#the absolute frenzy I get into seeing someone in a sports car

[impercre]

.

[bonny-kookoo]

👹Bad Habits (JJK x Reader) 💜☁️🔞

👹Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

👹Genre: (Twisted)Romance, Angst, Smut, Psycho!JK

👹Warnings: Size kink, Body worship, biting, rough manhandling, JK accidentally hurts her a bit (but apologizes dw), mildly disturbing themes (blood, guts, bones cracking...), criminal activities such as theft (mentioned) and murder (not actively stated, but heavily implied), panic attack, psychotic episodes, psycho!JK because holy shit I actually got scared what did I create, degrading names (he calls her a whore in his mind like once..), possessive JK, strength kink, reader is unable to conceive (chances are very slim), unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it folks), impreg kink, dead dove do not eat 🕊 manipulative Koo, Dom!Kook, therapy talk, relapses, horrible anger management, emotional koo, emotional reader, look mom I actually wrote a happy ending

👹Summary: Oh monster monster under my bed, you’re the only one I have left, come out and play ‘cause I need a friend.

Jeon Jungkook is sick.

You know this, you are very aware of it if the very much still gaping holes in the walls of your apartment, left from his most recent violent episode is anything to go by. He's got anger issues, that much is very apparent to anyone who genuinely knows Jungkook. Somehow he just can't keep himself in check, it's like he just needs the perfect trigger to simply go off like a bomb dropped from ten feet. It doesn't take much to rile him up. It takes a lot however to get him back down again.

Now, this would be the perfect moment to explain that you are the sweet and kind ray of sunlight calming his temper and cooling his ever violently burning mind- but that's not the case. There's nothing that can tame the young man at your side, nothing that can snap that collar around his neck and chain him up to a wall until he's safe to be around again. You can't do anything more than watch and pray that he will keep his promise to never ever hurt you. At first, you were worried. Anyone would be.

But then the first outbreak came.

Then the second.

And you were fine.

He would wreck the apartment, throw furniture, or beat someone to a bloody mess in an alleyway next to a nightclub simply because the guy had looked at your admittedly short skirt the wrong way. While for the longest time he didn't care about anyone, you've become his possession, in every way that the word stands. He owns you, every single cell of your being is his, and he's ready to push anyone's eyes back into their skull just for looking at you weirdly. No one is allowed to lust after you but him. No one's allowed to even think about you but him.

It's quite bittersweet, the reasoning behind his obsession with you. You're not scared, you're never running away, you're always so gentle, so delicate, such an angel around him- and in one way he fears that one day he's gonna be the wolf eating the sheep in a frenzy. In the other however, he's weirdly amused by it; the way you still look at him so innocently as if you didn't know that his hands could snap your neck like a twig between his combat boots he's typically sporting. It's a very twisted story with you two, and in a sense, he's certain that you have to be just as sick in your head as he is for genuinely loving him and his bad habits.

Just like now.

You're not saying anything. Even when you can hear the young mans ribs cracking underneath the steel toed black boots of your boyfriend, you're quiet, watching, unable to tear your eyes away from him- and you don't even know who exactly you're watching. You have already forgotten what the young man looked like- your eyes unable to reconstruct his facial features back to what they were before Jungkook had thrown his fists into them until the stranger couldn't even open his eyes anymore, face bloody and bruised to the point where you're hoping he won't survive it. You're also simply watching as Jungkooks pretty long hair, drenched in a mixture of sweat and rain from above whips around violently as if to mimic the way his muscled leg stomps into the man's chest over an over again, face holding a determination that should scare you. It's all over after a moment however, as your boyfriend seems to grow a bit tired now, slowly calming down as his anger ebbs down, waves finally evening as he breathes heavily. He runs a hand through his hair as he looks at what's in front of his feet; unable to quite realize that this was actually him. He turns, looking for you, and his entire facial expression suddenly changes.

While he looked absolutely terrifying just moments before, he's suddenly holding such a sweet and calm glint in his eyes as he takes off his jacket, putting it over your head as he smiles down at you, inner demon now fed again as it seems to crawl back behind his actual soul it consumes daily. You smile back, and he leads you out of the alley, giggling like a teenager when you playfully start to run towards the car, calling him a sore looser when he doesn't let you win like he usually does.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's just a young man as well, deep down.

He's got you sat on his lap as he greedily licks at your neck, teeth suddenly clamping down on the skin as you mewl underneath his touch and actions. He's grinning like the devil in person, his large-in-comparison palms holding your behind as they suddenly sneak underneath your shirt; his shirt, actually, and the main reason he suddenly got hungry to devour you. Your hair is still slightly damp, but he doesn't care as he lifts you up, placing you underneath him on your shared bed, hair falling into his eyes as he pulls the dark grey carharrt shirt over your head, immediately kissing your collarbone, hands kneading your breasts needily as he seems too eager to slow down anytime soon. He grabs your ribs and its as if he doesn't know where to touch- he wants it all, wants to feel it all, all at once, because it drowns out all the bad things he usually does. You're an outlet for his pent up aggression, only that he lets loose differently with you. He's got no hunger to make you suffer, to give you pain or to have you look at him in fear. No, he simply craves the way you writhe underneath him, ready for him, wanting, needing him. Such an angel, such a whore, so needy for his love and affection.

Something he wasn't sure he was capable of.

But he is, and it shows; while he usually moves with his jaw clenched, his brows furrowed, ever so agitated by the simplest of things, his face is calm now, relaxed, eyes however still feral- his gaze enough to make your core ache and your skin tingle. He's chuckling as he moves you around, suddenly impatient as he noticed your panties won't leave your legs as fast as he wants them to. It irritates him to the point where he just rips them as the seams, the fabric now ruined, but neither of you care as his hand instantly finds its way down to cup your heat, ring- and middle finger collecting your slick to bring it upwards to your clit, thumb running in circles over it as you squirm and whine, making him smile.

You're so sweet like this, and he can't help but move your legs, pulling you closer to him in his usual rough manner- he's not capable of being all gentle and sweet, after all. He tries, he really does, but Jungkook is like an overgrown puppy; he doesn't know how much strength he actually has. And it shows, as you squeak, painfully so, as he had gripped your legs a bit too tightly; fingerprints already an angry red on your skin, and he cooes at you, apologizing. "I'm sorry, so sorry.." He hushes against your skin, placing sweet kisses on the pulsing marks on your leg. "can't help it baby.." He muses, and you simply nod your head, hands reaching out for him as he smiles again, kissing your lips, finally.

He's never been fond of the gesture before, not understanding why something as unsanitary as this could be meant to signify any romance at all. But eventually he's gotten to know the intimacy of it, and had decided for himself that he'll never kiss anyone but you in his life. He doesn't want anyone but you anyways. You're his, for now, and forever.

"You're so sweet angel, you know that?"

He humms it against your neck as he finally rids himself of his own clothes, erection hard and proudly waiting to bury itself into your sweet cunt. "Hmm.." He humms again, amusement in his voice as he continues to draw patterns over your sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. "I still can't believe how I fit inside that pretty body of yours." He says, as you suddenly feel the hot skin of his length against your middle. "Can't believe you can take it so well princess." His hand leaves your core finally, as he slowly enters you, making you mewl as he groans.

He doesn't have much self-restraint, but every time you're together like this, you're both amazed by how much he can control himself. The way he plays you like an expensive instrument makes you hang from his hands like a puppet on its strings. And you love it- the simple fact that he's able to do anything he wants with you, yet he'd never use you just to throw you away. He'd never hurt you. You know this.

He grins as he places his hand over the slight bulge forming underneath your skin where his cock is moving inside you, all warm and swollen, impatient as he can't help but move more vigorously, harder than before, as your body moves along with the beat he's giving you. He's in control, its impossible to lie about that and you don't see any problem with that. Your mind is empty, only pleasure remains as he bites down onto your skin again, hands roaming as if they can't decide where they want to stay; because it's the truth after all. He can't decide what he loves most about you, if your body is whats the most desirable or if its your soul locked inside of it and chained to his own like a prisoner. He gets a kick out of this feeling, out of the way you're speared on his cock like the doll you are, and if he desired to, he could simply snap your bones like those pepero snacks you always eat, and it would be just as sweet as they taste. Yet he doesn't- he's being oh so generous with you, letting you live beside him, keeping you as safe as he could at his side, never to let anything come close to you. You're his.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's also head over heels in love with you.

You don't know what it was this time.

You only know that he's currently in your shared apartment, having returned from Job hunting, and by the sounds of crashing glass, he's probably having another one of those days. You know you should just leave him, but ever so often your own curiosity gets the best of you, and you sit up on the bed, dressed in nothing but a shirt, your panties, and socks to keep your feet warm, since the heating in your apartment broke months ago. You carefully open the bedroom door, peaking around the wood to spot him as he currently kicks his shoes off in an ever so violent manner. He spots you, eyes dark and feral, but this time it's not lust in them. "Get back inside." He barks out, and you know why he does it.

He wants to keep you safe.

Against all odds he knows what he is. He knows he's sick, knows he's a danger to himself and others, and that's why he's always telling you to stay away from him whenever his anger is boiling over like this. It's his way of keeping you safe, keeping you protected and you know better than to go against his own judgement. He knows himself best, after all.

Only as you can hear him hiss in pain do you go against him.

As the apartment grows quiet, you slowly step outside the room again, eyes searching for the form of your boyfriend, before finally spotting him near the kitchen table, one hand on it, while the other is held close to his chest. You can see blood on the white cracked tiled floor close to him, and you immediately grow worried for him. You slowly creep inside the bathroom, retrieving some stuff from the first aid kit, as you walk back outside, spotting him on the couch now. "..kookie?" You carefully ask, wary of any signs of his body that he's not yet down to earth yet. But he doesn't move at all. You slowly walk around the couch, squatting down in front of him as your hands carefully reach out for his inked arm, and he lets you, his eyes eerily not looking at anything at all. You hiss a bit and sit down on his lap as he doesn't argue with you, almost delicately treating his wounded skin. He's probably somehow cut himself on the broken glass from the photo frame he broke. He seems awfully exhausted, which isn't a new sight to you. He usually is after a day like that.

"We're gonna loose the apartment." He says darkly, yet you don't stop what you're doing, simply humming an acknowledgement at him, while you don't look up at him. "Are you even listening?!" He suddenly barks out, grabbing your wrists as you look at him; not in fear however. You simply wait for him, like you always do, until he suddenly looks down onto his hands, letting go of your now red wrists with a look on his face like his favorite puppy has just been killed. "They simply said because of my criminal record they can't employ me-" He began, already getting riled up again as you kissed his cheek to distract him before he could slip again. With you situated on his lap like that, it could prove fatal.

"I'm gonna get a job, from home maybe. We'll figure things out." You softly say, and he doesn't seem like he quite believes you. He doesn't need to, at least not yet. It takes time, but you'll take yourself the time you need, even if its someone else's. Its not like he ever really cared about whats who's after all. "I still love you, you know?" You say, and that's when he breaks.

For the first time in those years you know him, he falls to the ground, crashes onto concrete with full force, and it wrecks through his entire body as he pulls you close, sobbing into your neck as he hiccups and chokes on his emotions, his hug painfully tight, but you don't complain. You're too shocked by his state to react much, other than running a hand over his back in a hopefully soothing manner. He doesn't stop for a moment, and you don't have a good feeling for time, so you cant tell how long you both sit like this, until he's finally exhausted to the point of simple slumping down, asleep as his body finally gives up. You carefully stand up, letting him somehow softly fall to his side as you struggle to pull his legs up to properly lay o the couch. Walking into the bedroom you retrieve blankets for him and yourself, as you crawl underneath his arm to lay against his chest, underneath the blankets, as you try and think of a way to help him.

You can't get a job. Not only because he won't let you, but because you get sick too easily. You're not allowed by doctors advice to work in any field that requires direct customer contact- and sadly that's all your educational level would allow you to work in. It never bothered Jungkook however, if anything he welcomed it as a good reason for you to stay at home, and at his side at all times. For him however, there were different reasons he didn't have a job. He couldn't keep one, with his short temper making him unfit for any job that required him to handle other people. He was a bomb ready to explode any moment at all times, and it was hard for him to land a job at any interview he somehow got. And nowadays, as word got around, no one simply wanted to employ him; stories of him going off at complaints and always being ready to throw hands made him the talk of the town in terms of who to look out for. He also had a criminal record- which didn't make the situation any easier.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. And it's a serious issue.

