! Yeah, you! You're the bitch manipulating my brother! I'll fucking kill you!"

"Ashley!" Andrew sternly shouted, catching her attention long enough for the three nurses to tackle the girl.

Ashley kicked and screamed as they got her, two nurses dragging her by her legs out of the room as the other nurse ran to go call security to escort her out (and keep her out).

Andrew watched as all the women crowded out of his room, a little surprised.

Well, she won't be coming back soon... that was surprisingly easy... Andrew thought to himself. Step one, separate Ashley from me. Complete.

Ten minutes went by and someone stepped into his open-doored hospital room. It was Penelope, the nurse from earlier (and yesterday).

"M-Mr. Graves. Would you allow me to check--?" she was harshly cut off.

"Get the hell out." Andrew growled, glaring at her with his vibrant green eyes.

She nodded and quickly turned around, about to leave before he spoke up.

"Wait." he spoke, effectively stopping the nervous girl as she turned around, fiddling with her hands. "When's that nurse coming back? (Y/N) (L/N)?" Andrew questioned.

"(Y-Y/N)...? I don't know... She's not in our branch." Penelope muttered sheepishly.

"Well, find out!" Andrew snarled. "I refuse to accept treatment from anyone else but her!"

"Okay!" Penelope exclaimed all too quickly (glad to no longer be taking care of Andrew) and ran out of the room.

He really meant it too. Any time a nurse tried to come into his room, he'd shout and throw anything nearby at them. It was a drastic change from yesterday's silence. Some nurses assumed he was scared as potential memories reappeared in his head, or perhaps he needed a higher dose of pain killers. They regretted entering the room after getting hit by pens and notebooks from the nightstands, he even threw his pillow.

"I hate working in this damn branch! Where the hell is (Y/N)?" Ruby shouted in the employee's only room, the elder asking for her help from her inferior.

The first chapter for this is done! This series will also be posted on AO3 and Wattpad! This series won the poll after a close tie, and I'm so glad it did because I was internally rooting for this to win! Don't worry, the other series' will be posted too after this one is completely posted for what I have so far.

Want more Andrew Graves content? Check out the Andrew Graves masterlist!

Inbox is OPEN for questions about the story and new plotlines/ideas, not for request!

Chapters: Current chapter, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9 (in the works)

Want to listen to music while reading? Check out the Star Patient's Official Playlists! Multiple different playlists and genres!

289 notes · View notes

callmedaleelah · 24 days ago

Text

— Pinnacle [ tsukishima kei university au series ]

— i’ve been thinking about jumping ; things can go rough and harsh when your emotions overwhelmed you

author’s notes : no mention of (y/n), written in second person pov, semi alternative universe, timeskip!tsukishima, college life, not proofread, english is not my first language

[ masterlist ] | [ ask daleelah go to box box 🐭 ]

You sit on the edge of your bed, hugging your knees to your chest as the events of the day play on repeat in your mind like a broken record. The weight of everything—your academic struggles, the unspoken tension with your parents, and now the appointment result—presses down on you, your chest heavy with a nameless frustration. You want to scream, hit something, or just curl up and disappear, but all you can do is bury your face in the soft fabric of Tsukishima's hoodie, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne lingering on it.

The oversized sleeves feel like a small shield against the turmoil swirling inside you, but they can't stop the barrage of thoughts. What did the doctor say again? You try to recall every word, focusing on the moment instead of the whirlwind in your head. But even then, the tension in your body remains.

Your phone buzzes in your bag, snapping you out of your thoughts. You reach for it, flipping it open with half-hearted curiosity. It's a photo. From Tsukishima. Your heart skips, then thuds in your chest as you open the image��Tsukishima and his teammates, standing proudly with the volleyball championship trophy, their faces glowing with accomplishment.

Your lips twitch upward, an involuntary smile breaking through your melancholy. His message from this morning about the game resurfaces in your mind, and you wish you could’ve been there. Seeing him in that moment, surrounded by his teammates, makes you feel proud, even if a small pang of guilt tugs at your chest for missing it. You were supposed to attend his game but unfortunately you have an appointment scheduled by your mom today.

You stare at the photo for a while, unsure of what to say. He looks happy, genuinely happy in a way you don’t often see. He’s always so serious, so focused, but here, in this photo, he’s smiling with his eyes, that small smirk playing on his lips.

Finally, you type a response:

Congratulations, champ 🎉🎊

You add an extra line of happy stickers, trying to convey the joy you assume he must be feeling.

It doesn't take long before his reply pops up.

Are you done with your appointment? How was it?

You hesitate for a moment, your fingers hovering over the screen. How do you even explain? You’re not really sure what you feel anymore.

Yeah, it went fine

His next message comes almost immediately.

At your dorm now?

Yes, just got back.

Do you want to join us? We’re celebrating with Korean barbecue.

Your initial instinct is to say yes. It sounds nice—fun, even. A distraction from your racing mind, a chance to be near him again. But you stop yourself before you type. You know how you are right now. You’re not in the mood for loud celebrations, for crowded places, for the inevitable small talk that you’ll have to force with his teammates. They don’t know you, and frankly, you don’t feel like pretending everything’s fine. Not tonight. So instead, you respond,

I think I’ll skip this one. Feeling a bit tired 🥹

You watch the chat bubble indicating that he’s read the message, but no immediate reply comes. Your fingers grip the phone a little tighter, heart beating in your throat. You wonder if he’s annoyed or disappointed.

Finally, a message pops up.

Okay. Rest well 🤍

The simplicity of his words eases some of the tension, but only just. You reply with a quick, Have fun with the team! 😊 before tossing the phone aside. You fall back on your bed, staring at the ceiling. The quiet of your room feels suffocating, but you’re too drained to move.

Suddenly, your phone buzzes again, breaking the silence. You sigh, reaching for it with a sluggish arm. It's your mom this time.

Doctor Adi just sent me a prescription for your medication. Can you go to the drugstore and pick it up before dinner?

You groan, kicking your feet in the air in childish defiance, but you know you have no choice. Dragging yourself up, you grab your wallet and throw on the hoodie—Tsukishima’s hoodie, the one he gave you that night after your movie marathon at his place.

As you step outside, the evening air feels cool against your skin. The walk to the pharmacy is quiet, almost eerily so, but you appreciate the solitude. It gives you time to think, though you’re not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Your mind is still racing, stuck somewhere between anger, sadness, and confusion.

You reach the drugstore and head inside, your thoughts still buzzing like white noise. The bright lights and sterile smell are grounding, in a way, pulling you out of your head as you approach the counter. You hand over your prescription and wait, shifting from foot to foot.

Just as you’re zoning out, you catch a familiar figure out of the corner of your eye. Tall, lanky, with those distinctive glasses perched on his nose—Tsukishima. Your heart skips, your body tensing. He’s standing at the cashier, his back to you as he pays for something. You freeze, instinctively pulling the hood up over your head, hoping he won’t notice you. Maybe—

His eyes meet yours.

Damn it.

His brows furrowing in that familiar, questioning way. He starts walking toward you, and for a moment, you consider bolting out of the store. But your feet are rooted to the spot “What are you doing here?” he asks, stopping just a few steps away, his voice low and calm.

You shrug, trying to play it off casually. “Picking up my prescription.”

He looks at you, his gaze sharp, like he’s assessing whether or not to believe you. “Are you sick?”

Your voice comes out higher than intended. “No! It’s just vitamins.”

He doesn’t seem convinced but doesn’t press further. His eyes linger on you for a moment longer, and you feel like you’re under a microscope.

“What about you?” you ask, trying to steer the conversation away from yourself. “What are you doing here?”

“One of my teammates burned his hand,” he replies, holding up a small bag from the pharmacy. “Had to pick up a first aid kit.”

You nod, unsure of what else to say. Silence stretches between you, heavy and uncomfortable. You can’t tell if it’s just your own nerves, or if something has shifted between you two.

“You’re still invited to dinner,” he says, breaking the silence. “We’re eating across the street.”

You hesitate again, your heart tugging in two different directions. Part of you wants to go, to be with him, to see him smile again like in that photo. But the other part—the heavier, louder part—wants to retreat, to hide away from the world and the strange, gnawing feelings inside of you.

“I’ll pass,” you finally say, your voice soft. “I’m really not up for it tonight.”

Tsukishima’s face remains unreadable, his calm demeanor unchanged. He nods slightly, giving a small shrug. “Alright,” he says, his tone neutral. “See you later then.”

You watch him walk out the door��crossing the street then entering the restaurant, leaving you standing there, the awkward tension hanging in the air even after he’s gone. You let out a deep breath, rubbing your temples as the dull ache in your chest refuses to go away. For a second, you wonder if you made the right decision. Should you have gone with him? Would it have been better to push through your exhaustion and just enjoy the dinner? Something’s off. Normally, he’d at least touch your cheek or pat your head, a small gesture he picked up after you started dating. But today, nothing. It’s like he’s keeping his distance.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear your name being called at the counter. As you approach, the cashier greets you with a curious question.

“Do you know the tall guy who was just here?”

“Yeah, I do,” you answer, wondering where this is going.

“Well, excuse me if this is inconvenient, but he left his credit card. Would you be able to give it to him?”

You blink, surprised, before you nod. “Oh, yeah, sure.” After paying, you take the card, glancing over at the restaurant where Tsukishima disappeared. You inhale deeply, debating for a second before finally deciding to go after him.

Crossing the street, you enter the restaurant, scanning the room for him and his teammates. You spot them instantly—a group huddled around a table, Tsukishima grilling meat while they talk animatedly. As you slowly walk towards the table, you hear fragments of their conversation.

“Hey, Tsukishima, where’s your girlfriend? Why doesn’t she come to your games?”

“Yeah, I thought she’d be here since it’s your last game—”

Your steps falter as you take in their words, heart racing. His last game? Why didn’t he tell you? A whirlwind of emotions swirls inside you—confusion, hurt, frustration. You hadn’t even realized how important tonight was for him. And why didn’t he say anything?

Just then, Yamaguchi spots you. “Oh, hey Tsukki, look!” He gestures toward you with a bright smile, nudging Tsukishima.

Tsukishima’s eyes lock with yours from across the room, and for a moment, the air between you two is thick with unsaid words. He stands, walking towards you with a steady calmness. You stammer slightly under his gaze, your grip tightening around his forgotten credit card. As he approaches, his familiar presence washes over you, but there’s still a gnawing tension beneath the surface.

When he reaches you, he takes the card from your hand without a word, but his fingers graze yours lightly. “Thanks,” he mutters, his voice softer than usual, before placing his hand on the small of your back, guiding you toward the table. The touch that you’d missed earlier is back, but it feels different now—charged, like there’s more that neither of you is willing to admit.

