#lost my period for a few years and my hair thinned an insane amount and I had all the other perimenopause symptoms

[youthdecayenjoyer]

fuck I have to start taking supplements again I think bc my hair was just starting to slowly recover and grow back and now I'm freaking it's all gonna fall out again

[dontshootmespence]

Random Chance

Summary: Y/N yields to peer pressure and Spencer loses a bet. Did fate bring them together or was it random chance?

Words: 1,689

Warnings: Gross fluff.

A/N: My next entry for @cmbingo​ 2020! This fulfills my meet cute square.

This was the fifth outfit change.

“Why did I let you talk me into this?” You screamed, glancing into the mirror before ripping off your shirt and pants for a sixth outfit. “Speed dating? Fuck my life. This is peer pressure. You suck.”

Under pressure, filled with nervous tension, you tended to run your mouth, and right now Piper was at the opposing end of your razor sharp sword. But she still had a smile on her face. “You need to get out there and you won’t do it yourself, so I had to push you,” she laughed, pushing passed the mountain of packed boxes and pulling one of your favorite dresses out of the closet. 

“A dress? Really? For speed dating?”

Dating sucked. It was the most horrible thing ever. All you wanted was to fall into the perfect relationship and then cuddle on the couch. Was that so much to ask? 

Piper laughed and stood behind you, holding the dress over your body. “Yes, it’s not an evening gown or anything. And it’s you. Just because you’re going speed dating doesn’t mean the guys you meet shouldn’t see exactly who you are.”

As much of a pain in the ass as she was, Piper was still your bestie, since you were in diapers. And she wanted the best for you. She’d pulled out your Harry Potter dress, the one with the first chapter’s words written all over. “Pair that with your cute red flats and the guys will be falling over themselves to get to you and the ones that don’t are stupid.”

You snorted and stepped into the flats, taking yet another glance into the dreaded mirror. “You know you couldn’t have picked a worse time for me to go speed dating,” you said, finally content with your outfit. Within the week, you’d be moving and starting a new job at the local community college. “Next week, dude.”

“Life’s too short to wait,” she said, playfully smacking your butt. “Plus, at least it’s at that kitschy bookstore you love. Now go take a nice relaxing walk and breathe. You’ll be fine. I gotta go to work.”

“Text me when you get there so I know you’re safe,” you call, hearing the thud of the heavy apartment door close behind her.

After grabbing your red sweater, you headed down the stairs, locking the door behind you. The bookstore was only a few blocks away and it was a beautiful day out, so you decided to take advantage of the sunny weather.

A breeze brushes through your hair as you walk and the sun beats down on your skin. There are a few other people around, but mostly people are at work. You would be too if it weren’t for the whole “new job, new place, new life” kick you were on. Decided to take a few weeks off before starting your new job. 

The entrance to the Old Fox bookstore was as obnoxious as could be, at least when compared to the rest of the stores on the block. The door was painted a bright red, but it was somewhat worn by age. The store opened up during the 60s and it was still just as popular today.

Like the three bears, the store wasn’t a giant chain or a teeny tiny hole in the wall, it was just right. The walls were a muted turquoise, which you’d alway loved. Everyone seemed to think that neutral was the way to go but you’d always been a fan of in your face color - at least after your goth teen years. 

Noise filled the air - not normal for this place - it was always on quiet side, but given the event you weren’t surprised. Seemed to be an equal amount of men and women, which made you feel a little better, not wanting to be outnumbered.

Since there was still a little time to waste before everything started, you figured there wasn’t any harm in looking for another book or two...or five. One of the first things you planned to put up in your new apartment was this scratch-off list, kind of like a lottery ticket, the listed nearly 200 classics. You'd read a lot of them before, but there were still some that you hadn’t, so maybe you could find one and pick it up before the nausea-inducing speed dating began. 

After reading Good Omens, you’d been hankering for another Neil Gaiman book, so you slithered between the masses in the store toward the section in question. American Gods, Anansi Boys, Eternity’s Wheel, you weren’t sure which one to pick. 

All - all was a good choice, right?

The colorful spines of the books called out to you, another one of Gaiman’s works. Your hand crawled along the edges of the nearby books, your hand just brushing up against someone else’s as you reached for The Graveyard Book. “Oh, sorry,” you said, staring up into the face of a beautiful stranger. He was thin and tall with delicate features, but he had a sharp jaw and deep set hazel eyes that were complemented by wavy brown hair. “I’m apparently on a Gaiman binge. Have you read any of his stuff before?”

“Yea,” he replied, eyeing the stack of books already in your hand. “American Gods, Good Omens and Eternity’s Wheel. I tend to read textbooks most of the time, but I’ve been told I should delve into more fun reading, so-”

He cut himself off and took the book off the shelf, offering it to you. “You saw it first.” Aw, gallant, too. “I’m Spencer by the way.”

“Y/N,” you said, extending your hand. “What brings you here? You live around here?”

Spencer glanced toward the tables set up for speed dating. “No, actually I lost a bet to two friends of mine and if I lost I had to go speed dating. Can’t say I’m all that comfortable with it.”

“Me either,” you laughed. “My friend Piper peer pressured me into it. I don’t drink but somehow she got me to agree to this.”

The owner of the store gave a five minute warning that speed dating was about to start. “So how long will it take you to read those?” He shifted on the balls of his feet, probably nervous, which you understood. 

“Well, I have a few weeks off while I move apartments and start a new job, so these...probably four, five days.” You laughed, feeling every inch the nerd you were. “Been an avid reader since I was a kid. Why do you read textbooks though? Fiction is so much more fun.”

“I can read 20,000 words per minute and I’m always trying to absorb as much knowledge as I can. Helps with the work I do.”

“Which is?” He was cute and intriguing.

“I’m an FBI profiler for the Behavioral Analysis Unit at Quantico.”

And smart. Shit. There had to be something wrong with him. Dream guys like this didn’t grow on trees. “Impressive, Spencer. What’s your background in?”

He looked down at the ground, almost like he was embarrassed, speaking softly. “I have BAs in psychology, sociology and philosophy, as well as PhDs in mathematics, chemistry and engineering.”