You somehow made it another month concerning rent.

With you selling some clothing you made yourself for a reasonable price, you somehow had at least a bit of an income, yet Jungkook didn't really seem like himself these days. He didn't leave the apartment much, and seemed much more grim to everything around him. You somehow thought that maybe he was just in a bad mood- but it seemed like this time things were a bit more serious than that.

"Princess?" He calls, as you rub your hand over the side of your neck, having laid on the couch weirdly as you had been taking a nap recently. You perked up at his call, walking out of the open kitchen to meet his gaze in the living room, his eyes serious as he pats his thighs; an invitation for you to sit down. He likes having you seated on his lap like this; it makes him feel all comfortable, knowing that you're so close to him. "I.." He starts, and visibly struggles with finding the right words for what he wants to say. "I want to get therapy." He states, and its quiet for a moment. You need to process his words for a second, as he never spoke about his issues like this. You never really thought about this option at all, and it makes you feel bad, deep inside, as you now realize that this was something you should've thought about as well, from the start on maybe. But you never wanted him to change for you; making you kick yourself in your thoughts. It never occurred to you that he wasn't changing for you, he didn't need to change for you, he needed to change for himself as well. You simply started to smile, and your arms snaked around his neck as he breathed in your scent, happy that you take this so well. He had struggled with the acceptance of it for a long time, and with you at his side, he knows he can somehow maybe change.

Even if its just a bit.

"I want to be a better man. For me, and mostly for you." He starts, and you attempt to speak, but he smiles, and kisses you instead, successfully shutting you up. "Don't say I don't need to. We know I do." He explains, and you nod. You're curious on why he suddenly realized it, but you decide not to dig too deep, as he currently seems vulnerable enough to you. So you simply let him hold you like this, quietly, calmly, while outside the thunderstorm continues, rain hitting the windows with as much force as the wind sees fit. Its ironic, really. Typically the situation is the opposite.

But somehow it feels like everything is changing, right in that moment. Just a few words have been spoken, but the ones that did make it out were a promise, a vow, a sentence of hope to finally get a hold on the future you both had dreamed about before, tangled in sheets and each others limbs. He's always said he wanted a family, as cheesy as it sounded to him back then, and then he'd laughed about it as if it was a joke. It somehow was, at least during that time it was; how could he be a better father than his if he was just the same? He didn't want his story to take a turn like that, to end up hurting you in the process of his own selfishness just to get what he wanted. No, he wanted something different in his life; he wanted his children to look up to him as a person they could be in awe of not because they were scared, but because they were proud to have them.

Jeon Jungkook is sick. But he's also finally realizing it.

Therapy never goes smoothly from A to point B. It's never a smooth ride, never a straight line connecting the start to the goal. And Jungkook is feeling that as he walks through the door, fuming after an in his eyes pointless session with his therapist. Why the fuck would they want to know about his childhood? That's his business and his own only, it doesn't concern anyone other than himself. Hell, he never even talked to you about it- and he sure as hell won't start chatting away with a stranger like this. He can't control himself as his fist connects with the wall next to the door, drywall cracking underneath the force as you stand in the middle of the living room, looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights. He's disappointed in himself in that moment; he was supposed to get better. He was supposed to have himself in check by now, it was supposed to end; yet here he is, just the same as a month before he started. You try and walk towards him, and he's ready to tell you to turn around and leave him alone, but he doesn't. For some reason, this is not pure anger he's feeling.

It's frustration.

And it leads to his eyes watering, as he lets you hold him close, your warm palms running over his back as best as you can with the height difference, and he simply lets his forehead rest on your shoulder, breathing while you softly count next to his ear. He concentrates and lets go of his emotions all at once, taking his time to feel them before he opens his mind up to letting them go. It sounded stupid to him when he was told that this could help him, but now that he's doing it, he gets why its being taught. It helps. Its like a bandaid being taken off after your cut has heeled. It hurts a bit as its being taken off, but the fresh air on the newly connected skin feels so good that the short sting before is more than worth it.

He sniffles, and you giggle, making him chuckle as well, as he runs a hand over your head, a silent sign that he's okay now. "Try again next week. You're doing so great now, Kookie." You say, and its this small encouragmenent that makes him grin brightly.

Because as you both stand in the kitchen, making homemade pizza for the first time in ages, he feels at ease with his surroundings. He calms down rather quickly even though some things don't go as planned, and laughs more freely at his own mistakes as you smile brightly at him. Sometimes you feel like crying, seeing him change like this, but you're strong enough to hold it in until he leaves during the day. You're still unsure how the future will be changing, still a lot unknown to the both of you, but for now, you'll continue to keep each others heads above the waves with your sewing, while he does his best at getting better. You know he can make it, you're certain he can, and will.

Because Jungkook is sick. But he's finally getting help.

You don't know what has happened when he bursts through the door, uncaring to either take off his shoes nor to close it behind him, as he picks you up, spins you around, grinning so much his eyes crinkle at their sides, and you laugh, even though you don't know why he's so happy. "I got a job! Baby, I finally got a job!" He yells, screams almost, and it makes your eyes water; not because he's taking a huge weight off your shoulder, but because this has been one of his biggest goals ever since he started this journey of getting help. He's so happy about it that this time you can't keep it in, you can't stop the tears as they flow out, making you hiccup and wheep into his shoulder as you struggle to get your words out. "Baby- Princess, hey hey-" He says, setting you down as his hands wipe away at your eyes, the letter confirming his acceptance still in his left hand as he worriedly looks at you. "Why are you crying angel? hm?" He cooes, admittedly a bit amused, because he can imagine what's happening.

"I'm so happy!" You squeeze out, before another wave hits you, and he kneels down, holding you tightly again, as he doesn't let go of you, his love for you overflowing inside his veins as it fills his entire body. He's so thankful for your existence in his life, and he will never be truly able to properly tell you that. It's impossible to put it into his words how much he appreciates you staying at his side through this entire endeavor. Every time he's asked why he does this, his answer is always your name on his lips, always spoken with a slight smile, nowadays a bright grin he's not ashamed showing.

You don't let him go until he chuckles. "Will you let me close the door at least?" He asks amused, as he feels the slightly cool breeze coming inside from the complex' hallway. You disconnect yourself from him for a moment, wiping your eyes with your sleeve as he closes the door, finally taking off his shoes at last, as he walks back, running towards you with a playful growl that makes you laugh as you try and run away from him. But he catches you easily, carrying you over his shoulder into the bedroom, where he bites and licks at your neck, hands pinching your sides making you squirm around and laugh, desperately trying to get away from him. He'll never let you, and you know this, so its unsurprising that he's suddenly pulling your sweater over your head, needing to be close to you. It's cold inside the apartment, and you shiver as the almost icy air around you nips at your skin. "Can't wait until we can use the heating again.." He murmurs against your skin as he shifts around a bit, carefully undressing himself before he crawls underneath the heavy covers with you. "then you can flaunt around in your pretty underwear all day without getting cold." He chuckles, as you hit his chest playfully at the remark. "What? Its always so cold I never get to see you in it." He whines, as he reaches between your legs, inked hand easily working you up as you squirm around. "I never get to see your pretty body properly because we have to hide away like this." He complains, and you simply whine at him, as he suddenly enters you. "For now I'll just warm you up like this, hm?" He humms out, and you nod, not really understanding what you're agreeing to, but you do it anyways.

He's awfully slow and soft, you notice, as he' way more collected as usual. "I love this." He suddenly presses out, eyes closed in bliss as he kisses the side if your neck, trailing down to nip at your collarbone, while his hands find yours, intertwining your fingers in a gesture you can only describe as awfully romantic. "I love being able to make love to you." He explains, as you open your eyes a bit, meeting his as he watches you underneath him. "Though I think you don't mind me being a bit rough with you, no?" He playfully suggests, and your cheeks grow a bit red at that, before he laughs, head dipping down to properly kiss your lips, tongue instantly searching for entrance as he doesn't pick up the pace. "Can't wait until you're all round with my baby." He suddenly suggests, and your eyes open wide as you open your mouth to correct him, but you shut up as his eyes meet yours, determination in them as he suddenly grabs the behind of your thighs, positioning them a bit differently to hit even deeper. "I know, I know-" He chants, as he picks up his pace. "I don't care." He presses out between his own heavy breaths. "I'll just-" He begins, loving the way you mewl under his touch, "I'll just fuck you over and over again until it works." He promises, and you simply nod, unable to deny him. The chances you'll ever conceive are slim- but as he states, never zero. "I'll just- I'll just fill you up until your body can't help but give me a child." He muses, as you start to clench. And he knows, notices, how much this idea is just as enticing to you as it is to him. "You gonna cum? Hm?" He asks, and you nod vigorously before you arch your back off the mattress, making him groan as he shoots his load as well, the visual image of your pleasure underneath him combined with the way you clench his aching length inside granting him his release as well.

As you lay on your sides, all snuggled up underneath the covers after cleaning up, he kisses your bare shoulder, eyes closed. "I mean it, you know." He says, and you humm a reply, before he explains further. "I want a family with you. Someday. When I'm ready." He says, and you nod. You'll somehow make it work, you know this. If he can overcome his demons, you can overcome your own cursed body as well. You deeply hope, at least.

Because Jeon Jungkook is sick, but he's starting to see a future.

"Jeon!" His coworker yells in the big hall he's working in. "Why, pray tell, did you never tell us your girl is that fucking pretty, aye?" He barks in a playful manner, as you walk inside beside the old man, carrying a small plastic bag with what he assumes is a lunchbox. The view of you next to that man stirs something inside him, as he slowly gets up, wrench still in his hand, brows furrowed.

"Because your filthy hands should stay six feet away from her." He responds, with his brows still furrowed, before he finally sneezes.

"Bless you, hah! I'll let you have your break earlier-" The old man winks at you, then gives Jungkook a firm hit against the chest, taking the wrench away from him. "But only because she's cute!" He laughs, as he walks into the hall, Jungkook now walking towards you.

You're proud of him.

Months ago, this would've never been possible; neither the simple fact that he had a job, nor the small incident with his coworker just now. He still got easily irritated, but he worked through these emotions way more easy nowadays. His coworkers and boss know of his past, know what he was like and know that he's still deep in therapy, but they don't judge. They simply accept him, tame him back into his cage whenever he's close to boiling over again. You love the fact that you can walk inside the breakroom with him, eyes sparkling with newfound childish playfulness as he peaks inside the bag you brought him. He's still very careful with you leaving the house, but its not anymore just for his own gain- he's more open to his surroundings, he's starting to think about how he and his actions can affect others. He doesn't care much still; but he's realized that pretending is enough for now. Small steps.

"The handyman was there today." You say, as you watch him dig into the fried rice you brought him, his interest now gained. "They turned on the heating again. Can you imagine? I didn't even know we had floorboard heating!" You exclaimed excitedly, and Jungkooks eyes widen as well.

"Really? I didn't know either. Fuck, can't wait to come home now." He says, swallowing his bite before taking a sip of his canned soda. "Did that label contact you yet?" He asks, and you shake your head. Recently, you had gained the interest of a bigger clothing label, who wanted to collaborate with you for this season's designs. "Ah, that takes time I guess. We'll wait, its fine." You know he's not only saying that for you, but himself as well. He still gets agitated over small things, but he deals with them a bit more easily. "I'll be home in a couple hours. Do you wanna wait here, or go home?" He asks, and you stand up, packing his now empty food container as you smile.

"I'll take the bus, don't worry." You say, and he furrows his brows playfully.

"Mask?" He asks, and you hold it up proudly, well aware of the precautions you need to take to make public transport safe for you.

"Good girl. Text me when you're home yeah? I'll get us takeout for dinner." He says, as he kisses the top of your head. You nod, and wave him goodbye as you two go separate ways, at least for now, until he's finally free of work.

Jeon Jungkook is sick.

But he's slowly healing.

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

grand prix

“drifting, drifting, drifting.”

f1 racer! epel x reader

gender neutral reader

synopsis: sixteen-year-old epel felmier is taking up the racing world by storm with his unmatched zest for driving and his terribly young age. with his first race ahead of him, the two of you find a rare moment to breathe, and you find yourself wondering about the beautiful yet talented boy.

“Are you nervous?”

Epel traced his delicate fingers over the wheels of his beloved race car, steadying his breathing as his bright blue eyes glossed over every curve and edge of the vehicle. How many years had he dreamt of making a debut like this? If he closed his eyes, he could imagine every turn and every swerve he made in his career to get himself to this stage. The road was nothing but a blur for him, with his hands gripping the wheel and all the sights around him turning into a mass of nothingness for him to ride past.

