#but not sleeping well triggers my migraines
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I was talking to my therapist about some of the things I hate about going to the ER(despite often needing to bcs of all my health problems) and I mentioned that I will refuse to tell them that I have an anxiety disorder unless I absolutely have to bcs the second I do everything from the treatment options to the way the doctors and nurses speak to me immediately changes, sometimes to the point that they refuse to do anything to treat my symptoms bcs "it's anxiety" and I "just need to calm down", and she said something really validating.
Paraphrasing, but basically she said that yes, mental illnesses absolutely have physical symptoms, and sometimes treating the underlying mental causes helps alleviate those symptoms, but that doesn't mean those physical symptoms aren't debilitating and don't deserve to be treated exactly as you'd treat a physical illness or injury. Especially bcs treating the underlying mental issues can take months, if not years, and the people with those conditions don't deserve to suffer horrible physical symptoms in the meantime. It doesn't matter where the symptoms are coming from, brain or body, you should treat them the same, and it's ridiculous to expect people who are suffering to tough it up and go to therapy bcs "it's just a mental illness thing".
Hell, she even said that the physical symptoms of mental illnesses and trauma can be so debilitating they make therapy less effective, bcs it's HARD to address this stuff, and it's even harder if you're doing it while your body is destroying itself.
So yeah, if your anxiety makes you nauseous, you deserve nausea medication. If your anxiety is making your chest or back or wherever hurt you deserve pain medication. If your ptsd is giving you insomnia, you deserve sleep medication. It is critical to your well-being and makes healing easier.
And I have had so many doctors refuse to do anything to help with the very real physical symptoms of my mental illnesses to the point of refusing to give me sleep medication despite the fact that my chronic insomnia is doing real damage to my life and body bcs it's "just ptsd", and I hate to see people in the disabled community continue to perpetuate that mentality. Someone suffering from insomnia caused by some other physical issue leads a very similar life to the one I do, why does it matter where the symptoms are coming from? We have this in common, we can understand each other, we can even help each other, what's the point in pretending otherwise?
Your brain is part of your body, and if your mental illnesses are making it difficult for you to live your day-to-day life then, as far as I'm concerned, you are disabled. Managing mental illnesses and trauma has EVERYTHING in common with managing physical illnesses and injuries. They have everything to do with each other. It's ridiculous to suggest otherwise and idk why people are so determined to do so anyway, to draw lines between our communities, especially with all of the harm that comes from treating mental illnesses like they can't actually fuck up your body.
We have so much in common, and we only stand to gain from coming together and supporting each other.
Anyway yes, people who can X should be accomodating to people who can't X. People who can walk should accomodate people who can't. People who can hear should accomodate people who can't. People who can see should accomodate people who can't. And on and on. When that doesn't happen, it's a problem that deserves to be talked about.
But the problem is not and has never been "physical disabilities are more important and deserve more accomodations than mental disabilities"- nor the other way around either.
People love to dunk on folks with ADD/ADHD but you know? As someone with ADD raised by diabetic parents I gotta say there's a lot of similarities here. People with ADD, myself included, often forget to eat and when they do eat they often load themselves up with carbs and sugars because those foods make their brains feel good. People with diabetes have to closely monitor their meals and often crave sugars and need a blend of sugary and protein-rich snacks on hand. This is not to say ADD and diabetes are exact one-to-one disabilities.
But having grown up watching my parents manage their diabetes, I too am very aware of meal times and blood sugar and constructing meals that will tide you over and having a blend of sugary and protein-rich snacks on hand Just In Case. I am able to manage my ADD better in this way because I have experience from watching my parents. I also need access to snacks and to be able to say to my boss "I need to go eat something real fast" without being punished.
I had a training client who was the image of "able bodied mentally ill" outside of the usual creaks and squeaks associated with age, her body worked just fine. But after a series of incidents in her youth- a car accident that left her with a serious brain injury, coming home from the hospital afterwards to immediately have her house broken into and herself raped by an intruder, and assorted medical malpractice while she was healing from both- she has a serious and extreme case of agoraphobia and spent the next 40 years completely unable to leave the house. She would hide and wail and scream when deliveries of groceries and other goods would come, because it meant a stranger (and usually a man) would be at her door. She could not go more than a couple steps outside to get her mail and especially not if other people were outside.
At some point her therapist suggested getting a pet, one that *had* to go outside, to help her. So she got a dog and contacted a trainer (me) and we got to work. And she did improve! The dog has been a huge help to managing her symptoms! But you cannot seriously expect me to have worked with this woman for years and then belittle mental illnesses as being lesser when this woman also shares the inability to even leave her house let alone go inside a grocery store. Even today there are times when she simply cannot, she cannot will her body to move out of her door and into transportation let alone into the building.
When she first started coming to me she thanked me for not belittling her or making her feel bad for classes she had to cancel because she couldn't force herself to take the first step over the threshold. That is when she told me what happened to her and that while it sounds terrible she was really happy to have found a trainer who knew something personal about trauma and brain injuries. She is also a case where I feel her ESA should be considered service dog not because of training or tasking but because her need is so high and she is just completely incapable of doing anything without the dog in her arms.
Anyway I think of her any time someone says "but you can walk through the door". There's nothing wrong with her legs so in theory sure she could. But often she *can't*, not because of anything physical, but because she is very severely mentally ill.
#like yeah my ptsd is giving me insomnia#but not sleeping well triggers my migraines#which in turn does tons of horrible shit to me#so I don't really think there's as much of a distinction between my mental issues and my physical ones#they are very much the same#long post#ask to tag#rape mention
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naurrrr guys i think i know what's causing my migraine auras.... i started taking melatonin last month 😭 rip me getting a good night's sleep i guess
#my google searching has revealed that melatonin actually is used to treat migraines sometimes#but some people have noted it as a migraine trigger for them. so. i'm just in that lucky minority i guess 🤪#i'm gonna stop taking it for a while and see if that helps. like i hope it does but also this sucks because i've never slept this well#if anyone has recs for other otc sleep aids hit me up lmao#something something the tumblr user base is aging blah blah blah#m.txt
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i actually havent been able to stop thinking about good omens all day and now it's almost 4am and it's like my mind is just straight up refusing to go to sleep because i need to scroll the good omens tumblr tag or i might d
#i hate having a fucked up sleep schedule#especially because it can trigger my migraines#shrugs#oh well
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Migraine🕷️
Summary: You get frequent migraines but they’ve been mia since the apocalypse but even since you got to the farm they’ve returned but you didn’t wanna bother anyone until Daryl finds you balled up on the floor in pain
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader
Request by @avrmee
•Masterlist•
Soul crushing migranes were always a struggle to deal with before the world ended, but there was ways to try and relieve them, medicine, piercings, acupuncture but now that it’s been about a year and there was no more medicine or anything really the migraines came back and almost stronger than before
They’d come on when the heat was high and the sun was near blinding, triggering what ever it was in your head to cause crippling pain that no matter how much pressure you applied to your eyes or the amount of water you drank it didn’t matter, but in this world you couldn’t afford to take a day off especially with all the work the others were putting into the prison it was only fair you pull your weight even through the pain
Walking out of prison, opening the door to the blinding white light that was the Georgia sun stung just hoping it didn’t flair up another episode, walking out to the court yard where Daryl was tinkering on his bike you sat next to him
“I missed you this morning” you said leaning your head against his shoulder as he used a wrench against…..well you have no clue but you loved watching him work
“Sorry ya know I’m an early riser plus ya’ve been sleeping lot longer now, ya okay?”
You didn’t wanna worry him and tell him that after these long days of over exerting yourself in the heat that the pain in your head kept you awake late into the night causing you to wake up later than everyone else
“Oh yeah I’m fine, just tired is all, plus I got a beautiful sight next to me at night it’s hard to fall asleep” you laughed poking his side making him gruff out a laugh
“Well I have to go work on the crowd of walkers around the fence, if you need me I’ll be there” I said leaving his side walking down to the entrance gate, using a pole to take down as many walkers as you could working your way down the fence, working for hours when you felt an aura around your head, the groans and snaps of jaws became louder and overwhelming, your knees became weak, you became nauseous as your vision became blurred and specked with black dots, all topped off by the painful pressure in your head
Losing control you dropped to the gravel clutching your head in your hands, knees tucked up to your chest, whining from the pain, this is one of the worst it’s ever been, in the distance you could hear your name being yelled but everything was so overwhelming you couldn’t even process it until the screams got closer
“Y/n baby what’s wrong” Daryl asked holding your body close to his, your head in his lap as he rubbed your back
“It…….it hurts so much” you whined as you clutched your head more wishing for this pain to fade
He just held you for what felt like half an hour trying to comfort me, the walkers noises started to dwindle someone must have came down with Daryl to take them out, you huffed out a breath as the pain subsided a bit giving you enough strength to sit up, seeing his worried expression
“What happened?” He asked brushing my disheveled hair back
“I get this awful migraines, I didn’t wanna say anything and use it as an excuse but they keep me up at night but sometimes they get so bad, like this and I don’t know how to stop them”
“Darlin ya should have said something, we’d understand, I could’ve tried to help ya at night”
“I know how hard you work all day you need your sleep”
“But if yer feeling sick yer more important, promise me you’ll let me help ya”
You bit your lip hesitant not wanting to be a burden
“Y/n” he said sternly
“Okay I promise”
“Good, ya know yer damn stubborn”
“You love me” you said smiling
“Yer lucky I do”
#twd fanfiction#daryl dixion imagine#twd daryl#daryl dixon#twd x reader#twd fluff#daryl dixion smut#daryl x reader#daryl imagines#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon twd#daryl fanfiction#daryl dixon smut#the walking dead daryl#daryl x female reader#daryl x you#daryl x y/n#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon fluff#twd season 3#the walking dead negan
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Okay maybe i jinxed myself but I had a bad nausea episode last night, bad sleep, and a migraine this morning. Who knows what triggered what. I’m resting and taking it easy now, but seriously body, wtf!?
Advantages to being in the tropics:
My joints are pretty happy with the humidity- yay less pain on the daily!
My nails are growing ridiculously fast I feel.
Dry skin issues (nose, ear, hands) have cleared up. Yay moisture!
I’ve been pretty lucky re migraines so far.
Food has also been working out okay. Which is good. More meat than I usually eat, but I’m doing okay. Lot of soft fruit which is divine.
Disadvantages:
You know you drink a lot of water. But when all you can drink is bottled water you get a pretty ah, visual representation of how much you’re really drink by the waste you leave behind. It’s a looooot of water bottles. We keep leaving these little “water bottle graveyards” in our room.
It’s hot. Humid. My pots has been a little fussy, and I’ve upped my am meds to give me a bit of a better chance. Get a bit woozier than normal, but not having as bad a time as I thought.
Sweating like a pig with ASF (African swine fever). About as pink as one, too.
Swollen legs most days with blood/fluid pooling. Bit irritating. I do have compression socks I should be wearing,,,, but hooooootttttt.
Sunburn (my own fault). Needed to remember that being on photosensitising meds means to cover up more, despite sunscreen, even if the singlet feels cooler. Between covering up, umbrella, and spf 50 I’ve not had a repeat incident.
A few mozzie and bug bites, but really not that bad.
On the whole I’m having a great time. Yes it’s a little tricky and yes it’s a bit uncomfy but it’s so much fun and I’m learning a lot.
#the ups and downs of chronic illness#fieldwork ‘24#so nausea was food related I think. had a new food at dinner. but could also be the build up#bc my digestion has been a bit sluggish. not sleeping well from nausea prolly triggered the migraine.#I’m glad it’s mild and I caught it with meds early but gah I wish I didn’t get migraines.
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Hey folks, this post is super personal and basically a long rant about health issues and the state of the healthcare system, so please proceed with caution especially if any of that is triggering to you. But if anyone else who maybe has some experience with these things and wants to offer some advice, I welcome it because I’m truly at a loss right now.
I’m really trying to be hopeful that my health issues will get figured out and I’ll finally get help for what I think is an autoimmune condition that is existing just under the diagnosable levels, but I’m losing any faith I had left in the healthcare system. The truth is I haven’t felt normal since 2021. I never felt better than I did while I was pregnant and then the year afterward. (Aside from the blood pressure issues at first lol) I keep find myself missing who I was back then. I was able to do so much, hike so far and high up, I had so much energy and I felt great. My blood pressure was under control, my blood sugar was perfect without restricting what I ate, my body wasn’t constantly inflamed and in pain, I didn’t have multiple migraines a month, and I didn’t have problems sleeping. I keep asking myself over and over what I did differently then, but I just can’t understand why I got so bad so quickly while they keep telling me it’s my fault because I’m just fat and not eating well or exercising enough. It’s maddening and I’m tired of hearing that. The reason I’m not exercising as much any more is because I’m constantly in pain or dealing with being sick. (And I eat SO well, better than I ever have before like wtf. And I do still exercise to be clear, I’m in nature every change I get.)
I was really hoping that I wasn’t going to face this here like I did in America, but it really seems like doctors just do not care about your symptoms and if you’re not presenting with the exact blood levels they studied to diagnose things, they’re just convinced you’re either making everything up or exaggerating.
So far I know I have: insulin resistance, high blood pressure (managed), PCOS, I’m hypermobile (which has been confirmed but no one’s bothered to look into it and any possible comorbidities), I have lipedema in my arms, hips, and thighs, chronic migraines, subclinical hypothyroidism, iron deficient anemia that I have to keep getting infusions for, and basically my whole life I’ve had headaches and heart palpitations. Phew.
I’m just at a loss here. This past year alone I’ve gained 30 lbs without changing anything, and if I bring this up I’m just told to stop eating carbs which is just absolutely not helpful. It’s clearly a symptom of whatever is going on and not the other way around. I’m so tired! And on top of the usual symptoms, I now spend basically October through April being sick with various coughs, infections, etc with little breaks of being normal in between.
Has anyone else dealt with this and have you found anything that’s helped? I try really hard to take care of myself, but it feels like these days nothing is really making a difference anymore.
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Mutual Mixtapes T | 544 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is letting him pick the music
Steve hates metal music. He hates how loud it is, how the higher notes on an electric guitar grate on his brain. He hates how it always triggers a migraine when it's played too long, how it makes them almost blindingly painful when it's played too loud.
But Eddie loves Metal. It always makes him visibly happier, excited, energetic.
As long as he pays close attention to himself, Steve can get through Eddies metal music. He knows that Eddie will turn it off, or turn it down, the second he asks.
It's worth suffering a few mild headaches to see Eddie so joyful.
"Which ones do you like?" Eddie asks him one day, out of the blue.
"I don't know, they're all great," Steve lies.
But Eddie rolls his eyes, tutting. "You hate most of them, it's fine, I know. Are there any that you do like?"
"Uh... that master puppet one that has that line that goes, uh... 'sleep my friend and you will see, the dream is my reality'. That's kinda good. But, uh, I don't like the heavy guitars it gets into."
"So you like the first three minutes, got it. That ones not too heavy for you?"
"It's a little heavy, and that start bit with the high guitar is, like, bad, but it's pretty alright. I like the words."
Steve forgets about the conversation as soon as he gets to work, distracted by Robins rambling and their work.
It doesn't come up again for a few days too, so when Eddie is holding a mixtape and grinning at him, excited, he's confused.
"I made you a mixtape! Well, technically us."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, I think you might like it. If you don't, it's ok."
He puts the tape in and, when it starts to play, Steve is surprised. The first song that plays is... nice. It's nothing like the music he's grown used to Eddie playing.
"What is this?"
"It's Black Sabbath."
"This is Black Sabbath? Are you sure?"
Eddie laughs. "Yeah. It's a short one. Orchid. Thought it'd be the type of song you'd like."
"It is. Yeah, this... it's lovely."
Some of the other songs are edging a little too close to 'too much', but most of them are alright.
When Welcome Home (Sanitarium) plays, Eddie tells him the name and explains how he cut it up so the parts that Steve mentioned not enjoying aren't in it. It ends up sounding a little choppy, but Eddie is proud.