“Oh my god,” you laughed. Really smart. Like stupid smart. “That’s amazing.”

“Really?”

“Of course!” How could that not be amazing? “Why?”

“It’s just that people normally think I’m a freak for having so many.” 

You wanted to punch whoever made him feel that way. “Definitely not a freak, just insanely impressive considering you’re so young.” He couldn’t have been much older than you. Maybe five years at the most.

“I started college when I was 12.”

As the owner called out to start the most awkward dating experience known to man, you turned to Spencer. “Hey, would you maybe want to get out of here? Go grab a cup of coffee? I mean, we both had friends insist we come here, but we never said we actually had to go through with it.”

Tension fell from his shoulders, like he could finally be at ease. “I’d like that. I’m really not good at this whole date thing,” he said nervously. “Just a heads up.”

Both of you shuffled over to the register, so you could pay for your books. “Neither am I, don’t worry. I’d prefer to just magically be in a relationship and not have to work for it, you know?”

“Absolutely, so Y/N, what do you do for a living? What’s the new job?”

Now it was your turn to be embarrassed, well not embarrassed, intimidated. “It’s definitely not as fancy as FBI profiler. I have my master’s degree in English literature. I’m going for a PhD too, but to pay for the half of my doctorate that scholarship won’t, I’m teaching. First, it was an online course through a University in New Hampshire where I’d travel occasionally, even though I live her, but now I got a job at the local community college.”

“That’s awesome,” he said, seeming genuinely interested. “What’s the focus on your thesis?”

So few people asked you that. Most people’s eyes glazed over when you talked about books. Everyone except your mom. “Analyzing Othello through the lends of racism as it relates to the Elizabethan period.”

After handing the cashier your money, you and Spencer walked out together, talking about your favorite Shakespeare plays, when he bumped into someone. A muscular, equally tall black guy. “Hey, kid. Funny meeting you here. Aren’t you supposed to be fulfilling your end of the deal? You lose, you speed date?”

He was one of Spencer’s friends. That much was obvious. But Spencer looked 1001% done with his bullshit - whatever it was. “Y/N, this is my friend Derek Morgan. We work together at the FBI. Morgan, this is Y/N.”

“Well, hello, Y/N.” A charmer. 

“Good to meet you,” you replied on a laugh. “Technically, he didn’t go speed dating. Neither did I and I promised my friend Piper I would, but...he is leaving with a date.” You grabbed Spencer’s hand, a jolt of something awesome moving through you at his touch. “We’re going for a cup of coffee now actually.”

“Yea, so as you see, I’m the one busy with a woman right now.” Morgan seemed quite the ladies man and Spencer looked mighty proud of himself right now. “See you tomorrow at work?”

“See you tomorrow,” Morgan replied, a note of surprise in his voice. “Nice to meet you Y/N.”

“You too. I sense we’ll be seeing more of each other.”

When you both walked away, you pulled The Graveyard Book out of your bag and handed it to Spencer. “You read this first. I think this date might go pretty well, but if you have this, then you have to return it to me and I’m guaranteed to see you again.”

Spencer smiled, his fingers tightening around yours. “I’ll have to thank Morgan for being a pain in my ass.”

“So, you lost a bet?”

“Yea, he bet I couldn’t go a day without spouting statistics and I lost. I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Piper just peer pressured me. Guess I’ll have to thank her too.”

The strong, heady scent of coffee began to fill your nostrils as you approached the cafe. When he opened the door, he seemed to finally catch a glimpse of your dress. “Wait, is that the first chapter of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone on your dress?”

“Yup. I’m a Slytherin by the way.”

“Oh, you definitely won’t need a guarantee to see me again, as long as you want to, I think I’m smitten.”

Piper was going to get a big hug later. Maybe dinner. And lots of wine.

[chilvanakin]

If I had to remember how it started, I would have to replay the flashback of being told that when I became obese at 15, that I couldn’t “come crying”. I was 8 when my dad told me this. Afterwards, I had this increasing feeling of being in the wrong body, like I had been misplaced at birth and was suddenly realizing it. I looked around at everyone else, having fun and enjoying their childhood while I compared me to them. I compared me to my best friend who I often I asked, “why can’t I look like you?”

I felt misplaced in a body that was my own, always had been, because someone else told me I was. How do you teach an 8 year old to go on a diet? I loved food, I was a picky eater but aren’t we all at that age? So how do you tell them that they need to change and that they don’t look pretty enough without traumatizing them? My dad now reafirms that he only said that to me because he wanted me to have high self esteem. He wanted me to “take care of myself”.

I developed anorexia at 14. I became obsessed with diet culture, “clean” eating, and exercising until I colapsed. I used my notebooks for tracking my daily intake and writing hateful messages to myself. I would motivate myself through my own hatred. Slowly, I decreased my meals until they weren’t even meals anymore. I thought I was being “healthy” by going on 3 to 4 day fasts, thinking that the kiwi I had before I began was enough. Newsflash, it wasn’t. But I continued.

My family situation got complex during this time. My parents were separated and I felt alone. I distanced myself from my friends and I had also stopped going to school. Everytime I talked to my dad through Skype, he would comment on how I was too thin. Amazingly so, I thought he was complimenting me. I got more and more obsessed, the loss of my period and hair became my motivation. The internet was my best friend because I read all about the “tips & tricks” of starving. I was tired, lonely, cold and angry. I had no patience and I was insufferable. This is what being malnourished will do to you.

After months and months of these rituals that and rules that seemed like an endless of “how to die in 10 days”, I tried to recover. How? By getting into fitness. I did Insanity while I was recovering, which was bullshit because that is NOT recovery. I didn’t challenge myself, I didn’t give my body time to rest- I exercised every day, I underfed and I normalized exhaustion. I was terrified of chocolate, processed foods and fats. The thought of putting on weight became a source of nightmares, LITERALLY. I would have NIGHTMARES about looking down at my body and seeing fat start to accumulate over my bones. Somehow, I thought that since I was exercising and eating more than my standard oatmeal and toast, that I was recovered.