“No. I’m not nervous,” he replied, tearing his attention away from the car. You stood a few paces away, watching him with a worried face. Everyone’s focus had been on him nonstop for the past few weeks, and you hoped you weren’t intruding on the rare moments he had all alone to himself.

It wasn’t every day that a wide-eyed sixteen year old would take up the Formula 1 world up in storm—the Pomefiore company was proud to announce that they would be debuting the youngest F1 driver ever, someone who looked more like a deer caught in headlights rather than the one behind the headlights. There wasn’t a second where Epel wasn’t flanked by reporters and cameras whenever he stepped out in public. The boy had no clue that being a driver would constitute this much poise and decorum; all he thought he had to do was drive fast and bring home the progress and rewards he had promised.

Luckily for him, his sweet naïvete was paying off to an extent. All the attention on him meant that he was bound to make a splash with his debut no matter what he did, and Epel was sure that came to be through the rigid and precise predictions of his strict coach, Vil Schoenheit. Vil always instructed him on what to say and what to do to win the hearts of anyone who even so much as laid eyes on him, and it was Vil that crafted every part of his newfound status as a celebrity outside of the race track.

“I wish I was nervous. I think something’s wrong with me,” Epel admitted, resting his hand on the tire of the car. “Every time I think about racing, I get excited instead. I know all the other drivers out there are probably fretting over every little thing, but I just wanna get out there and show ‘em what I’m made of.”

“It’s probably because you’re new. At least we don’t have to worry about your nerves getting in the way,” you laughed, the relief in your voice as clear as day. “But you are right about everyone else fretting. Rook has the whole mechanic team up in a frenzy making sure that we have everything for your pit stops ready. Vil’s been doing a wonderful job keeping the media at bay until after your race. So all you need to do is relax and prepare yourself.”

“It’s my first proper race,” he breathed. His hands curled into a determined fist, and the ambitious smirk that overtook his face was a look you were all too familiar with. It was the same face you stole glimpses off at your monitors whenever Epel was racing, whenever the adrenaline of the sport consumed his small body, whenever he turned from the doll-like little boy in front of you to an absolute monster that would stop at nothing to tear up the race track and leave the other drivers in the dust. You didn’t know someone was capable of such an image switch, but after seeing how much of a competent driver Epel was, you had nothing but high hopes and confidence for him.

“It is. You did excellent in qualifying yesterday, so you’ll be starting in a good position. You had the more experienced and tenured drivers seething. You should have seen their faces! Imagine racing for years, only to be shown up by someone new like you! You’re in a good place, so unless something goes disastrously wrong, you’ll be finishing really high up.” You stepped closer to him. Epel continued to admire his car, and you leaned in to whisper close to his ear. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll even finish first. Can you imagine that? Finishing first on your debut.”

He peered up at you, exhaling with a zeal only he could conjure up. “I won’t imagine it. I’ll make it happen.”

You laughed quietly, patting him on the back. “I expected nothing less of you! Only you would say something like that right before the race. I’ve worked in this industry longer than you have, but I don’t think I’ve ever met a driver so brazen and confident as you.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it? Vil always tells me I need to hold myself in high regard. Racing is a dangerous sport. You need to be focused and concentrated, and even the slightest bit of insecurity is what gets you wounded or even killed out on the race track,” he huffed to himself, inhaling deeply. He squared his jaw, and the vicious gleam in his eyes reminded you more of a beast raring to go than a boy awaiting his debut. “The same goes for everyone else around me. The smallest bit of weakness means that the other drivers will look down on me and tear me apart. And I sure as hell won’t let myself get taken down before I even step out on the track. I need to be confident, and I need to know that I will fucking see myself through to the end.”

“You aren’t wrong about that. Racing is ruthless in almost every aspect,” you sighed, smoothing his shoulder down. “But don’t force yourself to be strong if you can’t. I’m on your side, and you have every right to be nervous.”

“I know. I already told you though. I’m not nervous. I just want to get on the track and race again. Nothing beats the feeling of a good car and the wind on my body. And now that I’m a proper racer with an actual company and team backing me, there’s nothing that stands between me and the winner’s podium,” Epel breathed. He looked up at you, and the life that flooded his eyes and coursed in his veins was unmatched by any driver you had ever worked with.

You wondered what must have been going through his head. Vil had been the one to recruit Epel, a boy who barely knew anything about the world from what seemed like the middle of nowhere. Vil had promised everyone on the team that he knew what he was doing in taking Epel in, but he was such a far cry from the young, promising array of junior racers that had waited and trained their entire life to be in the position that he was in now. Everyone doubted Vil’s choice at first: what could an innocent looking country boy do, especially when he had no proper previous experience as a driver?

But he shattered everyone’s expectations. He had outperformed every junior driver the company had seen with a zeal for racing that was unmatched by any other driver anyone had worked with. It was like he turned into a monster the moment his hands touched the wheel—no matter what car he drove, he managed the car to bend to his will and bring home results that broke record after record. When you asked him how he managed to do that, Epel simply responded that the rush of racing excited him like nothing else and that getting a chance to take such a prestigious spot meant that he was becoming the man he always dreamt of becoming.

Even now, as he stood in front of his very own race car, the tension between him and the rest of the world was unlike anything you felt. Any other driver right now would be pacing the room and doing whatever they could do to calm their nerves and prepare themself for the race, but you had to practically keep Epel off of the car. Soon enough, Vil would be swinging around to pick the boy up and prepare to throw him out on the track, but for now, it was just you and your precious Epel in this moment of quiet reprise before the madness.

You cleared your throat, breaking the silence. Epel looked at you with his big eyes, the blue reminding you of the bright sunny sky earlier before the darkness set in. He was everything and nothing all at once—the untouched manner of a young man and the tainted ambition of a racer, the pure intentions of a boy and the merciless nature of a beast. 

“I know you said you aren’t nervous, but… I want you to know I’m cheering for you. There’s no way I can understand what you feel right now, with the entire world peering down your back, but even if everything goes wrong and it feels like no one believes in you, I want you to know that I’m here for you. I want to see you happy. I know the company makes it out so that you’re only worth your results, but I think you’re worth so much more than that. You’re a brilliant driver but an even more brilliant person,” you breathed. You squeezed his shoulder and gave him a bashful smile, holding up your free hand in the shape of a supportive fist. “You got this, Epel! You’re going to do great, no matter what you do.”

His eyes widened as he faced you, and he broke out into a determined smirk. The hard edge in his eyes never left for even a moment, and you knew that he was barely restraining the excitement he felt for the upcoming race. He would only be satisfied when he was out on the track, tearing up the other drivers and their underestimations of him, and you knew he would be the one on the highest cloud nine when the whole thing was done and over with. He had a whole career waiting to be unearthed in front of him, and this was just the first step towards what you knew would be a legend waiting to be created.

He leaned towards you, closing the distance between you and him. Before you could even realize what was happening, Epel had planted his lips carefully on your cheek in a sweet but short kiss. The gesture was sweet, gentle, and tinged with electricity, as if he was conveying all the bubbling emotions brewing in his heart with the kiss. All the love, all the support, all the gratefulness he felt towards you, spilling from him in the quick skin-to-skin contact mere moments before the two of you would be torn away from what would be the climax of the season.

You thought your heart was going to stop.

He kissed you. He kissed you. 

“Thank you,” Epel murmured, whispering to you with a voice only reserved for lovers. “I promise I won’t let you down. I’ll make you proud.”

As if on cue, the door to the car storage room flung open, and the signature click-clack of Vil’s heels filled up the room. “Epel Felmier! Epel, you are going to be the death of me. Out, out! The mechanics need to move the car out to the track, and you need to be ready to go. Have you used the bathroom? Got some water? Is your suit on correctly? What about your helmet? Come, come!”

Epel flashed you his usual smile, methodically answering each and every one of Vil’s questions as you stood there, stunned and grinning like an idiot as the coach and racer moved past you. Even if you stood there alone, you felt like you were buzzing with the high of a driver who had just placed first, and you couldn’t wait to see how the rest of the race was going to play out. 

This was going to be such an exciting season. 

[canumoveurseatup-no]

dark room

summary: grow through what you go through.

(please read warnings and author’s note before continuing to read)

wc: 10.5k

pairings: dad!sam x black!reader

warnings: this gets real okay... it contains drug use, alcohol abuse, mental illness, parental abuse, mentions of suicide- it’s dark, it’s raw, it’s real so please read with caution. reader has fluid sexuality, light smut

a/n: my 20th birthday passed months ago (this was supposed to be out on my birthday, back in august) and i know that doesn’t seem like a big deal to other people but it’s a big deal to me, especially coming from someone who has tried to end their lives multiple times, someone who had battled mental illness for years, someone who used substances to numb any sort of pain. It’s been a long time coming. And I’m still fighting every single day but I am here so this is mainly for me but also for anyone who is struggling with anything in their lives. Keep. Pushing.

———————

You wanted to feel like you were dancing on the ceiling. You wanted to do your own little lonely dance like no one was watching. The room was hot, the smell stale, hair sticking to your forehead, nothing was real. You were a mere atom prancing across a screen of color. You didn’t notice the phones out recording you while you experienced one of the best trips of your life. They weren’t making fun of you, they were cheering you on but their cheers fell on deaf ears as it felt like you had cotton stuffed in your own.

You fell in a chair, seeing various pills splayed out on the table. So many to choose from, they were so pretty but then the sight of little white lines caught your attention, you weighed your options. You had enough nose candy before you even got here. You pre-gamed so hard you came to the party two hours late from falling out.

You wanted to touch the ends of the universe so you snatched another tab off the table and pressed it on your tongue like a fruit roll up with tongue tattoos on it. The dancing bodies in front of you distorted as you grabbed a heavy liquor bottle and stumbled from standing up too fast... or maybe it was the drugs? You felt your face smile and your body go numb as you fell back on a bunch of clouds.

You found a guy eyeing you from the other side of the room or at least it seemed like it, his face was an absolute blur. But soon he was right in front of you and you could see specs of yellow in his brown irises. They were almost like sunflowers.

“Wanna have a good time?,” he opens the palm of his hands and you see a pretty blue pill.

“What’s it do?,” you don’t notice the slurring, you don’t notice the left side of your body going numb... you stopped breathing for a minute and as fearsome as it sounds... you welcomed it. It’s all you’ve been craving since you were nine years old... to just. stop. breathing. But your chest opened up again, hugging the air tight in its lungs to keep your body alive.

“However you’re feeling now? Multiply that times ten... it makes you feel like your third eye is opening. You can taste colors, see tastes... it’s unreal,”

“How much for it?,” the words flew past your lips faster than your mind could understand.

“It’s on me,”

—————

You don’t remember how you made it home, maybe you walked again- maybe you made the right choice and called an Uber.

You only remember mumbling a “bye, daddy” to the guy who gave you the blue pill, sending you off with more for the future. You felt like God was holding you in his hands and blessing you with the best life right now.

You weren’t aware of your little brother’s door being cracked open and him waiting up for you as you tried to quietly get to the bathroom.

“Oops,” you laughed to yourself. It was a sight your little brother saw often- you didn’t know that, your dad didn’t know that. Keith never knew how to tell anyone he was worried for his sister. He was 12- he didn’t know what was wrong with you. But he didn’t hesitate to scream when he found you in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet with throw up all over yourself.

“Y/N!!,” he tried to shake you awake but your eyes were dull and half lidded, “Y/N stop! Wake up, wake up, wake up!!,” he even slapped you. Nothing worked.

“Dad!! Daaaaddd!,” Keith ran down the hallway to your dad’s room. Sam woke in a frenzy and looked at Keith with worry

“Something’s wrong with Y/N! She won’t wake up!,” the 12 year old sobbed and Sam booked it out of his room to find your body limp on the toilet. Underwear mid thigh, as if you passed out while trying to pull them down to pee. Throw up all in your lap, body dripping with cold sweat.

“Keith, Call 911!”

—————

He always watched you now... he always had appointments set up at the doctors to test your urine but it didn’t stop you from using. There were always ways around passing drug tests. Often times you’d ask a friend to pee in a cup then pour it in a ziploc baggie and hide it in your sports bra to keep it warmed up. You knew how to beat the system.

Pour a little in the toilet so it makes it look like you peed, they always check afterwards. Then pour it in the cup to the line they mark. You ‘pass’ each time.