"What do you think?" Eddie asks, pausing the tape when he pulls up outside the new place Steve and Robin are working at.
"So far? Great. Some, um... they'd be better played a little quiet, but I like them. Thank you, for doing this."
"Don't worry. I want you to enjoy music with me, not suffer through it for me."
"Well, I loved that first one."
"Good. I'll try and find more like it."
"You don't have to."
"But I want to."
"Alright," Steve huffs, ducking his head. "Thank you."
Eddie shifts, turning so he can look around them, before quickly leaning over to kiss Steves cheek. "Stop thanking me. Just be honest when you're miserable, ok?"
"Alright."
"Go on then, out, I have another mixtape to work on."
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Chapter 1: Got the News Today, Doctor Said I Had to Stay
Collaboration with the fabulous @corroded-hellfire
Series Summary: Based on the Jonas Brothers song of the same name. You and Eddie share a hospital room in the wake of Hawkins' turmoil, striking up an unlikely friendship that could lead to much more.
Chapter Summary: When you're stuck in the hospital after the Hawkins "earthquake," you're surprised to find comfort in your new roommate, Eddie Munson. But when you find out that your injuries may compromise your dreams, the cheery façade threatens to come crashing down.
Warnings: eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), Eddie survives the Upside Down, hospital, mentions of surgery, controlled use of pain medication
WC: 3.9k
A/N: There will be six chapters to this series, one for each Jonas Brothers album. Try to spot the Easter eggs we've planted throughout!
Divider credit to @firefly-graphics
“I said, get this murderer out of my room!” A shrill voice from across the hall startles you from your sleep. The digital clock on the bedside table reads 7:05, but you can’t be sure if it’s morning or evening. The bright lights of Hawkins General Hospital have your internal clock all jumbled, and the constant barrage of nurses checking on you certainly doesn’t help.
“He should be locked up in prison or rotting on death row, not using precious resources that could be used on law-abiding citizens!” the shrieking woman continues, and you grimace as your head throbs. It seems like the pain never ceases; it only travels around your body. You’ve been here for two days, and you have more questions than answers.
There’s quiet for a few moments before the door to your room swings open and a second bed is being wheeled in, more IV lines hooked up to the poor patient than you’ve got going on. A nurse pulls the curtain separating the two sides of the room before you can get a look at whoever is lying in the bed.
“Well, that was a record,” a male voice says from the other side of the curtain. “How long before that one freaked out? Six minutes?”
No one answers the man, but you can hear nurses and orderlies setting up any equipment the patient would need.
“Don’t blame them,” a woman eventually mumbles, moving a machine over. “Kid killed a cheerleader and then fled the scene. I wouldn’t wanna bunk with him, either.”
A new pair of footsteps joins the crowded room, but this time it’s just your nurse, Mandy, coming in to check on you. She’s a pretty blonde woman, and though she’s usually smiling, her lips are puckered into a pout.
“I know this is far from ideal,” she says softly, checking your vitals and marking notes on her chart, “but we’ll have people in here making sure nothing happens, okay?”
“I think she’s pretty harmless, just loud,” you lightly joke, assuming that Mandy’s referring to the banshee across the hall. “Worst thing she’ll do is trigger a migraine.”
She shakes her head. “No, hon. I’m talking about your, uh, new roommate. Edward Munson.”
Well, that explains the whole murderer outburst. Still, you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Eddie? I went to school with him. Guy couldn’t even be bothered to turn in his part of a group project; I highly doubt he could pull off a murder.” You’d think he would have had something done, considering it was his second time taking O’Donnell’s senior English class, but he’d shown up empty-handed, leaving his poor partner scrambling at the last minute.
Mandy nods, looking a little relieved herself. Maybe the thought of her having to be his nurse had been eating at her.
“Is he awake?” you ask. You can only assume he’s not, because the Eddie Munson you remembered would never have been quiet for this long.
“Sleeping,” Mandy says. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything?”
“Um.” You wrinkle up your nose as you think, a sharp pain taking that moment to shoot down your leg. “When can I get some more pain medication? And food?”
Going through the papers in your chart, Mandy’s eyes scan lines of writing until she comes to the answer she needs. “You’ve got about forty-five minutes until I can give you your next dose. Luckily, dinner should be here quicker than that.”
“Okay,” you say with a sigh, sinking back against your pillows.
After another round of pain meds, you’re able to drift off into a light sleep. You don’t have dreams on the medication; you’re simply floating in a haze of pinks and purples. Perhaps the dreamlessness is a good thing, considering the memories buried deep inside your unconscious mind. Your roommate is not so fortunate.
“No! Stop!” Eddie whimpers from the bed next to you, startling you from your sleep. You can see through the translucent curtain that he’s trying to thrash, but his injuries limit his movements. “Henderson, help me! Get me out of here!”
“Hey,” you whisper, but when he cries out again, you raise your voice slightly. “Eddie, wake up!”
“I won’t run away, didn’t run away, gotta save Chrissy,” he mumbles, still trapped in his nightmare. “Don’t let me die. Don’t wan’ die.” The urgency in his tone falters, and you realize that he’s crying.
“Eddie, you’re alive!” you call out to him, wishing you had the strength to walk to him and shake him awake. “You survived the earthquake, okay? But you gotta wake up!”
You watch as he jolts up involuntarily, groaning loudly as pain blooms throughout his torso. “Fuck,” he moans, clutching his ribs with one arm. “Wha—where am I? Oh, shit.” He lays back down as the realization sets in. He tries to choke back a sob, inadvertently sending himself into a coughing fit.
“Here,” you call out to him, grabbing the cup of water on your bedside table. “Can you open the curtain and reach?”
Eddie’s able to yank back the cloth fabric, but neither of you can move close enough for him to grasp onto the cup. The two of you are confined to hospital beds, arms outstretched pathetically just to pass a glass of water. The scene is so absurd that you have to laugh.
“You think—cough—this is—cough—funny?” Eddie asks, but his grin indicates that he also finds it amusing. “I survived the Up—earthquake, and—cough—now I’m gonna die from—cough—lack of water?”
“‘M sorry,” you manage between peals of laughter. “I’m just imagining how ridiculous we’d look to someone passing by.”
Eddie uses his last bit of strength to lunge, finally securing the cup and guzzling down the water. “Thanks, um…” He cranes his neck to see your name written on the whiteboard above your bed. “Oh, shit! Did we go to high school together?”
You nod. “We did. I graduated last year. We had Mrs. O’Donnell’s English class together.”
He wrinkles his nose at the mention of his least favorite teacher. “Ugh, yeah. I mean, not ugh that we had a class together; ugh at O’Donnell,” he blabbers. “And an extra ugh for me having to take that class again this year.”
“I thought a certain metalhead was missing from graduation,” you tease.
“Aw, you noticed?” Eddie’s smirk makes you laugh, the pain meds probably adding to your bubbly mood.
“Well, no one caused a commotion or flipped off old man Higgins, so yeah,” you say. “And there was a distinct lack of Black Sabbath blaring through the parking lot.”
It’s Eddie’s turn to laugh. “Gotta stay inspired, y’know? I don’t want to be one of those musicians who has someone write their shit for them. It makes it less real, or whatever.”
You raise your eyebrows. “You write all of Corroded Coffin’s music?” you ask incredulously.
Eddie nods. “Well, me and the rest of the guys—wait,” he pauses, eyes narrowing with suspicion, “you know the name of my band?”
“Mhm,” you pick at the itchy wool blanket draped over your legs. “You played at the middle school talent show. I was in seventh grade, so you must’ve been in eighth.”
He doesn’t say anything for a bit; he just studies your face until a huge grin forms from cheek to cheek. “You’re the dancer!” he exclaims, snapping his fingers. “You did that routine with the, um, the fancy shoes…”
“Pointe shoes,” you giggle. “Yeah, people weren’t too impressed. Apparently a twelve-year-old flailing on stage to Swan Lake was not the hit I’d thought it’s be.”
“Flailing?” Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, you were amazing. Don’t tell my friends, but I, uh, secretly wanted you to win.”
“Me?!”
“Yeah, you.” He matches your surprised tone, making you laugh again. “I thought it was totally badass, getting up there and doing ballet when all the other girls were jumping around to Blondie.”
“Don’t knock Debbie Harry,” you warn him teasingly, poking your forefinger in his direction. “She is an icon, and you will show her some respect.”
Eddie brings a hand to his heart. “My deepest apologies, to both you and Ms. Harry.” He flashes another sweet smile that could melt an iceberg. “But I really did want you to win. I’ve always rooted for the underdog.”
“Well, I appreciate it.” And you do. It’s nice to know that someone besides your parents believed in you.
“You, uh, you still dance?” Eddie asks abruptly.
“Yup,” you tell him, sitting up a bit straighter. “It’s actually what I go to school for.”
“Good,” Eddie muses, averting his gaze from your side of the room. “You were too talented to give that up.”
You’re about to respond when there’s a knock on the door and you see an orderly walk in with a food tray. You drop your head back on your pillow, humming your happiness. The orderly sets your table within your reach before placing your tray on it. Before the man can even step out the door to grab Eddie’s food, you’re inhaling the soup you’ve been given. You’re distantly aware as Eddie gets his food, but you’re busy trying to figure out what type of soup it is. Is that potato in it?
A groan from the other side of the curtain has you looking in Eddie’s direction as you swallow a mouthful of soup.
“What’s wrong?” you ask.
“Nothing,” Eddie says, clearly lying.
“If we’re going to be roommates, we’re going to have to learn to be honest with one another.”
He huffs a laugh as he clangs his silverware together. “S’just that it’s gonna sound ridiculously stupid after what everyone has been through.”
“Humor me,” you say before ladling another spoonful of soup in your mouth.
“Fine,” Eddie says with a sigh. “I got green Jell-O. I hate that shit.”
Your eyes lock on your own Jell-O, bright red where it sits next to your piece of bread and cup of water. “How do you feel about red?”
“Much better,” Eddie says, tearing off a piece of his own bread and shoving it into his mouth.
“Wanna trade?” you offer.
“Y’don’t have to do that,” he says through his full mouth.
“Nah, come on,” you say. “Besides, green’s my favorite color.”
Eddie looks over at you, a skeptical look on his face as he chews. But you pick up your sealed cup of Jell-O and toss it over to him. Smiling, he throws the green in return, which you manage to catch.
“Thanks,” he says. You hum in acknowledgment as you tear off the foil lid.
There’s a beat of silence as you both eat what Hawkins General considers dessert. “I don’t know how you like the green one,” Eddie pipes up.
You shrug. “Jell-O is Jell-O,” you say nonchalantly, taking a big spoonful to emphasize your point.
“Nuh uh,” Eddie shakes his head, wincing at the twinge of pain it causes. “Cherry is the superior flavor, and everyone knows it.” He slurps it obnoxiously, making you roll your eyes.
“Geez, how does Chrissy put up with you?” Your tone is light and joking, so you’re taken aback by the darkness that takes over his face. “What?”
“How do you know about Chrissy?” he asks, voice barely audible.
Your face heats up; you’d forgotten that he didn’t know you’d heard him talking in his sleep. “Um, you said something about saving her when you were having that nightmare,” you admit, softening when you realize how vulnerable he is. “Is she your girlfriend?”
“No, she isn’t—wasn’t,” he amends. “She was the girl who died in my trailer. But I…I didn’t kill her, I swear.” Eddie looks over at you with misty eyes. “I can’t tell you what happened, but you have to believe me.”
You hold his gaze. “I believe you,” you murmur, quiet but assured.
The two of you go back to your food, plastic utensils scraping styrofoam bowls, until Eddie speaks up again. “You…you said I talked about Chrissy in my sleep?”
“Mhm.”
“What else did I say?” He looks ambivalent, like he’s unsure if he wants to know what his subconscious mind churned up.
You think back for a moment. “You asked someone for help, and then you said you didn’t want to, um…you didn’t want to die.” Your eyes flit over to his side of the room, but he’s practically boring a hole in his Jell-O cup with how intently he’s staring at it.
“Did you tell me to wake up? That I survived?” He finally allows himself to make eye contact with you, a trace of a smile dancing on his lips.
“Yeah—I can never remember if you’re supposed to let the nightmare end naturally, but you seemed really upset.” You gnaw on your lower lip anxiously.
Eddie rests his head on the pillow. “God, this is gonna sound corny as hell,” he starts, chuckling to himself, “but when you did that, it was like…I saw brightness, y’know? Not like, Eddie, come into the light,” he drops his voice an octave and wiggles his fingers, making you giggle, “but like the sun was coming out from behind the clouds. Does that make sense?”
You nod, watching him exhale in relief.
“Guess you’re my sunshine then, huh?” He gives you a shy smile that you easily return, trying to push down the spark of electricity that seems to flow between you.
“Hey, how about this?” Eddie asks as he lands on a channel. Your eyes feel like they’re going to roll back in your head when you see a NASCAR race on tiny television.
“Absolutely not,” you answer.
“Aw, come on,” Eddie says, shit-eating grin on his face. “It’s an American pastime.”
“It’s one big left turn, is what it is,” you shout. “Toss me the remote?” Eddie chuckles and goes to throw it your way before you wince and add, “Watch the leg!”
He’s careful to avoid the area as he sends it your way, but his eyes drift down the blanket at the mention of your limb. “Is that why you’re in here?”
“No, I’ve always wanted to vacation here,” you reply, maintaining a deadpan expression.
“I hear the eleventh floor is just wonderful this time of year,” Eddie throws back, feigning a posh British accent. Terribly, you might add. “How bad is it?” he presses, motioning towards your leg.
“Dunno yet,” you answer honestly. “They took some x-rays and did a bunch of scans; now I’m just waiting for the doctor. They’re probably just overwhelmed.”
Eddie nods. “Nothing like a good, old-fashioned earthquake to shake things up.” He raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to react to his pun. Nothing. “Oh, c’mon! That was a good one!”
“You’re a comedic genius, Eddie Munson,” you joke, and he flips you off, nearly snagging the IV tube pinching his skin. “I’m sure everything’s fine. I’ll probably be in a cast for six weeks, maybe have to do some physical therapy. This isn’t my first broken bone.”
“How do you do that?” Eddie muses.
“Do what?”
“Be so…positive,” he explains sheepishly. “I mean, you could be all bitter or anxious, but you’re calm, cool, and collected.” He fiddles with his fingers, frowning as though something is missing. “You really are a ray of sunshine, huh?”
“That’s me.” Truthfully, you’re worried that this could be more than just a run-of-the-mill break, but you don’t let that fear seep through. Instead, you aim the remote at the tiny TV in the corner of the room, settling on a soap opera rerun. It’s not what you’d usually watch, but you’re determined to get your revenge for his NASCAR escapades earlier.
To your chagrin, Eddie’s enthralled with the on-screen drama. “Oh, shit!” He rubs his hands together. “Is this the one where Shelby sleeps with Theo and his identical twin brother, Mark?” He chuckles at the bemused look on your face. “I got hooked on this show when I was home with the flu last year,” he confesses, though he doesn’t look the least bit ashamed.
“Eddie Munson, secret soap opera aficionado?” You waggle your eyebrows. “Scandalous. What will your fans think?”
“I am what I am, Sunshine.” He sits up a little straighter as a woman with big hair and even bigger breasts shoves ultrasound photos at an impossibly handsome man. “No fuckin’ way!” Eddie gasps. “She’s knocked up!”
“How did you not see that coming? It’s like the oldest trick in the book!” you ask incredulously. “Now she has to figure out which brother is the dad.”
Eddie’s beautiful brown eyes widen in shock. “But they’re identical! How’s she gonna do that?”
“Guess you’ll just have to watch and find out!” you chirp, giggling as he lets out an impatient sigh.
“Mr. Munson?” a nurse calls from the doorway, pushing an empty wheelchair. “We’re ready to run your tests. Just have to transfer you to the chair.” She pats the back of it, trying to keep some level of professionalism, but you can tell that she’s nervous being around an alleged murderer. She holds out her hand to help Eddie out of bed, and he shoots you a tight grin.
