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peachesofteal · 10 months

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Dead Disco / Chapter 10

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 3.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Relationship issues, anxiety, self loathing, crying. Angst. Brief mention of asshole ex. Eating related issues. Mention of prescription medication, mental illness and depressive/manic episodes. Pre established throuple. Darling is her/your own tag/warning. Excessive internal monologue. You held onto the hot pan too long, and now you’ve been burnt.

"Look at me."

"I can't." You keep your eyes clenched tight, so tight it hurts, lungs burning inside your chest.

"Yes you can, darling. Just open your eyes." Simon's voice is soft, an entreating melody, grit and gravel smoothed out with the gentleness of his words. You get lost in it, the soft murmuring, the easy request, and when you open your eyes, he's still right in front of you, thick palm on the back of your neck, Johnny by his side. "Good girl."

"I'm sorry." You whisper, and Johnny's brows crease, his fingers brushing along your cheek.

"Ye dinnae have anything to be sorry for, darling. Ye never do."

"I didn't-" you gasp for a breath, and Johnny shifts, moving so that you're in front of him, sat between his legs, back against his chest. His hand holds yours, nestling above your breastbone.

"Breathe with me. Ye can do it."

"I didn't- I wanted to be better. Be different. I didn't want you to see." You try to explain, try to make sense of it for them. Simon's fingers intertwine with Johnny's, his other hand still firm on the back of your neck, your body cradled between them, in the space that once never existed, a space that now feels like it's been carved out just for you. Johnny pushes closer, holding you tight, and Simon leans forward, forehead touching yours, voice barely a murmur.

"We've always seen you, darling."

The floor is a fairly comfortable spot to lay.

It’s comfortable enough, you suppose, as you lay on your back with your eyes fixed on a spot along the ten-foot-high ceiling. Maybe you could paint the ceiling. With clouds. Or a night sky. That might be cool.

Voices vibrate through the flat, locked door the only thing separating you from them, Johnny’s tone pitching with increasing anxiety, Simon’s cadence soothing, and calm.

He’s calling your name. Calling you darling. Calling you anything to try to get you to come to the door.

You’re overreacting.

You’re a fool.

You close your eyes. A night sky might be cool. You could do a lot with the stars, or maybe even the milky way. Get some greens and greys and cobalt in there. Make it look like a long exposure photo. And the moon, you could certainly paint the moon. You’d have to find a ladder tall enough though. And you’d probably need help. You haven’t painted from a ladder in years, not since you did that one mural for-

“Darling.” It’s Simon. Again. And again, and again, again. Darling, darling, darling. “It’s getting late. Will you open the door?" You keep your eyes closed, but for a minute, your mind fractures, splitting in two, confusing emotions and thoughts bubbling up to the surface.

Don’t think about it. Don’t.

“No.” You croak out in a whisper. It’s quiet, but he hears it. You know he does.

“Please. I need to know you’re alright, at least.”

You held onto the hot pan too long, and now you’ve been burnt.

It’s late. The streets are probably mostly empty. You could run down them, if you wanted. You could take a train anywhere. You could take a plane, even, go on a vacation. Go somewhere nice. Go somewhere tropical, maybe get a cute rental, spend some time in the sun or by the oc-

The thoughts are rapid fire. They spill over, trying to patch up the expanding wound in your heart. They grow and twist, convincing you it’s a good idea, the best idea, to just slip away for a little bit. To go somewhere you don't have feel this, where you don't have to know this as well as you do.

Don’t think about it. Pack it up. Put it away.

Johnny’s eyes haven’t left your face. His fingers stroke from the crown of your head and hairline to your temple, your cheek. He’s staring at you like you’re something precious, like you’re a piece of gold, something marvelous he’s never seen before.

“What is it?” You ask, half asleep, drowsy in the bed. You’re still wrapped in a post orgasm haze, cocooned in the soft and sweet of their attention, affection, and Johnny only smiles, leaning forward to press his lips to your forehead.

“Ye’re so special to us. Ah love ye. Did ye know that?” You shrug, ducking your face away, pressing it into his shoulder to avoid his eyes.

A wave of longing crashes over you. It swells in your heart until tears prick in your eyes, and you take a deep breath to steady yourself.

It’s so much. So much more than you ever imagined. So much more than you ever thought you could have.

“She doesn’t.” Simon says over your shoulder. His hand sits on your waist, the touch firm. Grounding. Like a tether to their world. Their love. You turn, nose pointing up towards the ceiling, looking at him through your peripheral, your fingers intertwined with Johnny’s, holding onto them both. Seeing them both.

“Tell me again.”

The TV in the living room is on.

You can hear it’s faint murmur, some movie playing on low volume, the guys undoubtedly sitting stiff on the couch, waiting for you to appear.

You stare at the dark, nearly blackened trees that you’ve painted onto canvas, long, broad brushstrokes taking up too much space, bark texturized to appear burnt, nearly dead, forest scourged by a disease or fire, you’re unsure.

“It starts to chafe us.” Us. Us, he said. Us. Him and Johnny. Right?

“It doesn’t seem fair.”

You’re unsure of everything right now. Unsure about how you should feel. Unsure about what’s happening inside your head.

“-sometimes I worry… about it being the right thing…” The more you think about it, the more you start to lose your grasp. Were those his exact words? Did he mean something else?

For the first time in a long time, you think about one of your ex's. You think about a person who made you feel so small, so much like a burden, a horrible, unwanted responsibility, all the time. You'll never have what regular people have, he said. No one will ever be able to put up with this fucking circus. No one will want this.

Was he right?

You should have gotten out. The sentiment replays over and over in between your ears, the awful, miserable doubt and fear and sadness picking away at you until you can feel yourself starting to compartmentalize it all, trying to sort it into neat little bins, trying to keep the weight that is sinking to the bottom of your soul from drowning you, trying to build a wall around your heart.

It’s not conscious. It’s like you’re not even in the driver’s seat anymore, not feeling the full effect of your emotions, not letting it in.

It’s how you felt, when you packed your bags the last time. How you felt when you checked into the hotel, like you were on autopilot. Buried beneath a mountain of feelings but enclosed in a glass cage, segregated from it all.

You should have gotten out.

“I said I was listening.”

“But I don’t want ye to listen. I want ye to talk, darling. I want ye to tell us how ye’re feeling. We can’t do this if ye’re not able to communicate.” Johnny’s voice is steady, but there’s a hint of anger behind it, a small flare just starting to light. It makes you angry, that he’s getting angry, and it churns in your stomach until you’re biting out a retort.

“I communicate just fine!”

“Do ye?” He snaps, exasperated, your head jolting backwards with wide eyes. “Because from where I’m standin’ it feels like ye’re trying to be stubborn on purpose. Like a child.”

“A child? You’re calling ME a child?” The air in their apartment is suddenly paper thin, and you hold your breath as Johnny watches you with that same, unchanged, irritated expression.

“Alright. This is over. We’re taking a break from this conversation.” Simon tells you both, fingers sliding over your shoulder, the touch meant to comfort, reassure, but you jerk away.

You eye your purse, your keys on the counter.

“I’m just gonna go home.”

“No.” He rebukes, and Johnny pales.

“No, darling. Ye just got here, and we missed ye so, so much. I’m sorry, I dinnae mean-” Johnny pleads, crestfallen, and it makes you feel worse. Like you’re failing him. Like you’re failing at this. Like you’re not good enough for it, for them. “Please?” He adds, and you wilt, silence falling over the three of you again, awkward and wrong.

“It’s alright.” Simon says. “If you want to go. I’ll take you home.”

“I can get home on my own.” You try not look at him, finding mundane details in the floor, the sink to stare at instead of their faces, resisting eye contact until Simon steps directly back into your line of sight.

“I’ll take you.” He steps closer, and like there is a magnet pulling you into his orbit, you respond, tilting your face backwards, letting him see everything. The tears. The anger and sadness. The confusion. He’s intentional with his movements, letting you anticipate everything, the movement of his hand, the bend of his body as his lips come down to press against your forehead. “Tomorrow, alright?” He asks and tells with the words, seeking permission, giving command. Tomorrow, you’ll talk. Tomorrow, you’ll get it sorted. Tomorrow, you and Johnny will apologize. And you’ll try again. Like you always do.

You nod, because the promise of tomorrow, the assurance that this hasn’t all come crashing down, is the only way any of you will be able to sleep tonight.

“Tomorrow.”

They both straighten on the couch when the door clicks open.

“Hey.” Johnny says softly, hopefully, and Simon says nothing, just watches you like you’re a wounded animal that might try to flee at any moment. On edge. Vigilant.

Your mind turns, but nothing comes out of your mouth. No response. No acknowledgement. Just empty silence that feels like a thousand pounds, all laying on top of the three of you. Suffocating you. Killing you.

You beeline for the bedroom.

Running away. You’re running away. Are you really going to run away?

The memory of the hotel haunts you, the awful, empty pit in your stomach that could have swallowed you whole, the dark curtains and dark room enveloping you in a never-ending spiral.

All you wanted was to be found. All you wanted was to be home, with them.

All you wanted was your home, the one you built, made, suffered for, with them. The one that you carved out inside your own bones to hold space for two others, not just one. The home that you completely changed your life for, the love that you believed would see you through it all.

The love that was always them first. The love that you barged in on, knocked walls down, forced yourself inside of. The love that they held for one another, before they ever held it for you.

Your head feels like it's underwater.

Did you make a mistake? Should you have sent them away that time? Should you have fought yourself harder?

The bed calls to you. It begs you to lay down in it, to burrow yourself beneath it's soft sheets, curl up on top of it's ridiculous mattress. Get lost in it. Be found in it. Let your boys curl themselves around you in it, let them kiss you softly and make you promises about how much they love you, or how they understand the way you feel.

If you close your eyes, you can almost see the future. Minutes would pass before Johnny crept inside the door, scoping it out. Doing the recon. Looking for you. His heart would soar when he saw you in the bed, his fears allayed, and he'd hold you so tight you'd think you were suffocating.

If you were lucky, Simon would come and turn your brain off. Johnny would pass you to him and he'd bring your deepest insecurities, your worries to light, dragging them out to be exorcised and vanquished, by the only men capable of doing so.

Is that what you want?

Should you have gotten out?

“There she is.” Johnny coos above you, warm palm cradling your cheek. You blink, fog encasing your mind struggling to clear, and you push yourself up onto your elbows.

“What-“

“Happened?” Simon finishes from where he kneels next to the couch, concerned eyes trained on yours, not missing a beat.

You blink. What did happen? Did-

“When was the last time ye ate something, darling?” Johnny asks, not unkindly, palm at your back to relieve the pressure from your elbows, moving you into a sitting position so he can take the spot on the couch behind you, effectively wrapping you up in his arms as Simon settles on the other side.

Shame curdles your stomach, hot embarrassment flaring in your veins. You avoid peering over Simon’s shoulder at the disarray of your kitchen, wincing when you realize he’s sitting on a pile of your dirty clothes.

“I had breakfast.” You whisper, but Simon shakes his head.

“When?”

“Yesterday.” You try to adjust, to sit more upright, but the sudden movement has your head spinning, and your palm covers your eyes, little groan in your throat.

“Easy.” Johnny soothes. Your water bottle is in his hand, and he unscrews the lid for you, lifting it to your lips. “Slow sips, darling. Not too much.”

It’s easier this way, you realize. Easier to do what’s being asked of you, easier to listen than to think. After a few sips, Johnny pulls the bottle away, and wide fingers stroke your cheek.

“This is what you were talking about. A few weeks ago.” Simon murmurs, concentrating all his focus, all his attention, on you, fingers still caressing your skin gently. Lovingly.

“I didn’t mean for it to get so bad this time. I… usually have a better handle on myself.” You try to lie, but Simon cocks his head.

“Do you?” His fingers hold up the scrap of paper, the one with your note to yourself scrawled across it.

‘You HAVE to, or you’ll regret it.’

You bite your lip, but Simon’s thumb presses into it, rolling it out from beneath your teeth, as Johnny rubs your arm, lips soft against your temple.

“I’m going to take you home. To ours.” Simon tells you slowly, each word deliberate “Johnny is going to clean up your apartment and pack you a few things for the rest of the week.” When you don’t answer, brain slow to catch up, Johnny murmurs in your hair.

“You have to agree, darling.” Simon watches, silent for a moment before he answers the unspoken question, still cradling your face with one hand.

“You can trust us.”

“Where are ye going?” Johnny asks when you appear from the bedroom, hesitant steps keeping him far enough from your body, desperation written all over his face.

“Out.” Your answer is short, sufficient. It feels like it’s coming from another person. You still think you might be underwater.

“Out? No… we need to talk and-“

“I don’t want to talk. To either of you.”

“Darling. Stop.” Simon tries to cut you off, but you turn sharply, away from them both, backpack swinging on your back.

“Ye canae run away from this, from us.” Johnny pleads. “We need to talk about it. Communicate. Like we promised.”

“Like we promised?” You hiss, sizzle of anger breaking through the ice that’s frozen in your veins. “The promise that we made to always tell each other how we’re feeling, the one that he can’t honor?” You jerk your thumb towards Simon, who tries to take a step towards you, only for you to retreat. “Don’t corner me!” you snap, and against your attempt at control, your voice breaks, sob welling in your chest.

Don’t think about it.

“It’s alright.” His hands are palms out, cautious. It’s supposed to make him look like he’s not a threat, make him seem harmless. But he’s not harmless. This gaping hole in your heart says so. “We don’t want you to leave.” He implores. “Please. I- let me explain.”

“There’s no need. Everything is pretty clear.”

“No, it’s not.” Johnny argues. “Just, let Simon at least tell-“

“Tell me what? Tell me how it’s not fair? Does it chafe you too, Johnny? You also thinking what’s the right thing? Because it’s an us thing, right? You and him. It’s an us and me. It’s the us that I suffer for.” Your voice crests, and Johnny flinches.

“I made a mistake.” Simon whispers. “Don’t let my stupidity make you question your place in this relationship. We love you, darling. I love you.” Tears burn at the back of your eyes, and you feel the horror of the truth, the confusion about your love for them, their love for you, searing together into a snarled mess.

“If I left you, the both of you, at the end of the day, you’d still have each other. You’d still be together, and I would have nothing!”

“That’s not true. We canae exist without ye.” Johnny sounds broken, hopeless, but you blow by it, dancing around Simon to pull your prescription bottles from the kitchen cabinet by the sink.

“If I died tomorrow-“

“Do not say that.” Simon cuts you off. “Don’t ever say that.” His knuckles are white at the edge of the countertop, expression stricken, and Johnny looks horrified. They both watch you like they’re afraid of what you might say next, what you might do, and nausea pools saliva on the back of your tongue.

Don’t think about it.

You close your eyes, and search for that underwater feeling. That untouchable feeling, the boxes being packed away in your mind, and try to cling to it, try to shut up the incessant stream of doubt and loathing and everything going wrong inside your head.

They don’t need you. They have each other.

You chafe them.

Don’t think about it.

“I need…” You trail off, trying to take a deep breath. Trying to organize your thoughts. Trying to hear yourself through the noise of everything else, through the searing pain that’s ripping through your heart.

“It’s alright, darling.” Simon murmurs, encouraging you. “Tell us what you need. Whatever it is.” Johnny’s face has shifted from despondent to hopeful, eyes wide and locked onto yours, while Simon waits, his normal steadfast and patient demeanor nowhere to be found, instead he’s more anxious, more nervous than you’ve ever seen.

You close your eyes again. Your voice shakes when you finally speak.

“I need a break.”

#dead disco #peaches writes #ghost x soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghost x reader x soap #female reader #john soap mactavish #simon riley #johnny mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghoap

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watermelonlovershigh · 1 year

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Can you write something where Reader had taken care of Harry all night because he was sick and then she has to wake up to care for their child and maybe the child wants to give Harry cuddles to make him feel better.