I went to live with my father at 15. I feel like this decision shaped me as a person because I was forced to grow up way too fast. I made choices that no one should make a 15 year old make. At this point in time, I had put on weight and I was no longer exercising. My dad had a baby with this girlfriend of the time and all I wanted to do was be with my new baby brother. I didn’t think about food or dieting because I felt like somehow, watching him eat made me be at peace with food. My baby brother was growing and being nourished by the food we gave him and I wanted to make sure he was never hungry. It made me feel so happy to watch him laugh and wobble his way over to his mom for lunch time. I loved seeing him nibbling with a toothless mouth on a soft cookie, and offering the slobbered leftovers to me. That all stopped very suddenly, because my dad would start to make comments. Not only him, but his girlfriend too. Comments about how I was “eating too much” and how I “would look better if I was smaller”. I was experiencing extreme hunger when I moved in with my dad, because I had stopped exercising and my body no longer was focusing the energy on repairing my muscles, it was focusing on repairing me as a whole. I HAD to eat a lot because I needed to be healthy again. This was thrown completely out of the window and I caved into my disordered brain again. I felt almost grateful to them for motivating me to start losing weight again because I thought that it meant that they cared. So the food rules started again. It’s just that this time I didn’t need to learn the tips and tricks, I already knew them. Losing weight was easier now, and faster. So 2013 was the year I dedicated to my disorder. I restricted long enough that my hunger cues began to fade away. I thought that my body had gotten used to what I was eating. A green apple in the morning, some lettuce leaves and half a red bell pepper for lunch, and a single serving of prepackaged soup at night. My brain stopped screaming at me and I stopped thinking. I was reduced to being a zombie of my disorder. I stopped singing, I stopped writing, I stopped making art. I never cried, I laughed only when I was around other people. My body felt numb. I felt numb.

I remember taking showers and watching as day by day the fur growing all over my bones got longer and longer. I later found out that this is called “lanuga” which happens when you have lost an extreme amount of fat and your body reacts as an attempt at survival by growing these hairs, desperately trying to protect you. I felt tired, I couldn’t carry my baby brother anymore. He would ask me to hold him and I would try, but be very afraid of dropping him so I would have to refuse. I remember how upset he looked, we were so close. He loved being with me but I was so scared of him watching me do these things to myself. What if he learned from me? What if my actions stayed in his subconscious? I tried putting distance between us because of my fears. I hate myself for that because I miss him so much now, I miss the days we would spend and the naps we would take. I can’t take back that time.

We went to the doctor because I now, was at the brink of death. Truly I wish that I could say I’m being dramatic about that, but I’m not. My heart was weak and I could barely move. I was no longer sleeping and even sitting down hurt. My bones felt like knives crushing into my skin. I learned that I was at risk of heart failure and if I didn’t start recovering now, the next step would be having a tube thrusted down my throat. Force feeding. I couldn’t ever let that happen so I decided to once again, embarc on a lonely recovery path. As soon as I left the doctors, I told my dad to buy me chocolate. In response, he was annoyed. He thought that I was going to use my “verge of death illness” as an excuse to get obese. I cannot make this up y’all. He didn’t buy me shit and barked at me about how “you can eat at home”. Please, if anyone you know is going through restrictive eating disorder and they say they want chocolate- BUY THEM THE FUCKING CHOCOLATE!

I began refeeding and it was the most difficult thing I had ever done in my life. I couldn’t stomach food. I would eat and instantly have diarrhea. I had to have baby sized portions of food to be able to hold it down. This caused my weight to drop more, so I was now at the point where I actually did need to be hospitalized. I was afraid that I was going to die at any given point of the day. My dad once told me that “just because you have to start eating again doesn’t mean you can get as fat as you used to be”. I cried. This was the first time I had cried in so long. My numbed down feelings reflourished. The hate, the anger, the sadness I bottled up began overflowing. I didn’t stop eating, I gave myself the time I had to so I could stabilize myself. I was sent to go spend a few months with my dad’s girlfriend’s family. I barely knew these people, but they couldn’t handle me being this sick anymore. They didn’t want me. I was a bad influence to my brother. I was hurting them. My dad would have hated me if I told him I needed to be in the hospital, because that’s too much money so this was the easy way out. I guess if I needed to be hospitalized while I was there, it wouldn’t have to come out of his pocket.

I hated being away from my baby brother. I hated acting happy all the time when I was so depressed and furious. I tried making friends during my time away and all of them idolized my sick body. They asked me how I got to that point. I remember telling them I was sick, that I had to eat. They made me feel like that wasn’t neccesary, that I looked like a model. I ate anyway. I couldn’t go back home and still be sick, that would mean that I would be hated by them and maybe even have to leave home.

After a few months I gained some weight. I went back home. I asked my dad’s girlfriend if I was “fine now”, as in “am I not scary anymore”. She said I still looked very thin, but that it was fine. She told me not to go overboard. This meant “DO. NOT. GET. FAT.”

My dad and his girlfriend separated after a year and a half of my recovery. This whole period was very stressful since I was left alone with my dad. I was weight restored and I found some kind of peace with having no peace. I lived with the comments as a daily thing. “Don’t eat that, why don’t you do some arm exercises, you don’t really want that, why don’t those pants fit you anymore.” I got used to feeling foreign in my body. So being extremely malnourished was bad, bein inbetween wasn’t good enough and being restored to my set weight was just awful. I had no idea who I was or what I was supposed to be. I hated myself and I got used to that.

I am now 23 years old and I relapsed a few months ago. I understand now that I was never recovered. I was begging for help for years, but I got irritation and annoyance as a response. I never stopped having food rules, I never stopped being afraid of food. I cannot recover until my brain is completely rewired. I have to eat. I have to lose my fear around food. I have to HATE my disorder and push it out of every one of my pores until I am completely cleansed of it. I remember reading about how “this disorder never leaves you and you will always struggle with it”. I believed that for so long. I believed that I was never going to stop being afraid. I’m tired of feeling comfortable with my anorexia when it has ruined me to the point of feeling completely astranged from my body. I want to know who I am and not hate myself for it. I can’t recover fully until I rewire myself. Keep this with you. You cannot believe you are recovered just because some doctor tells you that you are weight restored. Your food rules need to disappear competely, you need to challenge yourself even if it terrifies you. I am so afraid, but I don’t ever want to go down this disordered path again. I want to spend time with the people that love me and not let anything get in my way. I am young and I am smart. So are you. Eat your fears.