“I’m goin’ commando under here, Sunshine,” he warns you. “Look away. This show ain’t free.”
You cover your eyes dramatically as he plops into the chair, grunting and groaning the whole way down. “Is it safe?”
“You’re good,” Eddie reassures you as the nurse starts to wheel him out of the room. “Hey, let me know who the father is when I get back. My money’s on Theo.”
You narrow your eyes. “How much money?”
“Hmm,” Eddie taps his chin with his forefinger, pretending to be deep in thought. “It won’t be as much as usual, since I already bought a beach house and a Jaguar this year…$3,000 sound good?”
You give him a little salute, turning your attention back to the show. Settling in against the pillows, you get immersed in the show yourself, rooting for some characters, and wanting some to get stabbed in the backs like they deserve. Just as it comes back to Shelby’s storyline, your doctor walks in, a tight smile on his lips.
“What’s the news, Dr. Sanoj?”
“Well,” he says, looking down at the chart in his hands. “Like we suspected, it’s your femur. It was crushed pretty badly. It’s going to need a few pins in it, which will require some surgery.”
Letting a deep sigh fall from your lips, you nod your head. “Okay. Was kind of expecting that.”
“Now, we won’t know for sure until we get in there and take a look at things, but there’s a chance you’ll need a mobility aid to help you get around.”
“What do you mean?” you ask, brows pinching in confusion. “Like crutches?”
“Crutches are one type of aid, yes. But they range in variety. It’s things like wheelchairs, walkers, canes. But this will be a better discussion for once we see how the surgery turns out,” Dr. Sanoj says.
“Would I need to use one forever?” The sympathetic look that softens your doctor’s face lets you know he heard the trepidation in your voice. “Will I be able to dance again?”
“Like I said,” Dr. Sanoj says, “this discussion is best for once the surgery is done.”
You nod your head, knowing you probably won’t be able to get any further information on the subject out of him. “When will I have the surgery?”
“Scheduling is going to work that out and they should let you know by the end of the day. You can expect to be here the days following the surgery, but you shouldn’t be cooped up in these hospital walls for too much longer. You’ll get there, you’ll see. One day at a time.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
A funk has taken over you once Dr. Sanoj leaves the room. A mobility aid? Could you dance with one of those? Surgery and recovery you planned on, but the goal was always to get you back in the dance studio, and needing a device to help you simply get around was not what you had been expecting.
Allowing yourself to stew in your own self pity for a few moments, you realize you’ve missed the big reveal on which brother is the father of Shelby’s baby. You’ll have to tell Eddie that. Explain the doctor came in and you were talking to him. But, you think to yourself, Eddie doesn’t need to know just what rough shape your leg is in. He calls you his sunshine, doesn’t he? That would just bring some gray clouds that he did not need in his life. He’s got a lot going on and is going to need to keep his spirits up. That’ll be easier for you to do if you pretend like everything is rainbows and lollipops.
The door opens and Eddie is wheeled back inside, groaning in pain as he holds a hand over his ribs.
“Right here with the pain medicine,” Nurse Mandy says, stepping in behind him.
“Oh, please be mine,” Eddie says, watching the bundle in Mandy’s hands like a hawk. “Sorry roomie, I think I need it more than you do right now.”
“S’all yours,” you tell him.
Mandy sets a bag of IV fluid up as the transporter helps Eddie get back in bed. His face is pale, and you’ve learned that comes when agonizing pain is ripping through you.
“Okay, Mr. Munson. Should start hitting you at any minute now,” Mandy says.
“Thanks,” Eddie says, letting his eyes drift closed. He stays that way after both the nurse and the transporter leave the room. You think he’s fallen asleep until he speaks again. “So, which brother was it?”
“Ah, sorry, Eddie,” you say. “Doc came in and I was talking with him, so I think I missed it.”
“Good news?” Eddie’s opened his eyes and turns his head to look at you, genuine concern written across his face.
For a moment, you contemplate spilling everything: the surgery, the mobility aid, the possibility of never dancing again. But you shove it deep down, determined to keep your cheery disposition that he so desperately needs. “Y-Yeah, everything’s looking ship-shape.” Ship-shape? You’re a terrible liar, but Eddie doesn’t seem to notice.
“Thas’ good shit.” From the dreamy quality his voice is taking in, you can tell the pain meds are starting to take effect.
“How’re you feeling?” you ask.
“Sore as hell from how they had to maneuver me for x-rays. But I feel the medicine kicking in.” A smile comes to his face and you can tell the giddiness of the high is hitting him. “Time for me to fly.”
You giggle and turn your attention back to the television. A game show is on now, so you snuggle in to play along. The contestant is getting an obvious puzzle wrong and it makes you roll your eyes. You’re about to say something to Eddie about it, but then his soft snores reach your ears. Turning your head to look at him, you notice how peaceful he looks. All you can do is pray he stays that way and isn’t plagued by any other nightmares.
Sunshine, he calls you. It’s the nicest nickname you’ve ever been given. You’re hoping you can keep that bright and optimistic attitude up enough to help him out when the clouds come rolling in. It’s not a one-way street, though. Eddie is going to be your light, your breath of fresh air, your optimism. You just don’t know it yet.
--
#albl#eddie munson#eddie munson fluff#eddie x you#eddie stranger things#eddie x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x f!reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson angst#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things fanfic#fanfic#eddie munson stranger things#stranger things
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Hi, can i request a blurb about pierre where his gf suffers from chronic migraines? :( i need this in my life
Note: if you suffer from migraines, I hope you're feeling better!
Cw: migraines and theyr symptoms, emergency room
Work mixed with travelling to enjoy the last few moments alone with Pierre before the season began, which brought you very little sleep triggered a massive migraine. Pierre found you in your shared bedroom with all the curtains closed and covers pulled around you, already assuming you hadn't been feeling that well since you asked him for some painkillers on his way home from his training session.
"Amour, what's wrong?", he said at his regular voice tone that, right now, seemed like he was screaming, the groan you let out concerning him even more as he approached you. Searching for his hand on the mattress, you spoke quietly, "I'm having a terrible migraine", you explained, Pierre weighing out your options and opting to get some flannels from the bathroom a little soaked in cold water and resting them on your head.
"Do you want some snuggles? I don't want to make it worse for you though", he whispered, "yes, please. Just let me lay on this side so it doesn't hurt as much", you whispered back, having managed to drink the tea he made for you and appreciating how his fingers kept running lightly through your hair, his kisses on your head attempting to help the pain.
When morning came around and you were bent over the toilet, pouring the little food you managed to keep down out and the meds didn't seem to be working, Pierre took matters into his own hands, "I've seen your migraines before and they're never this bad", he said.
"Call Dr. Martin, her contact is on my phone", you whispered, wiping your mouth while he went to call your doctor. Coming back to you, Mick laced your fingers in his, "Dr. Martin said that we should go to the ER, she's on call today and can see you", he said, earning a small nod from you as he helped you to the bedroom.
Sitting you on the bed, he helped you rid of your clothes, his touch delicate and soft as he helped you change out of your top and into one of his comfortable hoodies and one of your sweatpants, "all done, my love, c'mon now, gently", he said as he helped you make your way downstairs to the car and carefully drove to the hospital.
The admission was pretty quick and after checking you, you were prescribed a stronger medication and while you waited for it to kick in, Pierre was holding you against him, checking every now and again with you on how you were feeling, giving you your juice and encouragung you to drink a little bit, his lips not leaving your skin for long as he peppered little kisses where he could reach.
When you were back home and feeling a lot better, actually able to keep the homemade soup down, you were cuddling on the sofa, your smaller headache allowing the quiet lullaby of one of your boyfriend's playlists to actually soothe you as you tried to show him how thankful you were for him, "I love you and I only want you to feel good, I'd do whatever it takes to make you feel better", he whispered lovingly.
(Thank you for submitting an ask ✨️)
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Starting over | Part 9
Part 8 | 7 | 6 | 5 | 4 | 3 | 2 | 1
Summary: The relationship of the three former roomies develops further. But the bad memories of y/n's last realtionship make it difficult for her to believe that she's really good enough for Jake and Bradley. But sometimes it only needs a brave aviator to take the lead.
Trigger warnings: 18+!, past abusive relationship, reader has migraines and health issues, reader has a scar, mentions of previous assault, au and probably ooc, angst, protective Rooster and Hangman, poly relationship, it gets steamy.
A/N: I tried to make a small summary for this new chapter. Hope you like it. Please reblog if you like my work 🙏😇
Word Count: 2.7k +
It's so warm, not uncomfortably warm but the kind of warmth which feels like a cuddly home. The softness of the sheets and the mattress is like lying on a cloud, that kind of pleasant touch which makes it hard to get up. Before she is even fully awake, y/n smells a sweet masculine odor, so soothing and calming that she would've fallen asleep again. She slowly opens her eyes, silky brown locks, slightly tousled are spread on the pillow she's resting her head on. Bradley, these are Bradley's beautiful locks. Warm steady breaths are hitting her left shoulder. When she turns around she looks directly into the beautiful and peaceful face of the other aviator. His features are completely relaxed, a small smile on his lips like he's having a very pleasant dream. So, the conversation she had with her two roommates last evening wasn't a dream. She's really lying in bed with these two overly gorgeous men. She takes a deep breath to calm her racing heart. It makes her nervous to be near Jake and Bradley but on the other hand she's never felt so safe and calm. This is so weird, how can she feel calm but has a racing heart? This morning almost feels magical.
She gently crawls out of the huge comfortable bed, cautious not to wake the two sleeping men up.
---
Strong muscular arms are enveloping y/n from behind when she is currently preparing coffee for her and her… well how should she call Jake and Bradley? Boyfriends?
A warm and naked chest is pressing into her back, caging her between himself and the kitchen counter.
"Good morning, shortcakes. Why're already up? Rooster was all whiny as he didn't get a cuddle after waking up." Jake breathes into her ear, his voice still thick with sleep and his warm breath making her shiver. He kisses y/n's cheek but slowly turns her around to see her cute and probably flustered face.
Her face grows warm and her cheeks get a slight pink blush. She looks up into Jake's warm eyes but soon her eyes lands on his delicious looking lips. Jake closes the distance and presses his soft lips to hers. A quiet moan is leaving his mouth. It feels so warm, soft and familiar, although it's so new. The feeling frightens the young woman a bit, but she enjoys the feeling of Jake's muscular arms around her and his lips on hers. His hands travel down her body and cupping the back of her thighs. As if she weights nothing he lifts her up and sits her on the kitchen counter. During their heated kiss Jake notices by now that Bradley is out of the bathroom and in the kitchen. The brown haired pilot envelopes his arms around his blonde friend and enjoys watching Jake and y/n share a long and passionate kiss. Still standing behind Jake Bradley leans a bit over the other man's shoulder and reaches out to the small woman sitting on the kitchen counter. With his warm he cups her head and runs his thumb over her flushed cheek. When she feels a third hand on her cheek she opens her eyes and looks directly into his warm brown eyes.
"Good morning, princess. You slept well?" He whispers as he takes a step beside Jake to get closer to y/n and before she has the chance to answer him he also steels a kiss from her plump lips.
Still sitting on the kitchen counter with both her boys in front of her she suddenly grows really shy and also a bit embarrassed.
"Hey princess. Don't get shy on us or are we moving too fast. Please talk to us."
At Bradley's words the flushed woman looks up and sees the two beautiful pilots standing before her.
"No, I'm sorry. It's not too fast. I - I' m just hoping that this is not some cruel dream and I'm about to wake up alone. I'm happy we had the talk yesterday." Y/n can't help herself when a wide smile is spreading across her face. Has she ever been so happy like right now? Probably not. She reaches out and grabs one hand each of the two men in front of her.
"There is the beautiful smile we fell for the first time we saw you." Jake presses a soft kiss on her small hand which holds his in a firm grip.
"What do you think, princess. We take you on a date today. Just the three of us."
---
Their first date was even better than y/n would've ever dreamed of. There was a small fair near Miramar, so Jake and Bradley decided that this would be the perfect start of their Date-Sunday especially after they discovered that she never has been on a fair before. They made it their key task to show y/n that she's the most precious thing for them. To give her the attention she deserves. The whole afternoon was full of smiles, soft touches and shy kisses. It was the best day y/n had in her entire life. She never had a boyfriend this attentive, loving and protective. So she couldn't believe that she now has two men who seem to like her. With her abusive ex she only has bad memories of being in a relationship and in the last corner of her mind she has the huge fear that Jake and Bradley sooner or later are going to be fed up with her. Sick and tired of her emotional baggage, the nightmares or her health condition which can worsen any minute. And there's the uncertainty with her body. Of course she is a beautiful woman. She knows that she looks acceptable. But her scar on her lower back is a prominent reminder of her past and she can't help but feel ugly when she looks in the mirror and sees the remnant of her past relationship which always reminds her of the words and actions of her ex. For her ex she wasn't a princess, cupcake or shortcakes. There were no cute and lovely pet names. She always was the worthless and stupid girl. His words hurt as much as his fists. So the whole situation is really new for her, she tries to shut out her bad memories, to not think about the possibility that Jake and Bradley soon will also see that she's not worth all of that.
---
The week was crazy to say the least. Y/n had to install a new security system after one of the new recruits lost his transponder. The Admiral was furious and the whole base was under lockdown. The young woman worked overtime every day and today was no exception. When she finally comes home she was beyond exhausted, a dull ache building behind her eyes.
She takes off her shoes and her coat and follows the music which greeted her the moment she opened the front door of the shared house. She craved a slow weekend since the week started but when she finally gets to the source of the commotion she stands in the doorframe of the fitness room the two aviators equipped, so that they not have to hit the gym but are able to exercise at home whenever they want, she was wide awake.
Y/n's eyes go wide. Of course she often has seen her roommates work out at home but since last week the whole situation changed. They're now dating and she still can't believe why these overly attractive Naval aviators choose her to be their girlfriend.
Their sweaty topless chests are glistening in the evening light which filters through the windows. Muscles bulging from the high weight they're lifting. Small moans of exertion can be heard over the music. She can't take her eyes away from that sight. She's watching Bradley lifting a ridiculous amount of weights, his back muscles more prominent than ever, a drop a sweat making its way down from his neck getting caught in the waistband of his shorts.
"You like what you see, cupcake?" She suddenly hears Jake's voice. She got caught. Her checks are already a bright shade of red when she turns to her side where the cocky pilot is smirking down at her. Her gaze lands on his glistening chest further down to his grey pants, which let little to imagination what he hides in his boxer briefs.
"Eh - I - I didn't want to - I " She can't form a coherent reply whether it's because out of embarrassment or something else, she doesn't know.
Jake softly cups her cheek and gives a kiss to her warm cheek.
"Hey princess. You sneaking up on us?" Bradley winks at her as he strolls in the direction of his two partners.
"Yes, I mean no. Ehm, I was just a bit surprised?" She's making a complete fool out of herself and she knows it. But damn, she's just a girl and seeing these two hunks makes her brain melt into a puddle.
"Surprised how damn sexy we look while sweating and moaning lifting weights?" Jake laughs.
"No need to get shy. We're just two sweaty morons. The real star of the house is you, my beautiful cupcake."
Okay she needs a shower and that fast. They wanted to take it slow, but how is she supposed to go slow when the two men are half naked moaning and sweating during their workout.
---
The shower somewhat helped her to calm her racing heart. She knows that seeing her boyfriends half naked, heck even naked, should be more than normal for her. But the small voice in her head is back. They will turn you down sooner or later. You're not enough. Look at yourself all broken and bruised.