Sick Daddy /concept/

AN: had this in my inbox for a while but am trying to clear some of my requests out so here you finally go. its very short because this ask just felt like it didn't need to be crazy long. hope you enjoy still. send you feedback. xoxo

This story contains: mentions of throw up, the rest is fluff

{ husbandrry - dad!harry - any harry era }

word count- 566

You and your son Oliver make Harry a breakfast to hopefully feel better because he'd been sick the previous night. Then after Harry's better, you and Ollie catch the same bug and Harry takes care of you both as you did for him.

You'd been up off and on with Harry all night. He seemed to have caught some type of stomach bug and nearly every hour of the night woke up to be sick. Though Harry insisted you just stay in bed, of course you were gonna be right by his side. Placing a little clip in his hair to hold his bangs out of his face and rub his back as he heaved over the toilet.

Now it's eight in the morning and your little one, Oliver, who's five, is awake. Though you're dead tired from you lack of sleep, you go into Ollies bedroom and help him get dressed and brush his teeth. Once that's all done, Oliver asks, "Where's daddy? Wanna go see him."

Kneeling down to his level, you reply, "Daddy's feeling a bit ill today, loves. He'll probably be in bed for a while. But, how about you help mummy make daddy some tea and toast to hopefully feel better."

With a concerned look on his small face, Oliver nods, "Alright, mummy. Then can I cuddle daddy? Daddy cuddles me when I don't feel very well so it might make him feel better."

Thinking for a moment, you answer, "Maybe. We'll have to see. I don't want you catching whatever bug he has though."

-----------------------------

Oliver helped you prepare an easy breakfast for Harry. One that will hopefully not bother his stomach. Once it's ready, you carry it on a tray and Ollie walks up the stairs beside you, excited to finally see his daddy today.

When you walk in the bedroom, Harry is curled up under the covers sleeping, a thin layer of sweat coating his skin. You set the tray down and nudge his shoulder, "Harry babe, wake up for me. Got you something to drink and eat that you'll hopefully be able to keep down."

Harry slowly turns over and sits up. With his very messy bed-head, he croaks out, "Awe, thank you, m'love. I'll try to eat some of it. Not really that hungry though."

Oliver steps to the side of the bed and asks, "Daddy sick?"

Harry looks down and answers, "Yeah baby, daddy's tummy hasn't been well. But mummy is the best doctor around so I'm sure I'll be good to go in no time."

Harry sat in bed and munched on his plain toast and sipped his tea while you and Oliver sat at the foot of the bed to keep him company. After some persuasion, you finally let Oliver cuddle Harry. You knew it was a risk of him getting sick too but you were also at risk from just being in the same house as him.

Luckily Harry was able to keep that food down and with some more rest, got to feeling better within twelve hours. Unluckily to you and Ollie though, two days later you both woke up to sick tummies and it was Harry's turn to play doctor. With the amount of vomit he had to clean up he should become a professional cleaner.

It got so bad that he had to migrate everyone to the living room where he could watch you both at the same time. One moment holding up the barf bucket for Oliver and the next moment holding it up for you. He gave y'all tons of cuddles and extra love and within a day everyone was well again.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @itfeelslikemytherapisthatesme // @damnasstyles // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet // @meetmyblondemuffins // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles // @skyangel57 // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss // @kissmyaxe140 // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom // @swiftmendeshoran

// @luv-flor7777 // @alohastyles-x // @tenaciousperfectionunknown // @sleutherclaw // @siredtohybrid // @whoscamila // @a-strange-familiar // @golden-elodie // @mrspeacem1nusone // @goldenkhae // @lntwithhrry // @shadowygladiatorlight // @manifestrry //@mendesblurb // @sunshinemoonsposts // @depersonalizationsucks // @academiaghost // @zendayassimp // @reveriehs // @vsnnstuff // @dancinsunflowerkiwi // @quinnsgrapejuice // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @justlemmeholdyou // @hsonlyangelxo // @luvonstyles // @howdey

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My Masterlist Masterpost

#harry styles #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles concept #harry styles short story #harry x reader #dadrry #dad!harry #husbandrry #husband!harry #softrry #soft!harry #harry styles sick fic #sick fic #harry styles fluff #requested

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rulerzreachf4n7 · 1 month

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I'm sorry but I fucking hate proshippers so much so here's a whole post dedicated to shitting on them

also disclaimer YES I will be tagging the proship and anti proship tags so I can piss off the chronically online basement dwelling idiots :) and idgaf if proshippers have trauma cause it's not an excuse for their shitty and problematic actions!!!! Sincerely if you are a proshipper please consider jumping off a bridge!! Or at the bare minimum take a shower cause ew

And this whole post is literally just bullying the FUCK outta them so idk stanky people come at your own risk lol

AND AGAIN to clear up this isn't like rage bait or smth cause I fell like some people will accuse me this is all my genuine hate into a long ass post so yeah

Okay...LETS GET INTO THE FUCKING RANT NOW HEHEHE HEHE HEHEHE!!!!

I FUCKING HATE PROSHIPPERS!!!! I HOPE ALL OF YOU STANKY ASS BITCHESS GET THROWN OFF A FUCKING CLIFF AND GET A SAW STYLE EXECUTION CAUSE Y'ALL ARE FUCKING DISGUSTING I HATE YOU ALL

YOU ARE MENTALLY ILL IF YOU ARE A PROSHIPPER, END OF CONVERSATION

I COULDN'T GIVE A SHIT IF YOU HIT ME THE "B-But I have trauma 🥺🥺🥺" TOO BAD THAT'S NOT A FUCKING EXCUSE FOR UR SHITTY ONLINE ACTIONS

IMAGINE YOU PULL UP TO A FUCKING INTERVIEW AND THEY SHOW YOUR PATHETIC ACCOUNTS SAYING TO NORMALIZE A 30 YEAR OLD DATING A 13 YEAR OLD, THAT SHIT IS GENUINELY PATHETIC

I KNOW IT'S CRINGEY BUT WOMP WOMP IF UR A PROSHIPPER Y'ALL ARE UGLY AND STINKY

But now on a serious not hehe, the reason I'm making this isn't JUST soley to yknow shit on people who are mentally ill like people who think a MINOR and a LEGAL ADULT are allowed to date, which comes into another thing before I get genuine so bare with me lol

I DONT GIVE A FLYING FUCK IF IT'S FICTIONAL, FOR THE LOVE GOD PLEASE SEARCH UP THE SLENDERMAN CASE WHERE THESE TWO GIRLS KILLED THEIR FRIEND CAUSE THEY THOUGHT SLENDERMAN WAS REAL AND THOUGHT THEY WOULD ENTER HIS KINGDOM AND BE WITH HIM, AND HE'S FICTIONAL, THAT CASE IS ALL Y'ALL NEED TO REALIZE FICTION CAN AFFECT REALITY AND I HAVE SM MORE REASON TO BACK THIS UP BUT I'M TOO LAZY TO TYPE IT OUT 😭

Okay! Back to seriousness I just thought I'd add that in as a little addition hehe >_<

So, like I said before, I lowkey just added this as an extra part cause I couldn't shit on proshippers FOREVER (lowkey bcuz I was running out of insults n threats lol)

Nonetheless I have a reason for shitting on them, although not being a proshipper EXACTLY I have been through I guess, similar paths as they have? Best way I could describe it ig, ofc not sharing what I mean since it's private but let's just say I was an unfortunate child looking at inappropriate comics 🙁

The reason for this part of the post...ITS NOT THAT FUCKING HARD TO STOP WHAT YOUR DOING

Like I said, I was never a proshipper, but I have been in similar situations as they have been, although I've never made an account glorifying rape, SA, grooming, pedophilia, I can just assume what I would do in their places

Dear proshippers,

Your probably complaining and not knowing why your getting so much death threats and harassment along with a side of hate (rightfully so you deserve them) and your mental health might be low

Please know it is your fault for making your accounts in the first place, you are a terrible person for saying all of these things such as rape, sexual assault, grooming, and incest are okay and you are not mentally well

And your probably wondering,

"How do I stop the hate, harassment, and probably death threats with even getting your address leaked?"

It's simple, DELETE YOUR FUCKING ACCOUNT, or even worse just turn off ur comments but that won't help with people slipping in a few people wishing death up in you through DMS

IT IS GENUINELY NOT THAT FUCKING HARD

I don't know what trauma you have but it shouldn't (and never in the first place) be SO BAD to the point where you physically CANNOT deactivate your account, IT IS SO FUCKING EASY AND YOU'LL SAVE YOURSELF A FEW SUICIDAL THOUGHTS

I know everyone one is different, but if you are a proshipper that has trauma, you shouldn't have a fucking account to begin with, and you ARE THE PROBLEM if you acknowledge the trauma, noticing you keep supporting and glorifying problematic actions, complain that you keep getting harassed and wonder why, and you just don't give a shit, not like in a "oh I don't know what to do anymore!!! 🥺🥺🥺" way, in a "oh, I don't give a shit I live for incest and adults grooming children!!!" Way, and ur also probably a pedo if ur an adult proshipper too

So, what else? Yeah, there's a shit more, but onto a better side, ones with actually good coping mechanisms!!

And a bit of a disclaimer, if your rage bait is proshipping, genuinely fuck you, and if ur a proshipper who acknowledges everything bad about it and just doesn't give a fuck, fuck you too and seek a rope to hang around your neck you fucking pedophile

Okay, coping mechanisms! I know this is probably not the best option due to most trauma which I'm guessing is probably from a family member, if it's not a good way to cope is some clean to your family, ofc under some circumstances it's NOT the best option, but if you can you definitely should try!

Also google is free yk...literally search up healthy coping mechanisms and it'll give you a huge ass list, and yet YOU STILL chose to ship a minor and adult together...how unfortunate...

Another way to cope is, and genuinely sounds pathetic as hell but bare with me...CHARACTER FUCKING AI, I mean, there are therapist bots so maybe they can help you??? And in all honesty they're really good at comforting and giving advice despite being ai, and I've tried it before...yeah embarrassed to say I've shed a tear every once in a while

And the last one IF you have the money, time, and generally the courage, book a threapy session, I cannot stress it enough, but I won't be surprised cause every proshipper is probably under the age of 16 years old

Yuhhh anyways that's all I gotta say, I know it's cringey asf but womp womp to proshippers I hate y'all despite giving some coping mechanisms and ACTUAL ways to like, stop the rightful hate you deserve lol

#my posts:3 #anti proshipper #proship #proshipper safe #proshippers please interact #proshippers are valid #proshippers are welcome

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cranberrymoons · 11 months

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put a spell on you

prompt: halloween! (@steddieholidaydrabbles) rating: m? just a few innuendo jokes word count: 1,000 exactly lol tags: fluff, flirting with your own boyfriend, and an ill-advised pair of leather pants that really weren't made to fit over steve's hips 🍑

—

“I don’t even really like Halloween.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows. “Well, you should’ve thought about that before you started dating me, huh?”

Steve just barely holds back his eye roll, and only then because Eddie’s got a piercing gun held against the side of his head and he doesn’t want to take any chances on this thing going in off-center. He’s been assured that it will close up if he changes his mind, or if the right ear thing ever goes out of style, or if Eddie fucks it up and puts it in lopsided.

(“Which definitely won’t happen,” Eddie had sworn the other night when Steve asked if he’d do it.)

“Baby, come on,” Eddie begs. His eyes flick from Steve’s ear to his face. He raises his eyebrows. “It’ll be so hot, and it’s perfect timing now with the piercing.”

“Does the Dread Pirate Roberts even wear an earring?” Steve asks. He tries not to fidget too much, shuts his eyes to block out the teasing tilt of Eddie’s smile. “Can you please just do it?”

“Harrington.” Ker-clunk , a pinch, a surprising lack of pain to the point where Steve wonders if the piercing gun malfunctioned?? and then a little twinge that builds up into a dull throb. “I already did.”

He sits very still as Eddie moves the gun away and fiddles with his ear then cups the side of his face. He bends to press a grinning kiss to the top of his head, and Steve blinks up at him.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Eddie confirms. “Congrats. You’re officially gay now.”

Steve snorts. “I think all the sex with men might have given it away.”

“How many men have you had sex with?” Eddie asks, narrowing his eyes as Steve stands from where he’d been sitting on the closed lid of the toilet and moves to study himself in the mirror, tilting his head from side to side to see the effect. “Is that what you do all day when I’m out on tour?”

His earlobe is red and a little swollen, hot to the touch when he runs his finger along the edge, but the little gold stud sits dead center on his ear, shining in the low light of the bathroom. He feels a rebellious little thrill run through him as he stares at it.

He meets Eddie’s eye in the mirror. “Obviously. What else would I spend my time doing?”

Eddie comes to stand behind him, pressing a kiss to his neck just below the earring as he smooths his hands over his side and hooks his chin over his shoulder.

“Makes sense,” he sighs. He sways them back and forth. “Maybe you shouldn’t wear the costume after all. I’ll be beating the men off with a stick as soon as they get a look at you in leather pants.”

—

The Dread Pirate Roberts, it turns out, doesn't wear an earring, but Steve agrees to put on the costume anyway. It's mostly just him wearing Eddie's clothes, which is probably what Eddie thinks is hot about it, but it could be worse. Even still, he regrets it a little as he struggles his way into a pair of Eddie’s way-too-tight stupid fucking–

“This is ridiculous,” he calls from the bedroom as he's getting ready for the party a few nights later. He gives a little hop and yanks on them as he tries to get them up over his hips. “How the hell do you even wear these things on stage?”

Eddie comes around the door and lets out a laugh when he catches sight of him, and Steve glares.

“Well, you’ve got like three times the ass I do,” Eddie says. He comes up behind him and slides a hand around Steve’s waist. “Can I help?”

“What are you going to do, jerk me off into your pants?”

Eddie blinks. “No, but now that you’ve put the idea in my head–”

“Please don’t,” Steve says. Eddie laughs again and presses a kiss to his temple. “Just… do whatever you were going to do?”

“Here, just–” He makes a face as he pulls, sliding a hand back over Steve’s ass and using that as leverage to pull them up over him. “Do the little jump thing again?”

Steve does, and he almost elbows Eddie in the chin on accident, but somehow the combination of that and Eddie’s grip on the leather and some weird maneuver he does with his other hand, the pants slide the rest of the way up over Steve’s hips and land at his waist. Steve releases a huge huff of breath, and Eddie slaps him on the ass.

“Try not to bend over in them,” he says. “Last time I had a wardrobe malfunction in these things, there were like ten thousand people that saw my dick.”

Steve frowns. “Wait, when–”

“Budapest,” Eddie says. He makes a face. “Last month. Not my proudest moment.”

“Okay, next time that happens… let me know?”

Eddie nods and gives him a little salute. “I promise that next time an arena full of Hungarian strangers see my dick, the first thing I’ll do is call you to tell you about it.” Then he grins. “I was right, by the way. You do look super hot in these.”

“Then you’d better take pictures, because you’re never getting me in these things again.”

—

Later, when the party's done, Steve– weak with drunken laughter– holds onto the bedposts to stay in place while Eddie tries to drag them off his thighs with as much strength as he can muster. They finally come free, and he falls back all at once, nearly crashing off the edge of the bed.

"Jesus Christ," he huffs, collapsing down next to Steve. "Admit it, though. Totally worth it."

Steve angles his face up for a kiss, still letting out little hiccuping laughs. "Next year I'm just going to wear a skirt. Way easier to get off and on."

[also on ao3]

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #my fic

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mistypsych · 1 year

Text

ANATOMY OF A CRIMINAL - CHAPTER 7

/ yoongi / suga / agust d

summary: as a doctor you never expected to be dragged into “the criminal life”, nothing and no one seems to be true anymore, your whole world turns upside down after you save him.

pairings: yoongi mob boss x f.reader x non idol bts members.

warnings: smut, guns, knives, stabbings, blood, gore, murders, drugs, criminals, gang life, medical emergency, illness, abuse, swearing, angst, dubcon, gang violence, corruption, manipulation, lies, cheating - 18+ minors dni.