[taeheyhey]

Close to Normal

Chapter 18 - What Are We Doing Now?

Taehyung x Reader - Fluff/Angst - 3.8k words

A/N - Helloooo! Here is chapter 18, I hope you all enjoy it a lot! If you have time or the inclination, please leave me a like or a comment or a wee reblog, it really helps motivate me to keep on writing and to try to create better things. BTW If you have sent me a request, rest assured I'm getting through them!

Thank you for being so lovely to me and for reading my story...it means the world! ♥

One ~ Two ~ Three ~ Four ~ Five ~ Six ~ Seven ~ Eight ~ Nine ~ Ten ~ Eleven ~ Twelve ~ Thirteen ~ Fourteen ~ Fifteen ~ Sixteen ~ Seventeen ~ Eighteen ~ Nineteen ~ Twenty ~ Twenty-One ~ Twenty-Two

It had taken some time and an awful lot of effort, but for the most part life had returned more or less to normal. There were still times, particularly when you weren’t working at the bar or otherwise occupied, where thoughts of Taehyung would take up residence in your mind and stubbornly stay there for an hour or two, sometimes longer. On more than a few of these occasions you had felt the very powerful urge to crack open your ancient laptop and indulge in a quick image search, just to remind yourself that, yes: that inhumanly beautiful, kind and talented man had brightened the mundanity of your life for the briefest of moments.

You had decided early on it would be advisable to persist in resisting these urges to the best of your ability, mostly for your own emotional well-being. There was no way you could trivialise the significance of the time you had spent together, but to dwell on the loss of it was ultimately unconstructive and damaging, and you decided you had spent far too much of your life allowing the actions of others to dictate your own. You would always treasure those few days with Taehyung, but you told yourself that you could – and would – move on from it.

Not only did you tell yourself, you also told Ronnie, loudly and often. There would probably have been more chance of him believing you if he hadn’t decided to check in on you on one of your nights off. He had found you most of the way through a bottle of wine and a large Toblerone, the room in darkness but for the glow from the laptop, headphones in and completely engrossed and teary-eyed over a compilation video of Taehyung with animals, gesturing despairingly in silence at the video. You had woken the following morning with a hangover and a half-melted chocolate triangle stuck to your neck and committed to a YouTube and all round Taehyung internet search ban for the sake of your sanity.

Still the hours turned in to days and then in to weeks as they have a tendency to do and before you knew it, it had been three months since that fateful night at the hotel in the city. You had spent a large potion of your days searching for an extra job to help Ronnie pay for the upkeep of the bar. He refused to let you work for him for room and board and insisted on paying you a wage, even though dwindling patron numbers and rapidly increasing rent meant he could scarcely afford it.

“I know you don’t like talking about it with me Ronnie, but how long can we realistically keep this place open if we keep having nights like last night?” you called to him behind the bar.

He was rearranging the bottles of liquor and spirits for want of something to do. He would normally be re-stocking the fridges but given that only two bottles had been removed from them, it wouldn’t have occupied him for very long.

You were counting out the money from the previous day, not that it took a great deal of time to do so. Over the space of five hours, four people had walked through the door of Ronnie’s. One was Peter, two made up an elderly couple who came in once a week to nurse one drink each over a two hour period, and the last had been a gentleman who had gotten lost on the way to the city centre and needed to use the bathroom. You had at least managed to talk him in to buying a coke.

“What’s all this 'we' talk? It’s not your problem to worry about.” He retorted, shifting his eyes indecisively back and forth between an unopened bottle of beer and the large mug of black coffee you had placed in front of him some minutes earlier.

You observed him through his reflection in the mirror behind the bar, and to your immense relief he turned to face you with the mug in his hand, before walking around the bar to sit down and join you. “What do you mean 'not my problem'? If Hannah comes back and finds out I’ve not been looking after you, she’ll nag both of us to the brink of insanity.”

He grumbled in acknowledgement. “She always was like her mother,” he smiled sadly and sighed, taking a large gulp of his drink to cover up the waver in his voice.

You reached over the table and placed your hand on his forearm and squoze in what you hoped was a reassuring manner. Hannah had been gone for over half a year now, and he was obviously missing her, and you used the ensuing silence to consider how best to respond to Ronnie’s sudden melancholy.

You had learned not to push it when it came to his vulnerable moments, you simply had to take your cues from him and wait to see if he elaborated, if he did not the most constructive option was to move the conversation on to something else. Usually food.

“Should I go down to the cafe and get us some lunch?” You proposed after waiting a sufficient amount of time for him to continue the conversation should he wish to do so.

As if by magic his face brightened, and even if it was solely for you benefit you were relieved, knowing that he would be embarrassed later on if he continued to wallow in front of you. He reached in to his pocket to retrieve his wallet, and you placed a stilling hand on his shoulder.

“Please just let me do this at least? Peter gave me a twenty last night.” You announced, pulling the note from the back pocket of your jeans and holding it aloft like a precious relic.

“Jesus, what’s that all about?” Ronnie pondered aloud, shuffling off his chair and making for the sink with his now empty mug, picking up yours on the way.

Peter had been a fixture in the bar almost all day, every day since you had begun working at Ronnie’s, always wearing the same brown overcoat and thin-lipped grimace beneath his unkempt beard, and he rarely tipped, only at Christmas and on the rare occasions he had won at the horses. “Who knows? Maybe he’s secretly loaded?”

“Well it would make sense, it’s hard not to make a success of yourself with that level of charisma,” Ronnie quipped in response.

You smiled wryly and pulled on your hoodie, pulling open the front door as Peter barrelled in with impeccable timing. As the door closed behind you and your stepped out in to the drizzling rain, you heard Ronnie bellow an overly enthusiastic greeting at Peter for comic effect.

You pulled your hood over your untidy hair and shoved your hands in to your pockets as you faced in to the wind on your way to the cafe. You could remember running down this path away from Taehyung playfully and feeling as though you didn’t have a care in the world. You imagined how different a figure you cut now, shoulders hunched over against the weather, eyes downcast as you allowed the grief to consume you just for this walk; just while you were alone.