“You’re coming on the trip,”

“I’ve earned your trust,” your mouth felt dry, the edible you took before 6th period still hasn’t worn off yet and you were trying to keep calm- there’s no way he was going to ruin your high.

“You’ve earned yourself suicide watch and consistent drug tests. My trust for you disappeared when I found you damn near dead and had to watch them hook you up to machines and put you on temporary dialysis amongst other things to save your life,”

He was still bitter. It happened a month ago. He should be over it, you were.

“Fuck you, Dad,” you stormed off to your room and slammed the door

“Don’t you talk to me like that in my house!,” he yelled from the other side of your door. He should have taken it off the hinges like he planned.

You didn’t want to go on some stupid resort. Something about channeling your inner peace and looking at the bigger picture. Everyone was going, even his old team members, a family you didn’t feel a part of, he thought it’d be a good idea to surround yourself with good company.

You scream out and begin throwing clothes into a bag knowing he wasn’t letting up.

You see the glimmer of a small plastic baggy under your mattress and pull it out, seeing an array of candy. Maybe you could survive this trip?

You stuff the baggy in a pair of socks and smile, hoping to get a sense of familiarity.

You were gonna survive this trip.

—————

You shouldn’t have worn shorts today. That stupid health class intern saw the marks on your thigh and told the school nurse and now your found yourself in the car with your dad yelling at you.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you not realize you have a main artery in your thigh! Had you gone deep enough you would have been gone, Y/N! What the fuck is wrong with you,”

You figured if a parent found their 11 year old was cutting themselves they’d do something other than yell... they’d do something other than tell the entire family and have them call at you just to yell at you as well.

“Nothing in life is that bad for you to do that to yourself!!,”

“That’s stupid, Y/N! Who in their right mind would do that to themselves?!,”

You heard it all. You cried when you got home, and hugged your little brother, not knowing if you’d ever get the chance to again because you were on the verge of ending it all. 11 years old... wanting to end it... you weren’t sure what was wrong with you. You just woke up every day hating yourself, woke up everyday wondering what life would be like for your family had you not been born.

Your older sister didn’t know how to help.. and your little brother was sure he was going to lose his sister.

You believed you were a by-product of a bad relationship. So your self-hatred started young. Watching your parents argue everyday- watching your mom cry because your dad kicked all of you out on Christmas Eve and you had to stay with your grandparents... watching the ugly divorce and how he became an alcoholic and she became emotionally unavailable.. even having to talk to the cops because your dad left bruises on your legs, from beating you because you were calling out for him due to being afraid to sleep in your own room when you usually sleep in his...

But he had a lady friend over that night....

The meds the psychiatrist put you on gave you chest pains... you went from using a pair scissors to hurt yourself to watching YouTube videos on how to get a blade out of a shaving razor. You skipped meals just to be a little skinnier like everyone else in your family.

You wrote notes.. you wore black sweatshirts, even in the prime of summer, to cover your arms when you ran out of space on your thighs and ankles and hips. You were a mess and no one came close to understanding. You don’t know how or why you turned out this way.

You felt like your mom hated you, you felt like your dad wasn’t your dad, like he was just there... you were stuck in a place where you felt like you didn’t belong and it made your heart skip beats. It had you crying almost every night.

And everyday you struggled. Waiting for the day that you snap and off yourself.

————-

“Y/N! Y/N!,” you felt your sister, Savannah, nudge you in your rib cage, “Uncle Buck was talking to you, snap out of it,”

You felt everyone hug you and it felt unfamiliar. You felt out of place. All these bright green trees looked fake- the air was too clean- the water in the cups too pure.

You craved to be surrounded by drugged, dancing bodies, feeling the beat of the music vibrating every single nerve in your body. You wanted to feel like you were on the edge of death just to feel alive. You wanted to be surrounded by guys and girls who gave you the slightest bit of attention and took you home. You wanted to feel loved even if it were for a few hours out of the night.

You didn’t want to be here- you wanted to feel the burn of alcohol run down your throat. You wanted to see auras around everyone as you blinked. You wanted to hide in the bathroom and stumble against the walls, laughing as you struggled to get your pants down to pee. You wanted to numb every single thought, you wanted to get so blacked out you couldn’t remember anything that ha-

“Y/N, lets go unpack,” Natasha’s hand grasped around yours and you let her drag you to one of the resort rooms. Your bag tight around your shoulder, you looked around the room and hated to be in it. It was too bright, too colorful... you wanted to be in a dark room under a guy as he choked you out and you felt him deep in your stomach. You wanted to be in a dark room, feeling a someone’s lips on you, replicating what you expect love to be like.

Everything was too fucking bright... too bright compared to the dark rooms you’d be in at night, intoxicated, crying, while getting your brains fucked out because you just wanted to feel affection... even if it was fake.

“How have you been feeling?” She sits on the bed as you stand at the door, frowning at everything in the room, “You can be honest with me- I won’t tell Sam. I know it’s hard not having anyone to talk to-,”

“Is there a town close by?,” you snap your eyes towards her. It might be a dumb question but you zoned out the whole three hour ride here.

“Ugh yeah, about 20 minutes out, why?”

“C-can you get me? S-something? I- I need to... I just need to ebb the feelings away,”

“I want to help you, b-but I can’t do that for you,” she knew what you meant but no way in hell would she advocate for you continuing to tear yourself down.

“So why lie and say I can be honest if you can’t give me the one thing I need?!,” you felt the walls closing in. You focused too much on one thing and you found yourself stumbling.

“Y/N, it’s okay, I’m here, calm down, calm down,”

“Get out!!,” you felt your hands shaking, you had no control over anything, “I want to be alone! Get the fuck out!,”

“I can’t leave you alone like this!,”

You take your bag and storm off to the bathroom to lock the door. You wasted no time in digging in the bag for the sock with the little baggy of pills, popping three in your mouth and swallowing them dry. You don’t remember what kind of drug it was... you were just hoping it made you feel good.

—————

You were on autopilot. You forgot how to walk but your muscle memory helped propel you to the dining hall and there they had a sermon about trusting life’s forces and welcoming traumas to push through triggering times. You felt like it was a bunch of bull crap but you were interested because you were high off your ass.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,”

Your dad eyed you closely but worried less when he actually saw you head to the bathroom.

You paced the bathroom until a girl walked in and eyed you closely.

“Your family drag you here too?,” she eyed you up and down. She knew your behavior all too well. You were on the verge of a withdrawal break down.

“You from around here?,” you wanted to get out of here. You wanted to have fun, you wanted to get hammered.

“Yeah why?,”

“Know any parties? Like- with tons of alcohol a-and stuff? I can’t sit around here and listen to this circle of life bullshit! I. Need. Sweat and hookups and to not remember anything,” you rambled and rambled until the girl calmed you down.

“Dude, chill out,” she placed her hands on your shoulder and shook you to calm you down, “Meet me by the ugly ass evergreen tree by the entrance- midnight. I’m about to lose my cool in this place too,”

She could really be a murderer, you don’t know this girl, nor a name, nothing. But it was worth a try. Not like you’d end up being best friends.

—————

It was easy. Savannah was out cold after the dinner- she loved to eat but, it never stuck. You wish you were like that but no... it stuck everywhere, it always did.

Your dad did his last check on you at 10 so it was easy to leave. The girl waited for you in her little Prius and you went about your way.

“I’m Eve by the way,”

“Y/N,”

You didn’t want to converse. You wanted chemicals coursing through your veins to shut off every single thought, every voice, every vision in your head.

“So what’s your story? You know this resort- It’s supposed to be some pseudoscience rehab,”

“Listen, Eve,” you sighed, “I’m not one for talking, now, get some alcohol in me and then you can get in my head, hell maybe even my pants, but until then, I don’t like to talk,”

“My parents found me with a needle in my arm,” she admitted, you cursed under your breath and realized she was gonna ramble anyway. But maybe this was good for her, someone her age, someone she could relate to, “It was laced but... God it was something great and I... I never wanted it to end,” she talked as if it was a dream.

“They told me I flatlined a couple times- I couldn’t tell though but... maybe I did because I felt like I was in heaven,”

She kept talking about her experiences until you pulled up to a house with a bunch of cars out front, you didn’t even wait for her to fully stop the car before jumping out and running inside.

You saw a bunch of tangled, kissing bodies, slumped, passed out bodies, people candy flipping, people snorting lines. You weren’t sure which poison to pick.

You walked up to a girl passing small baggies around, “What’s this?,”

“Its a new street drug called angel wings, wanna try it?,”

“Will it make me feel better than lsd?,”

“Way better, dude,”

“How much can 50 bucks buy?,”

“2 baggies. Five pills come in each,”

You slapped the fifty in her hands and snatched two from her, damn near ripping one of the baggies open, to pop a single periwinkle pill in your mouth and snatching someone’s cup to swallow it down. You spotted Eve looking around for you and rushed over to her, grabbing her hand.

“Wanna dance?,”

“Did you take something already?,”

“Yeah man, you wanted to talk? I’m drugged up enough to talk,”

————

Not much talking happened. You felt yourself crying until she held your face to wipe the tears away and you found yourself in her lap, kissing her with all your might.

“Y/N you don’t want to slow down? We don’t have to do this,”

You took almost a whole baggy of angel wings and felt like you were flying, every single touch she placed on your body made the hairs on your skin stand up.

“Wanna forget, everything,” you slurred, “y-you don’t have to because... someone else will but... I trust you- to take care of me,”

Eve felt her heart swell at your words. She squeezed your thighs in her hands. Your skin was soft just like her ex’s. The one Eve lost due to her addiction driving her away. You gave her a sense of familiarity, so she kissed you back with just as much urgency. Eve had her own drug of choice running through her own bloodstream and every time you touched her had her body vibrating with tingles. She flipped you over and removed any piece of clothing that got in her way.

“Love me...,” you pleaded, your eyes found hers in the dark room. The dark room you’ve been craving just so no one could see you, they can feel you and maybe see your silhouette but the can’t see... you. You felt tears come to your eyes and you were thankful she couldn’t really see them.

“Even though it’s fake.. just... just love me how you would love someone else,”

Teeth clashed, toes curled, muscles tensed, backs arched, it was invigorating. It might have been the drugs, it might have been the fact that Eve seemed to know you like her favorite song. The both of your fingers were soaked and sticky. Skin bruised with love bites and dented with nail impressions. Throats raw from moaning and begging.

You were close and once you hit the big O, you understood the meaning behind the drug name. You heard the beating of wings and saw the bright light. You were an angel ascending and the gates of heaven opened for you just as you let out that final scream of Eve’s name. Eve... first of God’s creation.

You felt her lips on your cheek as she came with you, she held you tight and you stared up at the ceiling, letting your body tremors calm as your mind shut down with the rest of you.

—————

Eve sobered up but you made sure to drink half a bottle of cheap scotch before heading back to face the wrath of your dad.

You saw the big ugly evergreen and grumbled to yourself. Eve held your hand the whole drive and you cringed at any contact. You felt bad that you felt repulsed by her touch but you were too sober for any interaction of the sort.

She parked the car and kissed your cheek, you let her, before getting out and mumbling a thank you and goodbye and heading back in the direction of your room. You slightly stumbled and didn’t notice everyone waiting for you outside. You sniffled and felt your nose hurt, you don’t even remember snorting anything. Don’t remember what pill you popped, what drug you sniffed or what drink you took to the head and that’s how you liked it.

“Where the hell have you been?,”

Your dad’s voice was muffled and all you could do was flutter your eyes at him.

“You’re drugged up right now aren’t you?!”

You simply walked around him in what felt like slow motion, you ignored everyone eyeing you like a helpless puppy and went in the resort room to go to the bathroom.

“Don’t walk away from me, Y/N! What is it going to take for you to get better?! To stop this shit?! You’re killing yourself and don’t even realize it!,”

“Oh I realize it,” you crawl in the bathtub and just sit there. You don’t turn on any water, you just sit there

“I just don’t care enough”

——————

You woke up to a splitting headache, still lying in the tub. You groan as you pick yourself up and head out to the room to see Savannah sitting at the foot of the bed, waiting for you to sober up.

“Why can’t you be normal?,” her eyes were red like she’d been crying, Keith was out cold, he fell asleep waiting for you to wake up, “You’re putting dad through so much. You’re traumatizing Keith. Get a fucking grip and sober up!,” she gritted through her teeth.