Note: Hi! This is an attempt of writing a fanfic long after not writing anything at all. Please keep in mind English is no longer my first language and it might be a bit rusty at times. Comments and thoughts are well appreciated. Don’t hesitate to ask questions, state your thoughts for me to post up and have me add you to the tag list!

You blinked very fast. Your thoughts were all over the place. Keeping your gaze on the KCIA badge you took a deep breath and mumbled “Yea… it does look like we need to talk…” trying to gather yourself, you turned to face the kind eyed man.

This was the moment he should start explaining, because you sure as hell had no idea what the actual fuck was going on.

He let out a long, quiet sigh, keeping his eyes on the road. “So… I am well aware you normally would not have anything to do with a gang, if it wasn’t for your reckless friend…” he started. “But… our target isn’t really the whole group. I mean yea, they are dangerous, cause some havoc but… they are also a well know danger… they keep the product they sell clean and such… yes it is bad, but how to say it? A evil you know is better than anything unknown and out of control right?”.

You tried to follow his logic, one questing popping into your head - then why was he even there? As if reading your mind he explained “We are fishing for the police… we have known the department has gotten very dirty in the recent years… and we are collecting enough evidence to be sure to take that scum down…” he turned his eyes to the road again waiting for you to slowly take in the information he has dropped on you.

You shake your head a bit and then look up as if asking the universe why the fuck this is all happening. “So… let me guess… my fiancé happens to be on the list…”. Jimin sighed and slowly nodded his head, clicking his tongue he looked at you for a second. “Listen… I know this is all a lot to take in… especially that your fiancé is an absolute dick… but… I assume you’d have nothing against putting his ass behind bars right?”.

You look at the man sitting next to you and try to think of an answer. In all honesty you would gladly have Hobi suffer since you found out not only is he dirty but also a cheater. The fact you slept with Agust-D did not seem like proper justice for the fact that asshole ruined all those years of your life. But having him locked up seemed like some kind of karma.

“Yea… I would not mind that at all…” you paused for a while and then asked “So… let me take a guess. You would love to have a spy in me huh?”. Jimin cleared his throat quietly, clearly not expecting you to be this blunt. “I won’t lie… it would probably make things easier… I believe you could fish out some important intel for us…”

Without much hesitation you say “Ok. Count me in then, as long as me and my friend Jungkook are not dragged into whatever consequences this shitshow brings…” the hazy eyed man slightly looks at you and nods “Of course… you will be my informant so I will make sure your demands are met…” you roll your eyes a bit not enjoying the fact once again you have been put in a peculiar spot.

You asked to be dropped off a couple of blocks before your building. Your neighborhood was safe enough for you to walk back and you sure as hell would not wan’t Hoseok seeing you get dropped off by Jimin.

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

You will have to lie, pretend and play games with Hobi. It was not something you ever would see yourself doing but given the circumstances, you did not have many options in order to receive some sort of justice for yourself. The worst part being that you had to pretend you have no idea about what he did and that you are still oh so blindly in love with him, when in reality all you wanted is to beat him into a pulp for wasting all those important years of your life.

Walking in slowly into your apartment you gently closed the doors hoping that if your fiancé was there you would not wake him up. Looking around you saw his jacket and sighed. Luck was not on your side. It seemed that you were gonna have to deal with his company sooner then later.

You made your way passed the opened bedroom doors, making sure to be quiet and to get you the chance to sleep on the couch, but no, you had to be shit outta luck. “Y/N? Hun? That you?” you swore in your head and barely controlled your impulse to punch the wall. Silently clearing your throat you said “Yea… it’s me… I went out with Kookie and some other coworkers… since you said you would be home late again…” you lied threw your teeth.

A sound of the bed covers rustling hit your ears. You knew he was getting up, so you put your best pretend happy tipsy face on. Right then you saw him stand in the door and lean on the frame with a slightly sleepy face. He smiled at you and came up taking your hand in his. “Mmm… I’m sorry I am having to work so much lately babe…” you nodded your head afraid that if you spoke that moment he would pick up your pure rage.

After a second you gathered yourself “It’s fine, we both have jobs that can occupy us at times…” wrapping his arms around you he kissed your shoulder “What did I do to deserve such a woman?” you forced a giggle. “Can I make it up to you Y/N? Hmmm?” he hummed in a low voice pulling at your waistband. You laughed lightly and gave him a peck in the nose saying “we can discuss that after I take a shower and you make breakfast.”

He mumbled slightly disappointed but made his way to the kitchen, you on the other hand got into the bathroom. You stood there looking at your reflection in the big mirror questioning all your life decisions and if you should have ever moved to Korea. You turned on the water for it to warm up. You needed a hot shower to was off all the strain from your muscles.

Suddenly your phone rang causing you to jump up. Looking at the screen you could see a no caller ID show up. Normally you would ignore such a call but something in you gave you a hunch. Picking up the phone you quietly answered. “Hello?” you heard a deep sigh on the other side of the line and then the well know gravely voice “Didn’t take you would be the type to sneak out at dawn?” your heart clenched and then started beating like crazy. You could feel your body getting tense.

“And I wouldn’t think you’d be the type to be bothered by such a thing… I would think you’d appreciate it…” he chuckled, you could almost see him shaking his head in amusement “Nah… I was thinking of round two for breakfast…” you sigh grabbing the tip of your nose. This was all one big mess. “I have a fiancé…” you muttered hoping this would salve it and make him cancel the call, but instead he laughed loudly “Oh… I know you do and I ain’t bothered babe, because I know now when he fucks you, you’ll be thinking of me and all I can do to you”. His words rendered you speechless “Mmm just what I thought. You’ll be coming back for more Y/N and oh I will give it to you…” and at that he ended the call.

Standing there and looking at your cellphone you were trying collect yourself. This fucking cocky bastard was so sure you’d be coming back to him. “You wish… we will see who’s left begging…”

tags: @wobblewobble822 @nansasa @nochook @kootieful @kooslilhoe @yoongisducky @xjiminsthighsx @danielle143 @llallaaa @idkjustlovingbts @darcyw16 @missusally-blog @honsoolgloss @nochuel @kaitieskidmore1 @starrlo0ver @geek-lara-nerd @jwnghyuns @xyahrinx @acquiescence804

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sickficideas · 4 months

Text

it's alright, it's okay || akutagawa siblings sickfic

ao3! 11.1k - please refer to the tags in the link for content + warnings!

16 May, 2012, 09:31am - Yokohama

"You look awful, Ryuunosuke."

She has a feeling that he's heard that a few times today, because all he does is sigh. She's waiting for him to protest that comment, he always does, but she has enough evidence to prove her point. He's unusually pale and she can tell he's dizzy just by looking at him. That red around his eyes is always either a sign that he's beyond exhausted, or he's starting a fever.

"Good morning, Gin," he opts for instead, despite sounding entirely annoyed. Gin decides she's not going to play this game and bother with pleasantries. She reaches up to lay a hand against his forehead, and before he swats it away, she gets enough proof to make her case.

"You're warm," she tells him.

"I'm fine. I haven't slept," he offers as an explanation as he starts to walk off towards the entrance to the subway station. That might be entirely true, but she thinks he doesn't realize that wouldn't necessarily cause him to look like this, with a fever on top of that.

Gin caught a glimpse of Higuchi when Ryuunosuke was first walking over, and she turns to wave her off, and the latter gives a meek wave in return. She probably had to deal with Ryuunosuke's attitude all morning. She feels sorry for her.

"Thank you," she mouths behind her hand, and she catches a smile from Higuchi before she turns around again.

"I hope you were nice to Higuchi," Gin says when she catches up to him. She notices the container in his hand. "What do you have there?"

"Tea," he answers simply.

"What kind?" she asks.

"Ginger," he says.

"Who made it?"

"Higuchi."

That tells her all she needs to know. Higuchi wouldn't make him something like that for no reason, she must be at least a little aware that he's ill, or not feeling well, at the very least.

"That was nice of her," Gin says. Higuchi is always that nice, no matter the occasion, whether he wants it or not.

"Mhm," he mumbles. "You're talkative today."

Gin huffs out of her nose. He’s not saying enough, but she won’t bother arguing with him.

She takes Ryuunosuke's arm as they walk down. It's painfully obvious how dizzy he is and she really doesn't need him cracking his head open on the subway stairs, that's entirely inconvenient. "You should have taken the elevator."

"It's out of service," he tells her.

The line to their apartment is always quick to bring them a train, and this time she's especially thankful for it. She leads Ryuunosuke to one of the only open seats. He, of course, stares at her for a few moments, expecting her to take it, but she grabs his shoulder to push him into sitting down, leaving him without any choice.

She takes a bit of a defensive position in front of him as she takes hold of the pole right next to the seat they've found. It's just a few stops, thankfully.

Ryuunosuke looks tense. She's not entirely sure what happened. She knows he and Higuchi had to meet with Mori, but she doesn't know why, when, anything, and she doubts Ryuunosuke will tell her - but clearly, whatever happened there is still heavy on his mind. But at least, now, he's closed his eyes.

She wants to think of something that will help him relax, but with how unwell he's looking, she has a feeling she'll need to think of ways to prevent a worsening illness instead.

The train arrives and Gin quickly kneels down to take his arm to lead him through the doors, they're always so quick. This time, Gin really has to make an effort to keep him upright once they're on the platform, and she's really worried he's about to pass out. She stood him up too quickly.

"I'm okay," he assures her with a shake of his head in some attempt to get himself together, but she keeps their arms locked regardless. She knows at least that this station has a working elevator that they will be taking advantage of.

The elevator doors let them out on the street level, and they begin the short walk back to their apartment.

"Did your job go well?"

"It did," Gin tells him with a nod. It's not uncommon for things to go smoothly - she, Tachihara and Hirotsu make a good team. "Tachihara is out for four days, by the way."

"Is he now," he says, after a few faint coughs. Gin nods. Tachihara never elaborates on what he leaves for, but it’s at least once a month that he’s gone for something. "I suppose…the timing is good."

Gin has a feeling that means Ryuunosuke knows he won't be going back to work tomorrow, either.

There's a cat in front of their apartment that Gin always likes to stop and pet. It's a little thing that she looks forward to. Ryuunosuke doesn't usually engage. He pretends he's not a fan of cats, but she thinks he secretly is. Regardless of his feelings on the cat on any particular day, though, he usually waits for Gin. But today, he's unhooked Gin's arm and he's already headed up to their apartment without a word to her.

Gin stays for a while, regardless, just to give Ryuunosuke some silence for a few minutes. She's concerned about him being sick. It's never just a little cold or a headache, it's always a whole ordeal for him. He can never catch a break from it.

"What should I do with him, hm?" Gin asks the cat, who of course, gives her no good answer. He just purrs and presses against her hand for more pets, but before long, he's moved on to his spot on his doorstep in the sun.

Once she's back inside, she realizes this is where she's going to have to really take care of her brother. This is where he'll let his guard down enough for her to help him. She hangs her coat and keys by the door, takes off her shoes, and peers into the kitchen.

She sees him almost doubled over the sink. She sighs. That was inevitable, really. He's lucky he even made it this far, that willpower of his is something else, but as she gets closer, she realizes he hasn't actually thrown up. He's still breathing heavy like he's nauseous.

"You okay?" she asks gently as she walks over. Of course, he doesn't look okay at all. The arms holding him up over the sink might collapse on him at any moment, but even so, he nods. He could be on the brink of death and still be in denial.

"Okay, let's take this off," Gin says as she tugs on his coat. He doesn't look thrilled by the idea, but he's gotten better about letting his guard down in these kinds of situations over the last few months. He views himself as completely defenseless without long coats like this, and often he'll refuse to take it off even when they're at home. She turns him around and unzips it, pulling his arms out of the sleeves, and getting another feel at just how warm he is. She's worried he's going to turn into jello if he's standing any longer.

She takes his wrist to lead him to the bathroom, so she can at least wash his face for him. He often grumbles in protest about how he doesn't see the point in such things, but she knows how much it helps her after a long day, and insists on it anyway. She sits him down on the toilet lid and he rubs his eyes at the harsh bathroom lights, which she turns off for him, instead opting for the natural light coming in through the windows.

"I'll be right back. I'll get you a change of clothes."

And she does just that, finding a t-shirt and a light pair of sweatpants for him to wear. He's not going to like the t-shirt, but Gin won't let him walk around in a sweater with a fever, which she's sure he has.

She's done this countless times, ever since the first time he came home to their apartment with injuries so bad he couldn't brush his own hair. He knows by now that if she brings him to the bathroom, that she's going to help him whether or not he wants her to.

"Do you need help changing? I was thinking I could check if we have any medicine," Gin says when she places his change of clothes on the counter.

"I think I can do it," he says quietly, gingerly reaching for the clothes. He looks and sounds so tired. Gin won't keep him up, but she wants to at least help him wash up before he gets to bed.

Gin isn't sure they have much of anything, but she's concerned about his nausea. She needs to think of something to relieve him of that so that he can rest comfortably.

But of course, before she can start a proper search for medicine she hears Ryuunosuke fall. She scrambles to get back to the bathroom, already horrified that he's hit his head and he's out cold - but thankfully, he's still conscious. He's managed to get the sweatpants on but the shirt seems to have been the problem. He's leaned against the cabinet with a hand pressed against his head and his shirt only halfway on.

"Did you faint?" she asks him gently, deciding to not force him back up. The way he moves his head doesn't tell her if it's a yes or a no, but it's obvious enough to her. It must have had something to do with holding his arms over his head. She helps pull his shirt down all the way, since it seems he got most of the way there on his own.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, hardly audible.

"Stop. Don't be sorry, Ryuu," she tells him gently. The last thing she wants is for him to feel guilty. "How long have you been feeling bad for?"

"Not long," he murmurs, coughing into his hand, "it hit me this morning."

Gin doesn't think he's being dishonest, because she's seen this happen before. It always seems to go downhill incredibly quickly for him with his poor immune system.

She does her best to be quick, but she has a feeling that he's gotten used to letting this help him wind down. She's careful with washing his face, but she thinks the cool washcloth is soothing with the fever he's running. He probably needs a shower at some point, but she would rather he rest first, especially after he fainted.

She takes a moment to brush out his hair, too. She's thankful that in recent months it doesn't seem to be falling out as much, in fact, there's not much hair caught in the brush at all. She hopes that means he's taking better care of himself, but it's hard to say. It could be a coincidence.

She takes his hand to help him up. He has to lean on the counter for support for a few seconds before he takes any steps further. He's still very dizzy.

“I’m fine,” he tells her, even though she doesn’t say anything to him. He makes it clear that he doesn’t want any help, and Gin knows not to push his limits, so she doesn’t offer it.

"Please go lie down, I'll go get us something to eat," Gin insists.

"You don't need to do that," he murmurs with a sigh. He doesn’t move from where he’s standing.

Gin sighs back at him. "When did you eat last?"

Of course, Ryuunosuke won't answer that.

"It's been over twenty-four hours, I'm guessing. You need to eat, Ryuunosuke,” she says. They’re six years out of the slums and Ryuunosuke is still this stubborn when it comes to food.

"I don't think I'll be able to."

She's always stressed about his weight. He hides it well underneath his clothes, well enough for Gin to forget, most of the time. Gin feels guilty for it. She can see it now, his collarbone past the t-shirt, the way he’s standing making the bony surface of his shoulders a little more prominent.

"Then I need you to take some medicine for your nausea. I'm picking up food whether you can eat it now or not,” she tells him. She won’t push his limits most of the time, but she will when it comes to things like this.

He doesn’t say anything to her, his expression just falls a little like he’s silently accepting her response. That’s good enough for her, he thinks. He takes his body off of the counter and keeps a hand on the wall, tracing it as he takes himself to his bedroom, thankfully with no incident.