In much the same way as Ronnie’s rapid switch from his gloomy countenance earlier was largely for your benefit, your own emotional recovery was feigned in large part to reduce how often you would find him watching you with ill-concealed concern plastered across his face. Your despondency was abruptly overpowered by guilt as you wondered how much of Ronnie’s own sadness at missing his daughter he had successfully hidden from you as you wallowed in the wake of Taehyung’s departure.

Before you could think on it for much longer you had arrived at the cafe. You placed your fingers around the door handle and took a deep breath in. You hadn’t been in here since that morning with Taehyung, and you felt that familiar clenching in your heart and the hot sting behind your eyes. Again, you allowed yourself to feel it only for a few moments before exhaling and pushing down on the handle.

There were no more than three tables occupied in the cafe, the breakfast rush long since ended, and those that were seated paid little attention to you as you entered the room, save for the couple by the front door who grumbled simultaneously as a sliver of the outside was allowed in with your arrival.

Over by the counter you could see Jess talking intimately with a young man wearing a woollen hat pulled down over his ears, and she giggled coquettishly as he stretched over the bar and planted a peck on her cheek. She looked so happy. That is until she raised her eyes at the sound of the door being blown shut again and found you smiling warmly at her. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped loose, the beginning of your name falling from her open mouth.

You frowned, perturbed by her reaction to your presence, until the man in the hat turned to the entrance to follow the line of Jess' gaze. Mark.

You could feel your eyebrows make a mad dash towards your hairline as you took in their shocked expressions, almost comical in their similarity. After a beat you allowed your face to relax as you strolled over to them, trying not to be unsettled by the dual frozen stare you were being subjected to.

You could understand why they were freaked out, but you were honestly more interested in getting back to Ronnie equipped with lunch.

“Hi,” you offered in greeting to both of them, although it left your mouth as a question.

“I’m, um...just going to...” Mark awkwardly shuffled around you and headed for the restrooms, almost pushing open the ladies door in his fluster.

You were left face to face with Jess, whose eyes were still the size of saucers and whose mouth was opening and closing uselessly like a fish. “Y/N I...” she finally mumbled.

“Jess, calm down. What do you think is happening right now?” You had absolutely no issue with her, you never had, and you certainly were not going to allow something as inconsequential as your ex-boyfriend dating her make that somehow be otherwise.

She still looked edgy and incredibly apologetic, her eyebrows knitted together in a picture of remorse. “Did someone tell you about us? Is that why you’re here?”

You sighed heavily. “Honestly Jess, I just want a sandwich. No offence, but I genuinely couldn’t care less that Mark’s out there again.” You ran your finger down the menu as you spoke, your focus on the task at hand. You raised your eyes to meet hers earnestly for a moment. “Is he good to you?”

She eyed you warily as though it was a trick question. “Yes,” she eventually answered, her posture relaxing visibly. “Oh,” she said suddenly, her face lighting up with realisation and relief. “You were with that really good-looking guy right? Of course. Jesus,” you could see her eyes glaze over and you knew she was trying to visualise him. “How’s that going?” Her tone was jovial now and she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively the way she had when you had sat opposite Taehyung a quarter of a year ago.

You gave a tight-lipped smile in response and returned your gaze to the menu so she couldn’t see the tears begin to gather at the memory. “It’s not,” you answered quietly.

“Oh,” came her reply, and she reached over the counter cautiously before awkwardly patting the top of your hand that was resting there.

Mark chose this moment to resume his position opposite Jess on the customer side of the counter, with a slight angle adjustment to ensure he left a wide area to allow for your presence as though you might physically lash out at any moment. Jess shifted her eyes back and forth between the two of you and the entire situation suddenly struck you as totally ridiculous, breaking you from your sombre reminiscence and causing an amused snort to burst forth from you, making Mark jump almost a foot in the air such was the anxiety you seemed to have instilled in him.

The tension broken between you and Jess at least, she joined you in your laughter much to Mark's chagrin, his expression only causing you both to laugh harder. “What are you having then?” She managed after taking some deep breaths.

“Two large BLTs please, hold the lettuce and tomato on one.”

She smiled and nodded, turning to face the grill and seeing to your order, leaving you and your ex-boyfriend to stand side-by-side in uncomfortable silence, from his perspective at least.

Just as Jess began to wrap the two sandwiches in paper, Mark turned to you. “How have you been?”

The words were strained, forced, and you knew he must feel embarrassed about the last time you had seen him.

“Good,” you answered noncommittally. “You?”

“Well you know...” he muttered while you fantasised about nails scraping down a chalkboard as a preferable alternative to this conversation. “Are you still seeing –”