“I didn’t ask to be this way. I didn’t ask to be born, Savannah. I’m sorry I’m not perfect and pretty and popular like you or a kid genius like Keith. I’m sorry I’m a junkie with no future. You were there when I was in therapy. You were there when they diagnosed me with an anxiety disorder a-and bipolar disorder and an addictive personality... you were there... I didn’t ask to be this way. Want me to be normal? Well rewire everything in my fucking head to do it,”

She wiped her face and shook her head, “Listen, I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you,”

“Well don’t. If I’m not worried you shouldn’t be,” you undress and wrap yourself in a towel for a shower, “I’m too far gone for worrying,”

—————

The next day there were multiple families at one of the sermon meeting thingies and it just so happened to be set up like a fucking AA meeting.

“I’m not doing this bullshit,” It was your turn to speak and you scoff, getting ready to get up and leave until Sav stopped you. You heard everyone else’s story and it didn’t inspire you to get better, it didn't move you. You didn’t give a shit about any of this.

“Do this for me... for Keith,”

You saw Keith practically pleading you and you sat back down to introduce yourself.

“I’m Y/N,”

“Welcome, Y/N,” everyone said around the room.

“I’m only here because I was forced to,” You laugh to yourself, “I don’t believe I can get better, I mean I haven’t been anyway. I’ve been faking my drug tests to pass, I’m still using, still drinking,”

You could feel Sam burning holes in the side of your head at your admission.

“Last night I snuck out and got so high I felt like I was flying,” you sighed happily, “I don’t remember when I started using but I uh- it might have been when I was trading my anxiety meds for stronger pills like ecstasy then I jumped to lsd just to run away from my fucked up reality,”

You catch Tony’s eyes, then Steve then Nat and Wanda and Bucky and so on and they all looked at you with fucking pity, it made you sick.

“I don’t believe in this shit okay? I don’t believe in praying away all these fucking chemical imbalances in my head!,” you felt your stomach churn and you felt your eyes sting, “I think I’m okay! I’m fine!,” you yelled, you were angry now, you hated being forced to talk about it.

“I’m doing a lot better with drugs and alcohol than I am without,” you were really trying to convince yourself, you weren’t fooling anyone, “When I’m high I experience the highest of highs! I- I can stay up for days and not need a wink of sleep,” You animated your gestures and looked around in hopes someone would understand.

“I can finally eat without throwing it back up because then I don’t hate myself so fucking much!,” You pound your thighs and felt the shakes come back, “I can finally eat- I can finally give myself the basic things a human needs without hating myself for it” you felt tears pool in your eyes and you hated yourself for crying but you blamed it on the 24 hours of sobriety.

“When I’m high, I don’t feel the extreme lows of my disorders. I finally break out of my shell and meet new people. I talk! I- I meet guys and they show me affection even if it’s for an hour or two and I finally feel loved in my life!,”

You felt Savannah rest her hand on your arm until you jerk away.

“When I’m high- I’m waaaay up and and... and I’m happy! I don’t feel depressed I don’t feel anxious. Being high or drunk shuts up that stupid voice in my head and no one gets it! I am better inebriated! Why can’t you see that!!,” you look to Sam for an answer and all you can see is tears in his eyes.

“And if I die? Hell! It’d be best for everyone! You wouldn’t have to worry anymore! You w-wouldn’t have to waste money on doctors visits just for me to pour someone else’s piss in a fucking cup! No suicide watch! No more not trusting me. No more me faking to be happy.. if this kills me?? Everyone would get what they wanted,”

“What do you think everyone wants, Y/N?,” the woman running the session finally speaks up. Everyone around the room seemed worried for you. You truly didn’t understand why.

You look to Savannah and shake your head.

“Peace,” you shrug and angrily wipe your eyes,

“A normal life”

—————

Once you got back to the room you scream, you screamed so loud and cried and pulled at your roots, you saw yourself in the mirror and threw it off the wall just so you wouldn’t have to look at yourself

“Be normal!,” you screamed at yourself. You felt like a noose was around your neck and the ground beneath you opened up leaving you hanging, feet kicking, desperate for air.

“Why can’t I b-be norm-mal?,” you choked on your words and clawed at your throat. Everything was upside down and spinning.

You didn’t hear the door open, you didn’t know anyone was in the room until your dad picked you up and dragged you outside.

The cool air rushed its way into your nasal passages and your chest opened up with a gasp. You couldn’t see your dad because of the tears, you could barely hear him.

“N-norm-mal... I wanna be normal,” You kept repeating over and over until your body gave out succumbed to your meltdown. Sam hugged your body and rocked you back and forth, despite people watching from their own rooms or passing by.

“We’re gonna get you help,”

“I don’t want he-help. I want it to end! I want black out from all the shit I take a-and not wake up!,”

Sam didn’t know what to do. He knows the trauma he caused you was a part of the reason you’re in this spot and mindset.

“I ruin everything I touch... I... I just..,” out of all the things you could have become- you had to become an addict. At first you didn’t want to acknowledge it because you were functioning just fine, that is until you couldn’t wake up and go about your day without it, you couldn’t do basic daily tasks without popping a perc here and there, until you couldn’t go to sleep without taking something, “I want it to stop but then- then again I don’t b-because I love it- it’s disgusting,”

“It’s going to be okay,”

“But it’s not. Nothing is okay a-and you need to get comfortable with the idea of this killing me because- because it’s going to happen,”

———

“I don’t think drinking is going to help, Sam”

Tony took the cup from Sam and he lost it, “I’m gonna lose my daughter and it’s all my fault,”

Tony didn’t know how to talk about this kind of thing- what can be said?

“It’s no one’s fault, Sam. Life doesn’t always hand us the best cards,”

Sam sniffled and shook his head, lost, frustrated, angry, upset, “What can I do? I’m losing hope,”

“I don’t think you’re going to like my answer but it seems to be her best option,”

Sam looked hopeful- anything will do as long as it gave you a chance to get clean and stay alive

“What is it?,”

———

“Inpatient rehab?!,”

He dropped the bombshell when you all got back home. Dropped it right in front of everyone- maybe he expected you to welcome the idea with open arms but you know what goes on behind those closed doors.

“You’re fucking kidding!,” you had dark circles under your eyes and your lips were dry- your dad had literally kept you on lock down the remainder of the trip, you didn’t even have in person contact with Eve but you did however end up with her number to hit her up whenever.

“You admitted you had a problem, honey. This could be good for you,” Bucky spoke up and you scoffed loudly.

“I’m not going!,” You tugged on the sleeves of your maroon sweater and paced the room, “They’re just going to lock me in a room to the point where I have cold sweats and screaming for more morphine to make the pain, itches and delusions stop!,”

Nat tried to take your hand in hers but you slapped her hand away.

“Y/N!,” Keith stomped his foot and you stared at his small stature. Tears glistening in his eyes, bottom lip quivering, “You need help!! Stop it!,”

You scowled and turned away from your baby brother. Your body trembled as you tried to keep the sobs in.

“When do I go?,”

You weren’t prepared for the answer, but you should have expected it yet your stomach still dropped.

“They’ll be here to pick you up in an hour,”

—————

“Nothing is real,” you mumbled to yourself as you stare at yourself in the mirror. Your face was dull, eyes boring and empty, hair thinning, appetite decreasing. You’d think being here for 60 days so far would do you some good but no...

You barely slept. The first 30 days you cried and screamed to be saved but now you barely even speak. You sat back on your bed just to turn to the wall.

“Wilson- you have visitors,” the nurse came into your room and saw you sitting facing the wall. You were now eligible to have visitors and spend time with family and friends.

“Don’t want visitors,” you cleared your throat and stared at the pale yellow paint on the wall, judging the job of the painters for leaving so many air bubbles in the paint.

“This could do you some good,” your nurse shuts the door behind her and sits with you on your bed, “Your family loves and misses you. Seeing them could motivate you to finish this strong,”

That made you laugh, genuinely. Your body shook with an animated belly laugh.

“They fucking locked me away in here,” you frowned, feeling sick to your stomach, “They let those people drag me away and lock me in here. Fuck their love, it’s not real!,”

She sighed and nodded knowing nothing she said would change how you feel. She’s seen it plenty of times before. She’s seen people recover completely yet still resent their families and loved ones for sending them here.

“I’m always able to contact them if you ever change your mind,”

“Fat chance,”

——

The nurse walked to the family area to see the hopeful faces of your family and loved ones. They hadn’t seen you in 60 something days.

“I’m sorry but Y/N isn’t feeling well enough to have visitors,” the nurse plays with her watch band and hates to see the way everyone’s faces drops.

“I want to see my sister!,” Keith tugged on Sam.

“What do you mean she’s not feeling well? She should be feeling at least a little fine in this stage right?,”

She sighs and shakes her head, “The stages in recovery are subjective. Chemical dependency is a hard thing to battle- some days she’s fine and some days like today she’s angry at everything and everyone. As much as I would like for her to see everyone, we can not force her,”

Steve stands up and sets a hand on Sam’s shoulder, “On a day, that she’s feeling better, will you call us?,”

“Of course,”

———

“I know she’s still angry,” Sam sent Savannah and Keith to their rooms while he stayed up with everyone else, “She’s my daughter, I know how she is. She holds grudges a-and she’s still upset,”

“Maybe, but she’ll see this was something she needed,” Bruce tried to make things better but nothing would be better until you were.

“How did things get this bad?,” he slammed his glass on the table and startled everyone.

“I know it’s hard right now but just- just calm down, Sam,” Bucky worried about his friend. He could only imagine how much he was losing his mind and hope on the inside.

“Calm down?,” Sam asked incredulously, “Calm the fuck down?! How can I calm down when I don’t even know if I’m going to see my daughter again, man?,” the legs of the chair screeched against the floor as he stood up in a rush.

Wanda rested a hand on his arm to try and soothe him but he wasn’t having it, “We get it, Sam. We know you’re hurting-,”

“But you don’t!,” he shouted, “You weren’t there when I got a phone call at work from her school nurse saying she had cuts all on the inside of her thigh! You didn’t see it! It looked like fucking grid paper and crosshatching! You weren’t there when I had to sit there in therapy and listen to the way she talks about herself and her life and me- my daughter hates herself and genuinely thinks I hate her and she believes everything that goes wrong is her fault- you didn’t hear the way she talked about herself!,”

For longest time Sam kept quiet about all of this, just wanting to push through it until it got better but it was time he faced the music.

“You weren’t there when she screamed at me, telling me she wished she was never born and I just stood there calling her ungrateful, selfish and dramatic! I didn’t listen to her, I only paid attention to Savannah and Keith and left her feeling unloved. You weren’t there when I caught her sneaking out and she was drunk, you weren’t there when I ignored everything the psychiatrist said about her having an addictive personality and excused all the signs she started to display until I fucking found her blacked out with throw up all over her!,”

He realized he couldn’t just pin it all on you. You were suffering and he hated himself for not realizing it until he was.

No one knew what to say- they were only outsiders, sure they were family but they didn’t get an inside scoop until a few months ago when they got a phone call from Sam saying you were in the hospital. They still didn’t know how to handle it. They could fight bad guys and fucking aliens all day but addiction of a loved one? That was new and left them stumped.

“But damn you were there when she talked about being okay with it if this just killed her. No one wants to hear a loved one say that- especially their child!,” he ran a hand over his face to get rid of the tears, he felt like he didn’t have a right to cry, “I did a lot of wrong as her father and I didn’t even think how my shitty actions contributed to where she is now. Now my daughter could be dying while trying to recover,”

Tony stood up and pulled Sam in a hug, grateful that Sam was seeing everything from a different perspective than his own. He was grateful that Sam was a father trying to right his wrongs and do better.

“It’s not too late,”

————

Your nurse came a few times a week letting you know that you had visitors but you turned them away each time.

The cold sweats happened less, you ate more, your skin started to warm up again and you could finally sleep throughout the night but you still wouldn’t see them. It’d probably bring back a ton of memories that would trigger you to relapse.

You earned yourself time out of the facility but only with supervision. Your nurse, Brielle, accompanied you to trips to the park and lunches.

“Y/N?,”

You looked in the direction of the voice and saw Savannah smiling at seeing you but fear just filled you.

She looked different, she cut her hair and dyed it, her make up was softer and her style was more... indie?

“I’ve missed you so much,” she moved in for a hug but you moved away only to see her smile drop, “Y/N, don’t do that. I’m your sister,”

“I’m recovering from substance abuse not amnesia,” You scowled. You turned to Brielle and asked her to go.