“This is her,” Tsukishima introduces you to the table with a smile that feels almost out of character, as though he’s both proud and slightly awkward about it. You give a small bow, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as the group eyes you with friendly curiosity. Tsukishima pulls a chair for you beside him, the gesture simple but grounding.

As you sit, he immediately starts preparing a plate for you, placing slices of grilled beef and arranging the sauce with his usual precision. Your eyes catch on the care in his actions—silent, but thoughtful. You want to say something, to ask him why he didn’t mention it was his last game, but you hold back, not wanting to cause a scene in front of his friends.

One of his teammates smirks, breaking the silence with a teasing tone. “So, Tsukki, when did you start dating freshmen? I thought older women were more your type.”

The comment catches you off guard, your surprise reflected in your eyes. You glance at Tsukishima, hoping for some kind of reaction, but he remains calm, focused on the grill as he flips another slice of beef. He doesn’t even acknowledge the jab, continuing to serve you without missing a beat.

Yamaguchi quickly jumps in, nudging the guy with a disapproving look. “That’s rude, man. Besides, she’s sweet, kind, and polite once you get to know her.” He said with a playful wink at you.

The guy mumbles an apology, and you force a polite smile, feeling an odd mixture of relief and awkwardness settle over you. The tension from earlier hasn’t left, but now it’s mixed with the pressure of being under the spotlight, surrounded by Tsukishima’s friends.

“I thought you wouldn’t make it,” Yamaguchi adds with a friendly grin. “But I’m glad you could join us after all.”

You chuckle softly, though your mind is still buzzing. “Yeah, I’m sorry I missed the game. I bet it was amazing. Congratulations on the win, you guys are really impressive.”

Tsukishima continues to silently serve you, placing food on your plate as the conversation around the table flows. His friends share stories about the game, and you do your best to laugh at their jokes, but it’s hard to concentrate. Your mind keeps drifting back to the earlier comment—his last game—and the fact that he never told you.

The night passes in a blur of laughter, shared food, and introductions to the other girls at the table. You try to engage, to be present, but your gaze keeps flickering back to Tsukishima, watching the way he interacts with his friends, wondering why he’s been holding back with you lately. The evening is warm and pleasant on the surface, but underneath, there’s a lingering feeling that something important is still unsaid.

You walked in silence next to Tsukishima, the cool evening air brushing against your skin as the two of you made your way back to the dorm. The streetlights cast long shadows on the ground, but all you could focus on was the heavy tension in the air. His silence gnawed at you. It wasn’t the usual comfortable quiet; tonight, it was laden with unsaid words, and you could feel the frustration bubbling inside you, making your chest tighten.

You sighed softly, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. His face was calm, his gaze forward, but there was something off. After everything today—from rushing to your appointment, the sudden dinner with his teammates, to this strange silence—you felt drained. The more you thought about it, the more your frustration grew. Why hadn’t he told you? Why did you have to hear about his retirement from someone else?

After a long moment of brooding silence, you couldn't hold it in anymore. The words spilled out before you could stop them, sharper than you intended. “Why didn’t you tell me it was your last game?” Your voice cut through the quiet night, the annoyance clear in your tone. “You never mentioned that you’d be retiring from the team so soon.”

Tsukishima came to a halt, turning to face you with a look that made your heart sink. His lips twitched into a faint smirk, though there was no humor behind it. “I’m in my last year of uni, if you haven’t realized yet,”

His words were laced with that typical sass you were used to, but tonight, instead of rolling your eyes or laughing it off, they felt like a slap to the face. Normally, you could handle his biting comments, even find them amusing, but after the emotional exhaustion of the day, this hit a little too close to home.

“And what about it?” You couldn’t hide the irritation bubbling to the surface. “Like it’s that hard to tell me personally?”

Tsukishima's expression shifted, the faint smirk disappearing as he met your gaze with a frown. “Did you even interested about this part of my life?” His voice was casual, almost like he was throwing a joke into the mix, but it felt like an accusation.

Your chest tightened at his words. “What do you mean?” You took a small step toward him, your hand almost reaching for his, but you stopped, unsure. The gap between you felt more noticeable than ever. “I’m your girlfriend. Of course I am. I care about every part of your life.”

Tsukishima’s gaze flickered away from you, avoiding your eyes as his brow furrowed slightly. “Then maybe you should’ve asked about it whenever we had conversations.”

The calmness of his voice hurt more than if he had raised it. Your heart sank further into your chest, and you could feel the guilt settling in. He was right. You hadn’t asked—not about volleyball, not about his team, not about his games. You’d been so caught up in trying to navigate this new relationship, in figuring out how to be his girlfriend, that you never stopped to think about the parts of his life that mattered to him.

But still, his words stung. You felt like you were being blamed for something you didn’t even realize you were supposed to do. “Why are you blaming me for something I didn’t know?” Your voice came out quieter now, laced with hurt. “I’m sorry—”

“When was the last time you came to one of my games?” he interrupted, his eyes narrowing as he stared at you. “Do you even remember?”

You opened your mouth to answer but quickly realized you couldn’t. You haven’t been to one of his games in months. Not since Yamaguchi dragged you along during your winter class Since then, you had been too wrapped up in your own academic struggles and the whirlwind of emotions that came with your new relationship to even think about attending.

Tsukishima scoffed at your silence, shaking his head. “I’ll tell you, then. Volleyball has been a huge part of my life for years. Retiring today wasn’t an easy decision, and you didn’t care enough to find out.”

The weight of his words hit you like a punch to the gut. It wasn’t just frustration in his voice now—it was hurt, too. Your breath hitched as you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, his disappointment in you sinking deeper than you could bear.

“I’m sorry, Kei,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. The tears you had been holding back were now threatening to spill, and you hated yourself for it. You never wanted to make him feel this way, and the realization that you had hurt him was more painful than anything he could’ve said.

Tsukishima inhales deeply, running a hand through his hair as if trying to calm himself down. He steps closer to you, his expression softening just a fraction as he places his hand on your waist, pulling you into a gentle embrace. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, though his voice still holds a touch of tension. “I’m sorry I lashed out. Let’s just get back to your dorm.”

But there was still a tension in his body, and you could feel it. His embrace was warm, but it wasn’t the comforting kind of warmth you were used to from him. It was almost like he was holding back—keeping some of his emotions buried, away from you. And that hurt even more.

The two of you continued walking, hand in hand, but the silence that stretched between you felt heavier than before. His grip was firm, as if he didn’t want to let you go, but the air was thick with things left unsaid. You kept stealing glances at him, wondering what he was thinking, if he was still upset, if things would ever feel normal again.

When you finally reached the entrance to your dorm, you swiped your access card, the beeping sound cutting through the tension. You were about to step inside when you heard him call your name softly.

You turned back, your heart in your throat as you met his gaze.

“Next time,” he began, his voice quieter than usual, “just… tell me what’s going on in your life. And ask me what’s going on in mine. We need to update each other. That’s how this is supposed to work.”

His words were gentle, but they carried a weight of importance, and you nodded, guilt gnawing at you. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “It’s my first relationship… I should’ve—”

“I know,” Tsukishima interrupted, his lips curving into the smallest of smiles. “And it’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

His smile was small, but it was enough to make your heart warm again, if only for a moment. You nodded, biting your lip as you took a step toward the door. But just before you could leave, his voice stopped you once more.

“Hey.” He gestured toward the plastic bag you’d been holding from the drugstore. “Are you going to tell me about your sleeping medication?”

Your freeze, heat rushing to your face as you fumbled for a response, completely caught off guard. You hadn’t been prepared for that question, and once again, you found yourself at a loss for words.

decided to post it tonight since i can’t study—my brain doesn’t want to cooperate with me—for my test tomorrow 😖🤧 so wish me luck guys

tagslist (free to mention) ; @theweirdfloatything @snowthatareblack @ilovemymomscooking @nayiiryun @knightofmidnight @kozumesphone @scxrcherr @thechaosoflonging @monya-febrjack

60 notes · View notes

sleepyangelkami · 8 months ago

Text

RESTLESS NIGHTS d.dixon

☆ WORD COUNT - 2.2K

DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - for as long as you can remember, you've always suffered with insomnia. sometimes it was manageable, sometimes it wasn't. the only difference was then you didn't have daryl dixon to help you, now you did.

☆ WARNINGS - sleep deprivation, insomnia, mention of sleeping (lack of), crying, reference to bad childhood, mentions of eating/food, having no appetite, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

sleep never came easy to you.

you remembered being young, standing outside your mothers bedroom door and crying. fat tears would roll down your cheeks as you explained how your eyes simply couldn't will themselves closed anymore and that it was damn near impossible for you to sleep.

she'd always shone you back right to that little bedroom of yours. the walls would enclose on you and yet your eyes would shut, tiredness seeping over you.

yet sleep would never come.

a lot of time has passed since you were a child crying at your mothers door, begging for some kind of an out to this awful insomnia.

before the fall hit, you were a polite young lady that wore summer dresses and skirts all year 'round. you'd walk in through the white door, bell ringing as you entered your doctor's. he'd give you the capsuled tablets that helped you sleep. now, you couldn't even remember what they'd been called.

after the fall, you'd been stocked up, a reasonable amount. though not after long, the name had scratched off, sticker almost gone from the bottle completely. along the way, you met your group, your people, your family. they were more your family than your mother ever had been.

when you and your group found the prison, you deemed that you liked it there.

it had walls, safety, food, anything you ever could have asked for. but soon enough, your medication ran out and the sleepless nights haunted you again.

like today.

carol had made this sort of soup for lunch. you were sat at one of the tables, a spoon in your hand as you stirred it inside the bowl, zoning out. you wondered if it had gone cold by how long you'd been stirring it for. all you knew was that you were too tired to so much as move your arm.

unbeknownst to you, you'd been being watched. daryl dixon had taken a liking to you the moment he'd laid eyes on you. you pranced around with big smiles and happy rosey cheeks with your little dresses and skirts. you were so bubbly and happy, even when the entire world ended. most would think that a person like daryl would find it annoying, rather irritating. but in fact, he was attracted to it the moment he'd seen it. you were like a ray of sunshine, a beaming rainbow. whenever he was around you, he was smiling or laughing. rick almost fell off his horse when he heard daryl laugh for the first time, it was next to you, of course.

but lately, things hadn't been right.

he'd noticed the very first day you woke up with messier than usual hair, a hand running through it with an almost permanent pout etched to your lips, under eyes looking a little dark.

you'd only gotten worse since then.

the sound of a bowl hitting against the table brought you back to life. your doe eyes widened a little as you sat up a little straighter, big eyes gleaming at the man who took a seat at the table you were sitting at, right across from you. "hi, daryl." almost swooning at the mere sight of him.