She stands in front her full length mirror in her bedroom in just a sports bra and leggings, her fingertips touching the scar on her back. She knows that Cora was right. It is ugly. It's nothing but ugly and even if she's a beautiful woman that will always be the reminder how she failed her last relationship. What did she wrong that her ex treated her that bad? Wasn't she good enough? Why did he hurt her constantly emotionally and physically? Why did it end in her nearly dying? Her breathing starts to quicken as a tear is making its way down her cheek, followed by more until a constant stream of tears are wetting her flawless face. But in her eyes she's so far away from being flawless. She's damaged goods. Her ex hurt her soul and the big scar on her back is just a daily reminder how damaged she is. Her legs start to shake until her knees go weak and she collapses onto the cold hardwood floor of her bedroom. A desperate sob escapes her lips as she buries her tear soaked into her small hands.
---
Their sport session was long over and both Jake and Bradley already had their refreshing shower. It is Jake's turn to cock for them today but Bradley volunteered to help him, so that y/n doesn't have to wait any longer for the warm meal, probably her first real food today. Both know how crazy this week was for her and they even tried to coax her into leaving the base early today. After all she worked the whole week over hours, but she wanted to get that new security system ready and safe today, so that the base is finally secured again.
The house was quiet except for the light chatter of Jake and Bradley and the occasional clatter of pans and pots. A loud thud lets both men stop in their tracks. They look at each other quizzically.
"What was that?"
"Came out of Y/n's room. Princess you good?" Bradley shouts in the direction of the closed bedroom door. The two men grow concerned when there is no answer from their girlfriend.
Jake hurries to the closed door the brunette aviator hot on his heels.
"Y/n? What's wrong? Are you hurt?"
They instantly find her in the dark room and their concern only grows when she doesn't answer. She's shaking so violently that the first thought of Bradley is that she has once again a bad fever.
"Sweetheart, look at us. What's wrong?" She slowly takes away her hands from her face when Jake once again addresses her. Her attempt to brush away the remains of her tears is useless when both men kneel in front of her, looking at her intently reading her like a book. She knows she can't keep anything from the both protective pilots and she's afraid to anger them by lying to them, so she takes her courage in both hands and talks to them.
"I feel like I'm not good enough for both of you. He - he damaged me. Emotionally and physically…" with her last words her right hand finds its way to her back, touching the scar one more time.
"Princess…" Bradley gasps at a loss for words. How can she be not enough for them? She's the most beautiful, kind and lovely woman he has ever met. She is so much more and far away from damaged. Heck, both men nearly need to be physically restrained when cuddling with her. She's cute and sexy, she's just perfect.
"When I saw you two earlier working out… You two are perfect. Not only your bodies but when I saw you all sweaty and… sorry I'm once again embarrass myself." She tries to explain her problem, she really tries but soon into her words she gets shy and looks at her lap.
"Cupcake, come on look at us. Don't you ever be insecure around us. You're the most beautiful woman both of us ever had. You can't imagine what you do to us." He affectionately kisses her head. "We want you to be our girlfriend, in every way…" and with his cocky Hangman attitude he winks at her.
Y/n lets herself sink into Roosters arms who is sitting behind her. The tall brunette stroking her back gently until his hand is hovering above her scar. He bends down and starts to cover it with soft kisses. His soft lips are leaving a trail on her scar. Her heart explodes with how loved she feels right now.
Jake gets closer to her ear. His warm breath against the shell of her ear makes her shudder even more.
"You see what you do to us? You sitting here in you sports bra and your leggings… you don't need to wear fancy lingerie to play with our heads." He takes one of her small hands in his and brings it to his broad chest, stopping right above her his heart. Y/n feels the rapid thumping in her hand.
"You feel my heart? You make it race like that y/n." Jake goes further in testing the waters. He guides her hand further down his chest, let her feel his muscles flexing. She lets out a small nearly inaudible moan. The sensation of Bradley showering her with kisses and her hand on Jake's warm chest getting nearly too much for her. There's a new feeling pooling deep in her. A feeling she missed for so long. She never felt it so intensive ever before. When the blonde aviator finally stops both their hands in his lap, he lets out a moan. She drops her gaze where her and Jake's hand is resting. When she sees the bulge in his pants she frees her hand and softly strokes over the now very prominent bulge. Jake closes his eyes as he feels the gentle touch of the beautiful woman in front of him. How he craves that touch for weeks.
Bradley cradles her smaller body into his chest, him stopping the soft kisses makes her whimper. The loss of his soft lips too prominent. "Let's get you up, princess. It's getting cold on the floor." He whispers into her ear and without further warning Jake scoops her up into her arms and lays her gently on her bed.
"One word and we will stop, y/n. There's no pressure." Bradley says while looking her deeply into her eyes.
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#hangman x reader#rooster x reader#tgm#new writer#jake seresin x reader#top gun fanfic#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw#jake hangman seresin#top gun
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Hi love hru anyways this has been on my mind all day Yandere dad ghost with a kid who has chronic pain or constant migraines
— Yandere Dad-Ghost with gn kiddo who suffers from constant migraines
Warnings: yandere behavior, descriptions of migraines, and mention of marijuana.
A/N: I'm well, hru?! And I decided to go with constant migraines, enjoy :)!
Everything Platonic, nothing romantic!
He just wants to hug you and take it all away. He’s had his fair share of a migraine, especially with cluster headaches; during or after work. This said, he ensures to care for you and treat you like a baby for how long it takes until it goes away.
No matter how long you’ve had this, he’s worried like a mother hen. He’s the type of person to never show it, and even if you can’t read his expression at all, you can see it in his actions. On his days off, he’ll pick you up from school, and take you home whilst planning on making your favorite food for dinner.
Every effort he makes is for you and for making you feel better — staying home and clearing his schedule, talking in a soft tone and not wanting to aggravate your head more. He cooks you food and makes tea that’s easy for you, and limits the time for any electronics.
Dad! Ghost knows that migraines have triggers, and he’s confident in trying to find it out. And if he does, he tries to reduce the intake of it. If it’s food, or a certain ingredient, he tries to avoid it.
Stress? He’s immediately searching for the cause. Sleep deprivation? He’s having you go to bed earlier, and if he has too, he’ll sleep with you so you can have the right amount of sleep.
With reducing the pain, he’ll have you try out temperature therapy or get you prescribed Maxalt. Using OTC pain relievers, acupressure massages, and dark spots for relief. Having you lay down in his bed and large blanket, covering the windows and using a white-noise fan to help you fall asleep.
He’ll go as far as take you to a cardiologist in case it’s a hidden heart issue; and if he reads well with you, he’s even willing to experiment with pot and CBD.
At times, you worry yourself. Everything can become too much, and you stress about school — Dad! Ghost tells you not to worry, and he does everything himself; emails to your teachers, and does your homework himself.
—
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Are you there?
‘’This didn’t happen.’’
‘’It did, and we’re going to talk about it,’’ Zoro says, not caring about what Sanji has to say. ‘’You’re not doing well, and we’re going to fix it.’’
Sanji sighs. He’s still leaning on Zoro, he desperately needs Zoro’s steadiness as his feet occasionally trip over one another. ‘’I’m doing just fine,’’ he responds, barely audible.
Modern Zosan AU. Fluff/Angst. Words: 11,824.
Trigger Warnings: disordered eating, anxiety/panic attacks, depression, self-worth issues.
One Piece Masterlist
‘’Cook?!’’
‘’Hmm,’’ Sanji responds softly, not fully awake yet.
‘’Cook?!!’’ Zoro’s words are accompanied by a loud slam.
Sanji peeks one eye open, annoyed at being woken up. The mossball knows he’s not supposed to slam the door of the living room. There’s a table right behind, and if slammed too hard, Usopp’s botanical books always fall over and - he feels his pulse rise with annoyance once more.
Once he realises there’s nothing important coming from Zoro’s mouth (when is there ever?), he closes his eyes again and makes himself comfortable on the pillows on the couch.
‘’Cook, are you deaf?’’
‘’Hmmmmmm,’’ Sanji whines. ‘’Whaddyawant,’’ the pile of pillows and blankets murmurs.
‘’Is dinner ready yet?’’ Zoro asks, his question assisted with a poke that lands somewhere between Sanji’s ribs.
‘’Ugh, fuck you,’’ Sanji reacts, immediately sitting up. ‘’Why would you ever do that?’’
Zoro shrugs his shoulders. ‘’Be awake when I talk to you.’’
‘’What do you-’’ Sanji starts, unsure of how to put all of his feelings of anger into one sentence while his head’s still fuzzy with sleep. ‘’What the fuck do you-No?? I was sleeping?’’
‘’And I’m hungry,’’ Zoro responds.
Sanji stares at him for a couple of seconds. He’s been living with his best friends for over a year, yet they still find new ways to piss him off daily.
‘’I’m going to say this once, very slowly, so your dumb head can follow me, alright?’’ He says calmly. ‘’Fuck off.’’
Zoro just rolls his eyes. His hand stretches to get ready for another poke, but Sanji slaps it with a pillow before he can reach him. ‘’I’m serious, order something. Or not, don’t eat, I don’t care.’’
He ignores the confused look in Zoro’s eyes, instead picks up the comfiest blanket he’d been sleeping under to take to his room.
Before he can get out of the living room, Zoro finds his words. ‘’But… It’s Tuesday? You never let us order food on weekdays?’’
Without missing a step, Sanji responds. ‘’I’m tired, figure it out yourself today.’’
Zoro is left to stare at the empty living room, the couch still messy from Sanji’s nap. A bedroom door slams closed somewhere upstairs.
Sanji never leaves the shared places messy. Or takes naps during the day.
-
-
‘’Food!’’ Luffy screams loudly throughout the house.
Sanji could curse him right now, even though he knows Luffy’s just excited at getting to eat junk food on a weekday. Usually, he cooks every day. The last time he hasn’t must’ve been during finals, which was months ago.
He sighs deeply, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and mentally preparing himself for the dinner he’s about to have. It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk to them - it’s just that he’s been feeling a migraine coming up since morning, he hasn’t had an appetite all day, and no matter how much he sleeps it doesn’t seem to recharge his empty social battery. It’s exhausting, even more so to try and not bite Zoro’s head off right now. Usually, he can keep his annoyances in check, but today? Not a chance.
‘’Sanji, Usopp, dinner!’’ Nami’s voice echoes through the house. He can ignore Luffy for a few minutes, but never his beautiful Nami.
‘’Coming, my sweet,’’ he calls after her, unsure if it’s loud enough for her to hear. Based on the loud chattering and clinking of silverware in the kitchen, they don’t care, anyway.
Before he leaves his bedroom, he takes a quick look in the mirror. Embarrassedly, he immediately takes off his shirt. How long have I been wearing this? Since Sunday morning?
It’s not something anyone else would bat an eye at, or even notice, but it’s not something he usually does. Shirts are for during the day, pajamas for during the night, and they are worn a maximum of two days- Sanji sighs, putting on a new shirt and promising himself to take it off before sleeping.
It hasn’t been this bad ever since they got to live together. He can’t spiral now, he can’t let them see .
A knock on the door brings him out of his thoughts.
‘’Are you downstairs?’’ Usopp’s voice travels through the door.
‘’Yea, no- no,’’ Sanji falls over his words. He opens the door, suddenly happy to have some distraction. ‘’I needed to get changed.’’
Usopp looks him up and down for a moment. ‘’Okay… I just wanted to check if you were here.’’
‘’Ahh…’’ Sanji feels a blush spread on his cheeks. ‘’Yea, I just… Never mind.’’
Usopp takes a moment to study his face, but quickly seems to find what he’s looking for. ‘’Let’s go, I think they ordered pizza. Don’t want Luffy to finish everything before we even got a slice.’’
Sanji nods as he follows Usopp downstairs.
He’s going to be fine. He’s going to eat, get a good night’s sleep, and turn this whatever-is-going-on around. He’ll be fine.
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
The outside air leaves a noticeable blush on Sanji’s cheeks. In the mirror, he sees nothing but pale skin and a red nose. He feels numb, both from the cold and his recent lack of enthusiasm to do anything.
The day wasn’t bad- a morning lecture at 11 always gives him enough time to cook a proper breakfast (at least, that’s what he’d usually do. Today, Sanji woke up way too late, having to rush to be on time without any food). On the third Thursday of the month, the local market is always bigger than usual. Usually, he’d spend at least an hour strolling through the market covering multiple streets. It’s relaxing to taste new and common foods, to buy local ingredients for the house, and to plan meals for their household: today, he merely rushed past it. Not even the seafood stall was worth a glance at.
Quietly, he takes off his shoes and jacket, putting all the items in their respective places. Even though the time for lunch has been long past, and he hasn’t eaten anything all day, the idea of preparing or eating food makes his stomach churn.
He takes one last look in the mirror. It’s not like he needs to eat, anyway. He knows the occasional joking remarks of Luffy and Usopp are exactly that, jokes, but maybe they’re onto something. He could lose a little weight.
He pinches his cheeks, noticing the way they’re definitely chubbier than they used to be. It’s not the end of the world to skip lunch. Someone will take care of dinner, and he’ll eat that, but right now he’d rather go to his bedroom to recharge his social battery. It’ll be fine. As long as no one notices, it’ll be fine.
‘’Sanji-kun, are you home?’’ Nami’s sweet voice strolls in from the living room.
‘’My sweet,’’ he immediately swoons, trying hard to imitate the happy tone of speech reserved for his favourite ladies.
Nami’s sitting on the couch, cross-legged with a book perched up on her legs. Her eyes light up when she sees him standing in the doorway. ‘’Do you have plans tonight?’’
‘’Well-’’ Sanji starts, but gets interrupted immediately.
‘’I need a ride to the cinema tonight, could you…?’’ She bats her eyes, knowing exactly what she’s doing to his heart.
Or, usually does to his heart. Today, Sanji notices, but he doesn’t feel anything. Nothing seemed to penetrate the armour of melancholy that had wrapped its way around his heart.
He forces a smile. Even though he’s not feeling his best, he could never let Nami down. ‘’Of course, what time would you like to leave?’’
‘’You’re the best!’’ She smiles, jumping up to give him a hug. Her book falls to the ground. Sanji keeps his eyes trained on it until Nami pulls her arms back, and he feels the cold air of the room engulf him once more. He hadn’t realised how warm she was. ‘’I want to leave at 6, but you should come with me! Perona is going to be there, too. She’s been asking about you,’’ she winks.
Sanji feels a slight blush creep up his cheeks. ‘’Oh, I can’t tonight, my love. Maybe next time?’’
Nami’s face immediately falls into a frown. She opens her mouth to say something, but gets interrupted by a voice from the kitchen before she can make a sound.
‘’What you gonna do?’’ Zoro’s leaning against the wall, half-eaten apple in hand. He takes a bite, staring down at Sanji as if to dare him to answer.
Sanji feels his heartbeat quicken. ‘’What’s it to you?’’
‘’Just wondering.’’ Zoro shrugs his shoulders, eyes never leaving Sanji’s.
Sanji clicks his tongue. ‘’Not that it’s any of your business, M arimo ,’’ he bites. ‘’I’ve had class all day, and need to cook for your sorry ass because you can’t even turn on a toaster. Plus, I have a presentation in a couple of days, so I need to work on that.’’ The moment the words leave his mouth, he knows he’s made a mistake. He really wants to lie in bed, smoke half a pack of cigarettes, and watch Youtube videos until he falls asleep- but now? Dinner falls on him. Again.
‘’Ehh.’’ Just the sight of Zoro’s smirk is enough to get Sanji’s blood boiling, but of course the idiot has to talk too. ‘’Playing kitchen princess tonight? What are you gonna make for me?’’
‘’For you, absolutely nothing,’’ Sanji bites. ‘’You act like I’m not the sole reason you’ve had food on the table for the past year.’’
‘’Actually.’’ Zoro takes a pause to bite into his apple. ‘’You’ve been living here for 14 months. And who earns more money? Is it you or me, princess ?’’
‘’The only reason you earn so much is that you’re too dumb to study and actually have enough time on your hands to work.’’ Sanji can’t help but roll his eyes. Zoro really knows how to get under his skin. ‘’Anyway, I have to take care of Nami tonight, so I need to get started on cooking. You can let me do my job, or I’ll make you a chocolate cake for dinner. And believe me, it’ll be extra, extra sweet, just for you.’’