“Why can’t you just be normal?,”

Savannah’s voice echoed in your head and you felt a band around your head tightening yet again, it was your body’s reaction to let you know that you need to get out of the situation or else you’d fall subject to a mental break.

“Brielle, we gotta go,” You scooted out of the booth, past Savannah and tugged Brielle out of the restaurant- forgetting that you were even ordering.

“Y/N please! Talk to me! Talk to Keith, Dad! We miss you,”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!!,” you covered your ears and dropped down against the car, feeling dizzy, feeling every swirl around you as you tried to grasp onto reality.

“Grow through what you go through, grow through what you go through, grow through what you go through,”

You repeated the mantra over and over again. It’s a mantra designed specifically for you. Every patient gets their own mantra for when they feel like they’re losing. Yours is to help you remind yourself that nothing is ever easy but that doesn’t mean give up... life and it’s struggles will always be there but that doesn’t mean stunt your growth and efforts. Grow through what you go through.

“That’s right, you’re doing great,” Brielle whispered, she looked at Savannah over her shoulder and shook her head, “I know it’s hard not seeing her but it’s in Y/N’s best interest that she be willing to see you or anyone else on her own terms,”

Savannah hated to see you crouched on the ground, shaking and mumbling to yourself. She mumbled a sorry before rushing over to her car and crying to herself as she drove home and bursting through the doors, clearly upset to everyone else.

“Dad what’s wrong with, Vanna?,”

Sam looked up to see Savannah cursing to herself, and crying. She wasn’t upset with anyone but herself.

“She looked so scared of me!,”

Sam’s stomach dropped, he didn’t even have to ask who ‘she’ was.

“You saw her?,” Sam didn’t trust his voice and there was a reason for it.

“She was out with her nurse. She looks so much better a-and she looks healthy, she’s eating again. She doesn’t look she’s dying!,”

Savannah was rambling and frustrated that she triggered you like that, “I saw her, I spoke to her but I scared her so bad she fell to the ground and covered her ears so she wouldn’t hear me talking, I- what if she relapses and it’s all my fault?,”

Sam pulled his sobbing daughter into his arms and calmed her down as best as he could, “She’s your sister, anyone in that situation would have done what you did, you miss her and that’s valid,”

It mad him feel good that you seemed to be getting better, that you looked healthy and lively. He just hoped you would be willing to see everyone soon.

------

“You have visitors today but I can send them aw-,”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” it’s been another 30 days and you figured it’s time to face the music, face everyone and maybe get the supposed closure everyone was saying you needed,

You missed her initial shock from your response but she nodded and waited for you anyway. You slipped on your cardigan and slippers, then let Brielle lead you to the visiting area.

Everyone expected to be turned away again but when they saw a second body behind Brielle, they all stood up ready to greet you but she held her hands up in caution

“It’s best to not overwhelm her and to let her initiate any contact,”

Sam just wanted to hug his daughter and let her know how sorry he was but he knew she was right. 

You hated the way you felt their eyes burning into you, you couldn't bear to look at them, not yet, so your eyes focused on getting your foot directly in the center of each tile on floor. Brielle sat you down across from them and told you she’d be right outside if you needed anything.

Then there you all were. Face to face.

“It’s been so long,” Keith whimpered, “I missed you so much,”

You played with a stray string in your cardigan and sighed.

“It’s been a long four months, sweetie. I missed you so much,” Sam just wanted you to look at him. Your hair was getting thick again, you skin shone under the sun, your lips were moisturized with color instead of grey and chapped. He could see you were doing better

“Four months, 17 days, 3 hours, 44 minutes and” You cut your attention to the clock on the wall, “12 seconds,” your voice was hoarse and you cursed yourself for it, “That's how long it’s really been,” you wrapped your arms around yourself as a comforting gesture.

“I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to push you to that point, baby. I should have been better,”

“Life is too short to feel sorry for ourselves,” you looked up at the ceiling light and shrugged, “This place is all about being philosophical. Don’t be sorry, be better. That’s all they fucking say,” you grit through your teeth.

“Like oh, don't feel sorry for yourself- no one forced you to drink so much, no one told you to roll up that dollar bill, no one held a gun to your head and told you to take those pretty pills with cool names that look like candy,” you smiled and laughed at yourself, the nervous tick you’ve developed to keep from crying.

“No one told you to be ungrateful and hate the gift of life that was given to you, so don't feel sorry for yourself, be better,” you used a mocking voice and rolled your eyes, “There’s no need to blame yourself, the common variable is me, I have to be accountable for my actions,” 

Everyone was worried about how scripted this sounded but they dubbed it down to you being a little upset about being forced here, still.

“I still should have been a better, dad,”

“We aaalll make mistakes, Sammy,” he didn’t miss that you didn’t call him dad. Everyone caught it, “But not every dad kicks their family out on Christmas eve with nowhere to go in the freezing cold,”

His heart stopped, he’s never forgiven himself for that drunken mistake. The marriage problems between him and your mom drove him to develop a drinking problem and due to his little problem, it caused him to mess up a lot of things up. 

“Why was it me? Like why did Savannah and Keith get to move past all of this and I’m the one stuck? I’m the one suffering even while recovering?”

No one could answer that.

“Why did I have to be the one to talk to the cops because you sent me back to mom with bruises on my legs, huh? I didn’t want to- I didn’t want them to go after you because you were still my dad- I still loved you after yelling at me at dinner, I still loved you after sending me back to mom early when you couldn’t stand to be around me- I still loved you when you moved away and missed big chunks in my life but you kept Sav and Keith. What did I do? Tell me, please, maybe I can fix it, maybe I can be better. I just want my dad to love me,”

“I do love you Y/N! And I’ll never forgive myself for-,

“Don't be sorry! Be better!,” you shouted over him. Angry with yourself that you began crying.

No one knew what to say. Everyone else was here for support but this was clearly a father and daughter situation.

“Did you ever love me?,”

A question a child should never have to ask their parent.

“When I got the call that your mother was in labor with you on my birthday the world stopped,” Sam sat with his elbows on his knees, looking dead at you but you still wouldn’t look at him, “You were the best gift I could have ever asked for.. ever. After we had you, I can’t tell you what went wrong because I don’t know,”

“It’s my fault,” You sobbed, “Say it! It’s my fault. Had I not been born, everyone’s life would be better!,”

You finally looked at him and everyone could see the fire in your eyes, wild and couldn’t be tamed, your trauma being the fuel.

“It’s not your fault at all. I have failed you as a father and I... I let it go on for far too long without acknowledging it and apologizing for it before it got too late,”

“If I could go back in time to make things better I would. I never wanted you to feel unloved or that life would be better without you,”

He hated to be sitting across from you, your mind dead set on him hating you. He just screwed up a lot in his life.

“I let you down so much. I love you more than you could ever know. I just fucked up a lot as your dad,”

“Y/N, sweetie, I know this is hard,” Tony chimed, “But this could be a new beginning for you both. You’re recovering and he’s trying to right his wrongs before it’s too late. It’s not going to be easy and I know everything hurts and it’s going to take time but you know what they say.. grow through what you go through,”

You didn’t have time to ask how he knew your mantra, but it made sense eventually.

“I forgave you a long time ago, dad,” you pulled your cardigan sleeves down, and used them to wipe your eyes, “I didn’t think it’d matter if I became Falcon’s candy flipping daughter or not, I just wanted to make everything stop. I- I just wanted to be numb so I didn’t feel bad about any and everything,”

Sam didn’t take into account how much you were actually battling in day to day life. He didn’t believe anything the psychiatrist was saying when you were 10, if only he did, all of this could have been avoided.

“I’m still fighting my want to just relapse in anyway I can but... I can’t bring myself to do it because I know if I do, that might be it and I don’t want it to be that way dad,” 

He reached out to grab your hands and could have sobbed when you didn’t move away

“It doesn't have to be,“

------

180 days is a long time, it might not seem like it, but it is a long ass time for someone to go without something that they believe made them better. Someone who took multiple substances at a time just to shut down their mind so they don’t remember things, so they don’t feel things.

“You gonna be ok watching Keith? We need Sav on this,”

“I got him, dad. Just be safe,”

Sam hated to admit it but he was still worried to leave you alone. He made Tony put away all of his alcohol and set up a security code so no one could get in it.

“I won’t have anyone over, I don’t know the code to the cellar. I’m not going to put Keith through that again, dad. Have a bit more trust in me,”

He watched the way your eyes twinkled and nodded before kissing your cheek and heading out with the team.

“Can we play mancala? No one else likes to play it with me,“

“Sure thing, bud. Let’s go,”

You two played mancala for multiple rounds, just for him to beat you almost every time. You two watched Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader for hours while eating shitty kraft mac and cheese before getting him ready for bed.

“Can you stay with me? So I know you’re safe,” 

“Did dad put you up to that?,“

“I just miss my big sister, Y/N,” He sat up and played with his blanket, “I almost saw you dead... you wouldn’t talk to us for forever, I just missed my big sister,” you didn’t mean to make him cry.

“Hey, hey, I’m right here buddy, I’ll stay, okay?,”

You crawled under his blanket and held him tight and he held you even tighter, not wanting you to leave. 

----

You don’t know what triggered the nightmare but you woke up in your own room, right on the floor, sweaty and panting. You never sleep walk. You felt something stick to your sweaty palm and look down to see a small plastic baggie with those pretty blue pills from the night you blacked out. 

You threw it across the room and curled up against the side of your bed whimpering your mantra to yourself.

“Would you like me to call for help?,” Friday spoke overhead.

“I'm okay,” you clenched your eyes shut and did what you could to muster up the strength to just get up and flush them. It should have been a relief to do it but you felt a pang in your chest. You should have been proud of yourself for having the strength to not break sobriety. 

“I thought you said you were gonna be okay?,” Keith’s voice scared the hell out of you, “If you were going to be okay then you wouldn’t look so upset as you flushed them,“

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Keith. Go back to bed,“

“I’m telling dad,”

“Tell him what?,” you snapped your neck to him, eyes narrowing, “What? that I’m still fucking struggling? Yeah, I’ll tell him myself, bud,”

“He’s gonna send you back,” Keith didn’t mean to scare you, he was just worried and his words weren’t coming out right.

“I’d rather shit in my hands and clap,” you threw the baggie away and walked past him to sit on your bed to just try and calm down.

“Do I need to call him,”

“No,”

“Then what needs to happen?,”

“I need you to just be quiet!,” you hated raising your voice at him, but the rambling and patronizing was not helping.

“I’m calling dad,”

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

It was past midnight when they were all headed back and Sam got the phone call from Keith.

“Hey, son,”

“Y/N was walking while she was asleep and then woke up with a bag of pills in her hands,”

“What? she didn’t take any did she?,” Sam’s tone had everyone turning to him with expressions of worry.

“No but she looked sad when she flushed them,”

Sam sighed happily when he heard you’d flushed them. But for you to seem sad while doing so?  that couldn’t be a good thing.

“She’s mad that I called you but you need to know, she locked herself in her room after yelling at me. I can hear her crying and talking to herself. I didn’t mean to make her mad, dad,”

Sam sighed and sat back down beside Savannah who was waiting for her dad to hang up so she could know what was happening.

“She’s going to be okay, bud. You have to understand that what she went through was not easy. She might be out of hat place but she’s fighting everyday  to continue to get better and get her mind far away from that stuff as best as she can. We have to be patient, okay?,”

You had been pacing in your room. You knew all of this would put you so many steps back with your dad and his trust. You flinched at the sound of knocking at your door and his voice.

“Sweetie, open up,” 

You didn’t want to face him right now. You didn’t want to talk about it, nothing. You didn’t need anyone scolding you as you were already scolding yourself. You hadn’t stopped beating yourself up about it.

Sam didn’t want to freak out when you didn’t reply. He didn’t want to admit that he thought the worst, “Honey, please,”

“Dad, I am fine. Get some rest,” another step back. You were doing good not shutting anyone out but the moment something goes down, you forget all your effort.

“Y/N, I am not here to be mad at you. I am here to make sure you’re okay and to let you know I am here. You just gotta let me in,”

You cursed to yourself before walking over to the door to unlock it and let him in. He didn’t hesitate to pull you into a tight hug. 

“I didn’t take anything,”

“I know... even if you did- I wouldn’t be mad at you, disappointed yes, but mad? No. Relapse sometimes comes with recovery,”

You don’t know that Sam had been attending seminars for parents that have kids battling different things such as addiction. Multiple lessons were learned as well as communication pointers. 