"hey, pretty girl." yeah, definitely swooning. "wh's up with you? you've been stirrin' the damn soup cold."

you glanced down to your bowl of soup that you'd barely touched. "not hungry." you stated, pushing the bowl out in front of you. you sighed with pouty lips as you laid your chin on your hand.

lack of sleep tended to do that to you. one of two things would happen. one, you'd be craving something like crazy, whatever food it would be from cheese to fruit. or two, the lesser kind one, you'd lose your appetite almost completely. now was the lesser kind one. this one tended to happen when you didn't sleep for longer periods of time.

daryl's eyes were so full of concern and worry. "somethin' wrong?" not waiting to begin having his own soup, carol made a mean soup.

"nope." popping the 'p' sound because really, there wasn't anything wrong, at least nothing serious enough to tell anyone else, you thought. "just tired." tired was an understatement, your whole body was exhausted.

"yeah, i get that." nodding along and pursing his lips. though this behaviour had been going on quite a while. he never wanted to push you, but there were times where he felt like he had to do something. "you'd tell me if there was something wrong though, right?"

you hummed, eyes tracing his own. you were awfully tired and with electric blue eyes like his own, it was sort of hard not to get caught staring into them, whether you were tired or not. "'m just tired." you assured.

though the man didn't look as though he believed you. his eyes traced your own, as though they were trying to figure out what else was wrong.

finally, he sighed, knowing that you weren't going to tell him anything, not now. "alright, sweet girl." watching your cheeks go flush. "you know where to find me if you need me."

you nodded your head, rosy cheeks and pink lips in a smile. "thanks, daryl."

days passed awful slow when you were tired.

thankfully, you'd taken no naps throughout the day so you assumed that by the time night fell, you'd be tired enough to sleep your soul away.

but when the dark sky loomed over the prison, you ready in your cell for sleep to envelope you... you were met with sheer nothingness.

you huffed, closing your eyes and twisting your body.

you thought that if you kept trying, sleep would eventually come to you. you'd tried all the home remedies you could, you tried medication, though that was no longer an option. now, you had hardly any options. the only one that you could think of was shutting your eyes and praying for sleep.

but you knew a long time ago that there was no god in a world like your own.

you turned around for what felt like the hundredth time. even with your eyes strewn closed, a pout still rested on your lips and your brows were knit together closely.

you wondered if anyone else in the prison was awake.

then your mind travelled back to daryl dixon. he looked at you so full of concern and when he'd offered help, he meant it. you knew daryl the best out of anyone and you knew that daryl doesn't say things he doesn't mean. he was the type of man to stay quiet and if he did speak, it was only truth. that was what many people admired about him.

you hardly registered your sock covered feet on the cold concrete ground of the prison. sleepiness was holding so close to you that you hardly registered anything. you didn’t remember your feet guiding your body, turning the corner to reveal the next hallway. and you definitely didn’t recall stepping into daryl dixon’s cell, eyes slightly widening in the dark as you peered around, looking for him.

alas, his cell was empty.

you almost cursed yourself, thinking it was beyond stupid for you to come here in the first place. perhaps you should have just stayed in your cell and waited the night out. you could do one more night without sleep, right?

but before you could turn around, you heard the creak of the cell door. you whipped around to see daryl standing there, looking dishevelled as ever. “what’re you doin’ here, angel?” when you didn’t respond, he found his body moving closer to yours. “shouldn’t you be sleepin’?”

and maybe that was what set you off.

“i can’t.” but you didn’t speak the words with your usual joyish speech, where every word was elongated and practically cheered from your mouth. your voice was all croaky as it broke, like a child, waiting for your mother to open her bedroom door and let you in.

“hey, hey.” his hands were already stretching out, finding your face in the darkness. his fingers brushed against your cheeks, softening the reddened skin. “‘s okay, what’re you cryin’ for?” though his voice was filled with nothing but comfort, the way it softened to fit your own.

daryl dixon truly was one in a million.

you shrugged your shoulders, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes, breaking the dam and sliding down your cheeks embarrassingly so. “i can’t sleep.” voice cracking again, but you didn’t stop there. “i’ve tried everything ‘n i can’t do it.” your head shaking, nose becoming red.

daryl wasn’t exactly new to insomnia. he’d felt it times on his own, usually after something drastic had happened or if something was yet to happen. like when carol’s daughter, sophia had been missing. he remembered not being able to sleep for weeks on end. he remembered glancing into the mirror, his eyes sunken and under eyes practically purple. come to think of it, that was exactly how you’d looked earlier.

he cursed himself for not realising sooner.

“‘s okay, baby, everything’s okay.” he heard your pathetic little sobs, practically whimpering as he took you into his arms. his large hand found the back of your head, steadying it by his chest as you cried, tears running down your cheeks as your own chest practically heaved.

you’d been so desperate for sleep that you hadn’t realised you’d been on the brink of tears. now that you were sobbing into the man’s chest, you found it in yourself to be a little embarrassed. but daryl wasn’t the type of person to let you feel that embarrassment. he merely cooed and shushed you, hand gently massaging the crown of your head.

“‘m sorry.” voice like fragile glass as you pulled away from him. “‘n now ‘m keeping you awake ‘n i―”

“hey,” catching your attention. even in the dead of night, with darkness consuming the room whole, you were still able to make out his rough features, and he could still trace your delicate ones. “you ain’ ever gotta say sorry to me, alright?” you nodded your head, eyes still full of watery liquid and lips puffy and red. “now c’mon, we’re gonna figure this out together.”

you could vaguely make out his hand on the small of your back, leading you towards his bed that was draped in many more blankets than your own.

you’d never realised just how comfortable daryl’s bed was, even through the many times you’d practically hopped into his cell, jumping on the bed excitedly to tell him some form of news that you’d heard, whether it was a piece of gossip from carol or something serious from rick, daryl had always been all ears.

it was very different to the state you were in now.

you still found yourself sniffling as daryl tucked the sheets over your body. the sheets were different than yours. usually, you hated feeling too many sheets on you, finding yourself feeling awfully trapped but when he was tucking you in so delicately, you couldn’t find it in yourself to mind.

then you felt his arm gently plop over your middle, holding your back against his front.

gently, your two hands pushed themselves forward, grasping his much larger one. you fumbled with his fingers, pulling one in, sticking one out. even in the dark when you couldn’t so much as make out the shapes, you still found it sort of lulling.

the feeling of his breath hitting the back of your neck, the warmth of his body flowing into your own. you found your eyes gently shutting.

you wondered had it been this easy all along. If all you’d ever needed as just someone else. you didn’t know but deep down you knew. perhaps that was why you’d waited at your mothers door as a child, crying and begging for her to just open it and let you in while she’d shone you away, annoyed with your antics, wondering why she couldn’t get a normal child. and maybe that was why your feet unconsciously began walking towards daryl’s cell, because even your body knew that all you needed as someone to help you, someone to guide the way.

and daryl was more than happy to give you that.

for the first time in a long time, you found yourself almost succumbing to sleep.

it was almost scary. you wondered if your eyes would force themselves open or your mind would force yourself awake. your entire body feared that you’d blink and wake up in your own cell, had this all just been in your imagination due to your lack of sleep.

the mere thought made a shaky breath fall from your pretty lips.

and daryl was more than prepared to pull you closer towards him, his face practically in your hair. his lips pressed a chaste kiss to your shoulder blade, hand finding your fingers and interlocking them before his arm stretched out around your body, pulling you as close as humanly possible. “not goin’ anywhere.” he mumbled, as though he were able to read your mind.

he spoke again but the words faded out as your tired mind finally put itself to rest.

perhaps you didn’t just need someone else. perhaps you just needed him.

main masterlist/daryl's masterlist

336 notes · View notes

nicothedingus · 9 months ago

Text

spud headcanons because i'm bored

a lot of ya'll liked my wallmark headcanons so here's some spud headcanons <3 there might be some Sarah ones in here too. idk

gentle giant who cares about wildlife. has helped a chick that has fallen out of its nest at least once

lives in the woods near the camp, usually sleeping in a cave or in trees. sometimes visits Sarah and sleeps outside her cabin/on the floor inside

viewed as a cryptid of sorts by people who don't know of the gnarpian attack. there's probably ominous photos of him circulating online at this point

Sarah has set up wind chimes around the camp because 1. Spud likes the sound 2. it helps him remember where the camp is

probably purrs. loudly. if he can make bubble noises i think he can purr and chirp and make other noises okay

learned methods of nonverbal communication so he can still communicate with Sarah when he's overwhelmed :)

tries to socialise but regrets it afterwards

eats out of the trash near the camps mess hall i think. that or he steals the marshmallows. fiend

certified silly straw enjoyer. Sarah has a few because he probably can't drink from cups otherwise. they will have hot chocolate together

has a kandi bracelet with Sarah's name on it. so he doesn't forget it. yeah i know canonically he doesn't remember her very well but i'll always see them as besties still <:)

whenever he gets hurt Sarah gives him cute bandages i think. she covers him in stickers in general

sometimes when he explodes he just. disassembles. he doesn't die his arms just fall off. Sarah has to stitch him them back on afterwards (inspired by this adorable post)

scars. lots of them. has a big vertical one on his torso

went bald after ripping all of his hair out due to the stress of what happened to him, but it's been regrowing well!

wobbles a bit whenever he moves

HOLY SHIT THAT'S A LOT if you guys want more headcanons ummm please do say so my brain is rotting!!!

#dingusposting #regretevator #spud regretevator #roblox headcanon #regretevator headcanon #my headcanons #regretevator spud #regretevator sarah #(mentioned)

157 notes · View notes

tallerthantale · 1 month ago

Text

I think it's time to stop fixating on arguments with the active Good Omens fandom.

Yes, the efforts to keep Good Omens 3 that don't mention the allegations are immensely frustrating. But I don't think it's coming from people who disbelieve the allegations or don't care about them. I think it's coming from people who are taking it for granted that Good Omens 3 won't happen with Gaiman attached beyond IP holder. They think the only two possibilities are Gaiman removed as far as possible or outright cancellation. From their perspective it doesn't seem necessary to mention the allegations, they think Gaiman is already a full blown pariah who's career is in shambles.

That is not how these things work. The allegations still don't have widespread media attention, and he still has countless ongoing publishing deals. The bubbles we are in are very aware of the allegations, but those bubbles are largely made up of people who are terminally online. The wider world is still broadly unaware.

While I would prefer it if efforts to salvage Good Omens 3 consistently made their support explicitly contingent on Neil Gaiman's public sacking, I think there are more productive uses of time and energy then getting into flame wars about it. Overwhelmingly the Good Omens fandom is onboard with efforts to metaphorically launch Neil Gaiman into the sun. They are more allies than adversaries. Let them have spaces to keep talking about their blorbos, don't go into those spaces to accuse them of not believing the allegations or not caring about SA survivors.