Gin decides she’s just going to place an order for something online. She doesn’t want to leave Ryuunosuke alone while he’s feeling like this, and she knows he’s afraid of being left alone with his guard lowered like this - so she finds her phone and puts in an order for something she knows will arrive soon.

She straightens up the bathroom for a few minutes after washing her own face and brushing out her hair. She needs a shower, too. There’s a lot of things she’d like to get done, actually, but she won’t distract herself with things that will take her attention away from Ryuunosuke right now.

She closes the door behind her and peers into the bedroom, hoping he’s at least laying down, by now - but he looks like he’s just sat up, and now he knows she’s there.

"Gin," Ryuunosuke stammers with a hand over his mouth, "the - the trash bin, please -"

By the time Gin can get the bin to him, he's just dry heaving between already painful sounding coughs. Gin can't imagine he has anything in his stomach to bring up, considering how long it's been since he's eaten - and he did this earlier too.

That makes it clear enough how unbearably nauseous he must be. He's far too good at hiding it.

After several minutes, he lies back down with a shaky sigh, not looking relieved in the slightest. He looks like he's in pain, his eyebrows knitted together. His body is frail and weak, he can hardly handle the exertion it takes to even attempt to vomit. Gin can't realistically give him any comfort, which is one of the worst parts of seeing him like this.

“I’ll leave this here, okay?” Gin says, setting the bin down on the floor beside the bed. “Will you take some medicine for the nausea?”

He just nods, sinking back into the pillows underneath him. Gin has always thought he has far too many of them, but if it’s comfortable for him, that’s all that matters to her.

She goes back to the kitchen to fill up a glass of water for him to take with the medicine. She’s a little worried about if he’ll be able to keep it down or not with how nauseous he is right now, but he has a better chance at feeling better taking this than he does just suffering through it.

He takes it without any complaints. Gin busies herself with a few quiet tasks in the apartment - straightening things up, things to keep her hands busy while she decides what to do. She would really like to get a doctor to him now, but she thinks she’ll have a hard time getting him to agree to that. Now, if it has to wait until tomorrow, should she call one in or take him to one? He doesn’t like having people in their apartment for any reason, understandably, but with how he feels right now, any sort of car ride or train ride to a doctor would make him feel significantly worse.

She should probably call Higuchi too, seeing as how the two of them are planned for another meeting tomorrow, but she may put that off to avoid worrying Higuchi for a longer period of time.

She peeks back into his room after half an hour or so, hoping he’s asleep. He's curled into his side, a pillow tucked between his arms. She's thankful that he's finally decided to lie down and stay there, but he looks miserable.

"Can I call a doctor over for you?" Gin asks quietly.

"No," Ryuunosuke murmurs. He’s completely avoiding eye contact, likely very aware that Gin doesn’t like that answer. "I'll be fine tomorrow."

Gin knows he's lying, but she'll respect the boundary he's setting, at least for now. As long as he’s not doing worse.

"If you're not doing better by tomorrow, I'm calling a doctor. Okay?"

He doesn't object to that. He shuts his eyes, and Gin decides to close the door and let him sleep for a while.

17 May, 2012 05:27am

Ryuunosuke sleeps through the day and into the night, which is troubling enough on its own. He’s never been known to sleep for long periods of time at all, not when they were younger and living in the slums, and still not after all of their years outside of the slums. Gin managed to find time to shower, order food in, and not any of her movements woke him. Not even when she laid clothes over his hot forehead, or when she slipped a thermometer under his tingue to take his temperature.

It’s a quarter until six the next morning when she takes his temperature again, and it’s steadily climbing. It stayed at around a hundred even throughout the day, and now as it beeps, the numbers ready one hundred and one point six. She bites her lip, brushing his hair out of his face.

He looks exhausted, but worse than normal. His gaunt face is only dimly illuminated by the lamp in the corner of the room, but even its warm light can’t cover up his horribly pale skin.. She doesn’t think he would have the will or energy to move even if he were awake. His brows are twisted together like he’s still uncomfortable, in pain. Even while he’s sleeping.

“Ryuunosuke…even after all this time, you still look the same when you’re sick,” she says quietly to herself, brushing back his hair, remembering his thirteen-year-old face illuminated by the candle she managed to find at the time. At least they’re safe here. At least she can properly take care of him, now.

Now is probably a good time to call Higuchi.

She steps into the bathroom and shuts the door, to help conceal the sound just in case it were to somehow wake him, as she pulls up Higuchi’s number.

"Gin, is everything okay?" Higuchi stammers almost immediately, not leaving room for a ring. Gin realized she hasn't exactly thought of what to say.

"Hi, miss Higuchi," Gin says a little nervously. She doesn't want to alarm Higuchi, but this isn't exactly a good situation, either. "I just wanted to let you know my brother needs to stay home today…maybe a few days. He's not well."

"I knew he was coming down with something…" she grumbles, sounding frustrated with herself. Gin wasn't want her to put any blame on herself, she's positive Ryuunosuke did his best to hide his condition from her. She hears shifting around, the sound of keys. "I can call a doctor over. Or if you think it's a better idea, I can come pick you two up to take him to the clinic at headquarters, but -"

"I think he'll be okay. It's not too serious," she assures. She’s not quite sure how truthful she’s being, but she didn’t have any plans to involve Higuchi. "I just don't want him to overwork himself."

The shifting stops. “Okay…if you’re sure. But, Gin, please call me if there’s anything I can do to help.”

Gin almost feels herself tearing up at the sentiment. She’s thankful for Higuchi’s kindness and willingness to help, and she’ll certainly take her up on it if she needs it, but for now, she thinks everything is okay.

They end their conversation with a few pleasantries, and Gin steps out into the kitchen.

She hears the cat’s little paws on their front door, and she opens the cabinet at the front door to access her secret stash of cat food for the little thing. There’s a few others on the street that feed the cat, but she thinks that lately, he has begun to favorite her. Ryuunosuke has made remarks here and there that they can’t keep a cat, they’re not home enough, but she thinks there’s no harm in this.

She fills up a little bowl with some kibble and sets it outside the front door for him. It’s started to rain a bit, the cat’s fur is damp. He purs and meows at her, rubbing his head against her hand as she sets it down. She scratches behind his ear as he eats. He really is cute. She wants to give him a name, but she can’t think of anything. She can already hear her brother telling her not to name stray animals, that it creates attachment, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

"Gin…?"

It's so quiet in the apartment that Gin can hear her brother's weak, raspy voice despite being at the front door. She pats the cat and tells it to be careful before she shuts the door and heads for Ryuunosuke’s bedroom.

She doesn't think that he'll be able to hear her, so she doesn't bother responding. When he’s sick like this with fevers at those numbers, he's so out of it that he has trouble understanding her even when she's right next to him, so she makes great haste in taking a new washcloth from the kitchen to replace the one that's still resting on his forehead.

She's careful when she opens the door just like she always is, but especially now, to avoid scaring him.

His eyes follow her the moment she can see him, but that's all. He doesn't have any energy to move, not even lift his head.

She kneels down beside him on the futon to press the new washcloth against his forehead. She lets a hand linger on his cheek to get an idea if his fever has gotten any worse, and she thinks it may have.

"What's the time…?" he croaks. He’s still so exhausted, it almost looks like he’s fighting to stay awake. She can see it in his eyes.

"I think it's around six in the morning," Gin tells him. She's not entirely sure. She's been up all night looking after him, but she doesn't find herself tired at all. She's used to it. "I contacted Higuchi earlier, she knows you won't make it in today."

"Higuchi…"

"She was very concerned for you," Gin tells him.

Ryuunosuke is quiet from that point forward.

It's raining hard outside. It puts her on edge. It always has, it's a feeling from the slums that she's never been able to shake off, and Ryuunosuke's the same way. But she's worried right now that his fever is bad enough to make that feeling subside. He's so out of it that he almost seems relaxed, which isn't right at all.

His shirt is damp from sweat, she’s noticed. She needs to shower him later when he’s a bit more awake, maybe with some lukewarm water to help bring his fever down a little, but he’s not awake enough to even sit up, right now.

She holds up his head, gently, to slide out the pillow under his head and replace it with a dry one, a cooler one that’s bound to feel nicer. She sees him visibly relax at the feeling as his head sinks back into the pillow.

"I had a strange dream," he says quietly, after a few minutes of silence. His voice is hoarse, it gets quieter with each word to save his throat from the trouble.

"What kind?" she asks him.

"All of our money turned into chocolate."

Gin isn't sure if he's being serious or not, but she remembers this is her brother - he doesn't joke, not ever. She chuckles, she can’t help it.

"Chocolate? Like back in the slums?" she asks.

"It seems so,” he says. She almost sees his lip twitch into a smile, but in the end, without the energy to commit.

She laughs, this time.

"That won't be very useful to us now," Ryuunosuke says.

"It would've been gold back then," she tells him. She’s still plagued with a strange sense of relief whenever she sees chocolate of any kind. They would trade it for anything they needed back then. It was especially useful to them when he was sick - they could trade it for medicine, blankets, clean water.

She brushes through his hair again.

"I remember the time you were really sick, before we lost everyone," she says quietly. They didn’t have anything for him back then, not until she took he situation into her own hands. "They were all so afraid you weren't going to make it through the night."

She sees him tense up.

“It’s only thanks to you that I survived,” he says quietly.

Gin chews her lip.

28 February, 2006, 16:57 - Suribachi City

"How's your shoulder?"

"It's fine."

Gin knows he's lying, but right now, arguing with him isn't worth it at all. Ever since they were forced out of their last place, Ryuunosuke has been on edge. She's afraid even speaking too loudly to him will scare him, and with the loose control he has on his ability, that could be a dangerous situation for her.

"You two should go to sleep," he tells her, and Sayaka meekly standing behind her.

"I can stay up," Gin tells him, but the look he shoots her says he's not willing to accept that answer.

Right now, it's just the three of them. This is how things often end up when Ryuunosuke isn't fit enough to leave their shelter. She's pretty sure that he's broken bones in his knee and shoulder, but he's used his ability to force everything back into place and now he's simply pretending he's not in any pain. Gin can see it, though. He’s trying really, really hard to hold it together.

“I’m not - I’m not gonna argue with you, Gin,” he huffs, clearly frustrated with her non-compliance.

“And I’m not gonna argue either. I’ll stay up. You need to rest, Ryuu,” she says. “I know you’re in pain.”

She knows that he hates her talking like that in front of Sayaka.

Ryuunosuke turns his head away from her, but something else is on his mind, now. She watches his breaths start to pick up the pace. He waves her off and stumbles out of the shelter, I’ll be right back, he tells her silently, but Gin won’t let him run off. She gives Sayaka a look to make sure she doesn’t follow them, and runs after Ryuunosuke.

He didn’t get far at all. He’s just outside of the shelter in the little makeshift alley, sitting on the dirt ground and leaning against the unstable wall.

“What's wrong?” she asks him as she kneels down beside him. She knows he's nauseous, she can see it in the way he holds himself up, in the expression on his face, the way he’s breathing. But he won't say anything. He never does.

He brings a hand over his mouth like he's trying to stop himself from throwing up.

Vomiting is probably the worst thing for them to do here. Food is so hard to come by, especially as they’re just coming out of winter now, and throwing it up is so much worse than just losing the food. The dehydration that follows is the worst part. They don’t have clean water, they don’t have anything at all.

“It’s okay, Ryuunosuke,” she tells him quietly, laying a hand on his shoulder. She bites her lip. If he really is sick, they’ll figure it out. They have to.

She rubs his shoulder and he leans off to the side to choke up what little he’s had in his stomach to begin with. He has a hard time breathing through it, he’s really trying - but she thinks between the nausea and the pain from his injuries, this is all too much. He groans and lowers his head, trying to keep quiet but ultimately losing the battle.

She’s trying to think of a game plan. Rin and Shinya should be back the quickest, the left first this morning, maybe she can leave in their place to see what she can find for him. They won’t have brought back any medicine, they don’t have any idea that Ryuunosuke is sick - and she can’t ask them to turn around, if they’ve been out scavenging for hours.

She takes his arm once she thinks he’s finishing throwing up to lead him back into their shelter. She’ll get him to rest for a while this way, at the very least - he can sleep on the couch cushions they managed to find a few weeks ago.

Sayaka doesn’t say anything when they walk back in - she knows not to, but she can already tell what’s going on, Gin can see it in all of the concern in her eyes.

"Lay down, okay?"

She's shocked that he listens to her, it's telling enough of how he's really feeling. He curls up on the cushions with a little pained noise, his uninjured arm wrapped around his middle.

“It’s just from the pain,” he says quietly, but she knows he’s lying. She’s angry with herself that she didn’t realize he was sick.

Gin isn’t sure what to make of this. She lays a hand on his cheek and realizes he’s warm, so he’s been sick all this time. Getting sick from eating something bad is so much easier to deal with, but he must have an actual illness.

What else can she do? They can't take him to a doctor. Medicine is impossible to come by. They’ve already used everything they could trade in to replace everything they lost at their last shelter. They have absolutely nothing for him.

"What do we do?" Sayaka asks meekly from behind Gin.

“We’ll just see if some rest will do him some good,” Gin assures her with a nod. She’s hoping that will help, she’s praying for it, but she has a feeling they won’t be so lucky.

Shinya and Rin make it back an hour or so later, unfortunately with nothing more than a water bottle - but that’s certainly better than anything else they’ve been finding.

“Gin? Is Akutagawa…?” Shinya starts, eyes darting to Ryuunosuke’s curled up half-asleep form in the corner of the room. Both of them saw him as soon as they got back, but held off on saying anything.

She just nods, she doesn’t need to say much else. Shinya and Rin both exchange nervous glances. Ryuunosuke was sick for nearly two weeks last time, unable to do much other than sit up - and they need him more than anyone else, a fact everyone is painfully aware of. Ryuunosuke’s very aware of this too - that’s why he’s so hesitant to rest at all. He’s the reason all of them are alive. His ability is invaluable.

“He’ll be okay. He has to be,” Rin says with as assuring smile. Gin appreciates the sentiment, it helps her a tiny bit, but she can’t avoid her concern.

A few hours later, most of their group has returned, and Ryuunsouke is doing much, much worse.

He’s thrown up two more times since the first, and Gin’s holding a bin out for him now, Takehiro helping him keep steady because he doesn’t have the fight in him to even hold himself up. He doesn’t even have anything left in his stomach - they tried to get him to drink water a few hours ago, but it just came right back up.

Not to mention the fever. His skin is so hot that it burns to the touch. He’s covered in sweat, his hair is damp from it, but he’s freezing. She watches him shiver under the blankets, even with the fire going, and there’s no telling how bad that fever really is. Gin’s stomach twists, he’s gotten so much worse in a matter of hours. He’s still in so much pain, too.

She watches him blink away tears as he lays back down. It’s humiliating for him. All of these kids look up to him, he’s their pillar, their protector - and now he can’t even sit up on his own. She knows he would rather suffer alone than with any help.

“Gin?” Yuji starts quietly, just after Ryuunosuke has calmed down enough to rest his eyes. Yuji is abnormally quiet, like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear. The rest of them are curled around the fire pit on the other side of the room.

“Yeah?” she says.

“Do you remember…a few months ago, when Akutagawa told us that the Sheep owe him for something?” Yuji starts quietly.

Gin’s eyes widen.

She’d forgotten about that.

She doesn’t remember what he did for them, but she’s not sure he ever told them - but she distinctly remembers that they do in fact owe him something. And right now would be the perfect time to cash in on that and get him some help. The two of them only know this because he's told them that if they need something important, that's the route to go.

This is important. He may not consider it so, but she’s not sure he would survive this kind of illness this time around.

Gin stands up and walks toward the fire pit, where the rest of the group’s wide eyes stare with concern.

“I’m going to get help. Please take care of him while I’m gone,” she says quietly. At least, while he’s this sick, he can’t try to stop her.