“I didn’t mean to do that while Keith was here. I understand if you don’t trust me anymore,”

“I still trust you, Y/N. You don’t need to be beating yourself up right now. You did the right thing in flushing whatever you had, even if it did make you a little sad and made you feel like you needed it in that moment. Be proud of yourself. You took a big step forward by doing that, be proud,”

“How can I be proud when I hate myself for flushing them?,” you had to be honest. You wouldn’t be feeling this if you weren’t presented with them. It made you feel weak. You should be able to look at these things and be able to say no with no guilt.

“Because you flushed them regardless. This takes time, Y/N. I’m being patient with you now, so you have to learn to be patient with yourself. Rome wasn’t built in a day,”

“Yeah well the people who built it up weren’t highed up on something now were they?,” 

“Don’t be self-deprecating. You’re still going strong. Be proud even if you feel like there isn’t a reason to be,”

You knew he was right. Whether you were sad about flushing them, you still got the guts to do it and that’s commendable, you should be proud. You were kicking your ass when you should be happy and feel relief. You shouldn’t be feeling this weight, you shouldn’t be feeling guilty.

You’re growing through what you go through and that deserves a pat on the back.

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

You don’t know how you got here. You went back to school and shit came crumbling down. You were going strong but the weight of responsibility and insecurity became too much. Walking down the fucking halls everyday, comparing yourself to every girl that looked like barbie then going to the bathroom to stare at your reflection and pick yourself apart until the voices became too loud for you to handle so you went to the school plug and slapped money in his hand

“Anything will do,”

After school he came back and handed you a black plastic bag with cheap alcohol in it. You hid in an empty class room and barely drank a quarter of the bottle before you felt sick, like your body was rejecting what you were trying to force down into it. 

Your fingers moved faster than your mind, grabbing for your phone and dialing away.

“Hello?,”

You sniffled and held the bottle close to your chest, “Uncle Tony? I- I...,” you hiccuped and hugged the bottle close to your chest, “Uncle Tony, I messed up,”

-----

He was there for you in no time. He knew you wouldn’t want to talk about it but he knew your dad would have to find out about this. 

“I don’t wanna go back. I’m done growing through what I grow through, its a crock of shit,”  you stared out the window, eyes heavy.

“I know the fight becomes annoying,” Tony sighed, “But from the looks of it, your body has already made a decision for you,” 

He was right, a few sips and your body was angry with you. You should be thankful because it didn’t always work like that with other people who were fighting this like you. Others bodies often welcomed such a thing back easily, the bodies of some couldn’t even continue the fight without it before giving out.

“Plus you let someone know, as soon as it happened. Everyone can see your efforts. You may be tired of growing through it but it’s become natural for you and you don’t even realize it, though I can’t blame you. I was the same way,”

He sprinkled that last bit in there like it was a dash of parsley to complete a dish and it had your neck snapping to look at him. “Excuse me?,”

He chuckled and raised his eyebrows all while mumbling “well,” he pulled to a stop light and looked over at you, “I wasn’t always the polished hero I am now,”

He patted your leg in a hopeful manner, “In my days of college, getting drugs was as easy as buying cola from the corner store. Trying to run a company that my dad didn’t really want me to have in the first place to staying up all day everyday to make it through college was bound to get me in some trouble,” the light turned green and he lightly put his foot on the gas to continue the peaceful rid home, “I’d snort some coke to keep me away and focus long enough to study, I thought it was normal because the other students were doing it, until it wasn’t about trying to focus on school anymore. It was about  how high I could get and how good I could feel to the point I couldn’t walk out my dorm in the morning for class without rubbing a little on my gums or cutting up a quick line,”

“How’d you kick it?,” You never would have thought he batted such a thing, he changed for the better and picked himself up.

“The nose bleeds. The doctor told me if I didn’t stop I wouldn’t see the day I graduated. Told me I’d never see the day where I became the man I deserved as a role model as a kid. I wanted to be better than him. In a moment of weakness, my recovery was fueled by spite,” 

“I guess everyone’s come-to-Jesus meeting is a bit different,” you give a small smile and shrug, “Mine was when Keith practically slapped some sense into me. He’s a kid, who wants their little sibling walking around knowing their older sibling is a fucking fiend?,” you give a harsh scoff and roll your eyes as you feel tears coming, “He didn’t deserve to see me like that, that night- in and out of consciousness, watching them pump me full of coal and other shit to keep me alive, that screwed up his head and he’s barely hit puberty yet,”

Tony could almost hear the tears in your voice, you had your head turned to look out the window, he didn’t need to see your face to know.

“He’s your ticket out of the dark room,”

-----

Your dad didn’t put you back in the rehabilitation center because you owned up to knowing you messed up, because you called someone for help, knowing the slight possibility that you might have gotten a few people upset.

It was all trial and error, a constant fight, day and night even in your moments of shut eye. 

It was a learning experience for Sam, it taught him how to be a better dad, taught him that although he can’t go back and change things, he still has now to break habits and form healthy ones and make them the foundation of a healthy relationship between father and child.

He was in your corner and that helped keep your head above water.

Addiction and mental illness were never cut and dry. There’d always be doubts and close calls of near relapse but it was a fight you’d be willing to put up with 24/7. 

You never wanted to be back in that dark room of addiction. Driving yourself insane trying to find the next fix so you feel “normal”- but there was nothing normal about forcing yourself to be numb, there was nothing normal about denying you need help. Nothing normal whatsoever about forcing chemicals that could kill you into your body just to be happy. 

This, this right here was normal. Feeling pain, fighting, crying, trials, everything that you’re feeling now. Feeling is normal, even if it hurts sometimes.

You’d never stop growing through what you go through, but the fight.. that effort you put in.. it’ll always be worth it.

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

this took so long to write because I was never satisfied with it. I kept editing and erasing and adding more. And here is the finished product. It doesn’t have to resonate with you but here it is. Thank you for the love and support you guys always gift me.

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED>

tags: @vozit @blackreaders-assemble @retroxvailles @champangebucky @sambucky8 @princess-toshii @sebbyslut @titty-teetee @ilovefanfic86 @valkyriesnymph @dumbchick @mbaku-babygirl​ @veryhellshdia @persephones24 @here-for-your-bullshit @mokacoconut @spideys-wife @xye-weirdo @chonisberonica @disaster-rose @micki-smiles @valentinevirgo @yournonlocalpoc​ @warmchick​ @hisxblackxqueen​

[xxdragonwriterxx]

I was tagged by the amazing @nefelimalfoy, thank you for the tag! I hope I’m doing this right, I’m still pretty new to the mechanics of Tumblr so we’re just gonna roll with it and hope this is how it works 😂. I made this on a new one to save space but I decided to do this tag because I figured it’d be a good way for you guys to get to know me since I don’t have an About Me page. Either way, thanks again, and here are my answers!

Named after someone? Yes actually! My name is Morgan and I was named after my mother’s maiden name because they wanted to give me a unisex name so I could be whoever I wanted to be, and that name just happened to work really well. It’s still my grandmother’s name so we always have fun calling each other by my name for fun. My mom also just really loved that name, even when she was a teenager, and wanted to call her child that in the future anyway, so here I am!

Last time you cried? The last time I cried was about three weeks ago. We recently moved several states away from my friends and family and I’m having a hard time adjusting since I didn’t really want to live in this particular state in the first place, coupled with leaving everyone, it’s been a little tough for me. Nothing significant, sometimes I just miss my friends 😊.

Do you have any kids? Nope, I’m only 18 so not quite there yet, but I’m hoping to have some in the future! I’d love to have between 2 and 3 but that all depends on what country I live in and the state of the world at the time I’m ready for them. Raising kids is expensive and really hard so I wanna be ready for them. But hopefully they are in my future somewhere!

Do you use sarcasm a lot? I guess I’d say I use it moderately. I love to use it all the time for humor purposes, but in terms of using it for when I’m annoyed, I guess it just depends on how long I am in an annoying situation and who I’m with. It’s my favorite thing to use for jokes but I’d say I use it moderately in terms of genuine use.

Eye color? I have blue eyes! Although they tend to change based on the seasons. In the winter and spring they are more blue and in the spring and summer they are more green, so I guess it kinda depends on the season and temperature.

Favorite book genre? Definitely fantasy but I will honestly read almost anything just so long as the story is interesting. I don’t really have a “least favorite” genre or anything because I tend to judge a book based on it’s story rather than it’s genre. But most of my favorite books of all time come from fantasy, so I’d say that’s my favorite aside from horror and psychological thrillers which are also top tier genres in my book (can’t watch horror movies but could read horror novels any day).

Any special talent? Okay so actually, I do have one talent that would be considered special. I have no idea where it came from or how I learned it, but ever since I was a little kid, I’ve been able to perfectly replicate certain animal sounds (and a few extra ones that aren’t animals too). I can do a dog, cat (both meow and purr), horse, goat, zebra, pig, dove, Golum (from LOTR), Stitch, trumpet, engine from Cruella Devil’s car (I know this is really fucking specific but trust me on this one), dragon growl/purr (think from HTTYD), and Homer Simpson. Again, I have literally no idea how I started, I just know that when I was a kid, I used to bark like a dog and eventually got good at it (according to my mom). Now, I just practice different sounds I want to make until I can completely replicate them. I know it sounds far fetched, but that’s what it is. It’s really fun to shock people with tbh 😂. But I always have to be careful dogs aren’t around when I bark, because I have set off a barking frenzy before 😅.

What country were you born in? I was born in America but I hope to move to Europe shortly after college. I’m looking at somewhere like Scotland or New Zealand but honestly getting to explore Europe will be amazing in itself and I know I’ll find where I want to live as I go along.

What are your hobbies? Well, writing is the obvious one but I don’t just write fanfics. I also write original short stories and I am working on a fantasy novel currently. Aside from writing, I have been riding horses ever since I was 2 years old, riding my first pony on my grandma’s farm. Now I ride and show competitively, showing in the jumper ring with my 17 hand dark bay Thoroughbred, Moose! We jump about a meter 20 (if any of you know equestrian terms/measurements) but we are aiming for the Grand Prix at some point in my life. I also like to wake surf behind a boat on lakes, draw, read books, and listen to music. I also absolutely love classic cars more than anything. It’s my dream to have one one day and fix her up, so while it’s not technically a hobby since I haven’t done it yet and I don’t know much about the mechanics, I do a lot of research and reading up on them, which will hopefully lead to my dream coming true at some point!

Do you have any pets? Oh god, here comes the word vomit. I could talk about my pets for days 😂 but I’ll keep it short. I actually have three dogs currently, two french bulldogs and a street chihuahua (she does not look like a normal chihuahua at all. She is quite a bit larger and has the funkiest ears of any dog ever. She looks like if a weasel, a chihuahua, and a pine marten had a baby) we found abandoned and neglected when I was 9. I also have a horse and my mother has one as well so as a family we have two because both my mom and I ride competitively. My two frenchies are called Herschel and Humphrey, and then the chihuahua is called Ginger. My horse, as mentioned earlier, is named Moose and my mom’s horse (a 17.2 hand Warmblood) is called Rexy. Despite having all little dogs, we used to have two labs whom I loved with all of my heart, so I’m hoping to get big dogs again in the future when I get out of college. My dream dogs are German Shepherds, Pitt Bulls, and Labs, Collies, or Dobermans. Honestly, just any rescue dog will work, but those are the dogs I envision myself having in the future.

What sports do you play/have played? Like I said earlier, I am an equestrian and have been riding for 16 years but when I was younger I went through a bunch of other sports to see  which one I liked the most. Obviously horseback riding ended up winning, but I did try soccer, gymnastics, dance, taekwondo, track, cross country, and wake surfing. Aside from horseback riding, wake surfing was a favorite of mine, and I only stopped when we sold the lake house and boat we had that we would use to surf. But I still love it and hope to try it again sometime! Other than that, I kinda just like exercising in general, so while I don’t do any of this competitively, I like to run occasionally and I ride my bike as much as I can when I have the time.

How tall are you? I am 5’4” or about 163 cm give or take. I am definitely the shortest aside from my mom in both my family in my friend group but I actually like being smaller sometimes. I can officially say I can fit in both a vacation suitcase and a medium sized dog kennel (like for corgis, beagles, etc.).

Favorite subject in school? In high school, my favorite class by far was Vet Med, but I also loved AP Literature. My teacher was the best and reading has always been my strength (rip math). As for my college classes, my favorites are Abnormal Psychology and Creative Writing.