Zoro looks him up and down, but doesn’t go against him. ‘’Fine,’’ he mutters, throwing the remains of the apple core towards Sanji. ‘’Throw this away for me, will you?’’
Automatically, Sanji catches it, before realising what he has just caught. ‘’You disgusting, mannerless brute!’’ He screams, ‘’are you genuinely deranged? What if it had hit our dear Nami-san?’’
It doesn’t matter. Zoro has turned around already and left to do whatever it is he does all day. When Sanji turns around, he finds Nami sitting on the couch with her book again.
He sighs.
He’s more to them than a chore boy. They love him, he knows that. Nami doesn’t love him simply because he’d do anything for her, and the others don’t simply love him because he cooks for them without complaint.
He knows it’s not true, but sometimes, he can’t quieten his thoughts.
After fully accepting that Nami isn’t going to pay him any further attention, he throws the apple core away and checks the kitchen cabinets for ingredients.
-
-
To the best of his abilities, Sanji quickly throws together a simple fried rice for the house. He forces himself to take a small bowl with him upstairs, finally ready to take a well-deserved rest. The fried rice is perfect, crispy and tasty and filling, yet it tastes like sand in his mouth.
He doesn’t want to eat. Maybe, if he didn’t, he’d feel better. That’s quite possible, right? What if all the feelings of the past week have simply come from a poor diet, or from consuming too much food?
(He’s not even fooling himself, but the small bowl of rice is enough to trick himself into believing he’s fine. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have grabbed himself dinner, right?)
The people in the house can heat up their own dinner whenever they want. According to his calculations, Sanji has another hour before he even needs to get dressed to drive Nami to her destination, and he’s planning on making the absolute best of it.
In the end, he scrolls through any social media he can get his hands on for the whole hour. He’d love to sleep, but with having to drop Nami off so quickly, he can’t. The exhaustion of the day is starting to fully get to him. It feels like there’s a foggy cloud in his brain, dampening all his thoughts and making it hard to focus on anything. Social media isn’t helping. Seeing his friends, acquaintances and strangers being nothing but perfect makes it absolutely impossible not to compare himself to them.
He knows it makes no sense. Of course, they’re not going to post the downsides of their lives, but he really, really can’t help it. Zoro’s pictures in the gym make his heart clench - he’s beautiful, his body is so perfect, meanwhile Sanji’s just… Sanji. He’s not special, or handsome, or even skinny enough. He doesn’t even have half of the muscles the Marimo has on him.
Luffy is out every day with new friends, while Sanji has been feeling stuck in his room. He loves his friends, he really does, but he’s not entirely sure that they love him. But to be loved the way Luffy is being loved seems like a dream. He makes friends everywhere he goes, and never seems to second-guess anything, while Sanji seems to second-guess everything. It’s become hard to even go to the grocery store. Every outfit he puts on, every smile, every conversation he has, it feels forced and fake.
Tears prick in Sanji’s for no apparent reason. He’s so tired, but he promised Nami his services, and he’d never let her down.
The drive to the cinema is short. Sanji’s not entirely sure if it’s safe for him to drive in this state, not with the way his mind is fogged and his heart is beating in his chest, but Nami doesn’t seem to notice. She rambles on about things Sanji couldn’t care less about. He chain-smokes out of the window, occasionally humming to at least seem interested in whatever Nami has to say.
At their destination, Nami bats her eyes once more and pushes her top subtly lower while asking if Sanji could please pick her up again after the film ?
It takes a couple of seconds for the question to penetrate the fog in his mind. Sanji doesn’t want to. He’s never wanted to do anything less than this. The pit of anxiety in his stomach enlarges, until he feels like his lungs are caving in. He knows it goes against all his principles, but he really can’t be there for her tonight.
‘’I’m sorry, Nami-san,’’ Sanji says, not meeting her eyes. Mindlessly, he’s already turning the steering wheel without truly caring about her response. ‘’I can’t. Maybe Franky can pick you up, or something.’’
Nami stays quiet for a moment, before taking a step back and throwing the door closed. She smiles and waves him off, but Sanji can’t help but feel like he let her down. Like he’s a bad friend. Like she deserves better than him. Like they deserve better than him.
He misses the way Nami immediately takes her phone out to call someone. Instead, tears fall from his eyes, and he’s barely able to see the road in front of him until he returns home.
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
He’s just going to check up on him. It’s not that he’s worried, per se, it’s more that Nami’s worried.
Not that Zoro really cares what she thinks. How weird could Sanji truly actually be acting? Of course, he noticed small things, but that’s understandable- he’s an idiot who takes everything to heart. Someone looking at him the wrong way could probably give him a mental breakdown. But Zoro’s sure that if something was actually wrong, like fundamentally, problematically wrong, Sanji would come to one of his friends.
They’ve known him for years . And sure, they don’t always see eye to eye, but Sanji must trust them enough at this point to come to them. After such a long friendship, he has to.
Still, knocking on his bedroom door makes Zoro feel nervous. Sanji’s always protective of his space. Even though Zoro knows the room well.
When Sanji just moved in, he had a hard time sleeping. It’s not that he complained about it, but it was obvious. He’d wander through the kitchen all night, often falling asleep on the couch instead of his own bed. The house was very different from the apartment he shared with Zeff before. Once, late at night, he had told Zoro something neither of them would ever bring up again: the last time he’d slept alone in a room was at his father’s house. Zoro never pushed for details, and he’s quite certain no one else even knows about it, but suddenly, Zoro would spend his evenings in Sanji’s room. Usually they’d do their own thing: Sanji would do homework or lay in bed on his phone until he started to drift off to sleep. Zoro would find ways to entertain himself, watching shows or reading Sanji’s manga until he had drifted off, only to quietly move to his own room to sleep. The memories are dear to Zoro, even if it feels off to remember a bad time so fondly. It felt good to be so close to Sanji, even if his vulnerability was only for a short while.
The actual anxiety creeps in on Zoro once the knock doesn’t get a response.
Just the slightest bit worried, Zoro knocks again, much harder this time. A small groan can be heard from the other side of the door. Without waiting for a response, Zoro pushes open the door.
Sanji’s bedroom is… not as he expected.
There’s laundry laying around on the floor. His precious manga collection is scattered around the room, the display shelf basically empty. There’s dirty dishes on his nightstand and his desk. A full ashtray of empty cigarette stumps lay next to his bed, but there’s half-smoked cigarette butts on almost all dishes, too. It’s more cluttered than Zoro’s ever seen.
‘’Hey,’’ he says, standing awkwardly in the doorway.
Sanji’s bed head pokes out from under his duvet. His eyes are small, obviously thick with sleep. ‘’Huh?’’ he asks, sounding very confused and sleepy.
‘’Just wanted to check up on you.’’ Zoro doesn’t meet his eyes, unable to tear his eyes apart from the unfamiliar chaos in Sanji’s space.
‘’Huh?’’ Sanji asks again, not waiting for a response. His head hits the pillow again, making it hard for Zoro to look at him.
‘’Nothing,’’ Zoro mutters. Maybe Nami was right to be worried, it’s unusual for Sanji to be in bed at this time, but he’s not sure how to bring it up. His thoughts go back to right before he went into the room. Sanji’s an adult, he’s able to take care of himself. If he needs help, he’ll ask for it.
‘’Sleepy,’’ Sanji croaks softly. He turns around, his back now turned to Zoro. ‘’S cold.’’
‘’Do you want… Some tea? Or anything else?’’ Zoro hears the hesitation in his own voice. He’s thankful Sanji doesn’t respond, obviously having drifted off to sleep again, because he’s not sure what to make of this.
Quietly, he closes the door. Maybe Sanji’s just tired. Maybe he needs a good night’s sleep. Maybe tomorrow he’ll do a major cleaning, and it’ll be the first step in the right direction.
Zoro decides to keep a closer eye on Sanji until that happens.
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
Sanji’s annoyed. The music is way too loud and absolutely awful, the room is too hot and there’s so many people, he’s quite certain it’s a safety hazard, the alcohol is overpriced and bad ( what do you mean the only white wine you have is Ogio??). He hadn’t even really wanted to come in the first place, but his university friends demanded he’d come tonight and, honestly? He really did need a break, so he accepted. He’s not entirely sure of what it is he needs a break, but a night out drinking is supposed to take your mind off of other things, right?
Wrong, apparently. It took about 5 minutes for most of his friends to wander off somewhere without him, leaving him pathetic and alone at the bar with his very overpriced (and disgusting) beer. No way in hell is he going to drink Ogio, but neither the red nor white wine seemed acceptable to drink, so he has to make do.
About half an hour ago, just when he expected the night couldn’t possibly get any worse, his eyes fell on a certain green-haired marimo on the other side of the room.
At least he was decent enough to come over and ask why Sanji was sitting on his own. Even though he hadn’t said anything, the pity radiated off Zoro like heat. Maybe that’s why Sanji couldn’t possibly tell the truth, opting to lie and say ‘ ’my friends are actually outside, they should be back any minute. You can go back to whoever you came with, idiot, I don’t need your company.’’
His friends did, in fact, not come back. Kid has been trying to flirt (and very obviously failing) with a girl way out of his league somewhere in a corner, and Kaku has walked past the bar a couple of times- but besides them? Sanji has no idea where the others are.
He could leave right now. There’s no reason for him to stay, but the idea of returning home within an hour and a half after leaving their house to go clubbing is going to throw Usopp and Nami into a laughing fit so hard, he’d rather get drunk and sit in self-pity for one evening.
The only problem is Zoro. He hasn’t bothered him any further, but if he’s paying attention, he might never live this night down. Zoro should be able to see him. Surely he’s paying attention to him, right? At least a bit?
Sanji moves his head slightly to the right. If he moves just right, he can catch a glimpse of the booth where Zoro and his friends are sitting and- Zoro’s back is to him.
Annoyed, Sanji clicks his tongue. Really, the marimo isn’t even the least bit worried about him? Whatever. He flags down the bartender to order two more beers, one for himself and one for his misery, as he checks his phone for at least the 6th time in the last 10 minutes.
‘’Excuse me?’’ The small voice behind him is barely audible above the horrible 2000s music mix currently playing. ‘’You’re Sanji, right?’’
Shocked, the blond turns around. Behind him is one of the most beautiful girls he’s ever seen: her long, pink dress makes her figure look incredible, and her half-up-half-down blue hair is a stark contrast from everyone else in the room. She’s beautiful, Sanji can’t help but feel his pulse rise slightly. She’s exactly his type.
‘’Y-yes, I’m Sanji,’’ he cringes at the stutter, but keeps going. ‘’You look absolutely lovely, can I help you with anything?’’ Proud of making his voice steady again, he flashes his best smile at the lady in front of him
‘’I actually came over to talk to you,’’ she smiles sweetly, swiftly taking the empty bar stool next to him. ‘’Aren’t you going to ask my name, Sanji?’’ she smiles teasingly.
‘’Of- ofcourse.’’ He clenches his eyes out of embarrassment, before realising the situation and putting on a smile again. ‘’May I ask your name, and your order, my love?’’
‘’It’s Vivi,’’ she responds, lightly swinging her legs. She’s so cute, she’s too short to reach the ground . ‘’And I’d like a Moscow Mule, please.’’
Sanji raises his eyebrows at that. ‘’Alright, give me a moment,’’ he says while trying to raise the attention of the bar man, who’s trying very hard to get the attention of a very clearly uninterested girl on the other side of the bar.
‘’What?’’ Vivi asks. ‘’Something wrong?’’
‘’Of course not. I just didn’t take you for the vodka type, but whatever my lady desires, she gets,’’ Sanji responds smoothly, finally gaining the attention of the barkeeper.
‘’I don’t like vodka,’’ Vivi laughs. ‘’I like ginger beer and lime, and tolerate the vodka.’’
After Sanji orders for her, he returns his attention to the goddess next to him. ‘’See, I can read you like a book, already.’’
The night turns out not to be so bad after all. Vivi is lovely, she’s sweet and easily reciprocates Sanji’s flirtations- but something feels off.
It’s not like Sanji never takes women home. Quite the opposite, he’s had his fair share of temporary relationships and one-night stands, even while living together in a house with his 8 friends he’s gotten lucky. There’s nothing wrong with Vivi, either. She’s exactly what Sanji looks for in a girl: beautiful, smart, funny. Even if all she’d give him is a wink, he’d take that any day of the week, but tonight is different.
He stumbles over his words, embarrassing himself after realising he lost concentration while she was talking. He drinks more than he’d like to cover up his embarrassment, which leads to more embarrassment. The loud noises and stuffiness of the room feel overwhelming, so much so that he doesn’t even really want to listen to her anymore. Honestly, all Sanji really wants right now is a smoke and his bed.
For a moment, he debates inviting Vivi to come outside with him so he can at least satiate one of his urges and hopefully refind some motivation to talk to her, but he decides against it. He doesn’t want to let her on when he’s clearly not in the mood for whatever she’s offering, whether it’s friendship, flirting or something else entirely - neither his head nor heart is in it, and he couldn’t knowingly take advantage of such a beautiful woman. Plus, he’s certain she’s noticed his standoffishness. All he can hope for is that she doesn’t think he’s not interested in her.
He kindly takes his leave with a sad excuse of feeling under the weather in hopes of rekindling his poor first impression later on. Luckily, Vivi really seems too sweet for her own good, because she asks for his phone number before he can even stand up. He gives her a kiss on the cheek as goodbye, and based on the slight blush on her face, she doesn’t mind.
The walk outside is heinous. There’s too many people, and the night has formed a fogginess in Sanji’s mind that he can’t seem to break out of. Every time anyone touches him, he feels an electric shock go through his body. He keeps his eyes trained on the floor, ignoring everything around him to try and get outside as fast as possible. The quicker he has a cigarette between his teeth, the better.
With his hand finally on the doorknob of the front door, someone tightly grabs his shoulders. Sanji’s so frustrated at almost being out of this horrible situation, but being pulled back at the last moment, he groans loudly.
‘’Cook?’’ Zoro asks behind him.
‘’Ugh,’’ Sanji scoffs, not bothering to turn around. ‘’If you want to talk to me, come outside. I’m not staying here a second longer.’’ He yells loudly over the music and people, quickly pushing open the door and disappearing outside.
He almost expected Zoro not to follow him at all, but as soon as the door falls closed, it opens again, with the bewildered, green-haired man walking outside. Before either of them can say anything, Sanji frantically searches his pockets for his cigarettes, until Zoro holds his pack in front of his face.
‘’I saw you left it at the bar,’’ Zoro says.
‘’Oh…’’ Sanji takes the package, thankful for not having lost it. ‘’Thanks. I didn’t know you could see me.’’
Zoro fidgets with his hands. ‘’Of course, I saw some of your friends around. They ditched you?’’
‘’Nah.’’ Sanji takes a deep drag of the cigarette, happy at finally having some nicotine in his lungs after multiple hours. ‘’We went out together. Just, everyone found something to do, you know?’’
‘’Hmmm.’’ Zoro obviously doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t press further, and that’s enough for Sanji. ‘’Saw you sitting with Vivi.’’
Surprised, Sanji looks at Zoro. ‘’You know her?’’
Zoro nods. ‘’She’s really nice. And sweet. She was sitting with us, actually.’’ He takes a sharp inhale before he finishes, ‘’She saw you sitting there, so I told her a bit about you… That’s why she came over.’’
‘’Oh,’’ Sanji says, not sure how to feel about having Zoro as a wingman, basically. ‘’Yea, she’s beautiful. Really funny too, way wittier than you.’’
Zoro leans his back against the wall of the building, looking everywhere but at Sanji. If his fidgeting indicates he’s nervous, Sanji’s not going to feel bad. He doesn’t necessarily want to have a conversation with the Marimo about his love life, either. There’s nothing stopping him from just shutting up.