Gaiman's ability to maintain wealth, power, and influence is far more connected to his public appearances and publishing deals than it is to a show's fandom that already wants him axed (but forgets that they still have to say that because they think it's obvious.) I don't like the organized 'stream the show more' efforts, but the IP residuals off of additional streamed views are typically very small compared to book sales.

If the goal is to take down Neil Gaiman's ability to use his career to access victims, the primary objective is shutting down public appearances. No convention appearances, no teaching workshops, no book signing events, no speaking engagements. I don't think those sorts of things are likely in the near future, as the current PR strategy looks like an attempt to lay low and avoid the Streisand effect. However, if things do start blowing over in the future, public appearances might start creeping back, and they can be met with in person protest.

The next objective IMO is no new TV / movie deals, no new publishing deals. The general public scandal will suppress new deals for a while, but it won't hold up if the story is only circulated in the fringes and then forgotten about. The methods of raising awareness need to focus on bringing the message to people who haven't heard about the allegations yet, and that's going to mean going real world about it. Leave stickers on power line poles, on bus stop shelters, on bookshop shelves, on shopping carts / trollies. Ask your local news media to cover the story.

The challenge target if those main objectives hold is cancelling current publishing deals. That won't just be about calling on publishers to drop Neil Gaiman, it will also be about calling on people to stop buying his work, so that the publishers have a capitalist justification for dropping him. Always remember, you are not appealing to their better nature, you are appealing to a spread sheet.

The target audience for the 'stop buying NG books and comic books' message is people who haven't heard about the allegations yet. It is not the terminally online wing of the Good Omens fandom, which is already in favor of not purchasing from him.

Current publishing deals are not an easy target. Boycotting efforts are notoriously difficult to organize effectively, and there are plenty of objectively terrible people widely known as such who still get published. Some thoughts I have on it are starting with foreign language publishers in regions where Gaiman isn't as commercially successful, or seeing if local book stores are open to not purchasing more of his books. Keep in mind though, as with any boycotting push, you are asking the most vulnerable people to make the biggest sacrifice. A locally owned small bookshop has the most to lose by not stocking a popular author. Stay kind and respectful.

Edit Note: A previous version of this mentioned a specific user. They have asked to be removed from the post.

#neil gaiman allegations #neil gaiman

44 notes · View notes

2e2ezine · 5 months ago

Text

👁️ LEFTOVERS OPEN 👁️

Leftover sales for 2 Everything 2 Everywhere: An EEAAO Zine are NOW OPEN! This is your last chance to buy a bundle, and physical supplies are extremely limited so get them while you can!

🛒 2e2ezine.bigcartel.com ⏰ June 14 - 28, 11:59pm EST

More information about our available bundles below!

👁️ EVERYTHING ($50)

Everywhere, all at once. This full bundle includes: - 1 enamel pin - 1 magnet - 1 wooden charm - 1 acrylic charm - 2 die-cut stickers - 2 sticker sheets - 4 postcards - 3 prints - 1 A-Grade physical zine - All digital merch

🧧 RED ENVELOPE ($45)

Filled with good luck from our family to yours. This near-full bundle includes: - 1 acrylic charm - 1 magnet - 1 wooden charm - 2 die-cut stickers - 2 sticker sheets - 4 postcards - 3 prints - 1 A-Grade physical zine - All digital merch

🥯 B FOR BAGEL ($35)

Guaranteed to taste fresh and delicious. This B-Grade near-full bundle includes: - 1 magnet - 1 wooden charm - 2 die-cut stickers - 4 postcards - 2 sticker sheets - 3 prints - 1 B-Grade physical zine - All digital merch

🦝 TAX EXPENSE ($30)

We promise our mystery goodies won't be as stressful as filing taxes. This B-Grade grab bag bundle includes: - 1 wooden charm - 4 postcards - 1 random die-cut sticker - 1 random sticker sheet - 1 random print - 1 B-Grade physical zine - All digital merch

🫧 QUICK CYCLE LAUNDRY ($23)

Simple, but efficient and bubbling to life! This B-Grade zine bundle includes: - 1 random print OR wooden charm - 4 postcards - 1 B-Grade physical zine - All digital merch

🪨 JUST BE A ROCK ($20)

This is sure to prove that things do matter. This digital bundle includes: - 1 PDF copy of the zine - 1 "Making of 2E2E" bonus PDF - 18 digital stickers

*This is a non-profit, charity zine! All profits raised after production and shipping costs will be equally split and donated to Red Canary Song and Asian Mental Health Collective.

#everything everywhere all at once #eeaao #zine #zines #fanzines #fanzine #charity zine #film zine #fandom zine #film #films #a24 #zine-scene #zinefeed #zine promo #zine sales #zine leftovers #leftover sales

59 notes · View notes

bloodmoonmuses · 8 months ago

Text

stereo 127 | johnny suh

(for @lovesuhng !!! I hope you like it!!!)

genre: johnny suh x reader, college au, teacher's assistant! johnny, friends to lovers

warnings: none!

summary: johnny is your campus crush. he also happens to be the teaching assistant in your music history class. when you (innocently) ask for help on a project, you end up learning about more than just music.

You’re a bit obsessed with this guy who skates around campus- or the concept of him, more accurately. You don’t even know his name. All you know is that last semester, you (accidentally) memorized his schedule, resulting in you walking to certain classes a few minutes earlier than necessary to catch a glimpse of him. These glimpses were merely a blur, whipping past you like an apparition. He was a ghost to you, and you enjoyed being haunted by him.

Your friends made fun of you for having a campus crush, arguing that it’s not real since you don’t actually know him. However, you honestly preferred the distance. Then, you could fill in the gaps in your knowledge with your own imagination. Admiring him from afar worked for a while- that is, until the start of Spring semester.

When you saunter into your music history class, a random elective you took for fun, you’re met with the elusive Skater Boy. You knew he was tall, but he’s even taller than you’d imagined in your daydreams. You glance at him briefly, before going to take a seat at a desk near the back.

Skater Boy chats with a few of his friends at the front of the classroom, then sits next to the teacher’s desk when the professor enters. You infer that he must be the teacher’s assistant.

This was a big problem. Surely, you’ll fail this class now. There’s simply no way you’ll be able to focus. The breathy laughs that escape him are already distracting you to the point of being almost unbearable. His smile is so breezy, like a wave catching the wind. He looks just as cool here in the classroom as he does on his skateboard.

The underlying crush that lay dormant in you begins to boil, and you know it will soon bubble over, scalding everything in its wake. You couldn’t wait for the burn. In fact, you aimed to spur it on sooner.

You make a concerted effort to pay attention to the professor’s spiel, pulling out your notebook to take notes. It's syllabus day, sure, but you want to look studious. The first assignment of the semester is to research the history of your favorite music genre.

Despite your efforts to focus, your eyes drift to the stickers that adorn Skater Boy’s laptop: Patrick Bateman from American Psycho, an Arctic Monkeys logo and a cartoon surfboard. You want to know everything he likes and commit the list to memory. You want to sew his idiosyncrasies into a quilt and blanket him with your loving knowledge of them.

The professor introduces him as Johnny Suh- a third year music composition major. Now the ghost has a name.

—

You look at the office hours on the bottom of your syllabus. Johnny would be in office in lieu of your professor for the majority of the semester. Would it be so bad to pop in and ask him for help on the first assignment?

While you admittedly feel silly, walking to the Arts and Humanities building looking a bit too gussied up, you swallow the nervousness. You stand in front of the room, reading the placard:

Professor: Dr. Moon

TA: Johnny Suh

You knock on the office door. On the third knock Johnny says, “Come on in!”

Meekly, you enter. He’s too real, too tangible, in this small space. You’ve never been within touching distance of him. The prospect makes your fingers tingle. Professor Moon has an insane book collection, two bookcases spanning the walls opposite one another. The rest of the office is cluttered with a slew of instruments.

Johnny is wearing a backwards hat and quarter sleeve sweater. Your eyes graze the expanse of his forearms, then drift upwards. There’s a pen clipped to his collar and another in between his lips. It’s the most tantalizing pen you’ve ever seen. Finally, you make eye contact.

Introducing yourself, you say, “Hi, my name is _____. I’m in the music history course.”

“Nice to meet you.!” He takes the pen out of his mouth, and your eyes follow it forlornly. That could’ve stayed. “How can I help?”

Johnny gathers some papers, places them in a neat stack at the center of the desk, then sits on the edge of it.

“Um, I’m a non-major. So, I’m struggling a bit with the first assignment.”

Johnny nods understandingly. “Ah, the dreaded favorite genre assignment. What’d you pick?”

“Pop punk,” you say.

“Fascinating. You don’t strike me as a punk person.”

You shrug. “Grew up on it.”

“Have you been to the record store near campus?”

You shake your head.

“It’s called Stereo 127. I think it would be cool to listen to some records and base your research on specific albums. Then you’ll have a clearer framework for when it’s time to write the paper.”

“Thanks. Um,” you clear your throat, “Would you mind… showing me?”

“The record store? Yeah, sure. No problem. Does this weekend work for you?” Johnny asks.

“Sounds good!”

—

Stereo 127 is densely packed with all sorts of records, mimicking the state of Dr. Moon’s office. There’s a classmate of yours named Jaehyun who’s keeping watch of the store. He walks around the shop, reorganizing things as he sees fit. As you peruse the albums, you’re peeking at Johnny over the records, trying to catch his eye. Unlike you, Johnny is actually scanning the selection, genuinely trying to help you.

“Let’s get the obvious ones out the way,” he says, holding a Blink-182 record. He’s somehow managed to track down a copy of their debut album, Cheshire Cat.

“If Cheshire Cat is an ‘obvious’ pick to you, then I’m way out of my depth,” you confess.

“A little pretentiousness never hurt anyone,” Johnny replies.

So far, you have a copy of Green Day’s Nimrod (which you’re quite excited about) and Paramore’s newest album. As the minutes pass, you get gradually more enraptured by the thicket of albums. Before you know it, you’ve accumulated quite a few records. After a bit, you sidle up to Johnny, peering over his shoulder to check out his picks. You spot a Yellowcard compilation record.

“This is more fun than I thought it’d be,” you pipe, turning to face Johnny. His face floods with fondness when he sees the stack of albums in your arms, caramel eyes warming you from the inside out.

“Yeah, you have a good eye,” he retorts. “I’ve been meaning to check out a few other shops around town. Y’know. To compare selections.” He’s sputtering now, having fallen into a cough fit.

“You okay buddy?” you say, chuckling. You gingerly pat his back, holding back a full blown laugh as Johnny continues to cough.