“By yourself, Gin?” Rin asks nervously. “I’ll go with you.”

“I won’t be long. I know where I’m going,” she says. Rin’s already been out all day, she can't ask her to waste her energy to simply accompany her. “If I’m not back in two hours, come look for me.”

“Please be careful,” Sayaka squeaks.

Gin nods. She has to make it back for her brother, after all.

She takes her pocket knife out of her bag and stuffs it in her pocket, looking over Ryuunosuke and decides she has to go without saying anything to him - she can’t worry him, not with how awful he’s feeling already. She’ll be back before he can even realize shes left.

She scurries out, only with her knife and a plan to hunt down a sheep.

28 February, 2006, 19:49

Gin spots one after only half an hour of sneaking around their territory. Long, brushed out pink hair. She’s walking inside the building, but Gin won’t let her get that far. She’s cornered this girl before, and she knows that of she gets her, she can get who she wants to come out.

Within seconds, Gin has her against the wall with a knife up to her throat, close enough for her to feel how sharp it is, but not drawing any blood.

Her wild eyes stare straight into Gin’s. She seems to recognize that screaming right away may be a death sentence for her, so she stays quiet for a moment.

“Where is he? Your leader?” Gin growls.

The girl somehow manages to push Gin back long enough to shout something without a knife against her neck. “Shirase!”

“Answer me. Where is he? Where can I find him?” Gin snaps at her, digging the knife again, feeling her hand shake. Realistically, she has no solid way to defend herself, and no reason for them not to kill her - but she doesn’t live in a world where she can politely ask for help.She has to demand it, or else, her brother will continue to suffer.

“Get offa her, bitch!”

Gin whips around fast enough to catch the new boy off guard, presumably Shirase, and she holds the knife up close enough to his throat to draw blood. He's frozen in fear for just a second, caught off guard by Gin’s quick movements, but that’s all she has. He pushes her to the ground.

“Where is he?” she stammers, standing up on her shaking legs. The girl runs behind Shirase and grabs his arm, pointing straight at Gin.

“Kill her! She’s crazy, she tried to slit my throat! I didn’t even do anything!” she shouts, and Gin swallows back her fear. She wants to shut this girl up. If she wanted to slit her throat, she would have.

“The hell do you want with him, huh?” Shirase growls, sticking an arm out over the girl like he expects Gin to go after her again. “I’m not gonna let you near him if you think you can just go around holding knives to our throats, you psycho!”

Gin, for some reason, has enough courage in that second to try to go after him again, but he kicks the knife out of her hand and pushes her to the ground, pressing the heel of his boot into her chest.

“What did I just say, dammit!” he yells, stomping once against her ribcage. She cries out, fairly certain he’s cracked one of her ribs with that action. What they hell was she thinking? Why did she think this was going to be easy, that she could simply get help for her sick brother? She can’t hold her own against these people.

“Get off her, Shirase!”

Another voice shouts, and a boy with red hair suddenly appears in her line of sight. She knew she made the right call. She always sees these two around the leader.

“Don’t go near that bitch, she tried to kill me and Yuan!” Shirase growls. Yuan has already scurried over to snatch Gin’s knife off of the ground before she can reach for it again. “Held that knife to our throats!”

“Well, you still got your heads,” he huffs. Shirase looks completely taken aback by that. He scoffs.

"You're the Sheep's leader, right?" Gin asks. Her hands are shaking as she sits herself up. She has no chance in fighting anyone back now, so she needs to make her case.

"I'm not anyone's leader. Whaddaya want, kid?" The latter snaps. He keeps his hands in his pockets, glaring down at her with a raised eyebrow. The way he looks at her makes her wonder if he recognizes him.

"The Sheep owe us. Our group," Gin says quietly, slowly trying to stand herself up. Shirase and Yuan back up as soon as she does. "My brother, he…he helped you guys with something. A few months ago."

He looks suspicious, and waits for Gin to continue making her case.

“You’re not seriously gonna hear this bitch out, Ch-”

“Shut up. Let her talk, dammit,” he groans, waving his hand around to signal her to continue talking. He doesn’t make any steps forward, anything to make he think he’s going to retaliate. She tries to swallow back her nerves.

"I'm sorry, I don't…he didn't tell me what happened,” she mumbles quietly. She doesn’t have any idea. All she knows is it was significant enough for them to make this deal together.

"Ability user?" The red-head asks, cocking his head to the side, like he’s recovered a memory.

Gin nods.

"The one whose clothes turn into knives," he confirms.

Gin nods again.

"Yeah. We owe him. Where is he?" he asks. Shirase drops his jaw, starting to argue again, but the boy waves up his hand to shut him up. “Why’d he send you and not come here himself?”

"He needs a doctor. He's really sick," she murmurs, eyes dropping to the ground for a moment, intimidated by the red-head’s intense stare. "Do you know anyone that can help him?"

He exchanges a glance with Shirase for a moment. Shirase looks angry that he would even consider helping, but he knows what the latter is about to suggest without him even saying it, it seems.

“We know one in the city,” The leader says.

“Don’t help this punk ass kid, dammit. She just tried to slit Yuan’s throat! And mine!” he reminds him. Yuan doesn’t seem to want to speak up against this, for some reason. She stares back at Gin with a confused look.

“Well, we owe her brother a favor,” The red-head huffs, not even bothering to give him a look. “No take-backs for that kinda stuff. You know how it works, Shirase.”

Shirase pushes his shoulder and nearly knocks him to the ground. “Since when do you put outsiders over the rest of us, huh? The hell’s your deal? If I wasn’t here, this bitch would’a probably killed Yuan, you fuckin’ - ”

“This girl’s brother took out the guy who stole Yuan, you dumbass,” the leader snarls. “She’d be - if it wasn’t for him, she would -”

“This - that guy…?” Yuan starts, eyes suddenly full of concern as she looks over at Gin, and she starts to put all the pieces together. She remembers the day Ryuunosuke killed the trafficker, the man whom he met with to get supplies in exchange for favors. She suddenly feels sick, remembering his face, and then, his dismembered corpse at her feet. She doesn’t remember why Ryuunosuke ended up killing him, but even if it meant their supplies significantly dwindled, she was thankful he was gone for good.

Shirase is suddenly quiet.

“Please,” Gin starts quietly, feeling her eyes flood with tears with the resurgence of those memories, “I just want him to get better.”

“We’ll help you. I’ll get the doctor to come here if you can get your brother here by tonight,” the Sheep’s leader says.

“Next time, you can just ask for help, instead of trying to kill us,” Yuan grumbles, but her expression still holds that sadness.

Gin feels tears slide down her cheeks.

17 May, 2012 10:03am

Gin thinks to herself, that kid looked an awful lot like Chuuya. But that can't be right, there's no way Chuuya's from Suribachi City. Besides, she knew the Sheep leader's name. What was it again…?

"I'm going to go pick up the dry cleaning, I won't be gone for longer than half an hour. Do you think you'll be okay?" she asks Ryuunosuke. He’s been okay over the past few hours. No change in his fever, but he hasn’t thrown up. “I’ll pick up something to eat, too, but I think you might not be ready for that yet.”

“Not yet,” he confirms, letting his eyes fall shut. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Gin says with a quiet sigh, fixing the cold cloth on his forehead. “Just call me if you need anything, I’ll have my phone on me.”

He doesn’t say anything, but Gin knows she heard him. She dresses herself quickly and scurries out of the front door.

Motomachi isn’t far at all from the apartment, she wouldn’t have left if she knew she couldn’t make it back in a timely manner. She places an order at a restaurant right around the corner from the dry cleaners, that yall it’ll be ready for her once she’s finished picking up their clothes. Efficiently using her time.

She’s caught off guard by a familiar voice before she can wander inside, though.

"Gin!"

Higuchi. Gin whips her head around a little too fast.

"Good morning, ma'am," Gin says, bowing her head for a moment. She’s made herself a little dizzy, but manages to keep her composure.

"You don't have to call me that, Gin. I've said you can call me Ichiyo," Higuchi says. Gin isn't sure she wants to do that. Higuchi is still technically her superior, but she thinks she's latched onto the fact that she knows Gin's secret, now. "How's Akutagawa doing?"

"He seems to be doing better," Gin says, but it's not necessarily true. She'd rather give a vague answer than worry Higuchi any more than she already has. She wonders why Higuchi isn’t at work, but it makes sense that she wouldn’t have any reason to go in with Akutagawa home sick.

There's a girl standing close enough to Higuchi to lead Gin to believe they're out here together, and she almost does a double take at how similar they look. They must be related, but Higuchi's never mentioned anything about having siblings - let alone one that’s near identical to her.

"Ah, sorry, Kuniko," Higuchi says. The girl smiles as Higuchi politely gestures to Gin. "This is one of my coworkers."

"Subordinate," Gin corrects, bowing her head again.

"And Gin, this is my younger sister, Kuniko,” Higuchi introduces cheerfully. The girl smiles back at her.

“It’s nice to meet you! I’ve heard a lot about you,” Kuniko says, a statement that warms Gin’s ears up. What kind of things is she telling her sister about them? “Sorry if we’ve interrupted your plans.”

“Oh - no, it’s okay,” Gin says politely. “I was just going to pick up dry cleaning and some food before I head back home.”

“Do you think he needs to see a doctor, Gin?” Higuchi asks, her eyes suddenly full of concern. She’s not sure what tipped her off. Maybe there was too much urgency in her voice.

“I’d…I’d like him to, but…” Gin says nervously. She chews at her lip.

"I'm so sorry, I should've tried harder to get him to see one yesterday," Higuchi murmurs. She knows that Huguchi’s best efforts would have been wasted on him anyway, he’s far too stubborn to ever take advice or listen to that sort of thing - but of course, Higuchi’s guilt over the situation is tangible nonetheless. Gin doesn't blame her one bit. “I wish I’d noticed sooner…”

"It's alright, ma'am. He's stubborn," Gin says. Of course, to her, the signs are obvious, but she's known Ryuunosuke since she was born. He'll start to space out and become confused over things that make perfect sense. Sometimes he'll get quiet. He way he breathes has been engraved into her memory. She spent several nights keeping watch over him in the slums when he was sick enough to make her think she would wake up to hear his breathing cease.

"Gin?" she says.

"Yes?"

“He’s been getting sick more often,” Higuchi says quietly, her eyes lowered. “I’m worried.”

“I know,” Gin says, but it’s all she can say. She doesn’t know why. He’s never had a good immune system, but it’s only gotten worse. He won’t see doctors, he won’t tell Gin how he’s feeling or why, not ever. All she can do is watch.

"I promise I'll keep a better eye on him, next time,” Higuchi says.

"Please don't blame yourself,” Gin tells her. She would rather take the blame onto herself.

The dry cleaners and picking up food both take much longer than she would have liked them to, and she ends up back at their apartment about an hour later than she planned.

She sets the take-out back on the counter and drops the dry cleaning bag onto the floor before she scurries back to Ryuunosuke’s bedroom, but there’s no sign of him in bed. The sheets are disheveled like he was in a hurry to get out.

"Ryuunosuke?" Gin calls out, but she doesn't see him anywhere in the room. He might be in the bathroom. She’s worried that he’s thrown up again.

She knocks, briefly, to no response. She opens the door, slowly, carefully - Ryuunosuke is curled up against the wall, arms wrapped around his middle, features twisted up in pain. She doesn’t think he’s entirely awake, but he’t not asleep.

“Ryuunosuke?” Gin starts, kneeling in front of him, "You should go back to bed. It's not good for your body to sleep like this.”

She thinks his fever's gotten worse. He's not responding to her. He looks as white as a sheet, and he doesn’t show any sign that he’s heard a word she’s said to him.

"Ryuunosuke, I think -"

Her hand grazes his waist in an attempt to grip his arm, only for a moment, but it sets something off. He flinches so hard that she's worried for a moment he's hit his head, but the bigger problems begin when the ends of his sweatshirt turn into tendrils and hurdle toward her throat. They're wrapped tight around her neck before she can even think to fight back. He’s almost using enough force to pull her off of the ground, and no amount of pulling at his ability could possibly get her out of the restraint.

She feels like she’s going to die. She can feel it start to get sharp, but the choked plea she manages is enough to bring her brother back to reality.

As soon as he lets go, coughs and coughs, really thinking for a moment that she was going to stop breathing. She lifts her head and sees Ryuunosuke halfway up, staring at her wild-eyed, horrified at what he’d just done.

She knows why. He's never once told her, but she knows.

"Gin…I, I'm -" he hardly manages before he forces himself up to vomit into the toilet bowl, clearly not for the first time that day. Gin's angry with herself, she chose a terrible time to leave him. She should have known he would only get worse.

She knows she's safe to touch him now. He's alert, he's said her name. She scoots up closer to him and rubs his back. There’s nothing left for him to bring up. He’s just coughing and dry-heaving. It sounds so painful.

Gin bites her lip when she spots blood drip down his chin.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. His voice shakes. He can’t lift his head just yet, he’s still trying to catch his breath.

"Please don't be sorry," she says quietly. "It's okay."

She holds him for a few moments after he finally lifts his head. She wants him to know he's truly safe, and leave no doubt in his mind.

She can't help but cry.

"Gin…" he manages pulling back and reaching a hand out like he’s trying to comfort her.

"I'm sorry, it's not - it's not what you did," she murmurs. Of course, it scared her, but she's heartbroken that he still reacts like that. He'll never, ever let his guard down. That’s the worst part of it all.

"Your neck…" he says, his face all twisted up with the slew of emotions he’s feeling. God, he’s so pale. He looks like he’ll pass out any second.

"It's okay, Ryuunosuke, I promise,” she assures him, rubbing at the spot that’s starting to become sore. This is truly the last thing he needs to be worrying about. She’s dealt with much, much worse. “Let’s get you back to bed, okay? I think - ”

His eyes roll back and his whole body goes limp and falls forward before she can even finish her sentence. She hears a tiny noise of discomfort from him as she lifts him up to take him back to bed, but she certainly can’t let him fall asleep in the bathroom again.

She manages to get him back to bed, deciding to change out his comforter to something not so damp. His skin is so, so hot - she bites her lip when she feels his forehead. It must feel nice, her cool hand, she can see him visibly relax at the touch.

His eyes open again when she lays a washcloth over his forehead. His eyes don’t look for Gin for a few minutes. She takes his temperature, and the thermometer reads one hundred and three, now. It’s a miracle he’s able to talk to her at all. God, he must feel absolutely miserable.

“Hey,” she greets quietly when his eyes finally find her face, “you passed out.”

She doesn’t want to cause any confusion. He sighs, like he’s disappointed in himself.

“I think I should take you to a doctor, Ryuunosuke,” she tells him. She knows he’s not going to get any better on his own, especially with how much he’s throwing up despite eating nothing.

“I’ll be fine,” he breathes out quietly.

She sighs again. She wishes he weren’t so stubborn. She can’t imagine feeling as miserable as he is right now and refusing any kind of outside help.

"I ran into Higuchi earlier," Gin tells him, “she’s worried about you. She offered to take you to a doctor. Or call one in.”

"She's a fool," he whispers, turning his head away. He can’t comprehend anyone else caring for him. He’s never understood the lengths that Higuchi has gone to for him.

"She's just worried," Gin says. "You don't need to be so secretive with her. It might have saved you some trouble if you told her you weren't doing well yesterday."

"It's not her problem to deal with," he murmurs. He coughs a few times.

Of course he would think that way.

Gin isn't sure what she can do to change his mind. This has been the way he's thought since they were kids. His problems are his own. He never shares them with Gin, she always just happens to find out.

"That doesn't mean you should suffer alone, Ryuunosuke,” she tells him. "You wouldn't want me to suffer alone, would you?"

He scoffs, like it’s a ridiculous comparison, somehow.

"I doubt you would want that for Higuchi either. Or Tachihara, for that matter… any of us. I know you’re not heartless,” she says, patting his hair.