‘’But she’s not your type?’’
‘’Of course she’s my type!’’ Sanji remarks, possibly a bit too loud after the amount of alcohol he’s consumed. It probably hasn’t helped that he barely managed to eat anything today, his appetite has been reduced since certain insecurities have come up again. ‘’She’s adorable, sweet, hot, funny, smart, she might be an actual ange-’’
‘’Whatever, why didn’t you take her home then?’’ Zoro asks. ‘’She was basically lying at your feet, all you had to do was ask.’’
Sanji rolls his eyes. ‘’I’m not going to take a woman home on the first date, not that this was even a date, you idiot.’’
‘’Wouldn’t be the first time,’’ Zoro mutters.
Sanji has half a mind to slap Zoro across the face, but ultimately decides it’s not worth it to risk hurting his hands for such an idiot like him.
‘’Whatever, it’s not your problem. I just wasn’t feeling it tonight.’’ Sanji responds, attention focused on the cigarette instead of the mossball. He’s annoyed at himself for not feeling up to talking to her, he’s never not wanted to talk to a beautiful woman, and he’s annoyed at Zoro for helping him.
‘’It is, actually. I sent her over to you because I thought you’d like her. Do you want me to…’’ Zoro sighs, unsure of how to phrase his question. ‘’Not send a woman over if they’re interested in you?’’
‘’What do you even mean?’’ Sanji asks. Having to talk about all of this with Zoro out of all people is making him so frustrated, he has to restrain himself from biting his cigarette in two. ‘’If someone’s interested in me, they can talk to me. I just wasn’t feeling it, that’s all.’’
‘’Yea, just, I’ve never seen you not into flirting with anyone?’’ It sounds more like a question than a statement. ‘’I mean, would you have been into it if it was a man? Because-’’
Sanji feels his cheeks flush immediately. ‘’That’s not the problem!’’
Zoro rolls his eyes, his voice immediately sounding more irritated. ‘’Are you seriously still awkward about this? I do not care if you like dick, and neither does anyone else.’’
Sanji sputters something incoherent, throwing his finished cigarette on the ground and pushing it out with the heel of his shoes. ‘’I’m not awkward about it!’’
‘’You look like a tomato.’’
‘’And you look stupid.’’
‘’That is a pathetic comeback, cook.’’
‘’I don’t care!’’ Sanji screams, but immediately realises he’s being very unreasonable here. Zoro’s trying to be nice, a rare occurrence, and he shouldn’t punish him for his own insecurities. ‘’It’s- no. It wouldn’t have mattered if it was a man. I’m just really tired today, so...’’ He quickly checks his phone, deciding that after 2 and a half hours, if he walks really slowly, he can return home, hopefully without being made fun of. ‘’I just want to go home.’’
Zoro nods, still not seemingly satisfied. ‘’So you are interested in Vivi? Because knowing her, she’s going to come over to me any minute to ask me.’’
Sanji’s quiet for a moment, twitching his feet uncomfortably. ‘’I am. I have her number, I’ll call her.’’
‘’ ‘Kay,’’ Zoro responds, pushing himself off the wall. ‘’I’ll go back then. Let me know when you’ve arrived home, okay?’’
Sanji nods, not meeting his eyes.
Zoro stills, something obviously holding him back.
‘’Look, do you want me to walk you home?’’
‘’No!’’ Sanji scoffs. ‘’I’m not a child!’’
‘’I know,’’ Zoro’s voice is soft. He takes a step closer, but changes his mind, and backs off again. ‘’I’m not saying that. I’m just saying, you’re drunk, and…’’ He scratches the back of his head. ‘’Don’t take this the wrong way, but lately you seem a little… off?’’
‘’I’m NOT off!!’’ Sanji explodes, angry at the implication. How dare Zoro say something like that? It’s based on absolutely nothing. ‘’I’m fine, you just can’t ever mind your own fucking business!’’
Somewhere, deep down, Sanji knows Zoro’s probably the friend that minds his own business the most.
Zoro sighs. ‘’I told you not to take it the wrong way.’’
‘’I don’t care what you tell me, I don’t care about you! Just leave me alone for once!’’ He feels his heartbeat in his chest, arms, neck, everywhere. His throat clams up in a familiar way he hasn’t felt in almost 2 years, and suddenly the world is spinning spinning spinning .
‘’Cook-’’ Zoro starts, but Sanji cuts him off.
‘’Leave me alone,’’ he mutters quietly, not able to make his voice loud. He turns around, unsteady on his feet. He takes one step forward, but quickly has to hold himself up by planting one hand on the wall. There are too many emotions inside of him trying to overpower each other, and the dizziness makes it hard to breathe. The feeling of not getting enough air in his lungs hurts, and it doesn’t help that his thoughts are foggy and he’s lightheaded.
‘’I’m not letting you go home on your own when you’re this upset,’’ Zoro says behind him, but Sanji doesn’t hear. He needs all his attention to stay upright and keep whatever is trying to overflow in his head at bay. ‘’How much did you even drink?’’
Sanji doesn’t respond. His eyes are closed, but he still feels the ground move beneath his feet. Bile is rising in his throat, and he’s certain he’s going to throw up. There are things moving in front of his eyes and suddenly, his knees hit the ground with such force it knocks the air out of him.
‘’Stop rejecting it,’’ Zoro says softly. Arms are pulling everywhere: on his shirt, hair, shoulder, the skin-on-skin contact makes Sanji feel like he’s burning.
He feels his back hit the wall. His knees hurt, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of tears burning in his eyes.
He whimpers softly, putting his head in his hands. This is not how he envisioned the night going.
‘’Just breathe, you’re going to be fine,’’ Zoro says. His voice sounds far away, but Sanji registers the body heat he radiates from one side of his body. It’s overwhelming, he tries to shuffle away from it, but Zoro refuses, pulling him back by putting his arm around his shoulder. ‘’Just stay here.’’
Sanji doesn’t respond. He lets himself ride the waves of anxiety that pass through him, embarrassed every time his body shivers involuntarily. Zoro’s kind enough not to say anything about it. Occasionally, he shushes Sanji when his whimpers get too loud. ‘’It’s okay, just let it happen.’’
The hand moving through his hair helps steady him somewhat, but it still takes an embarrassingly long time for Sanji’s breathing to go back to normal.
After a while, Zoro nudges him softly. ‘’You still with me?’’
Unsure of how to respond, Sanji hides his face in Zoro's arm. He’s definitely not thinking straight, but at least Zoro doesn’t comment on it.
‘’It’s getting cold, let’s get you home,’’ Zoro says after a while, taking his arm back and slowly standing up. Sanji whines at the loss of warmth. He hadn’t realised how much he missed physical contact.
‘’Come on, cook,’’ Zoro tries again, offering his hand to help Sanji stand up. He stares at the outstretched hand in front of him for a moment before accepting.
Standing upright feels strange. His centre of gravity is off, and suddenly the exhaustion, lack of food and alcohol has gotten to his head. ‘’Y-you can’t...’’ His voice wavers. He cringes at the sound, it doesn’t even sound like him. ‘’You can’t tell anyone.’’
Zoro stares so intensely in his eyes, Sanji has to look away. He shakingly tries to take the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, but drops it before he can take one out.
Zoro picks them up without a word. He takes one out, offering it to Sanji. Sanji barely reacts, just lets Zoro place one on his lips. Zoro waits a second to see his reaction, but when Sanji still doesn’t move, he carefully takes the lighter out of Sanji’s pocket to help him light it.
Sanji inhales shakily, one arm heavily leaning on the green-haired man while holding the cigarette with the other. They don’t talk. Zoro quietly directs them on their way home. Once they’re almost there, Sanji starts talking again. ‘’This didn’t happen.’’
‘’It did, and we’re going to talk about it,’’ Zoro says, not caring about what Sanji has to say. ‘’You’re not doing well, and we’re going to fix it.’’
Sanji sighs. He’s still leaning on Zoro, he desperately needs Zoro’s steadiness as his feet occasionally trip over one another. ‘’I’m doing just fine,’’ he responds, barely audible.
‘’This is fine?’’ Zoro asks sarcastically. ‘’I know you’re an idiot, but I didn’t know you were this big of an idiot.’’
‘’You don’t know anything.’’
‘’I know that this,’’ Zoro uses his free hand to wave in the general direction of the blond, ‘’is not normal.’’
Sanji scoffs. ‘’I’ve had panic attacks since I was twelve, and you should know that. You’re supposed to know that, as my friend.’’ If he was thinking a bit more clearly, Sanji might’ve been embarrassed at the blatant rudeness, but he has no other choice. He needs to get Zoro off his back. Zoro doesn’t understand. None of their friends understand.
He feels helpless, has felt helpless for months . No one cared when he started to lock himself in his own bedroom. No one cared when he started to withdraw himself, or started to smile less, or started to skip meals. So why should he care about Zoro’s feelings? He obviously doesn’t care about him anymore.
Suddenly, Sanji feels immature. How had he not realised this before? It’s not Zoro’s fault, Sanji’s the fool for getting hung up on a friendship that is falling apart at the seams. They don’t like him anymore. The signs have been everywhere, and Sanji has been ignoring them on a childish whim. The fairy tale in his head of ‘having best friends.’ The only reason Zoro suddenly seems to care is because he’s become a problem.
The realisation makes Sanji’s heart sink. Is that what he turned into? A problem? Before all of this, at least he’d been useful - cooking and cleaning and doing favours for his friends whenever possible, but lately he’s been nothing but a disappointment. He messed up Zoro’s night out, he’s been messing up dinners and house dynamics and… Maybe that’s why Zoro now worries about him, or acts to, at least. Because this ‘problem’ he’s having is affecting them.
Sanji’s a liability. Useless. Useless. Useless. Stupid. Worthless. They don’t care about your pain. They care about the issues you cause them.
‘’Of course I know that, idiot. I also know you haven’t had them in years, so don’t act all high and mighty with me, now,’’ Zoro says, annoyed. His patience is running thin. He’s been giving Sanji space and time, expecting him to, at some point, finally come to him. ‘’I do know you, you know I know you, so shut the fuck up and tell me about what’s been going on with you.’’
Instead, Sanji physically pushes him away. ‘’Get the fuck away from me,’’ he growls. He’s still standing, but his legs tremble dangerously. The look in his eyes is so full of anger, Zoro’s not sure if he should touch him right now.
Sanji doesn’t care about his hesitance. ‘’You don’t care! You never care about me! You only care about the shit I always do for you because I want you to fucking like me for who I am!’’
‘’Haaah?’’
Sanji’s head drops, but he immediately looks up again. His eyes don’t leave Zoro’s as he talks. ‘’I fucking hate you, you know that?’’
‘’What are you yapping about now?’’ Zoro tries to get his voice under control, but it’s so hard with the way the cook’s behaving right now. How hard does he have to try until that dumb idiot finally accepts help?
Zoro takes a step closer to Sanji. He stretches his arm out, intending to steady Sanji, who’s swaying dangerously on his legs. Instead, Sanji slaps him across the face, hard.
Zoro stares in disbelief for a couple of seconds. He brings his hand to his face, feeling the tender spot that is definitely going to be bruised tomorrow. ‘’What is your fucking problem?’’ He screams angrily.
‘’You are!’’ Sanji screams back. ‘’How often do I have to repeat that I want nothing to do with you? I hate you!’’ He takes a deep breath, only to continue his verbal abuse. ‘’I don’t care about you, I don’t want to talk to you, I wish I had never even met you!’’
Zoro doesn’t know how to respond. His face hurts, but it’s nothing compared to the way he physically feels his heart break.
‘’Leave me alone,’’ Sanji mutters angrily. He sways on his feet, but stubbornly walks towards their house.
Zoro lets him. He quietly watches him reach their house, clumsily mess with the key until the door opens, and doesn't move until the front door slams shut again.
Neither sees each other's tears fall.
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
Sanji doesn’t leave his bedroom the next day. Zoro and Robin have knocked on his door to ask him to come out, but he’s ignored both of them. He knows where he stands in their minds now, and he’s not ready to face them. Not when he knows how they see him: as something to use, probably not even a person.
He smokes a lot, grateful for the window next to his bed. The nicotine keeps him agitated and unable to fall asleep. His head hurts, and the hunger pangs from not having eaten are hard to ignore, but it feels good. Like he’s accomplishing something. Like he’s punishing himself for believing he’s worth something.
It’s not until midday the next day that he decides to enter the living room again. The house has been exceptionally quiet, and he quickly realises his housemates are out. Zoro had been at his bedroom door once more last night, talking about whatever - Sanji hadn’t really listened. Nami had been there this morning, too, asking if he’d like any breakfast. She hadn’t received a response, but outside his door he found a tray with coffee and toast. Both are untouched.
He’s not even sure why he decided to leave his room. A change of scenery and a quick cup of tea while the house is empty and he won’t see anyone sounded like a good idea, but now standing in the midst of the familiar kitchen with over a year’s worth of precious, warm memories, it hurts.
‘’Sanji!’’ Luffy’s bright voice suddenly comes from the living room.
Startled, Sanji drops the kettle full of water he’d been carrying back to the stove. ‘’Fuck,’’ he curses. At least the water wasn’t hot yet.
‘’Where did you go yesterday?’’ Luffy asks, taking a seat at the kitchen table. His smile is bright and warm. Sanji feels his heart clench.
‘’What?’’ Sanji asks, slightly confused. He’s trying desperately to dry the ground as quickly as possible so he can disappear in his chamber again.
‘’Where’d you go?’’ Luffy asks again. ‘’I didn’t see you all day!’’
Sanji quits his cleaning for a second. Of course, they haven’t told him. Luffy would’ve probably tried to climb in through the window if he knew Sanji’d been in his room all day.
But that means Luffy cares, right?
Sanji feels tears prick at the corner of his eye. He’s so confused.
‘’Just… Out,’’ he mutters, more to himself than to Luffy.
Luffy laughs loudly, the sound echoing through the whole house. ‘’I hope it was fun.’’
Sanji nods his head. Suddenly, his appetite for tea has vanished. ‘’I’ll just go back to-’’
‘’Can you make me breakfast, please?’’ Luffy asks, trying to put on his best puppy eyes. ‘’I haven’t had your pancakes in so long!’’
Even though Sanji feels horrible, the idea of doing something that’ll make one of his best friends feel good is tempting. No matter how bad he feels, the feeling of doing something good, something kind, usually makes him feel good. He yearns to feel the happiness and satisfaction it gives him. His thighs hurt from squatting on the ground, and suddenly, he realises how hungry he actually is. Slowly, he gets up, looking at Luffy for the determining factor.
Luffy’s big eyes stare up at him, awaiting an answer.
‘’Okay,’’ Sanji whispers before he can truly think about it.
‘’Yay!’’ Luffy screams happily, comically throwing his fists into the air. Sanji can’t tear his eyes away from the way his eyes crinkle closed when he smiles like that.
‘’Pancakes and bacon?’’ Sanji asks softly, already turning around to grab the non-stick skillet he usually uses. He hears Luffy’s excited cheers faintly in the background.
Everything happens on autopilot. Sanji doesn’t think as he makes the batter or pre-cooks the bacon in a second pan. He doesn’t listen to Luffy’s talking, which never seems to stop for even a moment. He barely notices Luffy’s presence. It wouldn’t matter whether he'd been sitting at the kitchen table, peering over his shoulder or wasn’t in the house at all: Sanji’s completely enhanced at cooking.
For the first time in a long time, his thoughts are quiet. They’re not good or bad, they’re not even there . There’s only him and the food being prepared, and the faint, excited feeling of excitement he knows he’ll get from seeing someone enjoy his food. He feels entirely disconnected from reality, doing everything out of habit without a single thought.
The only problem is, with Sanji working on autopilot, he can’t think about certain dangers that he usually looks out for. Every person in the house has specific behaviours that he’s aware of when he’s cooking: Zoro likes to complain about whatever he’s making looking bad and smelling worse, Usopp likes to sneak little tastes when Sanji isn’t looking, and Luffy? Luffy’s too curious for his own good.