He waves you off, but you pat his back once more for good measure.

“I’m good, I’m good,” Johnny says. When he regains his composure, he continues. “I was just wondering… Are you busy on the 27th?”

—

You’re sprinting across campus, eager to meet Johnny outside of the boys’ dorm. It’s been two weeks since you’ve last seen him. He’s leaning against the building as he waits for you, clad in a page boy cap (which he’s wearing backwards again) and tank top. You allow yourself a quick glance at his arms, immediately regretting it as your face heats up. When he spots you, Johnny waves excitedly, the width of his smile making your own double in size.

After your first excursion, Johnny had asked for your number (“in case you have questions on the assignment!” he had said). Since then, the two of you have texted occasionally, mostly about school.

The record store he takes you to this time is called The Boot. It’s less trendy than Stereo 127 and less organized as well. Most of the vinyls are in bins, withering at the edges and clearly sundamaged. Johnny says he comes here to find obscure records to spin during his DJ sets, not to necessarily hunt for additions to his collection.

“So, you’re a music composition major?” you ask as you crouch down to sift through a box.

Johnny nods. “With a minor in photography.”

“Favorite camera brand?”

“Nikon for sure, but I mostly shoot 33mm film.”

“How pretentious,” you say.

“Oh, you love it.” This is true, you do love it.

Johnny continues. “I found another record store for us to try out after this one.”

“Yeah, just text me whenever.”

—

You had finished your paper days ago, so the subsequent record store outing was completely unnecessary to a certain extent. Johnny had no choice but to admit that he simply wanted to hang out with you- though, he’s not complaining.

The final record store you visit with Johnny is called WAYVE. This time, he picks you up in his car to take you there- a dinky pick up truck with a shitty paint job.

“Before we head out- “ Johnny reaches over, opening the glove department in front of you. His hand brushes your leg briefly.. He pulls out a CD case and places it in your lap.

“I made a playlist for you.” He can’t look you in the eyes properly. You’ve never seen him look this sheepish.

Johnny continues. “Not vinyl, I know, but I wanted to decorate the cover.” Taped to the front of the jewel case is a polaroid of you perusing records. In the photo, your brows are furrowed in concentration.

“When did you even take this, you weirdo?”

“A few weeks ago at The Boot. The lighting was nice.”

You’re practically buzzing with excitement when you get home, racing to put the CD in your busted boombox. The first song on the playlist is Going Away to College by Blink-182.

“I haven't been this scared in a long time

And I'm so unprepared, so here's your valentine

Bouquet of clumsy words, a simple melody

This world's an ugly place, but you're so beautiful to me.”

—

You got a B minus on the paper, which is better than you would've done without Johnny’s help. However, the project is the furthest thing from your mind.

All you can think about is the lyrics of Going Away to College. You’re trying not to read into things, but Johnny wasn’t the most subtle.

Maybe you should make a playlist for him. Or buy him a record. According to him, Johnny’s not a true collector- that was reserved for cameras. Maybe he’d appreciate it.

Johnny spots you walking to class (though he’s sure your next one isn’t for another half hour). He skates over to you, stopping right at your feet. You shriek, almost stumbling backwards.

“What the hell, Johnny?”

He dismounts his skateboard, holding it under his arm nonchalantly. “Do you wanna hang out somewhere other than a record store?”

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

—

The skatepark is overstimulating in the best way. After trying (and failing) to teach you how to do an ollie for an hour, the two of you set up a picnic off to the side of the halfpipe. You eat kimbap off Johnny’s skateboard, using it as a little table.

“Sorry you got a B on your paper, by the way. If it’s any consolation, I didn’t grade it.”

“It’s okay. I’d rather earn a B from Professor Moon than have your biased ass give me a higher grade than I deserve.”

Johnny places a hand on his chest, gasping dramatically.

“Um, what about academic integrity? I would do nothing of the sort!” he insists.

“Oh come on, you’re obsessed with me,” you say, half-joking. To your surprise, Johnny nods to himself, agreeing with you.

“Only a healthy amount though.”

When you and Johnny finish the kimbap, he scooches next to you. The sun is setting, oranges slowly darkening into a wash of deep indigo. You shiver as the sun dips beneath the horizon. Johnny places his jacket across your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you say.

“No problem.”

You place your head on Johnny’s shoulder.

“Um, and thanks for the playlist too. It’s really good.”

“Yeah?”

“It sorta had… a theme to it.”

Johnny suddenly pulls out from under you, leaving you to stumble around for a bit as you catch yourself. When he turns to you, he stares, caramel eyes pouring into your own. You feel warm in spite of the chilly breeze.

“I’ve never really been good with words,” Johnny confesses. “I figured I’d let the music do the talking.”

With that, he takes your face into his hands. He traces your features with the pads of his fingers- running them over your eyebrows, the lids of your closed eyes, your nose and, finally, your mouth. When he’s satisfied, he places a faint kiss upon your lips.

He pulls back, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. “I’m so glad my pretentious bullshit doesn’t give you the ick,” Johnny says.

“Only a healthy amount,” you say through a smile.

Suddenly, you initiate another kiss, your lips crashing into his fervently. When Johnny recovers from the initial shock, you deepen the kiss further. He’s a patient kisser, never demanding too much or taking more than he’s given. This only heightens your hunger for him, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. When the two of you come up for air, you linger with Johnny still in your embrace, his eyes crinkling at the edges with pure joy.

a/n: currently unedited + feedback is always appreciated! thanks for reading!

#bloodmoonmuses #nct 127 #nct 127 fluff #johnny suh x reader #johnny suh fanfic #johnny suh

144 notes · View notes

jwanniie · 9 months ago

Note

Possibility for sfw Hong eunchae x reader going out for a midnight convinient store date? :D

Simple love!

Genre: fluff

Pairings: Eunchae x reader!

Warnings: just cute lovey dovey things, skinship!

The stars shining brightly above you, and the tree leaves falling every once in a while on top of you. Her hand hesitantly found yours, it’s been a month since you and her started dating and it’s been the most adorable and sweetest experience you’ve ever had.

Both of you still shy to do anything really intimate, holding hands and little kisses on the cheeks are the only and the best things you do.

It was a little past midnight and the weather was warm but there was a hint of cold wind hitting your faces.

A little smile plastered all over your faces, and looking at your feet while walking.

Soon you felt an uncomfortable sensation in your tummy, hungry! You held your stomach and Eunchae looks at you worried.

“Are you okay?” She asked care visible in her voice.

“Yeah I’m fine just a little hungry.” You gave her a reassuring smile.

“There is a convenience store near, I’m a little bit hungry too!” She replied, walking towards the direction of the convenience store, leading the way.

You could see a little light from distance and it was probably the convenience store, she lead you to.

“Here we are!” She said in an excited grin, her bubbly and sunshine-like nature never failing to make your heart flutter and stomach makes backflips.

You both went inside the store hand in hand, picking everything you desired. Ramen, boiled eggs,drinks,snacks and sweets. The basket got filled.

You paid for everything and made your ramen in the store before heading out, walking to the park near. Sitting on the fancy bench, that was decorated with bunch of stickers,drawings and writings.

Eating in a comfortable silence, both slurping on their noodles. Sharing your snacks and at the end the drink was last. It was one and you had two straws, both of you drinking like in the movies. Drinking from the straws while staring at each other’s love filled and galaxy-like eyes. You discarded the trash and soon you walked back home.

Fingers intertwined while thumb rubbing comfortably against the silky skin. Such a loving girlfriend you had, this was one of the best days in your life, simple yet so meaningful.

#le sserafim fluff #le sserafim x reader #le sserafim x fem reader #le sserafim eunchae #eunchae #eunchae x reader #eunchae fluff #hong eunchae #hong eunchae fluff

124 notes · View notes

izurou · 2 years ago

Text

THE AIR BETWEEN US FT. SUNA RINTAROU

synopsis: your best friend comes to a realization when you go out on a date — leaving him all alone in his brand new home.

contains: female reader. best friend suna. brief mentions and allusions to marriage. reader is a bit oblivious to rin’s feelings. swearing. lotta banter. one small part features jus rinnie (while reader is on her date) 2.8k words.

note: okok i’ve never written smth like this before but i’m so super proud of it and had so much fun ?!? ahhhh :’)

rintarou’s apartment is warm.

a little place about five minutes from the heart of downtown—rather mundane, and lacking a bit of everything. he has a few decorative pillows and other small trinkets, most of which were pawned off on him by his mother as he was moving out.

almost everything else he now owns was bought on a whim, with no regard for how any of it would tie together in a room. luckily, he had no desire for colour, and opted for neutrals when available.

his home is often quiet, lifeless—whether he’s there or he’s not, varying shades of navy blue seep through the blinds and cast dark shadows onto his walls.

he’s adjusting to it—the solitude. getting himself out of bed every morning, no incessant nagging from his father about it being half past noon, no music blaring from his younger sister’s room. it’s just him, the buzzing of his toothbrush, and the little sticker on his bathroom mirror that reads hello gorgeous, courtesy of atsumu.

and yet, out of the handful of times you’ve been there, the space has felt nothing but alive—with artificial orange hues filling the rooms, and the scent of freshly sprayed linen hanging in the air. even with the crisp breeze floating in through the wide open windows, it’s warm.

but sometimes, it’s incredibly loud.

“professional big spoon?” you hear him howling from the kitchen, mock and hilarity woven into each syllable—and immediately, regret starts to bubble in your chest.

you have a date tonight, soon. it’s nothing more than a casual dinner, with a guy you recently met on a dating app. he’s cute, tall, friendly—which is already more than you could say for most of the men on there, so why the hell not?

of course, upon hearing about the whole ordeal your best friend insisted that you come over the day of. you knew he’d want to poke his nose in your business and ask about the man—but the more rintarou talks, the more you begin to think he invited you here just to ridicule your match.

“this has gotta be the world’s douchiest bio,” he scoffs, furrowing his brows as he stares down at the screen. “6’2 my ass.”

he mutters the last part under his breath, opening his near empty fridge in search of something to wash down the sour taste flooding his mouth.

“what does he gain from lying about his height?” you chime, slipping into the room and watching as rintarou tilts his head back, chugging the remainder of yesterday’s gatorade.

he wipes at his mouth with the back of his palm, shifting his gaze over to you. quickly—he allows his eyes to travel from your head down to your feet, and back up once more.

hm.

“more matches,” he shrugs, leaning against the edge of the countertop and averting his attention back to the screen. “a little confidence, maybe.”

“so, you lie on your dating profile too?” you quirk a brow, tossing your jacket over the back of a of dining room chair. you slink a bit closer, preparing to snatch your phone back as soon as the chance presents itself.