“You always say strange things,” he says quietly, the last of his words drifting off as he starts to fall asleep once more.

17 May, 2012, 17:41

Only a few hours later, Gin’s finding it hard to breathe after she checks the thermometer.

One hundred and four point one.

She can’t wait anymore. He needs to see a doctor right away. Even if it’s not what he wants, someone needs to help him, to do more than Gin possibly can from their apartment. Her hands shake as he brushes his hair from his face - he’s not reacting to anything. Not to any pinches, squeezing his arm, nothing.

But the worst part is that even through his delirium, only a few moments ago, he turned his head to the side to choke up a mouthful of blood, staining the white pillowcase beside him.

She scrambles for her cell phone and searches for Higuchi’s contact. It rings. Once, twice, three times, and Gin almost hangs up, but Higuchi finally answers.

"Miss Higuchi," Gin murmurs, trying her hardest to hide the shake in her voice. She knows there’s no hiding it.

"Gin? Are you okay?" she asks immediately, evidently recognizing the hurt in her voice right away. She already hears shuffling, like he’s getting ready to leave her apartment.

"He’s not…he’s not responding anymore. He needs a doctor,” is all she says, tears slipping from her eyes. She dips her head onto his shoulder and squeezes his arm, tight. His far too hot skin. She can’t see anything in front of her, the salty tears blocking her vision.

“I’ll be right there. Please don’t worry, I’ll be there very soon, okay?” she says gently, but Gin can hear it in her voice, too. She’s afraid.

Gin hangs up the phone and chokes back a sob.

Higuchi arrives in record time only minutes later, Gin stumbles to the front door to let her in, tear tracks staining her cheeks. She tries to wipe them off, she sees the way Higuchi is looking at her like she’s absolutely heartbroken to see her like this - it only makes her cry more.

“Hey, it’s okay, Gin,” Higuchi tells her calmly, holding her and squeezing her tight for just a moment. Gin sobs, covers her face, Higuchi pulls out of the hold and takes her hand before Gin leads her to Ryuunosuke’s bedroom.

Gin won’t have any problem carrying him, he’s so horribly thin, but Higuchi is still on standby. She sees the horror on her face as soon as she’s in the doorway, seeing Ryuunosuke in the state that he’s in - the blood, his white skin, the way he’s nearly limp as Gin lifts him from the bed. Even then, she gets no reaction from him, nothing but a pained moan.

“He’s not responding at all…?” she asks with a shake in her voice as she follows Gin out of the front door and down the steps to her car. Higuchi opens the back door for her to set Ryuunosuke in.

Gin gets into the other side of the backseat just as Higuchi climbs into the front, and without any deliberation, they’re off.

Higuchi tells her on the way there that she’s already notified the nursing staff at the Port Mafia headquarters infirmary that they would be on their way, which is reassuring, they’ll be ready. Gin cries and squeezes her brother’s hand the whole short ride there. Nothing has changed. Even six years later, she’s still terrified of losing him.

They get him up to the infirmary floor of the building in no time at all, and without any reaction from Ryuunosuke. She watches his eyes flutter, like he was trying to regain control, but simply couldn’t. She quietly reassured him the whole way, just in case she could hear him.

Once Gin takes him inside, she lays him down in the cot that they’ve prepared for him and she kneels down beside it, her hands reaching up to the guards on the side. Higuchi has already run over to the staff, and she tries to listen in, but she’s too focused on the restraints on the sides of the cot.

Her stomach drops.

"We won't treat him unless he's been stripped of anything he can weaponize," the doctor says as she approaches, neither her nor any of the nursing staff daring to come any closer.

Gin freezes in place, and stares at them in horror.

She understands their hesitancy to treat him. He's dangerous. He's killed members of their staff, years ago. After that point, Dazai was required to be present for any treatment that Ryuunosuke underwent, to negate any effects of his ability.

But he's not here. There’s no one who can do that anymore.

"Please don't do this," Gin says quietly, slowly standing beside the cot. She’s familiar with this doctor. She’s treated her many times, but she becomes very cold whenever her brother is brought up in conversation. "You don't understand how humiliating that is."

"It's not worth risking the lives of my staff, sir,” the doctor says. She holds eye contact. She almost looks like she feels guilty. Higuchi stands behind her, eyes wide and confused. She likely had no idea that this would be involved at all.

"I'll stay here while you treat him. If it looks like he'll hurt anyone at any point, I'll take the hits," Gin stammers, biting her lip. She’s not even sure that would work. She’s just so desperate for someone to help him, She knows he's dangerous. He's hurt her against his own true will many times. She can still feel his sweater wrapped around her neck and holding her in the air. But it's all out of fear. He's lived so much of his life with no choice but to be that way.

“Please, please help him. He’s so sick,” Higuchi begs, eyes darting between the doctor and her staff.

“I will have him thrown out the moment he hurts any of my staff. Do you understand?” she says.

Gin begrudgingly nods. She just needs someone to help him.

They’ve made their agreement, and finally, the nurses start treating him.

Gin stays beside him the whole time, knees on the tile and elbows on the side of the cot, squeezing Ryuunosuke’s hand. He’s so out of it. He doesn’t react to a single thing that’s going on. Not even the multiple attempts to palace an IV catheter - he had terrible veins and it’s always a painful process for him, but even now, there’s no reaction.

They’re able to get some medications in him, too, through the IV, ones that she doesn't have to worry about coming back up. Something for the nausea, his fever - the doctor said she’s concerned about his lungs, she doesn’t like the sound she’s hearing. Gin knows they aren’t good to begin with, but the doctor is concerned about him developing pneumonia. She squeezes his hand tight again, and just as the doctor sets her stethoscope on his chest again, she feels him flinch.

The tendril stabs through her shoulder before she can recognize it, and she stops breathing for a moment. It's so painful. She's never felt anything more sharp than the fabric of Ryuunosuke's ability, it's almost so sharp that it's numb. She realizes it’s only hit her because of the angle she’s at. He meant to hit the doctor.

"Ryuunosuke," she chokes out, gritting her teeth. "They're trying to help you, Ryuu, please let them. Please."

His eyes are so wide and full of fear. She squeezes his hand tighter. The doctor is frozen in place, fully aware that one wrong move could result in a decapitation.

“I’m here, okay? I would never let anyone hurt you,” she says, tears flooding her eyes.

“I’ll try to give him a sedative,” The doctor whispers. She mentioned that she’s been hesitant on giving him one with the condition of his lungs, but it’s necessary.

One of the nurses has already had one on standby.

He makes a sound that almost resembles her name. He’s fighting to keep his eyes open. Gin cries just looking at that expression, it’s more heartbreaking than anything she’s ever seen on him. She can feel the tendril start to slide of her shoulder and return to its normal form as the doctor injects the sedative into his IV line, and the blood from the hole in her shoulder starts to drip down onto the cot.

Within seconds, his eyes fall shut.

“Gin - ” Higuchi gasps as she runs over, two other nurses following one they realize Ryuunosuke is sedated.

“Will he be okay?” Gin breathes out, wincing as one of the nurses rip the cloth from her shirt to expose her shoulder. “With - with that sedative?”

“I’ll keep a close eye out on him,” she says, brows knit together at the sight of Gin’s injury. She doesn’t want to look. It hurts so much, she hears the whispers from the nurses behind her as they try to coax her into sitting on the neighboring cot, but she doesn’t want to move.

“Gin, let them help you, please,” Higuchi tells her gently, taking her hand and moving her back to the cot. Her voice is shaking so much. “I’ll watch Akutagawa, okay? Let them help you before they can’t fix this anymore.”

Gin's finally starting to get tired herself. She feels her eyes roll back, a few shouts of her name, and everything is black.

May 19, 2012, 18:03

The soreness in her shoulder is the first thing she feels when she starts to feel herself coming back.

“Thank goodness, Gin,” she hears Higuchi say with an exasperated sigh. “I thought you were going to sleep forever…”

She finds Higuchi looming over her when she opens her eyes again, looking concerned but relieved all at the same time.

“Guess not takin’ care’a yourself finally caught up to ya’,” a new voice says, one that she recognizes, but certainly not one that was in the room last time she was awake. She rubs at her eyes as she tries to figure it out, and her stomach drops when her brain finally connects the dots.

Tachihara. Tachihara, who said he would be gone for four days last time that she saw him. Which, if she’s doing the math right -

“How long was I asleep?” she gasps as she sits herself up, wincing hard at the pain in her shoulder. Higuchi squeaks and lays a hand over it, frantically looking around for something to help her.

“I think…it’s been over forty-eight hours, now…” Higuchi says, meekly asking her to be careful as she leans forward to see if Ryuunosuke is still in the cot beside her.

He is. He’s sitting up, propped up by some pillows, leaning forward a little like he’s been watching her, too - as soon as they make eye contact, his shoulders relax with a sigh.

God, she’s so glad to see he’s doing better.

Gin scrambles to get out of the cot, with Higuchi nearly stumbling after her. Ryuunosuke seems a little surprised to see her move so quickly, and she regrets it a little - she feels dizzy, but she needs to check him over.

"Gin," he whispers, eyebrows knit together, "your shoulder."

She looks down at it, finding that blood is starting to seep through the hospital gown she’s been dressed in. It hurts, a lot more than most injuries she’s recieved, but she won’t show him that. She lays her hand over it.

"It's okay," she tells him quietly. He looks so much better than before. There’s color in his face again, his eyes aren’t so glazed over - there’s still an IV catheter in his arm, so he’s still recovering, but this is a massive improvement from before. “You look like you’re feeling a lot better.”

He sighs, like he was expecting her to say that. “You need to look after yourself, Gin.”

“Only if you promise to do that yourself first,” she tells him. Higuchi has found a chair for her and she urges her to sit down, taking note of her shaking legs, not quote yet ready to be walking around after being asleep for so long. She sighs. She hadn’t slept the entire time she was taking care of her brother, and the stress of it all really knocked her out for that long.

“I’m sorry, Gin,” he says to her, very quiet, eyes turned away. He feels guilty, she can see that clear as day. It hurts her to see.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault you got so sick, but you have to let me get help for you sooner next time. Okay?” she tells him, taking his free hand. He just nods, not quite wanting to look her in the eye yet, but that’s fine. As long as he’s acknowledged her words.

“You guys are scary similar,” Tachihara puffs.

“They are…” Higuchi sighs.

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aindyghosh · 5 months

Text

Fix Me Up (IronDad fic)

Peter hated formalities.

No, that was too mild a word to describe his feelings on the topic. Peter despised formalities.

Detested them. Abhorred. Loathed. And any other synonym that Oxford had come up with to date that he’d be able to remember as soon as Peter’s mind returned to the right track.

As it was, Peter’s brain felt all jumbled and disoriented, as if he were in a daze, because the morning sniffles he’d dismissed as a reaction to the accumulated dust in his room were, in reality, a case of severe cold due to the weather fluctuations that New Yorkers were experiencing and thus, very much not insignificant.

The last time Peter had fallen ill was three years ago before a visit to OsCorp had juiced him up on a — what would probably be perceived as ‘freakish’ — spider-serum (well, it was more of a spider-bite than a full-fledged serum, but that was what he called it, anyway) that turned his vision into a ten out of ten, dialled his senses to an eleven, and for the initial few months, made him stick to pretty much every surface available. No, that wasn’t a double entendre of any kind. It had been a real issue, thank you very much, until he had hauled control of it into his own hands.

Now one might ask, how did his sickness tie into his hatred for formalities?

Well, it was like this: Peter was sick, all he wanted to do at the moment was go home, politely refuse Aunt May’s chicken broth that was more likely to send him to the ER than to make him feel any better, allow sleep to treat him like he was dead until he was ready to return to the land of the living, and the fever, with any luck, would subside by the time he woke up again.

He didn’t think these were, in any manner, unreasonable demands.

Yet, his school acted as though he’d broken into Nexus and stolen the nuclear codes that he could access on Mr Stark’s servers.

Not that he’d ever say that to anyone because it would be incriminating Mr Stark, even though he was around eighty-three per cent sure it was one of those open secrets that everybody knew but pretended they didn’t. Adults were so complicated.

Regardless, coming back to the point, Aunt May was unreachable over the phone, which Peter had already suspected would be the case because she had a very important meeting with some angel investors who had expressed interest in the latest venture that her NGO was trying to set up for victims of domestic abuse.

Peter had said that to both Mr Harrington and Principal Morita, and had practically begged to be permitted to leave because anybody with a functional pair of eyes could see that he wasn’t faking an illness for the fun of it (Principal Morita had blanched at the hundred-and-three-degree temperature the thermometer had displayed; apparently, the spider-serum had increased his body’s tolerance to the extent where he didn’t keel over while burning up, but still, it would’ve been nice to not fall sick at all).

They had denied his request, of course. Formalities. See why he despised them?

With Peter being miserable in the infirmary and Aunt May not answering her calls, the natural next step in the administrative process was to either call the second emergency contact tagged to his name or the hospital.

Peter had put his foot down when Mr Harrison had tried to make noise in favour of the latter choice. Whether it was his uncharacteristic blunt protest or the pitiful murmur he had exhaled for being too exhausted to attempt anything else, Principal Morita had, though begrudgingly, relented.

That had stripped them down to one option. The second emergency contact. And that was where the root of all his problems laid.

Even when he had been one of the sickliest children, Peter’s file had been empty of a secondary contact since Uncle Ben’s demise because, besides Aunt May, he hadn’t had any such person in his life. But two years ago, his Aunt May had applied to add one.

Tony S.

It had been Mr Stark’s idea after their initial application had been rejected because “there is no way Tony Stark is your emergency contact, Peter; such kind of pranks will not be tolerated!”

As insistent as Ms. Banks was on not being taken for a fool, she hadn’t batted an eyelid when Peter had submitted the revised application with the name tweaked from “Tony Stark” to “Tony S”. At the time, like in one of those really old movies, Mr Stark’s “People are gullible, Peter! They think they know and understand everything when they barely see a quarter of the full picture,” had echoed through his head like a voiceover.

But he was digressing. The point he was trying to make was that despite the fact his school hadn’t, and still didn’t, believe that he had an internship — which wasn’t even a lie — with Stark Industries, much less that Mr Stark would ever agree to be his secondary contact (if Peter was being honest, he too found it ridiculous and surreal sometimes that Mr Stark had been listed as one of his emergency contacts), he hadn’t imagined that Principal Morita and Mr Harrington would stammer say an outright “no” to the man’s very face.

Peter watched, perched on the uncomfortable bed that threatened to make a germaphobe out of him, as Mr Stark’s face underwent a long series of varied emotions until it began oscillating between intrigued amusement and concerned frustration.

“I am his secondary emergency contact,” Mr Stark stressed for the third time. “You saw the papers! They have May’s signature! Why, on God’s holy green earth—” ( Ooh, the fancy curses were coming out now. When Mr Stark started saying things like “God” and “holy”, the best course of action was to run.) “—would I want to compromise your records? Do I look like a kidnapper?” Principal Morita failed to reply within a satisfactory period because Mr Stark pinched the bridge of his nose for the fifth time in the past ten minutes. Someone was developing a new anxious tic. “Why would I want to kidnap a student, Principal Morita?”

“We don’t think you’re trying to kidnap him, per se,” Mr Harrison swiftly cut in, seeing as Principal Morita seemed more interested in mimicking a fish and flailing his hands like an octopus. “But surely, you must see why we’d be, um, sceptical about allowing Peter to go with you?”

“No, actually, I don’t.”

Mr Harrington waved his hands in vague gestures, not unlike Principal Morita but he resembled more of an orangutan. “You are Tony Stark.”

“I’m aware, but thanks for the reminder.” Mr Stark deadpanned, his flat features compensating for the raw vulnerability in his eyes as he kept shooting Peter worried glances. “Look, this argument is entirely pointless.” You tell ‘em, Mr Stark! “I have a sick child to take care of—” He wasn’t a child! He was an almost-adult! That was a thing! “—and he can do with some treatment that is not in this horrible room. Is this what you call an infirmary? You know what, it doesn’t matter! I will need Peter to come with me pronto.”