Any food he puts down, whether edible or inedible, gets tasted. Every dubiously looking spoon gets licked. And every kitchen appliance gets examined as if it’s the first time in his life he’s seen a saucepan.
Usually, Sanji keeps an eye on Luffy to make sure he’s staying at least two feet away from the counter. Today, Sanji’s mind is too chaotic and disconnected.
The skillet he uses for the pancakes is hot . The handle gets as hot as the surface. It’s second nature for Sanji to use oven mitts when handling this specific pan, and it’s his responsibility to take care of his foolish, oblivious friend.
He isn’t listening to Luffy’s never-ending chattering. Hell, he doesn’t even know where he is. Sanji’s back is not even turned a full five seconds from the stove, absentmindedly looking for the butter in the fridge, before he hears a loud scream.
Luffy shrieks loudly, and the sound of clattering follows soon after. Immediately, Sanji turns around, only to find Luffy clutching his hand to his chest and the pan with a half-cooked pancake lying on the ground. Hot tears pour down Luffy’s face as he swings his hand around, desperate for any kind of feeling of relief.
Stunned, Sanji realises this is the first time he’s ever seen Luffy cry.
It takes him a second to unfreeze his body and get into action. ‘’C’mere,’’ Sanji quickly says, taking Luffy’s unburned hand and pulling him towards the tap. He pushes Luffy’s now red-hot hand under the ice-cold water, while taking deep breaths to try and steady himself.
‘’It’s okay, you’re okay,’’ Sanji tries to reassure both him and Luffy. Luffy’s tears haven’t dried yet, and Sanji swears he physically feels every single one of his sobs in his body. He feels a tear leave his own eye at the realisation that this is his fault.
I did this. His safety is my responsibility. I fucked up.
‘’It hurts,’’ Luffy whimpers. Sanji nods.
It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.
‘’I’ll get you some ice, wait here,’’ Sanji says, leaving Luffy to sit on the counter with his hand under the running water. In record time, Sanji has wrapped up some ice in a clean kitchen towel.
Without many words, Luffy is too shocked and Sanji too disassociated, Sanji manages to get Luffy seated on the couch with the cold compress on his hand. He’d quickly inspected it and luckily, it doesn’t seem that bad. It hurts, but the shock must have been as bad for Luffy as the actual wound will be.
‘’Sanji?’’ Luffy asks softly. They’d been sitting together in silence for a couple of moments. Luffy fidgeting with the towel, his tears dried, but his eyes still red, and Sanji wallowing in self-guilt. ‘’Still hungry.’’
Sanji nods, unable to form words. He offers Luffy the TV remote in hopes of distracting him. Happily, he takes it, immediately turning on the TV and getting immersed in whatever he puts on.
The blond leaves to the kitchen. The mess is still lying around, but he has no energy to worry about that. He quickly whips up something easy, toast and tea after remembering Nami’s tray is still lying near his bedroom door, as the front door opens. Robin enters the kitchen, her eyes widen as she takes in the situation. Sanji’s not sure what she’s more shocked about: seeing him, or the chaos.
‘’Give this to Luffy,’’ he whispers, pushing the just-finished breakfast in her arms. ‘’Need to go.’’
Robin stays still for a moment. Sanji pushes past her, ignoring the fact he’s still in his sweatpants and oversized hoodie he’d slept in as he puts on his shoes.
‘’Cook…’’ Robin starts, but Sanji ignores her, fastening his shoelaces as quickly as possible.
He puts on his jacket, wilfully ignoring the way she’s trying to grab his attention. ‘’Luffy’s on the couch,’’ he says, slamming the front door behind him before she can get another word in.
-
-
Sanji doesn’t return until the sun has set and the streetlamps have long turned on. He wouldn’t even really be able to recall what he’d done. He walked around, smoking his package of cigarettes until the last one was gone, immediately going to the nearest shop to buy more and continuing. His throat hurts from the load of tobacco and carbon monoxide he’s been forcing down his throat. The hunger pangs are so bad, he occasionally has to stop and stand still for a moment. Light-headed, he sat down for an unknown amount of time in some park he’d never seen before.
At some point, he decides that okay, maybe I do need to go home . The nearest subway station finally allowed him to figure out which way he had been walking and in any other situation, he’d be shocked at how far he’s come. Instead, he feels nothing. He figures out the fastest way to go home, head still empty and heart feeling cold.
I hurt Luffy. It was my responsibility. I hurt Zoro. If they still liked me before, they sure as hell don’t anymore.
The house is quiet. The light in the entryway is the only light still on, most likely left on solely for Sanji to return home. He quietly closes the door. Before, all he could think about was his bedroom and wanting to sleep, but now the anxiety creeps in once more.
His hands shake as he takes off his jacket. No way that he’s going to be able to sleep like this.
-
-
Zoro hasn’t been able to sleep, no matter how hard he’s tried.
He heard from Robin what happened between Luffy and Sanji, and even though Luffy seems unfazed - more concerned about Sanji’s whereabouts than anything else - he knows the blond is probably beating himself up over it. Sanji had already been weighed down by so much, and this was just another burden added to the load.
Zoro couldn’t help but worry about how many more straws Sanji can take before he finally breaks.
Waiting downstairs until the return of the cook was tortuous. Everyone went to bed, mutually deciding that if Sanji needed space, he'd get it. But no one has seen the red flags Zoro’s been picking up on for weeks. Sanji’s been having space, and it only seems to make everything worse.
Annoyed, he tosses and turns in his bed. They’d all tried to call Sanji multiple times, but after hearing his phone ring from his bedroom, they knew it was useless. After contemplating, Zoro decided it’d be no use to walk around town and look for him, just as useless as worrying himself sick on the couch, constantly staring out the window in hopes of catching a glimpse of blond hair and cigarette smoke.
After another 30 minutes of huffing and staring at his ceiling, he decides enough is enough. He can at least get downstairs, check if Sanji really hasn’t returned yet, and get something to drink before wallowing in his worries again.
Zoro’s feet hit the cold ground. He feels a shudder move through his body. Is Sanji seriously still outside in this weather?
Seeing the lights in the entryway still on makes his heart clench, afraid of his initial idea being true. Then the soft sound of clattering in the kitchen can be heard, and his heart jumps.
He practically runs to the kitchen, hoping desperately to find who he’s been looking for. The smell of smoke welcomes him on the stairs, and Zoro’s first feeling is pure relief. It gets quickly washed away by worry once he finally comes face-to-face with the cook.
Sanji’s running around in the kitchen. The heat from the oven is overbearing. Zoro closes the door behind him, hoping that their talking won’t wake up anyone else. This is going to be something between just them. He doesn’t need any stray ears picking up on their conversation
“Hey,” he says softly, immediately followed by the sounds of the door closing. Sanji jumps at the sound, wide eyes staring at the man in front of him.
“Hey,” Sanji responds, immediately going back to tinkering with something sweet-smelling in a saucepan on the stove.
Zoro had expected their next conversation to start with a fight. Screaming, tears, maybe another hit, anything but this. Anything but the quiet, dishevelled man cooking at 4 am.
“What are you making?” Zoro asks, taking short steps towards the counter to peer over Sanji’s shoulder.
Panicked, Sanji turns around. “Stop!” He says a little too loud, turning around and continuing to stir in the pot. “It’s hot, please… Not too close.”
Zoro nods. Words aren’t needed to understand the stress Sanji’s currently feeling. He understands. He takes a seat at the kitchen table, noticing an already finished cake in the middle of the table. A fork is lying next to it, a small bite has already been taken.
Red flag. Sanji never just plunges a fork into his creations to taste.
“It smells good,” Zoro remarks, hoping to start up a conversation. Or just make the stressed man in front of him feel at ease. He’s okay with both.
“It was for you,” Sanji whispers softly. “Coffee cake. As an apology.” He sighs, one hand finds its way in blond hair to tug harshly. “I messed up.”
Zoro doesn’t like the way the man’s anxieties are clearly portraying. “Cooking is second nature for you, of course you didn’t mess it up.’’
Sanji doesn’t respond. Zoro sees the faint lines of scratches on his arm.
‘’I don’t mind if it’s too sweet, I appreciate you making it for me,’’ Zoro tries again.
The blond doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even turn around until the sound of the fork scratching against the underside of the cake pan.
‘’Stop, no no no no,’’ Sanji sputters, eyes wide and shocked. His hair is pushed behind his ears from the tugging earlier, making both his eyes visible.
Zoro feels his stare tug at his heartstrings. His eyes are so beautiful. He’s not sure whether blue or green suits his eyes better. Before Sanji can whine more, he takes a bite.
He understands what Sanji meant by ‘messed up’ immediately. It’s oversalted, but combined with the slight sweetness it balances each other out well. Zoro never liked sweetness, so the dulled taste is less indulgent.
‘’It’s great, I like it. Thank you,’’ Zoro says, mouth still full of the bite.
Sanji shakes his head, looking sadly at the cake. In a swift motion, he turns off the heat and picks up the cake.
‘’Where are you going?’’ Zoro asks, confused.
Sanji’s voice sounds fragile. ‘’Just… Leave it,’’ he sighs, quickly throwing the cake into the bin.
‘’You…’’ Zoro doesn’t know how to word his thoughts. Sanji doesn’t waste food. He never wastes food. He has messed up new recipes before. At worst, he’d eat it himself, but he never throws it away. ‘’What are you doing?’’
‘’I’m so sorry,’’ Sanji’s voice breaks, and even though Zoro can’t see his face, he sees the way his body slumps against the kitchen counter.
In a split second, Zoro’s arms are wrapped around Sanji from behind.
‘’I fucked up,’’ Sanji whispers again, to no one in particular again. ‘’I fucked up. I fucked up. It’s my fault. I fucked it up, didn’t I?’’ The hand finds its way back into his hair, and he tugs harshly.
‘’Stop that,’’ Zoro says, his voice almost breaking. He puts his arms tighter around the blond until he feels every sob through his own chest. ‘’Don’t cry, you didn’t do anything wrong.’’
Sanji nods his head. He shakes out of the embrace only to turn around and fully fall into Zoro’s arms. ‘’I hate myself so much, I can’t do this anymore, Zoro, please.’’
Zoro holds him in his arms as he breaks. He’d been expecting this weeks ago, but it didn’t prepare him at all. Seeing his friend hurt hurts so much.
‘’I got you, it’s okay,’’ he whispers into Sanji’s ear.
They don’t move. Zoro quietly sways them, hoping it soothes whatever’s going on inside Sanji’s head right now. He cries until all of his tears are dried up.
‘’Curly, look at me.’’ Zoro tries to back off from the embrace, but Sanji whines disgruntled and stays close, his head on the other’s chest. ‘’Talk to me, then.’’
He slowly moves them towards the table, sitting down with Sanji draped on top of his legs. The blond fully leans into him. It’s the first time they’re this close. Zoro feels himself go dizzy from the overwhelming sense of Sanji.
‘’Tell me what’s been going on.’’
Sanji stutters through an incomprehensible explanation. It consists mainly of things he’s done wrong. ‘’I s-should’ve-’’ Sanji stutters. ‘’Been better.’’
Zoro listens. It’s overwhelming to hear Sanji talk, and he doesn’t know how to process it. Every single thing Sanji tells him hurts, but at the same time, his feelings are dulled. How can Sanji think of himself like this?
‘’Cook,’’ Zoro interrupts him, in the middle of a rant about how he’s sorry he hasn’t been able to do more for them. ‘’Sanji, please, listen.’’
The mention of his own name quiets him down.
The arms around Sanji tighten. ‘’Where is this coming from?’’
Sanji shrugs his shoulders. ‘’I just… Everything hurts. And I haven’t been able to do anything like - not like I used to do.’’ The hand on Zoro’s shoulder shakes. ‘’I’m weak.’’
‘’Sanji, you’re not weak. You should’ve told us if something was wrong.’’
‘’I can handle it.’’
Zoro softly pets Sanji’s back, the only part of him his hand can comfortably reach. ‘’You don’t have to handle anything on your own.’’
Sanji doesn’t respond, so Zoro continues. ‘’We don’t love you because you do shit for us, idiot. We love you because you’re you. Because you’re kind. Remember when Usopp got wasted and you drove over an hour to pick him and Luffy up? You didn’t have to do that, no one wanted you to do that, but you did it because you’re kind.’’
Sanji moves his head closer to Zoro’s neck.
‘’I like how competitive you are. You’re always pushing me to do better, to be better, and I thought you liked that about me, too, but maybe I was wrong.’’
Sanji shakes his head. ‘’I- I like it. A bit,’’ he says slowly. ‘’ ‘S fun.’’
Zoro can’t help the soft smile that comes over his face. ‘’I’m happy about that.’’
‘’You’re the only one who matches me like that, you know? No one else would be okay with the dumb bets we make. I can’t believe I went to the gym every day for a whole month for you.’’
Sanji laughs softly. ‘’You refused to believe I could make cupcakes you’d like!’’
‘’I thought all cupcakes are sweet!’’
‘’You’re an idiot.’’
‘’I know that. Now that we’re onto the topic again, could you make them again soon?’’ Zoro asks, hoping it’ll distract the cook. Instead, it seems to have the opposite effect.
‘’Y-yea.’’
Zoro thinks for a moment. He’s never been good at connecting dots, especially when the dots are placed by Sanji, and thus messily all over the place and shouldn’t even have a connection to begin with.
‘’Sanji, you know you don’t have to do anything we ask you to, right? It’s just… You’re always so helpful, you’re the first person anyone would go to if they needed help.’’ Zoro resumes the soft strokes on his back.
‘’I’m not…’’ Sanji sighs shakily. ‘’I’m really not. I haven’t earned your love like that, not after… I haven’t been… I don’t deserve it, Zoro.’’
Zoro’s body freezes up. Of course, the idiot thinks like this.
‘’Look at me, now,’’ Zoro says. He moves out of the embrace, ignoring Sanji’s whine, and takes his face in his hands. They’re eye-to-eye, and no matter how much Sanji moves, he can’t get out of the grip. ‘’You don’t have to prove yourself. We love you. I promise, who made you feel that way?’’
Sanji refuses to look Zoro in the eyes, his own way of being stubborn. ‘’No one in particular. It’s just… oh.’’ A realisation seems to come over Sanji. His eyes fill with tears. ‘’Oh, oh god.’’
‘’What’s wrong?’’
‘’I’m…’’ It’s hard for Sanji not to make his voice break. ‘’I’m so sorry.’’
‘’Curly, stop apologising, tell me what you’re thinking.’’
‘’I thought it was me. I thought you didn’t like me anymore.’’
Zoro sighs. ‘’We’ve been over this multiple times. You got fucking issues, we know that, but we expect you to come to us when they’re getting bad.’’ Sanji doesn’t respond, but a tear falls from his eye. ‘’We trust you to do that.’’
He nods slowly. ‘’I messed up. It got bad, and I thought I could fix it myself, but… I don’t think I can.’’
Zoro nods, letting go of his face and engulfing him in another hug. ‘’That’s okay. I got you now. We’ll fix it together, okay?’’
“I don’t know if this can be fixed…” Sanji whispers into Zoro’s neck. His voice sounds fragile, and broken, and exhausted . Zoro feels his heart break.
“I promise, we’ll fix it,” Zoro whispers back. “You’ve got us. Let us in, okay?”
A new round of tears flow. Zoro holds him as close as possible through it all.
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
“Are your eyes closed?” Zoro’s voice is muffled by the closer door, but Sanji hears it clearly anyway.
“Yes, and I don’t know why I bother because the door is closer and you put out the lights,” Sanji responds. His hands are in front of his eyes nonetheless, because what his boyfriend wants, his boyfriend gets.
“Are you a hundred percent sure?”
“Ask me that again when you can count to a hundred!” Sanji yells back.