“i don’t have to,” he huffs, jerking his hand away mere seconds before yours comes swooping in. “too slow, thanks for coming out though.”

“rin, stop fucking around,” you grumble, tugging on his arm as he holds it above his head. “you’re going to be the best man at our wedding, right? might as well practice not being a giant ass while you still have time.”

tch.

“hey, easy lovebird,” he hisses, feeling your nails dig into the skin on his wrist. his nose scrunches up and his brows furrow—a grumpy, get the hell away from me face you know all too well. placing the base of his palm flat against your forehead, he lightly pushes you away. “i’ll definitely be the best man there, but i’m not giving any speeches.”

“whatever, give me back my phone,” you mutter, glancing at rintarou’s brand new, never been and hopefully never will be used oven. “we’re meeting at eight, i have to go.”

“here, might wanna declaw before you leave,” he hands over the device and frowns, rubbing at the subtle red line forming near his elbow. “fuckin’ gremlin.”

you ignore his comment, reaching for your jacket and slipping the leather onto your arms. you fiddle with it, shifting and repositioning the fabric until it sits on your shoulders just right. it’s a bit oversized, but not too much, and it compliments the black lace trim on your cami. at least, you think it does.

“do i look okay?” you ask, peering up at rintarou who, is now wrist deep in a bag of calbee hot and spicy potato chips.

“mmm, you look like you do every day,” he replies through a mouthful.

“wow, i’m sure there’s thousands lining up to hear that one,” you laugh, and something resembling a smile forms on his lips.

“what can i say?” he agrees, weakly gesturing to himself before bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking the flavouring off. he strolls over to the front door, where you’re already reaching for the knob—trying desperately to flee. “hey, text me later, okay?”

“will do,” you assure.

“and have fun,” he adds, leaning his head against the doorframe as you step out into the hall. “but not too much.”

“yes, mother, bye now.”

he watches you practically skip down the narrow, dimly lit corridor until you disappear around the corner—and again, he’s alone.

⋆

rintarou props his feet up on his little black coffee table, aimlessly flipping his way through netflix—searching for something, anything to distract his saboteur mind.

it’s dark, the sun has long been set, and hues of navy blue bleed past the blinds. the streetlights outside paint the shadow of a tree onto his living room wall, though it resembles something much more frightening—a monster. could it be the same one who used to hide under his bed when he was a kid?

he continues to scroll until he comes across an anime, ouran high school host club. huh, you like that one. not his cup of tea by any means, but it’ll do—it’s just something to fill the silence after all. a shiver greets rintarou’s spine as he presses play, and he instinctively nuzzles into the collar of his sweatshirt. it’s cold.

craning his neck back, he narrows his gaze onto the window—wide open and practically begging for the frigid air to waltz right in. he inhales, shuts his eyes, and exhales. it’s too far.

he blindly throws his hand over the back of the couch, patting around until he feels the familiar fluff of his old rick and morty blanket. usually, it’d be sitting at the foot of his bed, but he just so happened to be in a similar predicament before you arrived late this afternoon.

he spreads the fleece over himself, and it barely covers three quarters of his body, but it’s a hell of lot better than nothing. he tugs his sleeves over his balled up fists and crosses his arms over his chest, allowing his eyes to close once more.

yes, this’ll do. he can feel himself drifting off, becoming less aware of the sounds emanating from the television, less aware of the nagging thoughts feeding off his brain—except, for one.

vows don’t count as speeches, do they?

⋆

rintarou wakes to a low buzzing—vibrations that stem from the pocket of his hoodie and roll up his torso. someone’s calling.

he reaches, but his hand is forced to take a detour to the back of his neck, where a kink is in the midst of settling into the muscle. a few profanities slip out, all directed at himself for not laying down like a normal nap taking human.

“yeah?” he answers, leaning his head against the back of the sofa while pressing the device to his ear. he didn’t bother reading the contact name—he hasn’t heard from his mother at all today, and she’s made a daily habit of checking in on him, asking if he’s eating proper meals and doing his laundry.

at this point his microwave has stolen the title of best friend right out from under your nose, and there’s a basket of clean clothes that’s been in the corner of rintarou’s bedroom for the past three days. still, he always answers yes.

“rin, did i wake you?”

wait—it’s you. what time is it?

“oh, hey. yeah, you did,” he yawns, squinting at the tv, where a few boys in purple uniforms are talking about—fancy tuna? you are so weird. he pulls back for a moment, peering at the numbers sitting at the top of his screen—9:13 pm. “you home already?”

“no, i’m still here.”

shit, he better start practicing his i object.

“well? did they give him a booster seat?” there’s a teasing lilt to his voice, but his expression remains deadpan.

“he didn’t show up, rintarou.”

yes, maybe he doesn’t have to.

“huh? so you’ve just been sitting there?” he asks, using a finger to push the fluff on his blanket from side to side—against the grain, and with.

“yeah, i had hope for a while.”

he wants to say something—but he can’t decide on what. is this the appropriate time to insert a short joke? usually, he wouldn’t give it a second thought, especially when it comes to you. you’ve been there for at least eight of his top ten most unsavoury comments—such as when he felt the need to guess how many husbands your english teacher has had throughout the years while she stood not two feet away—only to settle on none.

yet, the thought of you sitting all alone at a table somewhere—dolled up and waiting for someone who never even planned on coming in the first place—has the wings of every butterfly in his stomach wilting, causing them to nosedive into his bottomless pit of gatorade and potato chips.

so, he finally decides.

“i’ll come pick you up,” he blurts out, shoving rick and morty off to the side before rising to his feet.

“no, you don’t have to do that,” you protest—guilt lingering in your gut and causing you to second guess your decision to call. he’s been so sluggish as of late—sleeping in past his alarms, napping more often. it’s obvious that life has been doing a number on him recently. the last thing he needs is to be dragged out.

“no? why else would you call?” he hums, shuffling over to the pitch black void where his kitchen is. he feels around a bit until the familiar jingle of his car keys fills his ears. “text me the address, i’ll be there soon.”

he hangs up without warning, leaving you with no choice but to sit and wait.

rintarou grimaces as he nears the door, feeling a gust of wind as it sneaks in through his window and engulfs the entire living room in a frigid hell. he’s tired, exhausted even—and he doesn’t feel like driving right now.

but, he’s glad you’re dragging him out.

⋆

“don’t even say it,” is the first warning you give rintarou when you slide into the passenger seat of his car. he’s sitting, slouched forward a little as he rubs his hands together for warmth. you know the words are right there on the tip of his tongue, but you don’t want to hear them.

“oh come on,” he groans, visibly annoyed by your sudden demand.

“i’ve been embarrassed enough tonight, thanks,” you give him a faux smile—the passive aggressive kind you’d give to an irate customer.

“so, shouldn’t you like be used to it by now?” he mimics your tone, slightly raising the pitch of his voice.

“tch, you’d think so,” you mutter, noting the stray flakes, fluffy and white, that begin to encase his vehicle. huh, first of the season.

a comfortable silence settles between the two of you—nothing but the sounds of wet tires on pavement and an overly enthusiastic radio host.

rintarou’s never been one to offer verbal support to his friends, or anyone for that matter—it makes him feel awkward, vulnerable. he’s more or less always let his actions portray his feelings, so—him taking twenty minutes out of his evening to come get you means something, you’re sure of it.

still, you like seeing him squirm a little.

“why do you think he didn’t come?” your voice is like a dagger, cutting through the silence before settling at the base of his throat.

“dunno, maybe he has trouble getting it up,” he responds, dulling the blade completely.

“rintarou,” you sigh, blunt and a little defeated—but he swears he can feel you breaking skin with the second syllable of his name. eyes on the road rintarou.

“i don’t know, does it matter?” he tries, sweeping your attempt to kill him right under the rug. however, the wound is already there—open and weakening his resolve by the second. “it’s not you.”

“and if it is?”

“it’s not,” he’s firm, hoping that his words drill into that pretty little head of yours. “he’s missing out, would’ve been one hell of a wedding.”

“yeah,” you agree, “i was looking forward to that speech of yours. highlight of the night.”

“what about when i start drunk dancing with this guy’s mom?” he says, glancing over to catch the smile blooming on your lips—and it’s as if that dagger never existed at all.

“you? dancing?” you scoff, watching as rintarou’s skin glows a momentary orange with each passing streetlight.

“just because you’ve never seen it, doesn’t mean it can’t exist,” he’s quick to defend himself—clearly taking your disbelief to heart.

you turn, holding back laughter as a very specific mental image pops into your brain. rintarou—drunk off his ass in a suit and tie, holding the hands of your groom’s mother as he awkwardly tries to dance with her—simultaneously pissing off half the guests in attendance.

you wonder how many drinks it would take for him to get to that point, or if it’d even take any at all—you’re almost certain that a pep talk and a measly twenty from atsumu would suffice.

either way, the thought alone almost has you wishing this date would’ve gone a little better.

⋆

now, the route back to your place is quick—but it’s not the one rintarou took. instead, you’re coming up on the small 24 hour convenience store, which is about a two minute walk from his place.

“rin,” you start, “i thought you were taking me home?”

“huh?” he glances over at you, putting on a faux look of innocence. “all i said was that i’d pick you up.”

“asshole,” you mumble, noting the increase in wind—which is giving the illusion of a horizontal snowfall.

“relax,” he snorts, pulling the car up in front of his apartment. “i’ll drive you home later, now get out.”

you watch as he shoves a hand into the pocket of his sweatpants, lifting his hips ever so slightly to fish a pair of keys out—one large and one small.

“head up, i’ll park.”

he waits for a moment, watching as you scurry up the stairs and into the warmth of the lobby before he drives off into the parking lot.

in a matter of twenty minutes, the weather has taken a turn for the worse—and rintarou braces himself for the short walk to the side door. he’s going against the wind, hands shoved into his pockets, hood blown off his head. he can feel the wind creeping beneath his sweater, penetrating his skin. it’s horrible.

then, it’s not. he’s inside, safe from the storm threatening to tear the building from it’s soil. he opts to take the stairs—remembering what his father once said about taking an elevator during a storm.

his nose and ears are pink, bordering red as he swiftly makes his way down the hall. as he nears his suite—a warm amber glow greets him from beneath the door, and his chest tightens. those damn stairs, maybe he should take them more often.

he swings the door open, and there you are—sitting on his couch, drowning in his blanket, table side lamps on, window shut.

“what the fuck, rin!” you gawk, pulling your knees to your chest and shivering. “close your goddamn windows before you leave.

he can feel it too, this numbing temperature—it’s much worse than it was before his nap.