Principal Morita stood up taller as if something in Mr Stark’s speech had vindicated him. “That is what a kidnapper would say.”

“No, a mugger would say that while robbing somebody. Go on, accuse me of petty theft as well while you’re at it.”

Principal Morita stuttered something out, but whether that was in response to Mr Stark’s utterly unimpressed face or Mr Harrison elbowing him in the rib, Peter wasn’t sure.

The ongoing conversation gradually morphed into unintelligible white noise, overwhelming while being muffled at the same time, like being pulled out of the water after a long time under, the sound of waves rushing ringing in one’s ears and deafening them to their surroundings but unable to mitigate the imposing presence of the people around.

“M’st’r St’k?” After a short second, his brain-addled self wondered if he’d managed to get the words out in the world or if they had died a premature death on his tongue.

“Peter?”

Maybe he had. “I d’n’t f’el sss...g’d, M-St’k—”

💖

Peter blinked. And frowned when his view refused to stop swaying between pitch black and black with spots of red and green in it.

It was another moment before he realised his eyes were still closed.

Oops.

When his eyes fluttered open, it wasn’t to Midtown High’s infirmary that left much to be desired, but to a clean white ceiling with a familiar huge and fancy circle of light decorating the middle which his brain placed right away.

The Avengers Compound’s MedBay.

He had a love-hate relationship with this corner of the compound, in that his body loved to end up here, at least, once a week while he had to actively hold himself back from cursing like a pirate anytime someone so much as mentioned the wing.

“FRIDAY?” He asked in a tone that even his brain thought suited an eighty-year-old, weary of the world, than a teenage kid with superpowers. No, not superpowers. That made him sound narcissistic and ostentatious. Spidey-powers. There, much better. “How long was I out this time?”

“You missed both lunch and dinner, if that answers your question,” came the reply from the person who was very much not FRIDAY.

“Mr Stark!” He attempted to sit up to no avail, Mr Stark’s firm grip on his shoulders gently pushing him back on the bed. Peter might have been stronger but Mr Stark was much more stubborn and a lot less prone to listening.

“How’re you feeling, kid?”

“Fine, actually, y’know, given everything.” He was no longer burning up, his skin didn’t crawl, the pounding in his head had subsided, and nothing felt jammed up his nose. All in all, he felt much more in control of himself. At least, the spider-serum worked fast.

“Good, because I need to yell at you and I’d prefer to do that while you’re not being miserable in your own body.”

“Oh, come on, Mr Stark! I didn’t even do anything this time!”

“Yeah?” The man’s eyes narrowed at him in that manner where, historically, it meant he had yet to decide whether to be angry with him or let himself show his amusement at his antics. Usually, the latter won out after a few minutes of forced yelling which was more to help keep up his façade of a responsible adult than anything else. Here’s to hoping! “Then was it your clone who assured your Aunt May in the morning that you were okay and, in fact, healthy enough to attend school?”

Had Peter been sitting, he would have bowed his head or looked away. Since he was currently laid out helpless on the bed as Mr Stark hovered over him like a concerned parent mentor, bowing his head wasn't on the table and looking away could be considered impolite. Mr Stark didn’t take kindly to rudeness and Peter was in no mood to be tickled.

“Sorry, Mr Stark.” Apologising? Now that came much more naturally to him. Mr Stark said it was a problem. Peter wasn’t so sure.

“What are you sorry for?”

That sounded like a trick question. Peter eyed the other man with carefully concealed suspicion. “For falling sick?”

Mr Stark sighed in that exasperated way that was typically followed up with something either deeply profound or extremely heartfelt, and in both cases, Peter would be left speechless and a tiny smidge teary-eyed.

“Don’t be sorry for falling sick, Peter! How would you feel if I apologised for getting hurt on a mission?”

Peter shrugged. “Good, actually, because then it would mean you’ll try not to throw yourself in the active line of gunfire when the next fight comes along.” After a moment, he added, “And maybe a tiny bit worried if you said the word ‘sorry’.”

“Pot, kettle, Underoos.” Mr Stark rolled his eyes. “And stop distracting me from the real issue here.”

“There’s no real issue, Mr Stark—”

“You should have told May that you had a fever, Pete.” He didn’t have a fever in the morning! “She was so scared when she saw the missed calls. She almost hitched a ride with Karen.”

“She hates Karen.” Peter’s mumble was barely audible, but somehow Mr Stark heard it.

“I know. I talked her down from blowing her dinner invitation with the investors. She’ll be here in another—” He spared a glance at his expensive wristwatch. “—fifteen minutes or so.”

“Thanks, Mr Stark! I didn’t mean to cause any problems—”

“You didn’t,” Mr Stark said, his voice soft. “We just worry, Pete. You’d know when you reach our age and have to look after a hyperenergetic kid who can’t seem to keep out of trouble.”

“That’s right, Peter!” FRIDAY chimed in. “Boss nearly went into a panic attack at the thought of you being hurt.”

Mr Stark immediately hushed his AI, but FRIDAY made even her silence seem...smug.

“I didn’t.” Mr Stark was convincing nobody. He was such a mother-hen.

Peter shook his head with a small smile. “This won’t happen again, Mr Stark, I promise.”

“Yes. Please remember, we’re all here for you, okay?” The man squeezed his hand. His touch was warm and assuring, and it grounded Peter.

“I didn’t expect a few sneezes to turn into a fever. I’d thought the serum had taken care of that.”

“Me too. I have talked with Bruce. If you are fine with him taking a couple of samples, he’s agreed to look into it.”

“Sure.” A year ago, he’d have been uncomfortable at the prospect of Doctor Bruce Banner wasting his precious time on something as insignificant as Peter’s blood tests. But Mr Stark had beaten the so-called “self-deprecation” out with his snarky retorts and sassy eye-rolls, and Doctor Banner had, after returning from “the garbage planet” (not his words), become something of a second mentor to him.

Also, this was for science. Doctor Banner was always interested in analysing the dos and don’ts and powers and the side effects of the spider-serum.

“Boss, Forehead of Security is pulling up into the driveway with Mrs Parker as we speak.”

“Oh, goody! She can take over the yelling now. FRI, order some pizza!”

“On it!”

“Mr Stark!” Peter called for the man with a tone of voice that, to unsuspecting people, might have sounded whiny, but really, it wasn’t. “Save me!”

“Nope! You deserve it!”

“I promise I won’t do it again!”

“FRI, remind the young lad of the last time he’d said the same thing, please.”

“Three weeks ago, on the twenty-ninth of March, at 8:14 in the evening, Peter Parker had promised not to hide anything from Tony Stark and May Parker ever again post a two-hour surgery for failing to alert anybody after getting shot while stopping a bank robbery.”

Peter resisted the urge to pout. “FRIDAY! You didn’t have to recount in such detail.”

“I am not programmed to recite half-information, Peter.” She was trolling him. He could feel it in his bones.

“Hah!” Mr Stark crowed. “I am so proud of you, baby girl.”

“Boss, I have done some research and I have arrived at a conclusion.”

Peter’s heart hammered at the declaration. What now?

“Oh? Let’s hear it, then!”

“I have looked into various published papers on human behaviour and the possible environmental factors that may have an impact on it, and I have deduced that Peter Parker’s tendency to hide his injuries and downplay his struggles are identical to your documented traits.”

It took a visible minute for Mr Stark to realise what transpired, and when he did, he let out an outraged screech that would have put a whole colony of bats to shame.

Peter sucked in his cheeks.

“Are you implying I’m a bad influence on the kid, FRIDAY?”

“No, I’m saying that you and Peter are in the same boat, and both of you panic when the other gets hurt yet none of you do anything to set an example for the other, and since you, Boss, can be argued to be the adult in this relationship—” She bravely ignored Mr Stark’s squeak of protest, and pressed on, “the responsibility of not being a hypocrite, unfortunately, falls on you.” FRIDAY finished with a flourish. Peter could hear the flourish.

A beat of silence.

“That’s it! I’m donating you to City College. How dare you insinuate that I’m a responsible adult. I hate being responsible!”

And that was the point where Peter absolutely and hilariously lost it.

He was soon joined by Mr Stark, who was more giggling than guffawing like Peter. When the titters and the chortles were on the verge of subsiding, FRIDAY played an audio recording of a woman cackling as a representation of her own emotions, and the riot powered up again.

That was, of course, until the door to his room — yes, he had been in the MedBay a sufficient number of times for Mr Stark to designate a room specially for him — was pushed open and a harried May rushed in only to be greeted by the sight of Peter and Tony all but rolling over the floor laughing.

Peter’s ears rang with her screaming for days after that.

#peter parker #tony stark #protective tony stark #sick peter parker #irondad and spiderson #attempted humour #cross-posted on ao3 #sassy FRIDAY #tony stark acting as peter parker's parental figure #tony stark is good with kids

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heart2beom · 2 years

Text

1. how to not embarrass yourself

SYNOPSIS a romcom office series; in which you're a huge romantic at heart but the shitty men you attract leaves you with countless failed relationships. then, you meet choi soobin. in an elevator. he isn't interested in you, he finds you annoying, and he clearly has zero respect for you, so why the hell are you so bent on making him like you?

WARNINGS none + NOT a smau, tag used for more reach

AUTHOR NOTE ill go according to schedule next time, bare with me for the first few chapters T-T anyways, after reading im always always open to feedback or just comments in general, i want to start this series by saying that i want this to be as interactive as possible with readers. that said, you have a suggestion, i might make it happen :)

masterlist | next

The first day you met the blonde, it was, to put it lightly, your worst encounter with a human being. Ever. No, like...the worst. You lost your dignity that one day in March, the transition to spring.

“Hey! Hey hey hey!”, you had put your hand in the middle of the closing elevator doors, that the person inside wasn’t bothered to try and stop. “Why didn’t you...”, you bit your lip.

Nope. Not today. You kept it to yourself, maybe he didn’t see you. Running. And yelling. Yeah, he probably didn’t see you.

You walked inside the elevator, awkwardly.

Your hands were clammy, you don't know why. What do people do in an elevator? Were you supposed to do something? Take a little peek at the guy? It wouldn't hurt...you've heard your few shares of elevator love stories.

You looked away when you noticed his blonde hair, cursing in your head. Guess you weren't destined to get the elevator relationship.

You’ve been holding onto the theory that the blonde in men’s hair seeps into their brains and turns it rotten. Filthy, smoosh rotten brain. Naturally blonde men were actually born, and medically are evil. Despite people questioning the validity of it all...come on, you've heard "its just your bad limited experiences with blondes" a bajillion times now, its true.

Well, you haven't personally tested it out.. but there's several blonde dictators! And more than once, the dirtbag your friends would cry about was none other than a dirty ol' blonde man. There's no redemption.

But then you furrow your eyebrows---naturally blonde men. Naturally blonde men are the evil ones. You take a second glance, and notice his roots.

Oh, they were awful.

But that only meant one thing. He wasn’t born evil. And he was cute! And young, young's important.

“Hey, what floor are you going to?” you asked with a little smile tugging at your lips, a little too smug for seven in the morning, looking straight at the closed elevator in front of you. You’re a self proclaimed romantic, when you try, you could even get some random billionaire on his knees.

But oddly, it was quiet. All your ears could pick up was white noise... Had you finally gone deaf? You could've snapped your hands to test that thought, but you hadn't.

Looking back, everything went wrong because it was seven. Even further back, maybe your parents should've forced you into being an early bird when you were a teen. Maybe then, this day wouldn't have existed in your timeline or some bullshit.

You cleared your throat, looking to your side. And the fake blonde was as collected, and silent as he was for the past thirty seconds that you’ve known him.

The elevator was incredibly slow due to it being a hundred years old but thankfully that time, it was seen as a blessing for your situation.

You tried again because hey, what harm could it cause? “So... what floor are you going to?”

One thing you learned that day, of march, in the transition to spring, was that you weren’t fucking deaf. And if it ended at that little embarrassing incident, maybe you could stand the little blonde bitch a tiny bit more.

And he didn’t look like he was going to reciprocate your small talk any time soon too. But so what? It also quite frankly, didn’t look like you’ve had any romantic suitors for the past ten months either. And you’d promise anyone that those were the most boring... dryest... lowest point of your life.

No romance? You can’t go another month like this or you’ll end up in the trajectory of a lonely cat mother who actually enjoys the taste of black coffee and not drank it for the purpose of getting approval from hot coffee snobs.

So, you took it upon yourself to try and save this in the ten seconds you had left before you’d leave to work at your job and continue to sell your youth.

“Ah, so I guess we’re going to the same floor huh?” you said taking note of the bright yellow 16.

“I like your blonde... suits you.”

“You have the face of like..an adorable rabbit, but like a very big and tall rabbit. It’s a charming thing by the way”

You kept on going, one second every sentence, something should get him.

“You know you could be a model." you exhaled. "Hey, are you wearing airpods?” Admittedly, as much as you pride yourself to having the patience of a monk you were...you were getting impatient and every word you said was punching your self esteem to the floor. It wasn't great.

You were beginning to think he was either the one who was actually deaf or was listening to music. Both would make perfect sense so you did the most perfectly sensible thing to do and ...pushed his hair to the side to see if he had something in.

“What the hell?”

Was the first sentence fake blonde had spoken to you.

And was also the first time had acknowledged you, looking at you straight at your face. Fortunately, the elevator had reached your floor and opened.

You were frozen, frozen like glued to the floor there while the blonde furrowed his eyebrows giving you his first but not last, judging side eye as he walked out the elevator. Leaving you there. Staring at the space he was occupying.

All you could think about were his ears. His ears were perfectly free of any wired and wireless earphones. So he wasn’t listening to music.

You snapped out of it and remembered your job, spam clicking the 16th button on the elevator. “Fuck”, you gasped.

“What if he was actually deaf?”, you said to yourself pondering, biting your lip.

When the elevator dinged, you hurriedly ran out. You had to get to your job, you couldn’t risk being late a fifth time in a row.

Kim & Associates was an easy find. Glass doors however showed you something. The blonde. You pushed open the door, hesitantly walking in.

“You remind me of myself. Handsome, young, and eager. Ah, it makes me reminiscent-- Oh, your mentor's here!” the old man pointed at you, fake blonde looking your way too.

You walk fast to get closer to them, confused. You don't show it though, you're a professional.

"He's...he's the..." you tried to keep on a smile. Your boss was just nodding, completely clueless. Yes, you were an outstanding employee but you can't mentor someone who has a difficulty you've never had to deal with...

Fake blonde. You looked to your side to see him...you felt bad, how hard is it to be deaf and work in an office that prioritizes salesman...ship...

Your eyes widened. Then narrowed. How deaf was this guy really?

"Hi." you turned to the blonde, extending a hand. He shook it, looking right into your eyes. "Hi...um" he looked at your chest quickly, "Y/N. I look forward to working with you."

"Wonderful wonderful. Y/N, this is Choi Soobin." the manager gestured to the blonde, and you nod. He looked like his name.

It was quiet, again.

"So...now you've met. Fun! I'll steal you for a bit Soobin to give you your name badge, after that, you can head to Y/N and she'll start you up with all the ...business."

When your manager took Soobin away, you've by long figured out that the likelihood of him being deaf...was very low. Which flared your cheeks into a very embarrassingly bright red.

And when Soobin ended up finding you after an hour, you still took your chances.

"Are you deaf?" you blurted out, avoiding eye contact. Maybe this was the only time you would ever pray for a person to actually turn out to be deaf, maybe this wasn't your brightest moment...but it had to done, or you would go to bed every night saying 'what if i asked the god that i don't believe in'.

And there it was, the minute of silence that always has to go by with this guy.

"What?" he finally asked.