“We really don’t need to do this, Mark,” you cut him off, gratefully accepting the two wrapped parcels as Jess handed them over to you. She took the twenty from your grasp in turn and pushed seemingly random buttons in the register to open it. You leant close to your ex so you couldn’t be heard by anyone else. “Don’t fuck this up with her, okay?” you advised sincerely before taking your change and offering them both a genuine parting smile, pulling the front door open once more to incur the passive-aggressive wrath of the chilly couple by the entrance.

 ~~~

“I still don’t understand why you want us all to wear these, Jimin.” Jin called out as he stood in the doorway of the studio, a pink towelling headband adorned with a spotted bow dangling from his long finger and held away from his body with faint disgust in his expression as though it smelled unpleasant.

Jungkook was adjusting his own headband in the wall of full length mirrors at one end of the entirely white room, frowning as he pulled it forwards and then pushed it back again. “Because it’s funny, hyung,” he answered on Jimin’s behalf as he saw him speaking quietly with a blatantly forlorn Taehyung in the opposite corner of the room.

Namjoon had been standing with them initially, the three of them whispering with their heads close together, the leader occasionally extending his arm around Taehyung to massage his shoulder soothingly. He had left just as Jin had entered, striding from the room purposefully with a determined expression on his face, and the oldest had watched him walk down the corridor to his own studio in confusion.

Hoseok appeared from behind Jin and walked over to crouch beside the maknae, affectionately ruffling his hair and undoing the work he had done to position the pink material to his satisfaction. “What makes it funny, Kookie?”

Despite his mild annoyance at the disruption, he smiled a toothy grin up at the dancer and pulled at the two sides of the bow so they stood almost vertically from the top of his head. “Just look at it,” he raised his hands to frame them around his latest adjustment to emphasise his words. Hoseok clearly remained unconvinced but returned the grin anyway, straightening up and walking back out of the room to get his make up fixed before the broadcast began, grabbing one of the remaining four headbands from the small box Jimin had placed on a chair by the door on his arrival.

Jin still stood at the door, placing his hands at his hips and eyeing Jungkook suspiciously. “Ya, Jungkook-ah, you never agree with Jimin’s ideas. What’s going on? What are you up to, both of you? Is it a prank? A hidden camera?” With each question he strode further in to the room, and the intonation of his voice rose until it was almost manic. He came to a halt beside Jungkook in front if the mirror and haphazardly dragged the head over his thick black hair and examined his reflection. “It’s ruining my handsome face, ah!” He joked loudly as one side of the band lay heavily over one eye, forcing it shut.

There was a weird energy in the room and Jin was doing his best to remedy it, and as always he was ecstatic to find Jungkook laughing fondly at him. He laughed even harder as Jin removed the band from his head and stepped in to it, one foot at a time, and pulled it up so that it was somehow encircling his waist, and began to dance around the room in an effort to catch Taehyung’s attention with the intention of perhaps making him laugh too. He had been so dejected since their arrival home all those weeks ago and – while the second youngest had seemed much quieter in general that year – it still worried him and the other members, but as the oldest, Jin felt a large amount of responsibility for all of them, especially the three youngest.

Having finished in the make up room, Hoseok returned to the mirror to attempt to display the towelling monstrosity in a vaguely flattering way. He turned to Yoongi, who had been sat silently on the floor the entire time they had been in the dance studio with the bow already perched atop his bleached hair, and huffed out a sigh. “You are okay with this, hyung?”

Yoongi looked up as though noticing there were other people in the room for the first time, lowering his phone in to his lap. “It’s something to do with Taehyung and his girl,” he said nonchalantly, but such was the quiet in the room as Jin had chosen that moment to cease leaping around it, that the sound of his voice travelled across the studio. “Just wear it.” The five other members turned to stare at him in astonishment, and he retrieved his phone from between his crossed legs unperturbed. “What? I thought everyone knew. We’ve been doing such weird stuff these past couple of months.” He shrugged and carried on watching music videos on his phone.

It took a few moments for the members to unfreeze, almost as though when Yoongi has pressed play on his media player it had affected the members too. The three youngest exchanged worried glances and Hoseok continued to stare mutely at his fellow rapper.

The eldest stood dumbly as the cogs whirred around in his mind. The penny dropping was almost audible and if the room had been dark Jin would swear the others would have seen the lightbulb ping on above his head. “Jimin-ah,” he called out accusatorily across the room. “Is that why you asked me to learn to play that song?”

 ~~~

With the wind at your back and the strange sense of closure you felt following your encounter with Mark and Jess at the cafe, your steps felt swifter and a little lighter as you made your way back to the bar with your precious cargo.

You missed Taehyung. There was no denying it. You supposed a part of you would always miss Taehyung and mourn what could have been had circumstances been entirely different on all fronts. Having said that, had the situation been entirely altered, you imagined there would have been absolutely no reason for him to come to your part of the world. Either way it remained wholly pointless to speculate on what could have been, even if it was a perfectly wonderful way of spending your time when it didn���t feel like a million pins pricking at your heart.

If Mark was able to pull himself from his funk and get back out there, then so could you. Not that you had any intention to start trying to date again, but thinking back on the state you last found Mark in three months ago, the improvement was jarring and caused the tiniest spark of optimism in you. Mark had four entire years to move on from, surely getting over three days would be an absolute breeze in comparison...right?

You arrived back at the bar and pushed the door ajar with your shoulder as you cradled the sandwiches. Walking over to the bar, you handed Ronnie the sandwich containing only bacon and took in the strange expression on his face. He looked to be on the verge of laughter but desperately trying to hold it in, his face reddening from the effort.

“Ronnie, what on earth is going on? Is everything alright, you look...” You weren’t sure how you should finish the sentence. In all honesty he looked constipated.

A weird squeak escaped him as he opened his mouth to speak. “Y/N, I know you’ve had a rough few weeks, but...” he clasped his hands together in barely-concealed delight, his face stretched in to a smile so broad it was hurting your cheeks just looking at him. “There’s someone here who might just make you feel a little bit better.”

Your entire body froze, even your heart felt as if it had stopped. It couldn’t be, could it? You stared unblinking at the door Ronnie was gesturing flamboyantly at as though he were a magician at a child’s birthday party, your breathing coming in short, sharp gasps and you felt light-headed from the lack of oxygen reaching your brain.

“Are you ready?” he asked excitedly, his voice booming, though you may as well have been under water given the way his question sounded to your ears.

Your voice was barely a whisper as Ronnie stretched out his hand to wrap it around the doorknob, drawing out the tension unintentionally cruelly and indulgently. “Yes.”

“Ta-da!” he announced and pulled open the door with a flourish.

“Y/N!” Your best friend since practically birth screeched joyfully as she ran towards you with open arms, and you embraced her tightly and gratefully, not fully realising just how much you had missed her smile, her laugh, and – especially at that particular moment in time – her hugs.

“Oh my god, Hannah! I can’t believe it! I am so happy you’re here!” You declared sincerely as you pulled her tighter in to the hug.

You felt completely ashamed at the split-second of disappointment that had swept through you momentarily as you realised it was not Taehyung standing on the other side of the door. It was then that you knew for sure that trying to move on from him was going to be even harder than you had initially thought.

A/N Chapter 19 will be out same time next week! Only 4 more chapters to go! Thank you again for reading you sweethearts xxx

[whumppile]

Could you write a spiderman fic where tony goes to check on his plane after it crashed on the beach and finds a badly injured peter there? I watched the scene in homecoming and couldn't believe he was able to walk out of there!

omg dude (or whichever pronoun you prefer) me too! I was planning this fic while in the theatre watching it but didn’t get my lazy ass to writing it so thanks for requesting this cause I finally did it! 