“also, i cannot believe you were watching this without me,” you cut him off before he has the chance to respond—and he’d expect to be embarrassed having been caught, but he’s not.

he’s happy, because you’re patting the spot next to you while wearing what he thinks has to be the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen. maybe he should start practicing his i do.

because even with the season’s most polar air standing between the two of you,

rintarou’s apartment is warm.

#izurou #suna x reader #suna x you #haikyuu x reader #suna fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #hq x reader #suna rintarou x reader #suna hcs #i love him so BAD he’s so stupid #my baby < 3

974 notes · View notes

the-overgrown-states · 6 months ago

Note

also asks for flor agere hc's

-🕸

bet

feat caretaker Loui

this child

oh my god

chaos incarnate

he’s a 50/50 impure/pure regression

but regardless he is chaos

has an agere room in his house

its FILLED with alligator plushies, items, stickers, etc

Regressed him got to help decorate it!

Loui helped though

has a race car bed

does NOT match his theme

but he wanted it so

a spoiled kid

rarely told no but understands when he is told no

loves going to the beach when regressed

will barge into anyone’s room and yell

“COME TO THE BEACH WITH ME”

doesn’t work 70% of the time

works on California a lot

California & Florida playdates

constantly

usually New York and Loui watch them

sometimes other northeastern states or Alaska will watch them

Florida has had at least one playdate with every state

he is banned from multiple places when he’s regressed

bad habit of biting the other regressed people and not letting go

constantly needs stim toys to distact him

will bite and chew and break anything

calls himself a furniture vampire

eats or bites anything near his face

Loui “Sha eats your vegetables”

Florida “NO”

Loui, bringing them to his face

Florida: oooo bite time- EW VEGETABLES

works every time

Loui doesn’t even hide it anymore

Florida will eat literally anything

Georgia tested it once and gave him soap

Florida was burping bubbles for ages

#wttt #wttsh #welcome to the table #welcome to the statehouse #florida #wttt florida headcanons #wttt florida #wttt floui #wttsh florida #wttsh florida headcanons #wttt louisiana #wttsh louisiana #wttt louisiana headcanons #wttsh louisiana headcanons #tos: 🕸️ anon #tos headcanon #tos rambles #tos asks

15 notes · View notes

shedontsmelltoogooddarious · 3 months ago

Text

Asa's little bug: Growing pains.

I haven't wrote a bug fic in awhile, but I've been getting encouragement for it lately, and I missed these two. Also kinda angsty, and Asa is probably more stricter but lately my brain had been a mess of stuff due to irl stuff-

He watched from above, crouched in the high rising beams as his black eyes glinted- taking in the sight of his precious larva- the child having grown curious, pushing his boundaries as she explored the hotel, careful of the traps set out- but that didn't stop Asa's heart from racing. He sauntered carefully after, keeping a keen eye on every movement. One wrong step, wrong move, and the only light he had left would be snuffed out, forever.

Asa kept himself one step ahead of Cicada, ready to lunge in at the chance of danger. He suddenly growled, his shoulders tensing; “Cicada, stop!”

His deep voice barked, prompting the young girl to freeze mid step. Her own heart pounded against her ribs as her father landed behind her, grabbing the back of her shirt as he yanked her towards himself, another low growl escaping his lips. He turned her to face, his grip firm on Cicada's shoulders.

“What the hell did I say about leaving my sight when we're here? Answer me!”

She was frozen, prompting Asa to frown as his grip loosened. Her eyes welling up in tears before tracing down her pale cheeks, over horrific scarring. His heart wretched at the sight, but his anger was still bubbling; “You almost walked into a trap! Then what am I going to do, Cicada?”

Her eyes widened, she was scared now. Asa was now kicking himself, the angry dog within him was now replaced by the father he became over the years, and he was falling apart at his daughter’s fear, her tears, and the flinch she made when he reached to cup her cheek in his hand broke him. He sighed, looking away from her and up at the faint moonlight that spilled through one of the windows above.

“Box, now.”

Was all he muttered, taking hold of his larva’s arm as he led her back to the upper levels, his own quarters where he kept the things precious to himself safe. Her own box was waiting- a faded crimson color with stickers she had collected over the years stuck to the outside, along with blankets and pillows. It was one of the few comforts Cicada had and wouldn’t let Asa change as she grew older. She immediately climbed into her box, shutting the lid without even looking at her father.

He buried his face into his hands, taking a seat near the box as he could hear muffled soft sobs. Asa did his damndest to refrain from comforting her- she had to learn in order to survive as she grew older and more curious. But punishing her for being freshly 12 wasn’t on his quota either. The box before him slightly popped open, a pair of eyes looking at him through the crack. Within minutes, Through the crack of the opening, a pair of reflective eyes stared down at Cicada, behind a black mask. The crack suddenly became wider yet as the lid opened, a pair of gloved hands reaching down for her before she was suddenly pulled into a pair of strong arms and against a bigger torso as Asa grabbed his own mask and tossed it to the side, revealing his stubbly face.

This time, Ass remained silent- stroking her hair as she cried into his chest, warm tears soaking through the woolen fabric of his black sweater. He sat there, helpless, guilt over taking him as he lifted her chin up and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry for yelling-”

Cicada shook her head, hugging him around his chest. “I’m sorry dad…”

He would remain the night in his chair, hugging her close to himself while she slept within his arms.

#asa emory #the collector #the collection #asa emory the collector #asa emory fanfiction #slasher fandom #slasher fic #slasher imagine #father #horror #fanfiction #slasher fanfiction #fic #angst #hurt #hurt comfort #comfort fic

11 notes · View notes

ennaku-sirri-da · 3 months ago

Text

Me Vs. Apolloneeun Beauty-- A comic PART 2

[ A continuation of a fancomic revolving around a teenaged Dr.Habit from Smile For Me the game and Saint Sebastian, a Christian saint. The songs set to it are Hounds Of Love and Pretty Boy.

Panel 7: Habit reaches out his bandaged, scarred and shivering hand to the glass covering the painting. On the other side there is a symbolic vision of three hands reaching back- topmost is Kamal's hand, glowing with a blue light; below of an older Habit, with a heart patch stitched on his furry hand and with the bandages falling off, glowing with a yellow light; both Kamal and Habit's hands originate from the same point. At the bottom is Putunia's hand, the bandages falling onto her wounds, glowing with a red light. The space near all these hands blurs and distorts in the glass. The whole panel appears darker.

The lyrics to Hounds Of Love read:

Take my shoes off and throw them in the lake

And I'll be, two steps in the water

Panel 8: Finally reveals the painting which Habit has been looking at, which is the one of St.Sebastian by Guido Reni. It is a long picture encased in glass and framed in wood, towering over Habit. He runs his hands over the waist of the picture, we see him from the back. Bright yellow light pours out from the painting, and faintly, a pair of bleeding hands can be seen reaching out from behind it, as if to welcome.

The lyrics to Hounds Of Love read:

I found a fox

caught by dogs

He let me take him in my hands

His little heart,

it beats so fast

The lyrics to Pretty Boy ( written on a pink strip of paper at the bottom) read:

I'm obsessed I've never met someone like you

Panel 9: This panel is yellowed over. Habit holds the ball in one hand, the ball has been covered over with a lovestruck emoji sticker. He moves his hand down further to the thighs of the painting, blushing and biting his mouth, clearly flustered. He makes lip trilling noises, and giggles happily. Big pink and purple bouncy swirls are drawn around him.

The lyrics to Pretty Boy read:

We can play House

when we're together

The lyrics to Hounds Of Love, much smaller text size, read:

And I'm ashamed of running away

From nothing real

Panel 10: This panel has a pink tone. Habit buries his face in his hand, totally embarassed, punching a hole in the volleyball which deflates with a pwoosh noise. Pink waves start to form around him, as if he's in a sea of emotion. A huge thought bubble comes up, a cloud of pink and purple, with two big butterfly stickers, one labelled Ken in purple and the other Heather in pink. Small shiny stones dot the top of the bubble.

The lyrics to Pretty Boy read:

I can be Ken

You can be Heather

The lyrics to Hounds of Love read:

I just can't deal with this

I'm afraid to be there

Panel 11: Habit appears distressed now, looking down and fidgeting with his bobble ties so hard that one of the bobbles pops off and away. He frowns, constricting his body closer to himself. Here he is lined in thick dark marker to emphasise his discomfort. The waves around him are pink and blue now with white foam, becoming higher and crashing harder. Here, the lyrics to Hounds Of Love read:

Among the hounds of love

And feel your arms

surround me

The thought bubble has become a chaotic mass, shown by different bits of colored paper. They read, distorting the hook of Pretty Boy:

" I

Am(me?)

LIKE? Like? Like? Like?

WANT? Want? Want? Want?

!!!! A Pretty Boy !!!!"

The others are a collection of incoherent thoughts including screaming, surrounded by black scribbles.

Panel 12: The whole panel is bright and shining. Habits face is hidden by his hair. His broken green bobble bobs near the painting. He makes a decision, turning on his heel and running away, also throwing the volleyball at Saint Sebastian's painting. The paintings face now appears alarmed with large eyes. The volleyball accelerates with considerable force, streaking aggressively with a rainbow behind it. A piece of saffron cloth with gold tassels is placed near the image. There is a larger amount of flowers sprinkled over the page. Text in various colors, mostly pink and purple, spells out the ending of Hounds Of Love:

Oh, here I go!

Dont let me go

Hold me down

Its coming for me through the trees

I don't know whats good for me

Do you know what I really need?

I need

love

love.( The "love"s are written in rainbow)

yeah

Other text reads:" end". And an addition by Habit, as a throwback to the title, " Spoilers: I WIN!!! ">:-( ( angry emoticon with nose). End ID of comic]

END OF COMIC

Here's part 1

Notes under the cut!!

HEYY Welcome back!!

Panel 7: This one really punched me when I made it- I'll explain.

Basically he's reaching for the glass where the painting is framed- I put an effect on there - I don't know how clear it is-

This one's more personal as well. It's like

A whole thing is when he looks at St.Seb he's not sure whether he wants to BE a guy or just likes him or what

So, you know, "BE" a guy..that would be in the future...this is thinking about the future...thinking about all the possibilities just out of your reach.

Not sure what's there for you on the other side or whether you'll even get there at all.

But he does have a future and people who'll accept him..I don't know about mine, but I'm trying, yeah.

As for ~le hands~

It's completely intentional Habit is reaching the one with the exposed heart-patch out aha

His bandages falling off to tie around Putunia's wounds expresses something about their relationship that I can't really express clearly

And I made his and Kamals hands originate from the same point just to show they're close and have a history!!

The lines where Teen Habbys hands touch the glass become smudged like, to give a surreal effect...the other side, seems like a dream

Gave his hands some slight color at the end because even though he's hell of traumatised, there's still hope and life in him, even if he doesn't feel it

ALSO I realised both his and St. Seb's hands bleed so make of that what you will-- I love my parallels.