Zoro’s deep sigh can be heard through the door. “Just do what I ask for once, will you?” The sound of something heavy being put on the ground is loud enough to echo through the empty house.
“My eyes are closed, now give me my goddamn gift for… for what again?”
Sanji can hear the smile in Zoro’s voice. “Just wanted to do something nice for you.”
Sanji’s, honestly, slightly nervous. Their relationship is still quite new, it’s only been 8 months since that fateful night in the kitchen (which Sanji would rather not think about, but at least it got him here).
Only a month later, they ended up together. As in, officially together. Sanji awkwardly mumbled his way through a confession, until Zoro got fed up with it and just kissed him - which led to a lot of sputtering and swearing from the blond, but Zoro didn’t care. Sanji simply looked too cute with his lips and the tips of his ears bright red.
They decided to make a big change only a month ago. Zoro’s old bedroom got renovated, and Zoro’s rickety, one-person bed was swapped with a brand-new bed for 2 people. Which was not an easy adjustment.
“We’re throwing away your old bed, I don’t care.” “What’s wrong with my bed?” “Look at how old it is! We can’t even fit on it together, plus, it creaks.” “Everyone knows we have sex, Sanji.” “THEY DON’T HAVE TO HEAR IT!” “I don’t know, I think that’s kinda hot.” “You’re fucking deranged, and I hate you. We’re burning the bed.”
Slowly, the room came together as theirs. There are cookbooks, dumbbells, dress shirts and swords displayed around the room. Sanji decorated it to be cosy, going as far as to hang up fairy lights and put plants around (‘’Sanji, we have a living room. What is all of this?’’ ‘’It’s cute! Look, the lights have different settings, and you have to learn the names of the plants.’’ ‘’They have names?’’ ‘’And feelings, Marimo. I’ll hurt you if you touch them.’’)
Sanji has never felt more loved and safe. He still has off days, which often result in off weeks, but Zoro’s always there to pick up the pieces. They’ve made a proper chore schedule, so everyone contributes equally. Sanji isn’t allowed to cook more than 4 nights a week, and together they’ve made a meal plan to make sure Sanji’s eating all 3 of his meals.
Zoro turned out to be a much better boyfriend than Sanji could have hoped for: he’s still Zoro, dumb and clumsy and forgetful, but he does occasional boyfriend stuff Sanji hadn’t expected. He tries his best to be the person he believes Sanji deserves. Still, he’s never had a big surprise, the kind where Sanji has to close his eyes and somehow, Zoro convinces all their housemates to clear out.
‘’I’m coming in, keep your eyes closed,’’ Zoro yells.
Sanji complies, closing his eyes tightly behind his hands. He hears the door creak open and the lights turn on. Heavy footsteps stop right in front of him.
‘’Okay, open them.’’
Nervous, Sanji opens his eyes. He slowly lowers his hands, expecting something… Practical? New kitchen knives, an apron? Something cheesy? Flowers and chocolate?
He expected everything but Zoro to stand in front of him with a small, black kitten.
‘’Oh my god,’’ Sanji immediately coos. The kitten is comfortable lying in Zoro’s arms, completely uncaring about the world around her. Once she hears Sanji’s voice, her ears perk up. Two beady eyes look over at Sanji, and a little meow escapes her small mouth.
‘’Hold her,’’ Zoro smiles, unable to keep the happiness from his voice. Sanji immediately opens his arms. The kitten looks around dumbfounded for a moment, but quickly makes herself comfortable. She fits in Sanji’s palm perfectly. ‘’I thought you’d like her.’’
‘’’She’s so cute!’’ Sanji pets her head lightly, afraid of hurting her. The kitten leans into his touch thankfully. ‘’Why? What… How?’’
‘’I just…’’ Zoro scratches behind his ear for a moment. He sits down next to Sanji, putting his arm around the other’s shoulder. ‘’I thought you deserved something nice. She’ll keep you company when you don’t feel like going out, and when you’ve had a hard day she’ll be waiting for you here.’’
Sanji feels tears prick in his eyes. ‘’She’s adorable.’’
‘’And she’s all ours.’’ Zoro’s arm tightens. Sanji leans into his touch, unable to tear his eyes from the small creature dozing off to sleep in his hands. ‘’I got everything we need. Nami and Robin even helped pick out toys and stuff.’’
Sanji feels a warm feeling blossoming in his chest, something he learned to identify as love. ‘’What’s her name?’’
‘’I named her onigiri.’’
Big eyes look over at Zoro. ‘’You did not call our cat after your favourite food.’’
‘’It sounds cute! We can name her Oni for short!’’
‘’You’re such an idiot,’’ Sanji says. He can’t even pretend to be mad right now. ‘’I’m… I love you so much,’’ he says happily, bringing Onigiri closer to his face. Her eyes open curiously at the sudden movement.
‘’Calm down,’’ Zoro smiles. ‘’You’ve known her for a good three minutes.’’
‘’I meant you, you oaf. I love you.’’
Zoro is silent for a moment, too stunned by Sanji’s sudden confession to respond. Then, after a beat, he pulls the blond even closer, his grip tightening. He buries his face in Sanji’s hair, feeling a familiar warmth bloom in his chest. The same warmth that’s been there every time he’s looked at Sanji for the past few months.
‘’I love you too, curly.’’
#one piece#black leg sanji#sanji#vinsmoke sanji#one piece sanji#zosan#roronoa zoro#mugiwara no ichimi#angst#sanzo#modern au#one piece fanfiction#op zosan#op masterlist
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I don't really know exactly why I'm posting this, I guess I just want to share my joy, but y'all...the nerve block worked. My migraine went down a little over the night so I was only at like a 1.5-2 but I swear to god the second they were done EVERY SINGLE PART of my head stopped hurting. The only pain I'm feeling rn is at the injection site and a smidge in my jaw, but that's not a huge deal bcs I know the steroids take a long time to do their thing and I usually have pain around the injection site when they do this in my back, plus I did already suspect something like 10% of my migraines aren't entirely due to my neck, but like...it worked. It fucking worked.
I've been living with chronic migraines my entire life, and in the last five years, they've gotten so bad that I can't work and have to cancel streams and hangouts with friends all the time. I have migraines more days than I don't and I've never been able to find out what my trigger is aside from not sleeping well and eating lays potato chips(rip I miss them so much) or gluten or being on my period?? and on some days I'm in so much pain I can't even feed myself or shower. 8-10 is the norm, they don't go lower on their own, they NEVER go away on their own, no matter how much time I spend lying in bed in the dark with icepacks on my face. My migraine rescue meds don't always work, or they work for a day and then it comes back, and I seem to be fucking Immune(tm) to Excedrin and ibuprofen. All that together has legit been ruining my entire life.
And I am not even a little ashamed to admit that once they were done and asked how I felt I broke down sobbing in the exam room because it WORKED. Instantly. Years of pain and agony and no help from my doctors, of blaming a medical condition that treatment hasn't fixed, telling me to limit screen time and lose weight, forcing me to try 50 different medications none of which help, of spending long nights in the ER hoping they can fix me even though it's typically a 50/50 chance....and now it's over. I don't have to do that anymore. They fixed it. They fixed it.
I'm crying right now as I write this. I never thought this was possible. Like I believed that it was my neck and my doctors agreed, but I was so worried that this would all be for nothing, I didn't think it would work, I know most disabled people dream of finding the One Thing that's causing all their problems even though most of us never do, but I guess luck decided to smile on me this day, this is what's causing my problems and it's treatable. It's over. I found the path out of this hell and it was the right one. I don't even know what to do, what to say. I'm so happy I can't even be happy, all I can do is cry because the hardest part is over.
There's still work to be done, but the path is clear. And honestly @ any gods that are listening, please grant this to my fellow disabled people. They deserve to feel this, we all do.
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Hello, I was wondering since your always drawing if you had any tips for getting eye strain? My eyes get strained from staring at my tablet drawing and I get sleepy and sometimes even feel sick, thanks!
yes ! ive been struggling with this for a while as well- (ive recently found out that the headaches n stuff ive been having were ocular migraines with a scotoma))
id been having migraines like that off and on for the past few weeks and i decided to look into it, and now ive set aside breaks in my computer/ screen time. I either do some traditional art or just anything else to do with my hands like crafts, or go outside for a while, generally just taking a break from my screen, and i havent had one be triggered in a while ! thats what works for me, but there can be different triggers for headaches n stuff.
figuring out things to help out with this is honestly a life saver for me- cause whenever id get headaches like this that lead to the migraines id literally just have to call it quits for the rest of the day cause i couldnt see anything properly and i got so nauseous after the headache past i couldnt do nothin but sleep, so yea ! i highly recommend taking screen breaks !
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midnight regrets | bsk
pairing: seungkwan x f!reader genre: angsty kinda? but also fluff maybe? (drunk confession) word count: 848
this is part of my series, seventeen as songs from lover (ts)
Seungkwan ➝ Death By a Thousand Cuts I get drunk, but it's not enough ’Cause the morning comes and you're not my baby ↳ in which Seungkwan drunk calls you, his ex, and finally tells you all the feelings he kept to himself for months.
The clock on your phone told you it was just past four in the morning. Your insomnia had gotten to you yet again and this time it seemed like it had decided to stay. You did everything you were supposed to, ate better, avoided certain smells and foods that could trigger a migraine that could cause insomnia, but none of it seemed to matter.
In the last couple of days, you only managed to get a total of 5 hours of sleep. It was a wonder in itself that your brain still functioned, poorly of course.
With a groan, you turned on your side. You just wanted to sleep, like a normal person, for a few hours. Was that really too much to ask?
Your phone started to vibrate on your bedside, the blue light suddenly pulling the room out of its complete darkness. No one in their right mind would call you in the middle of the night. Not because you would get angry at them but because no one calls anyone at four in the morning.
Even if the number calling you wasn't saved a contact, it was one you remembered all too well. It was impossible to make your heart stay calm, to keep quiet. But your brain was telling you that there was something wrong.
It had been almost six months since you and Seungkwan broke up. After the final words had been said, you never saw him again. You returned his things to Vernon and he had left yours with your doorman. You stopped following him on social media and deleted his number.
The breakup hadn't been bad, per se. When you finally got down to it, you simply realized that you wanted things that Seungkwan didn't seem willing to give to you.
When you told him that you wanted to break up his only words were "If that's what you really want, I won't do anything to stop you from leaving"
It hurt so much because you felt like he didn't care at all about you and it was clear that your relationship had come to an end way before you finally decided it was time to.
Truthfully, you were still healing and you knew that taking that call was probably a bad idea. But what if something was wrong? What if he was in some kind of trouble?
After taking a deep breath, you accepted the call.
"Hello?"
"You weren't supposed to take the call," he said with a whine, words slurred.
You settled back against the pillows, relief flooding your body. Nothing was wrong, Seungkwan was just drunk.
"Was I not? But you called"
"But you shouldn't have"
You could see him pout, eyes closed, and furrowed eyebrows. You couldn't hold back the smile that spread on your lips.
"Why did you call, Seungkwan?"
There was a pause and a sigh.
Seungkwan always looked cute when drunk, though all of his friends would disagree with you. It was easy to hear to distinguish Vernon's voice saying he called yn and Chan's oh he's drunk drunk.
"I miss you so much" he cried "Did you know that? Every single day I wake up and you're the first person I think about. Sometimes something happens and it's so trivial but I want to call you and tell you about it. And sometimes I wonder where we went wrong and I know isn't an us problem, it was a me problem. It wasn't you because you weren’t perfect for me but I wasn't perfect for you. And I…"
You covered your mouth as if it would be enough to suppress the sound of your small sobs.
"I didn't want perfection, Seungkwan. All I wanted was you"
He whined again, a cry left his mouth and you swear that he fell because the next you heard was Chan's exasperated dude, be careful.
"I should have said something that day but your words hurt me, so I let my pride take over. I should have asked you why, at least. I do know why but maybe if I asked I would have come up with some sort of argument. And then you returned my things to Vernon because you didn't even want to see me. And you unfollowed me everywhere and I bet you deleted my number. Because you always said hi baby, when I called or Seungkwan? if you were worried. I miss you so much and I love you so much. I want to try again, can you give me another chance? Hm?"
Seungkwan wasn't the kind of drunk who couldn't talk, who was hard to understand. His words got a little slurred and he talked a little bit slower but you could understand every single one of them. His desperation was obvious.
"You're all I ever wanted. I'm sorry I can't say it sober"
You closed your eyes. Maybe you would regret your words but you still wanted to try, even if you and Seungkwan were destined to fail.
“If when you wake up you still feel the same way, we can”
taglist: @wonwooz1, @ryuwonieebae, @sobun1est, @mirtaspace, @feat-sun, @wonvsmile, @belladaises, @mhlsymlysn, @immabecreepin, @miriamxsworld, @aaniag , @sofix-hc7, @scarlet789, @moonlightgrleric, @r6njunlv, @mixling-blog, @k-drama-adict
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And another Viktor headcanon!
First of all, I would like to thank everyone who paid attention to my post and appreciated it. I don't want to whine and put pressure on pity, but there is an imperialist war going on in my country, devouring and cruel, and I am no longer sure that it will end any good. It pretty much spoils my and everyone's morale. That's why it's important for me to distract myself and share my thoughts with you. Thanks for the support! As for the headcanons, I want to say that Vicky from the first season is mainly taken into account here. Second... Well, we all know what happened in the second one. If you're interested, I'll sign the headcanons for him from the second season.
— Viktor often falls, and over the years these falls are more and more painful. He has constant bruises and abrasions on his knees. It's hard for him to get up: he mostly rests with one hand on a crutch, the other on the ground, and spends two or three minutes doing this. It is for this reason that he tries not to cross rails and roads, because he is afraid of not being able to get up soon enough from an accidental fall.
— Viktor hates stairs, and I guess that doesn't need to be explained. Sometimes he crawls over them, and it looks pretty scary and sad. If someone sees him in this state, they naturally try to help him, but he prefers to climb on his own. Even so. Viktor's pride does not allow him to admit that it is difficult for him to climb. It's not that he's stupid at all: he just doesn't want to fully admit how sick he is, because if he does, one more of the few things in life that he treasured will be lost: a sense of self-respect. It cannot be said that he considers his illness to be something worthy of discrimination, he is essentially against any humiliation of dignity, but its presence sometimes makes him hate himself and feel ashamed. After all, it's the only thing he can't control.
— Viktor loves dairy products very much, but he can't always eat them, which is why he sometimes stays in a bad mood. By the way: meals affect his mood more than he would like. Viktor does not like to admit his humanity and is guided by his old "they can — I can't" attitude, which I touched on in my previous post, which is why sometimes he deliberately rejects food that he would like to treat. This is not infantilism, it is a consequence of deep loneliness and the trauma of rejection that permeates all aspects of his life. It is as if he is trying to push away from everything that can connect him with a sick and imperfect body.
— In his spare time, Viktor either sleeps or reads science fiction, sometimes in his head scolding the author and coming up with improvements to this or that invention from the book. However, fiction is still not his strong suit. Viktor does not understand the excessive drama that often happens in fiction, and he does not like grotesque and exaggeration, because everything that does not correspond to realism seems to him too naive and pretentious. What can you do, he is a genius of mechanics and bioengineering, not the humanities. He would rather read a textbook on quantum physics or a journal of scientific articles on astronomy than be carried away by a novel about love, betrayal and revenge.
— He has glasses for reading small texts.
— His migraines are sometimes triggered by Jayce's loud voice.
— Because of his life in Zaun in unsanitary conditions, Viktor is distinguished by his zealous love of cleanliness. Once, he gassed cockroaches in the academy dormitory on his own, because he could not tolerate their presence. No matter how bad it is for him, he gets up and cleans his house every day, because he believes that work is ennobling, and a clean room is the key to a clean mind.
— Victor is a Virgo according to the zodiac sign with an ascendant in Aquarius.
Also I have playlist for Vik, but it's in VKontakte (russian social network). Let me know if you want to hear it on YouTube! (I don't have enough money for Spotify).
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