Honestly it’s insane that they would just have him walk away from the amount of hits to the head he got, and all the other bashing’s, ugh typical tho. Anyway here is poor whumped Peter, I’ll post this on my ff.net and ao3 accounts as “A little bit broken.” and since it will probably have more chapters I’ll post the links at the end so you can follow or bookmark it on those sites if you want so you’ll know when the next chapter is out (Although I can’t promise there will be more I’m just hoping more will come to me.)

ANyway here you go, pllleeeaaase let me know what you think? Cause this took a few hours lol

Peter droppedLiz’s dad on the sand and groaned as every inch of his body screamed out inpain. He couldn’t put any weight on his right leg, could barely move it, andhis left arm hung limp at his side.

His chest wasburning, making it hard to breathe as fire raged around him.

He knew he hadto get somewhere safe, to get help, but his vision was nothing but blurredlights and black spots, and when his eyes closed of their own accord, hedropped to the sand and felt nothing.

…………….

Voices. Heat.Pain.

And he knew thatvoice, it was comforting to him. Something like a dad but not quite.

“Peter? Can youhear me? I’m here, kid, you’ll be okay, just don’t move. Happy, get me a medteam here, now! Jesus, this is all my fault. Peter, stay with me, come o-“

The voice fellaway into darkness. Or maybe it was Peter that was falling.

He didn’t knowhow long he’d been gone for, but when the real world came back, it came backfast.

He snapped backto consciousness so quickly it was like he’d never left it. Fires were beingput out around him as people rushed around, some of them crowding around Peter,but all he could feel was pain and all he could hear was his own scream.

He sobbed, inagony, as hands gripped at his limbs, and stabbed his skin.

“P-please stop,it hurts!”

The sky abovehim was full of smoke, and he coughed painfully as he struggled to pull in morethan shallow pants. Voices called out around him, quick and urgent.

“Get that linetaped in, and strap his leg down, we can’t have him moving it until we get somex-rays done. Peter, I need to stay calm and lay still. We’re here to help,you’ll be okay.”

Straps pulledover his chest, rubbing against his bare chest, and pressing wires down. Hehurt so much, and they were holding him down. There was something around hisneck, preventing him from turning his head, and he didn’t feel sand underneathhim anymore, just something cold and hard.

He was scaredand in pain and as much as he fought against the straps and hands holding himdown, he couldn’t move. Peter let out another sob as he slumped against thebackboard he was held to.

“Be careful withhim.”

That voiceagain, it was Mr Stark. He was close by and Peter wanted to see him, to knowthat he was safe, but  he couldn’t findhim.

Another voice,one he didn’t know, started shouting as his eyes dropped.

“Don’t fallasleep, kid! Keep your eyes open!”

But theblackness was creeping in again and he couldn’t fight it.

…………….

Peter wasmoving, or rather, he was being moved. He wasn’t fully aware of anything justyet. It was like being underwater, where the sounds are muffled and all you cansee is blurry warped images of the world above.

Peter’s eyes wereclosed, and he didn’t have control over his body, but he felt it, and he feltthe pain as well as the hands crowding over his skin.

Cool air hit hisbare chest, as efficient fingers pressed into his sides and over his torso,making him hurt as voices jumbled together in a cacophony of sound that hewished would just go away.

“I need a CT andMRI done as soon as we have his shoulder in place and I want that leg strappeddown until the scans come back. Mr Stark, you can wait in the-“

“I’m staying.”

That was Tony.Peter would recognize that gruff tone anywhere, even with the other noises, hissluggish mind knew it.

The first voicewas impatient. “We need room to work, if you’ll just-“

“I’m not leavinghim! I’ll stay out of the way but I won’t leave unless absolutely necessary. He’sfifteen.” The tone of his last words made his message clear. Peter was fifteen,he was too young, too young to be almost dying.

The other voicesighed, close to Peter’s head, as something snaked under his nose, blowing coolair, and making it a little easier to breathe.

“Fine. Let’s gethis stats up before we move him, please.”

There was toomuch going on, and so much pain, that when his senses began to darken, he didn’tmind at all.

…………….

Tony watched asthey put Peter back together. Strapping things down, and scanning things. Peterwas lost under the sheer amount of tubes, wires, and braces, surrounding him.He didn’t move at all, which was a blessing, but it made him look like a doll…ora corpse. The doctors and nurses moved him around as they needed, lifting arms,and pulling them back into place.

Peter’shome-made suit was cut off and discarded, thrown to the side as they worked onhim, but Tony couldn’t watch it lay on the floor like garbage. He’d made fun ofit when he first seen it, but it was so very Peter. The kid didn’t have much,but he made things, and he made them well. The suit had been made lovingly,proudly, by the bright fifteen-year-old, and now it was nothing but rags.

The material wasso thin, and thoroughly torn. It was the only thing that had stood betweenPeter’s vulnerable body, and the metal that had pummeled into him. Tony pickedthe shredded suit off the floor and held it in his shaking hands.

When Tony hadbeen designing Peter’s suit, he had thought of and prepared for every possible scenariohis over worried mind had come up with. But he hadn’t been prepared for Peterto go after the vulture without it. God, what had he done?

…………….

Peter wokeagain. Woke was a strong word. He became aware.

Someone wascrying, and Peter didn’t like it. He thought he knew who it was, but the name wouldn’tcome to his syrupy mind. His thoughts were slow and sticky, and the more hetried to think the more confused he was. So, he just felt.

He felt a handin his, soft slender fingers, as the person continued to sob, words coming outas a strangled mess.

“What happenedto him? He was supposed to be at homecoming. Oh, Peter, baby.”

There was apause, like a held breath, and then another familiar voice, tone hard as if itwere trying very hard not to shake.

“Peter left thedance to talk with me about the internship but our car was hit by anothervehicle. I’m so sorry May.”

Peter didn’t rememberany of that. The other voice came again, May, that’s who it was; as a handswept through his hair, brushing it back on his forehead in a way that made himfeel just like he had when he was a kid, being looked after by his mother.

“Will he beokay?”