Panel 8: I am so warm right now OK here we go-

OK uh I used a real painting LOLs it's the one by Guido Reni

Cropped out the phallic shape because that'd be too awkward for me LMFAO- just saying in case you look it up anyway!!

I have to say one thing this whole energy is really gay WHATEVER the gender is

Nothing straight going on here LOL.

The lyrics actually kinda fit this I think because St. Sebastian was being persecuted for being Christian by Roman soldiers --The Hounds of Love part I mean

Anyway I wanted it to look soft and reverent...imagine Deltarune" The Holy"

I love that track

Uhh here's the description of this painting from that list I mentioned earlier( in part 1) just because it SENT me: "he is SUCKING IN HIS STOMACH and JUTTING OUT HIS HIPS, I adore how much he is not bleeding from his two shallow flesh wounds and how carefully he has been trimming his bikini zone"- KILLED ME

Also hmmm actual explanation alright- I'm just spouting vaguely organised thoughts so excuse my chaos.

I wanted the light to be so bright like it came from heaven

Just pure exhilaration

Coming home even. Getting closer.

As for the hands here--

Saints ≠ God, just the suggestion of the divinity/holiness you believe in taking you in unconditionally, bleeding like you and hurting like you- an understanding.

The glitching is again, a surreal effect...the other side. Worlds breaking.

And on a more personal level it's his dissonant feelings. Like this is wrong!!( Everything tells him)...he shouldn't want this...but the undercurrents of ' Hounds Of Love', that's his overwhelming, ball-busting desire to push on anyway.

But wait up! I gotta quote Whipping Girl.

I remember in that book, she( Julia Serano) said something about how everything tells us what we're doing/feeling is wrong, but we have these innate cross gender aspirations and find ways to express/ feel of ourselves queerly anyway. It's power,in my opinion.

Before this gets too long, it doesn't only have to be about gender and I think it can speak to Habit much more as well in terms of being himself but I just wanted to emphasize that part because I think it's. Amazing.

Tangential but remember the Bible story of the Prodigal Son? I had it in a kids book. It was one of my favourites. It struck with me all these years, I think it's a beautiful story.

It really goes against, that, like " Be perfect and conform or go to hell" thing some people think religion is about. Also I think the prodigal son 'coming back' doesn't necessarily have to be conforming, I think it was just about like. Trying to be a better person.

Oh..and one of the arrows look like they're going through Habit instead- my friend pointed that out. Mirroring, beloved!

Panel 8: I think the flowers have a full effect in this one I really really adore it.

Also HJDJF Casanova's moved on to the thighs- I know it's not very clear so I'm saying

And! I learned that lip trills are also singing exercises- and I recall that in my headcanons Habit had to practice singing for some reason or the other and he liked it--so it could also be related to that.

Tldr; he is so fucking cute I'm gonna explode motherfucker!!!!!😍

Hes stimming!!!

Anyway, Hounds Of Love adds an emotional edge to it you know? Like Pretty Boy is mostly Habits surface attraction(" OH NO HES HOT") going on but it's also so much deeper than that, so I think these 2 songs really tie things together.

Panel 9: A VERY super relatable panel to me-- I'm like floored those lyrics express me SO much

*Deeply breathes* From the TOP- Ladies, gentlemen and Legends

The butterflies are like wall decoration I'm pretty sure-

I saved two from the sticker paper. MY sister and her friend were playing with them and they stuck one on a teddybears ass for some reason??? Like OK butterfly butt

I just had to make the Ken purple, it was my calling, it felt so righttt

Genderqueer Ken and twinky gay man Heather </33

Heather is not actually a Barbie doll btw I found out on googling. Also! This sprung out of overthinking in the bathroom but

OK so you see how 'Ken' and 'Heather' are represented by similar looking butterflies? That got me thinking about how Habit processes gender

And I was reminded of the thing I heard about autistic people having higher rates of gender nonconformity than neurotypical people.

Basically I think his gendered concepts are abstract but he still has aspirations he's drawn to, if that makes sense.

And uhhh that's a thought bubble incase it isn't clear, more like a thought cloud or a thought sky really. If you look close enough you can see the spiral swirls I so love to draw< 3

The stones are pretty messy so here's a clearer shot:

[ ID: Clearer unedited shot of shiny decorative stones. End ID]

And notice how "there" is purple( the queer color, to me) too! That really got me when I did it. I just. FEELINGS

...I do worry sometimes about if I won't like my voice if I ever get T and I can't go back to before and stuff. It's a little nerve wracking for sure. But you know *waves my hands around*

Anyway, those stones were last minute additions!! It was in the same cool box I found some nailpolish in </3

I wanted it to look like stars sparkling. ALSO a kind of. Scrapbook feel. Because he's a kid and also scrapbooks are fun!

Also I looked it up and apparently the heather flower can mean good luck, admiration and protection as well and I think all 3 fit St.Seb. It's heartwarming for me to think Habit would associate protection with him; someone who usually seen to be so vulnerable and weak

Like. It's not a bad thing to be ''weak''like that is what I'm saying, I guess. There's value it it, as a sensitive soul myself( not to be pretentious; it does cause me lots of problems and it's not flowery all the time)- I can relate.

Panel 10: Ahhh. There we are. Yes. The explanation:

Ok so I'll start with a little thing- he popped one of his bobbles out of anxiety.

The designs are waves crashing into him, from the previous page. And now- they're everywhere now.

And you know I did blue because water but I think it could also work with blue being the western color of masculinity.

Honestly. The foam looks kind of soft. Maybe it's not so scary to...step in the water

What're the black lines? Maybe a rudimentary shield- maybe him being hyper aware of all the edges and curves of the body feeling all uncomfortable now. It's dissonance.

ALSO not to break the mood but the 'BSOD BSOD' in the corner kills me like LOLLL Blue Screen Of Death

It's like euphoria and dysphoria together tbh. The grimmer thoughts descending from above but still the rose colors are rising from below - I showed it with the black/rose blurs.

Also- " feel your arms surround me"

Most of all- He feels loved

How do you deal with that?

There's hope yet. The shields all splintery. <:-)

Blue, pink and white BINCHHH 🏳️‍⚧️

And LAST thing you can see a small gleeful "eeee" UP there that descends into a keysmash AHA keysmashes in general are a great way to show all sorts of conflicting feelings I think.

Panel 11: Last panel..!!

OK so this is THEEE messiest one I think. Also kinda abrupt but it fits with the action going on I guess. I'm satisfied enough with it. This comic is very good by me :)

OK so basically he got overstimulated and

[ GIF ID: Naruto running and doing his Rasengan move. End ID]

RASENGANNNN!!!!

That is sooo fun to say I said it IRL one time dramatically throwing a ball to my friend and OMG that was years ago! Anyway! It's all Hounds Of Love now.

" Spoilers: I win!!! >:-("

Yes baby you really won by growing up and being yourself and healing and living your best life < 3 keep doing it

R.I.P Seb he was gay stood up, our hearts will forever remember him

This is why you don't FUCKING mess with eggs 🏳️‍⚧️ then youse get arrowed and a volleyball to the face. O woe!!!😭

Honestly I was not sure how to do this one

But it all worked out quite marvelously - tha ball+vivid colors+ rainbow+ stars/sparks is my favorite, Habit looks like he's making a LGBT comet or something

It's just sweeping

I realised the wood actually looks kinda woody FJJF Not sure how that happened- glad le swirls are somewhat preserved.

Also I will bring to your attention that the biggest flower in this whole thing is the yellow on the bottom right, nothing more intended to that I just thought it was near. Also I sprinkled the most flowers on here I'm pretty sure LOL something something Habit is sploding!!!!

Oh oh oh and!!!

Honestly it's funny to me the kinda passive aggressive/confused way Habby thinks about the painting in this whole comic

Habit when I help him figure out all his fucked up feelings:

[ ID: "Had it not been for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered you."-- a memorable quote said by a child character wielding a dagger in a scene from the 2014 Ghanaian film 13.30 Kaba Church. End ID]

And what else!! Lookie hes all bright here!!! Glowing!

That fits with the LGBT comet thing actually Habit you ARE a star you are the SUN

[ ID: A screenshot from the game Smile for me where Dr. Habit in his dentist outfit questions: "I sea that look in you're eyes...are you STARST-( RUCK?)". end ID]

Yeas. We are.

Oh and lore about the orange cloth with golden tassels. Huh got nothing actually it's just aesthetic and makes everything looks brighter and gives an 'ending' feel to me.

Also- Bro you threw your heart at him( REMEMBER the volleyball is a heart metaphor??) ? It's so funny to me actually like OK LMAO you won you won don't kill me LMFAO

And a serious thought isss

Ok. This is actually a bunch of things together- let's see if I can make it make sense. Before that-

We must importantly note he has left his green bobble bouncing near the painting- like Cinderella's shoes except instead of getting him a prince they're gonna get him caught for breaking a prized artifact HDHJF awe...

Now, I think the concepts I'm about to say are important and I'd love to seem them incorporated more. Yeah if there's one thing I've gathered from the disability advocation I've read in my life it's that like. You shouldn't need to be a "productive member to society/family/friends" to have inherent value and that what's important is putting yourself first a lot; caring for yourself( or getting help for it if needed) best as you can

I say "shouldn't " because the world doesn't work that way currently so of course people will have conflicting feelings over this but it's a healthy ideal, I think. Weak is a loaded word but that could be another way Habit can think about St.Seb's vulnerability and how it relates to him.

Yeah I know, I thought" damn could a 17 year old arrive at such a momentous conclusion over just a painting " BUT!!

I think Habit would uhh focus and think about it a lot like how I think about him a lot TBH

and yeah 1 painting can get used up fast so he'd try to collect more info!! Also I don't think his thoughts would be these exactly; just close and also filled with doubt and worry you know.

My friend said something about this- something along the lines of Habit overworking himself later. So he still has those ideals about being productive internalised. But he also has an idea deep down about the different things St.Seb taught him- that you don't need to be that way - you are worthy as you are.

OK I'm done!! Thanks for reading!!!

The last thing is: I think he'd try to ask Martha( the local school bathroom ghost in my AU-- I have more posts about it on my blog here) and her answers would be along the lines of " I don't give a fuck, honey" LOL-- but uh. I guess it's not totally out of the question that Habit might try to ask about St.Seb's sexuality haphazardly AHA

#My art #Fanart #Fancomic #S4m #Smile for me game #Smile for me #Dr habit #Boris Habit #St Sebastian #Religion #Trans #Queer #roseverse au #tw gender dysphoria #Semi nudity

5 notes · View notes