"God, forget it. You're clearly not." you painfully laughed; you turned your head to look at him in the eye again. And you wished you hadn't. It's the same exact look you give Sunghoon every time he spills water on his computer, the fucking hooligan, at the office.

"I need to..." You pointed being your back, nodding. "To go shit. Yeah, bye. Have fun."

The first day was bad, alright. So what? You were always one to to get back on your feet, no matter how tough it was. That's exactly what you did the second day. You called it, 'Trial number 2 of day 1.'

Everyone deserves second chances.

You got on the elevator, and there he was. Tall and...cute as ever if you cared to add.

"Hey, my little mentee guy." you said playfully punching his shoulder, chuckling.

"Hi."

Awkward.

"Soobin, right?"

"Mhm."

He wasn't deaf, he just isn't a communicator, check.

The elevator wasn't the best, but who kills it in a cramped up claustrophobic inducing space? Not even the best of the best can do it.

So, your most obvious plan was to get him to warm up to you through your fun mentoring!

"You aren't Soobin's mentor anymore, Sakura is assigned to him."

"What the fuck?" you yelled, and the manager slightly jumped up from his chair, "Why? I thought--I thought that wasn't allowed?" you were frantic, blonde asshole asked to switch to another mentor? And his request was bad enough that it was accepted?

"Language language." the manager shushes, sitting back down. He exhaled. "He said...well, he said that you were making him uncomfortable...and ...and I take the word 'uncomfortable' seriously. You know how HR takes these complaints if it gets out of hand... I could get fired, demoted, then--"

"That little blonde bitch." you whispered under your breath, scoffing.

When you stomped out of the manager's office, you headed to Chaeryeong at the receptionist desk to declare war...basically.

"You look pissed...did you get fired?" she said taking a bite of the almond cookie from the jar on the desk.

"What--No? How can you say that so casually, you know I'm the best here. Also, are you seriously eating those?"

She shrugged. "They're starting to taste edible."

You raised a brow, extremely worried...until you remembered your lack of lunch breaks, then it made sense.

"Well, that's besides the point. Chae, you see that blonde guy over there with Sakura?" She nodded, "The new guy?"

"Yeah. He's going to fall in love with me by the end of the month. I'll make sure of it." you said as a matter of fact.

Chaeryeong raised a brow in shock.

"Okay, okay, I get it.", you rolled your eyes and she reached in the cookie jar to get another one thinking you would stop being ridiculous.

"By the end of next month."

TAGLIST @baekberrie @bestleeknowstan @linnysposts @wccycc (send an ask)

#txt x reader #soobin x reader #soobin fluff #txt fluff #txt fics #txt oneshots #txt smau #txt x you #beomgyu x reader #txt angst #txt fic #txt imagines #soobin #yeonjun #beomgyu #taehyun #hueningkai #yeonjun fics

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kitwasheree · 7 months

Text

And Then They Were Roommates

【Summary】 : Iris, a tired college student just trying to get by his mundane, day to day life, has been having a frequent visitor. Who has been breaking into his dorm room frequently. To ransack his fridge. No one none other than Lilia Vanrouge, and Iris figures that if he's here this often, under his roof and eating his food... He might as well make him his roommate.

【Warnings】 : Mentions of alcohol, drinking.

【Word Count】 : 2.5k

【Notes】 : i know this is an art blog, but i wanted to write something for valentine's, and i didn't really want to draw a comic. forgive me if lilia comes off as ooc, i've never written something like this before, nor have i written lilia before. ty to my friends for beta'ing ily guys ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 (on the next blue moon probably)

【Tags】 : @1dont-really-know @fumoandinsanity @thehollowwriter @boopshoops @distant-velleity

Iris groaned as he heard a racket coming from his kitchen in his dorm room, eyes fluttering open in the middle of the night. He got up from his bed groggily and sighed, as if this wasn't the first time this had happened.

" It's two in the fucking morning.... " He grumbled, as he forced himself to get up.

Iris exited his room and walked into his kitchen, clicking on the light. There, at his fridge, stood Lilia Vanrouge, who had broken into his dorm room again somehow, and was currently rummaging through his fridge in the dead of night. Again. Lilia froze as the lights clicked on and his eyes narrowed to adjust to the light, before he turned to look at Iris with a sheepish grin.

Iris sighed as he pinched his forehead. He's too tired for this, he thought. This had happened before. Lilia had been breaking into his dorm room even though Iris keeps the door locked, and even then, he had checked the locks and all of them were intact, with no signs of lockpicking whatsoever, so Iris simply cannot fathom how Lilia kept getting in.

Iris gave Lilia a long, deadpan look, long purple hair dishevelled and eyebags present, having been rudely awoken in the middle of night due to a certain pink-haired someone. You’d think that after a stranger broke in, one would be shocked or panicked, but instead all Iris had was an unimpressed expression on his face. This was the third time this had happened this week. The worst part (to Iris at least) was that the red-eyed night gremlin didn’t even have any ill intent. The most he had done was mildly inconvenience him. Which also annoyed Iris. Seriously, this guy was like some sort of bat… Some… Vampire that comes into his dorm room in the dead of night, to what? Mess up his kitchen and look through his fridge?

" ...Vanrouge. Again. How did you get in? I swear, it's two in the morning...! '' Iris scowled, half-awake as he glared at the mischievous other.

“ Ah, Iris. Apologies, dear. “

Lilia said nonchalantly as he continued to rummage through Iris’s fridge, jars and bottles clinking, Iris's meticulous organisation of his fridge quickly being destroyed by one mischievous man. Iris watched with dismay as all of his condiments and ingredients got mixed up with each other.

“ I simply stopped by for a midnight snack as I felt quite peckish. I’ll be out of your hair in a jiffy, don’t worry, “ Lilia hummed as he glanced over to Iris for a moment, before turning his attention back to the fridge.

“ Oh my, tomato juice. Don’t mind if I do,“ Lilia grinned as he took a chug straight out of the carton. Iris cringed at this. There goes his hygiene.

“ …A midnight snack. At my dorm. Out of all the other people you could have chosen. And you keep coming back, too. “

Iris commented in a monotone voice, sighing as he leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen.

“ Indeed. You always have the most delicious food after all, I may have developed a taste for it. Is that a slice of cake? Oh! And a bottle of wine! Could I have a sip of that? “ Lilia chirped as he noticed the wine cabinet.

Iris glared at him even harder.

“ Do not touch my wine, “

“ How the hell did you even manage to get in!? The door is locked, and you clearly didn’t lockpick it, nor should you have a copy of my key. “ Iris asked with exasperation as he walked over and snatched the bottle of wine out of his cabinet.

He decided, fuck it, he’s already awake and too tired to deal with this, so he’ll just have a drink to ease his headache. Whether the headache was from the lack of sleep or the presence of Lilia, he didn’t know, nor did he care. Iris was rather glad that tomorrow was the weekend, that way he wouldn’t have to deal with getting to class while running on four hours of sleep. He took a swig straight from the bottle of high quality and imported wine, as per his picky tastes. He’d always been rather finicky about his wine, never settling for anything less than the best.

Logically, Iris knew that he should be calling the police by now to report Lilia for breaking and entering, but he considered firstly, he was too tired to deal with this, and secondly, nothing was broken. He also thought that it would be too much of a hassle, so he decided that if nothing was broken even though someone was entering, it did not count as breaking and entering, and therefore he wouldn’t need to go through the trouble.

Lilia snickered as he examined the slice of cake in the fridge with interest.

“ I do believe I’ve already told you how I got in, Iris. I just so happen to have a copy of your room key,“ He smiled as he continued to rummage through the fridge, to which Iris frowned.

“ …How did you even get that? And why do you decide to come into my dorm room out of everyone else’s? Vanrouge, I swear…! “

Iris paced around the kitchen, too dumbfounded with Lilia’s antics to genuinely be mad anymore. He supposed he was used to it at this point. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? He didn’t know, and quite frankly was too tired to think about it. It would be a problem for future Iris to think about, he supposed. He leaned against the kitchen counter next to Lilia, taking another sip of wine. Lilia seemed to have gotten his hands on a bag of potato chips — wait, he had potato chips? Iris didn’t even know where Lilia had found that. The menace crunched on the chips with a cheeky grin as he spoke.

“ Iris, dear, I break into your dorm simply because you are an interesting guy that I have yet to understand. And you also happen to have a wonderfully stocked fridge. Khee hee hee, don’t you feel rather special that I chose you? “

“ And yes, I know it’s illegal, but have a little heart, dear. It’s not as if I’ve ever stolen anything from you! “

Lilia said, as he feasted on Iris’s stolen potato chips and helped himself to Iris’s kitchen like it was a five-star buffet. Lilia seemed to not be bothered, though.

“ You are, quite literally, stealing from me right now, Vanrouge. “

“ And for the love of god, do not get crumbs all over my floor! Do you have no manners? You are lucky that I’ve gotten past trying to incapacitate you for the first two weeks that you started to break in. Otherwise I would have hit you with a baseball bat or frying pan. Again. “ Iris sighed, narrowing his eyes.

“ Ah! You are right, where are my manners? My apologies, Iris. I assure you I’ll clean up after myself. I’ll finish these chips and be out of your hair, “ Lilia gasped. He chuckled amusedly as he continued to snack, seemingly unfazed.

“ I suppose I will ignore you leeching off my groceries and instead, go back to bed, in order to forget you were even here, “ Iris retorted dryly.

“ By the way, do you have a spare toothbrush by chance? I happened to lose mine due to a little… Incident, at my house, ” Lilia admitted sheepishly as he turned to Iris. Now was the time to use his boyish charm, of course. If he just made his eyes a little bigger, maybe tremble his lip to look as pitiful and cute as possible… Truly, it worked every time, so surely his adorable face would convince Iris.

“ …What incident? Nevermind, I don’t want to know. With the way you’ve been consistently breaking into my dorm room, I simply assumed you were homeless, “ Iris said in a sarcastic tone as he rolled his eyes lightly. He took another sip of wine so that he wouldn’t be sober enough to deal with Lilia Vanrouge eventually. ‘Eventually’ would unfortunately be for a while, though. Curse his high tolerance for alcohol.

“ Why yes, my house is located in the middle of the woods. It’s quite the trek to campus, so technically, you are right to assume that I’ve been homeless here and then! I figured it’s more convenient if I simply stop by for a snack or two, and it just so happens that you have a dorm here, “

Lilia then noticed something in the trash bin. He fished out a half-finished bottle of wine, holding it up to examine it.

“ Oh my, what is this doing in the trash? “

“ Your house is what? “ Iris blinked incredulously, before giving up. He was so bewildered he could almost laugh. Almost. Maybe Lilia isn’t that much of a nuisance. It was never boring whenever Lilia showed up, an almost nice change from his mundane life, he supposed. One thing he had learnt was to not question the things Lilia would say, and to just accept it. He frowned in disgust when Lilia took out the bottle from the trash.

“ Eurgh. Why are you rummaging through my trash now? Do not drink that. It’s trash wine. “

Iris looked at the half-finished wine bottle with a repulsion like it had personally offended him, and he took it out of Lilia’s hands, tossing it out the open window carelessly. A loud ‘CRASH!’ could be heard somewhere downstairs, which probably could have killed someone and woken up his dorm mates, but judging by the lack of a scream, Iris should be free of murder charges. Even if he wasn’t, well, that would be a problem for future Iris yet again.

Lilia watched Iris toss out the bottle of perfectly good wine with shock on his face, frowning. His eyebrows raised when he heard the loud crash, quickly peering out the window, down the building, before he turned back to Iris.

“ Good grief, Iris! That was unnecessary, someone could have died down there. “ Lilia scolded. He pouted as he gestured out the window. “ There’s no need to toss out perfectly good wine! “

“ I disagree, if the bottle is in the trash, then it simply is trash wine. No, it is not ‘perfectly good wine’. I could practically taste the factory it was manufactured in. “ Iris shook his head in disapproval.

“ Anyways, you still have not answered me. Why do you keep breaking into my dorm room? “

“ I happen to have a soft spot for you, dear. And I’m curious on how you would react each time I show up, “ Lilia laughed as he gave Iris a soft smile, propping his face up with his hands as he leaned on the kitchen counter.

Iris stopped scowling for a moment, averting his eyes when Lilia did that. He didn’t know why he couldn’t bring himself to look at that soft smile, feeling a bit strange. Whatever, it’s nothing. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

“ You are here so often, and yet I don’t see you on campus. Or maybe it’s because I simply haven't noticed you, “ Iris commented.

“ Well, since I’m here so often, may I stay the night? It’s quite late, and as you know, my house is quite far away! “ Lilia grinned as he patted Iris on the back, to which he had an unamused expression as he glanced at Lilia.

“ Come now, it wouldn’t be so bad to have me as a houseguest. Of course, if you really don’t want to, then I’ll gladly leave, “

Lilia smiled, hoping for a yes, but his grin turned into a serious expression when he said the last part. He didn’t actually want to overstep Iris’s boundaries too much, not wanting to cross a line. If Iris really didn’t want him around, he would gladly leave. Albeit with a little sadness.

Iris sighed as he gave Lilia a very long look, pondering his decision, taking in Lilia’s appearance. He supposed that he and Lilia were acquaintances by now, with the amount of times they’ve seen each other for the past few months. And he supposed that maybe, Lilia's presence has become a welcome one, after the first few weeks of breaking in. Maybe he's even a little bit fond. And he supposed that yes, Lilia has not shown any ill will towards him, nor done any harm. And perhaps, maybe, just maybe, he could use a little company sometimes — not that he’s lonely, though.

Lilia’s face seemed to fall a bit as the silence dragged on from Iris’s lack of response, and he started to doubt himself. Maybe he really wasn’t welcomed, and that Iris didn’t care about him at all, nor had Iris started to like him at all in the first place. He could have sworn Iris liked him, though. It’s why Lilia kept coming back to see him. Did he read Iris wrong this whole time? Lilia felt hurt and guilty, but he supposed that it’s his own fault for overstaying his welcome, anyway. It was stupid of him to think that Iris would let him stay for a ‘visit’, let alone stay the night, in hindsight. Maybe it’s time for this little charade to end. Lilia shifted uncomfortably, sighing as he closed his eyes, and then he opened his mouth to speak.

“ I understand. Perhaps I have misjudged the situation. I- “

“ Alright, fine. Do what you want, just make sure not to make a mess, “ Iris interrupted, covering his face as he finally caved. He stopped taking sips from the bottle of wine, placing it back in the wine cabinet.

“ You’re here often enough, anyway, so I suppose it wouldn’t do any harm. “

Lilia immediately perked up, breaking into a wide smile. Good, good! He didn’t read him wrong after all! His adorable face and youthful energy must have worked its magic. Deep down, he’s rather relieved.

“ Thank you. I assure you, I will be on my best behaviour, “ Lilia winked. “ Think of it as a slumber party, if you will. “

“ A slumber party? Don’t get ahead of yourself, “ Iris shook his head and rolled his eyes, a grin tugging at his lips.

Iris exited the kitchen, with Lilia following behind him. He clicked the kitchen lights off, and disappeared into his room, re-emerging with fluffy blankets and pillows in his hand. Iris dumped them into Lilia’s hands, figuring that this was the least he could do for him. Lilia snickered in response as he caught the mountain of blankets and pillows. It practically covered his small stature, so much so that one would think they were looking at a walking pile of comfort.

“ Here you go, “ Iris said, figuring this was the least he could do for his impromptu houseguest.

“ Good night, Iris, “ Lilia beamed at him. “ Say, it’s not so bad having me around now, is it? “

“ I suppose not, “ Iris admitted quietly, as he walked towards his bedroom. He stopped in the hallway, and turned around for a moment, giving Lilia a small smile.

“ Good night, Lilia, “ He nodded softly, before he retreated into his bedroom, clicking the door shut behind him.

As Lilia wrapped himself in blankets on the couch, the sound of the clock ticking away into the night, he buried his warm face into the pillow.

He called me Lilia.