Tony, becausethat other voice had to be him, spoke once more. “Severe concussion, minorsmoke inhalation, separated shoulder, four broken ribs, internal bleeding, tornACL, and heavy bruising…well, everywhere.”

It was clear hewasn’t reading it from a chart, which meant he’d memorized every injury, andhad no doubt blamed it on himself. His voice softened.

It’ll take a lotof rehab for the knee but the surgery went well, and he’s a tough kid, he’ll beokay. I’ll take care of everything, I have the best team of doctors in on this,you don’t have to worry about any of it.”

May sniffedagain, hand leaving Peter’s hair to stroke against his cheek instead. Peter wasglad she was there. He felt safer than he had before, wherever he’d been. Intruth, he couldn’t remember much, but he didn’t think he wanted to.

Her voice wassad and small. “He’s all I have.”

Footsteps echoedacross a hard floor, and Tony’s voice sounded closer, right next to May’s.

“I know.” Peterheard the words, but the tone didn’t sound like “I know”, it sounded more like “metoo.”

May lifted hislimp hand, and planted a kiss against his knuckles, before she spoke again,voice wobbly and soaked in tears.

“Peter, baby, we’reright here, okay? Everything’s going to be all right, so you wake up now.Please honey, just open your eyes, or squeeze my hand. Let me know you’re okay?”

Peter wanted to,he wanted to do anything to make his aunt sound happy again, but his body didn’tfeel like it belonged to him. He occupied it, sure, but he couldn’t move, he couldn’twake up. He didn’t feel like he was quite ready yet either.

Steady beepingcontinued as the two adults waited in silence for any sign that the teenagerwould wake.

Tony finallysighed and Peter felt a hand on his arm. “It’s okay, Pete. We’ll wait for you,as long as you need.”

Thing’s starteddrifting again after that, and Peter was glad he didn’t have to hear May cryanymore.

Life became aseries of aware moments with periods of darkness in between. Voices drifted inand out, some he knew, some he didn’t. He ignored a lot of what they said.

“-ould come outof the coma soon, but you have to understand, thebrain is a very difficult thing to predict. He was hit very hard. And we just don’tknow when he’ll come out of it.”

He thought Nedwas there at some point, and maybe Michelle too, but he hadn’t been able tofocus on much. He thought he had heard Ned crying, and Michelle’s voice was smallerthen he’d ever heard it before.

“He looks sosmall.” Usually something like that coming from Michelle would be an insult,but she sounded afraid.

Peter’s bodycame back to him in parts. Like when he’d felt water dripping into his mouth.Someone was rubbing ice against his slightly parted lips, melting it justenough for the water to fall onto his parched tongue.

Or, when he felthis limbs being moved, stretched, and massaged as he lay limp. 

After a while,he found he was able to move his fingers, just a twitch or a brief increase ofpressure when someone held his hand. Their encouraging and excited voices wouldhave made Peter smile if he had been able to.

Then all of asudden, his eyes were open. He was blinking, before he’d realized he’d woken,and he saw himself for the first time.

He was in a bed,one arm strapped to his chest, as wires lay over him, IV’s taped to his goodarm, and a blanket pulled up to his waist, leaving his top half bare. Hiseyebrows furrowed as he looked down at his legs. One of them was propped up ona pillow, with a huge brace encasing the limb.

He didn’t knowwhat was happening or why he was there.

Somethingtickled his nose, and he frowned further as he lifted a heavy hand, the one notstrapped in a brace, to pull at whatever it was. Someone stopped him first, gentlytaking his hand and pressing it back to the bed.

“Leave thatthere, Pete. It’s helping you.” Tony’s voice was so tired, as if it weren’t thefirst time he’d said it, and Peter turned his head towards him, seeing himrubbing at his face from where he sat at the side of the bed. He blinked athim, watching as Tony’s face turned into one of hope.

“Peter? Can youhear me?”

The teenagertook a moment, mind still sluggish, but he managed a nod and squeezed Tony’sfingers where they lay in his. The older man sat forward in his seat and smiledsounding excited.

“You gonna stayawake this time?”

Peter blinkedheavily and didn’t know what he meant by that, but nodded again. Tony smiledwider and quickly reached over to where May was asleep in her own chair, facepressed to Peter’s good leg. She woke quickly, sitting up as Tony shook hershoulder, voice gravelly from sleep.

“What is it?What’s wrong?”

Tony pointed tothe kid in the bed and May froze, her eyes were huge as she watched Peterblinking at her. She reached for his face, soft hands brushing over his cheeks,being careful to avoid the nasal cannula still providing him oxygen.

“Peter? Baby, doyou know who I am?”

She looked so hopeful,but also scared, like she might not get what she wanted so badly. Peter felthis mouth twitch into what he hoped was a smile. It was hard to find words, andharder to make his mouth move to form them, but when he did she smiled like she’djust won the lottery.

“May.” The shortsyllable was as slurred as it could be for just three letters, but she laughedanyway, surging forward to press kisses all over his face.

“Oh my god, you’reback. You’re really, okay.” She sat back, watching him, and brushing his hairback with one hand as he blinked at her with those bright eyes she loved morethan anything else in the world.

“You kept openingyour eyes, but you wouldn’t respond to anything, it was like you were gone. Wewere so worried, we thought- God, Peter, don’t ever do that to me again.”

Her words beganto wobble and tilt, and Peter frowned, not wanting her to be sad as he pushedone melted word from his clumsy mouth.

“Sorry.”

May’s eyesfilled with tears, and she held Peter’s face in her hands, her shoulders shakingas she began to cry again.

“Oh, honey, it’sokay. It’s all okay now, you’re here and that’s all that matters. You came backto me.”

Peter didn’t wantto see her cry, Tony put an arm around her shoulders and she fell into hischest as he hugged her. It had a familiarity to it, like they’d done it morethan once before.

They looked likethey’d been through a lot, or he supposed he had. But as long as they weretogether, they’d be just fine.

(Soryy I didn’t know how to end it. Let me know what you think and what should happen int he next chapter should there be one. Thanks for the prompt!)

You can find this and all my fics here

http://archiveofourown.org/works/11949249/chapters/27015372

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12634037/1/A-little-bit-broken