Dream job? Okay realistically, my dream job is Forensic Psychology. Basically a detective with a psychology degree so that you can not only solve cases but also study the criminals behind them. That’s what I am currently going to uni for and what I hope will continue throughout the duration of my college years! I originally wanted to be a Veterinarian more than anything (hence why I took Vet Med in high school), but for a whole magnitude of reasons, I decided against it. I actually worked at a vet clinic for three years during high school and I fucking loved it, but there were just a lot of things that bothered me about the industry (it didn’t have anything to do with the vets themselves, those people are fucking awesome) so I decided it would be for the best if I changed my major. I still fucking love it and I even have an old textbook from when I was going to major in it that I read when I want so I can still stay refreshed on the major injuries and diseases and their cures. I also get some experience with Vet Med since with horses, the owner kinda has to do most of the healing unless it’s something specific like acupuncture, so I take care of all of Moose’s injuries and illnesses in the same way a vet would. If we are talking unrealistic, my dream job would be to train horses in Europe, writing short stories and novels as I travel around the world to train and compete. While I could never support myself with a job like this, horseback riding will always be in my life and I am hoping that my novel will be successful enough to allow me to be an author on the side of my Forensic Psych job!

Thanks again for tagging me, and thank you for reading through my word vomit about my life! In turn, I’m going to tag @mysteriousmagicx for this. Have a nice day!

[ephemeral-afterlight]

Day 6: Dragged Away

(But they won’t push us down.)

Whumptober 2019 Day 6: Dragged Away

Word Count: 1823

Relationships: Moxiety

Warnings: Attempted kidnapping, unsympathetic Patton, mildly violent language, rape mention

A/N: yeah... sorry this is late. i’m uploading this in the car, and i’m exhausted, but i had to get it up, so.

The sound of Virgil’s shoes slapping on the pavement is certainly something that can be relaxing, a way to lull someone into a sense of safety. Each patter is like a metronome, a beat to a song that walking creates. Every step echoes in the emptiness, the open darkness of a city abandoned at night, and Virgil absolutely hates it.

He hates it because he’s not even supposed to be here, isn’t supposed to be pushing through the aching in his calf muscles just to get home quicker. He tried to finish up at work quickly enough to take the bus like he always does, but there was a pretty big spill, and he has to stay behind and clean it up. It’s too late for buses now, too late for comfort, and it’s all Virgil can do to not take off in a sprint.

He’s trying, he really is, but he’s never liked walking long distances, and the fact that it’s night time and nobody is around makes it a thousand times worse. He just wants to go home and sleep, cuddle with Patton and forget his weariness, but there’s still a few blocks to go, so he trudges on.

And the footsteps are his only guide again. The footfalls, sound of the soles and their meeting with concrete. The way the soundwaves bounce against the cold stone walls, clash against brick and fall right back. It’s almost like a poem, ticking syllabic through cool night air. And it is night, almost 2 in the morning, and Virgil has a feeling that Patton is going to be awake waiting for him when he returns. He’s figuring things out, trying to sort his thoughts and compartmentalize the split between work life and home life, and then the echoes multiply. 

They’re almost identical in their timing, at first, so close to Virgil’s own pace that he doesn’t even notice. It’s only when Virgil speeds up to get across a driveway outlet that the stark contrast of the echoing thumps on pavement while his own feet are completely off the ground makes itself prominent in the forefront of his mind, brings a growing anxiety to his conscious thought. There’s somebody walking behind him, someone following him, and Virgil’s heart rate quickens as he speeds up very gradually so as not to alert whoever is behind him. He doesn’t want to turn around, to tip them off that he’s aware of their presence, because that could cause them to speed up the process. Is he about to get kidnapped?

And then the footfalls behind him gain speed, too, rise to match Virgil’s new rhythm, and he’s positive that they’re gonna try to hurt him. There’s no other explanation; he’s walking alone, in the middle of the night, in a nearly abandoned, dilapidated part of the city, and there’s someone behind him going at the exact same pace and making the same turns as he is. This is a kidnapper. Or a murderer. Oh god, he’s gonna die. He’s gonna die and he’ll never get to see Patton again, never get to listen to his favourite music, never eat that one really good chicken and rice meal from the restaurant across the street--

Virgil is stupid. He must be stupid, because he does something stupid. Like an absolute idiot, he risks a glance behind him, tries to look and commit his attacker��s face to memory, and the guy dressed completely in black is way closer than it sounded. Virgil’s heart stops, and his pace stutters, and the man is lunging forward to grab him.

Virgil tries to let out a scream when the assailant yanks back hard on his arms, painfully twists them behind his back to keep him immobile, but his mouth gets immediately muffled by the man’s other hand. He’s strong, somehow able to keep him in place with a single hand, and Virgil knows that his own skinny, weak self doesn’t stand a chance. 

He struggles and thrashes as he’s pulled from the road, tears brought to his eyes as the dim yellow glow of the streetlamps starts to fall further and further away. He can’t breathe, the pressure on his throat from the man’s arm restricting his airways, but the panic is setting in and that certainly doesn’t help.

And then the adrenaline kicks in, a harsh rush that’s like a breath of fresh air. His systems are flushed with a solution of fearlessness and fire, and everything feels so much clearer. He can see, and he can breathe, and years of hearing Roman and Logan’s stories as first responders (a police officer and paramedic respectively) gives him enough forethought to act quickly. He can’t wait, can’t drag this out. He has to do something before the panic fills up his lungs again like a black sludge, has to fight before he’s left weary and exhausted and… dead.

With a strangled cry that doesn’t go far from his lips, Virgil throws himself forward just enough, and then uses the momentum to swing the heel of his foot back and connect it with the man’s crotch. He lets out a strangled yell, one that dissolves into an angry whine, and Virgil takes advantage of his pain to rips his arms from the stranger’s grip and kick back again to put distance between them. He manages to get him in the dick a second time, which, under different circumstances would be literally the funniest thing he’s ever heard, but he can’t bring himself to find any humour in it while he’s still in danger of being kidnapped or killed.

Running towards the street again allows him a moment to process, to reorder his frantic, frenzied brain. He knows he’ll be fine as his foot first hits the road, because he was a champion when he ran track in high school, and he can outrun anyone if he just pretends that he’s in a competition. The grey buildings around him turn into bleachers, the pavement underneath him turns to blacktop, and the streetlamps morph into the familiar feeling of the sun beating down on his face. He sweats now, too, both from exertion and fear, and his body is just a vessel for quick transportation again.

He doesn’t remember much of what happened after that, can feel the yells of the sports fans ringing in his ears just the same as before, and when he realizes where he is, who he is, the familiar surroundings of his and Patton’s neighbourhood allow him to breathe a sigh of relief. He still isn’t really processing the whole experience well, and he’s sure he’s going to have probably a million panic attacks when the adrenaline rush has faded, but for now, he just pants hard, turns in the direction of his house, and runs. 

Bursting in the door and slamming it closed behind him gives Virgil an immeasurable satisfaction, borne from the almost victorious feeling of winning. He went through the ringer, rose up, and came out on top, just the same as when he used to run. He feels the same rush, the same jitteriness he used to get when he got first place in competitions. Virgil will freak out later, but for now, he's a winner, and he needs to tell Patton. 

"Virge, honey, you're so late coming home. Did something happen at wor-- ...Virgil? Why are you all sweaty?" Patton's sympathetic tone shifts into one of concern, a layer of worry embedded in his furrowed brows and slight frown. He rushes forward from the hallway to Virgil's side, gives him a once-over to check for any obvious injuries, and audibly frets while Virgil catches his breath. 

"I got-- almost got kidnapped, Pat, an' I-- I kicked him in the balls and ran away, it was awesome and-- and terrifying and I was s-so scared, I… it was so scary… I thought I was gonna d-die… I," Virgil whimpers, comes crashing from his high too quickly, and Patton is surging forward to gather his boyfriend in his arms. Virgil shudders at the touch, flinches for a split second, and then relaxes. His embrace is so warm, brings the tears out of his eyes with soft reassurances, and Virgil is sobbing. The tears soak into Patton's pajama shirt, bleed through to touch his skin, and he's rubbing Virgil's back soothingly. 

"Oh, Virgil, honey, I'm so sorry it happened like that. It's okay, it's over now," Patton murmurs. He guides Virgil's head to rest on his shoulder gently, cards through his hair with a muted pressure. It's always worked and a grounding technique, something that they've discussed and employed many times in the past, and Virgil feels touched that he's thinking of that even now.

"It must have been so scary, sweetie. I'm sorry. It… could have been scarier, y'know. You could've… been shot, or stabbed," Patton muses, and although Virgil understands that he's just trying to help in his own misguided way, his words only cause the anxiety to rear its ugly head once more. Virgil hums shakily, swallows around his residual fear to clear the vice around his neck, and clutches onto Patton's shirt. 

"Uh… yeah, Pat, but that… that isn't really helping right now. Maybe we can just… I don't know, watch a movie? I-- I need to take my mind off of this," Virgil mumbles into Patton's shoulder, sniffs as more tears leak over his lashes. 

"Yeah, I mean… you could've gotten electrocuted, or got your head bashed into the concrete, or maybe even got raped, poor thing," Patton continues, keeps talking as if he didn't even hear Virgil's request, and Virgil's brows pull together. The words send a wave of nausea rolling through him, force a gag out of him that he somehow manages to keep at bay. Patton's hand slowly comes up to rest on the back of Virgil's neck, a gesture of reassurance even as he starts squeezing, clutching a little too tight. "Honestly, it's a shame… I should've told them to do whatever they wanted with you, but you have to go and make things difficult, don't you, huh?"

And before Virgil can process this, before he can feel his heart leap into his throat and pull away, there's a sharp pain in his neck where Patton's hand resides. His muscles feel tired, so tired, and his knees give out within seconds. Patton manages to catch him, gently lowers him to the ground, and Virgil's head is screaming. He can only lay there, bore a terrified stare into his boyfriend, and watch and a spectator to the unknown. More tears spring to his eyes, and a scream tries to build in his dormant throat, and his fingers can't even twitch to move. Patton sighs as he picks up Virgil by the feet and starts dragging him towards the basement door, and Virgil's been knocked down to last place in the rankings.

[jemej3m]

to the moon and back (p3)

last part!

(i realised i forgot warnings for the last one! sorry, i’ll try and edit that asap)

tw: canon typical rape, violence

part one | part two | part three

Andrew didn’t regret.

Or, he was trying to live a regret-less life. As a 17 year old, he wasn’t exactly a master of his own thoughts. But no matter what he did, he tried not to doubt himself, or dwell on it.

Some said that made him keen for collateral damage. That he took no responsibility.

Andrew didn’t care about what anyone said.

So, when he finally decided to ignore the wheedling voice in his head, it was—

Well, a disaster. But also, not a disaster.

Neil had just won his semi-finals with his Foxes, and Andrew watched his brother, best friends and the boy he definitely didn’t care about laugh and sway from side-to-side, exuberant and stupid with success. Andrew’d been invited to the celebratory party, of which he’d decided to attend under the pretence of ‘free alcohol’ and ‘Someone has to drive you home, Aaron.’

In honesty, he hadn’t consumed alcohol since going on his antidepressants. And he knew that his brother would just pass out and stay the night with Katelyn, who’s parents were out. Betsy was chill, but she wasn’t that chill.

Kevin was leaning into his girlfriend—Thea Muldani had just graduated from Evermore, already accepted for a sports scholarship in West Virginia, and found herself in the disgraced company of jeering Foxes—as he offered her a half-full cup. Probably Vodka. Kevin drank like his father would send him to rehab in the morning, every time.

Aaron was dancing, Boyd, Gordon, Wilds and Reynolds were keeping Renee busy, but not busy enough for her to spare the wink she sent towards Andrew, gesturing to Neil.

Neil was sipping a soda, looking at him. Andrew rose his eyebrow, challenging his gaze. The boy simply stood, turned and left out the front door.

Andrew, obviously, had no choice but to follow.

“You just won. What’s the doom and gloom about?” Andrew mirrored the way he leaned onto the front porch’s railing.

“I’m scared about my dad coming back.” He looked at Andrew. “I’m not allowed to go out. What if he comes back and the house is empty?”

They were going to contact the police tomorrow: They’d found the body yesterday, but Neil had been too nervous with the semi-finals game. Now that it was out of the way and dealt with, Neil had to shove his uneasiness aside and just do it.

“He’s not going to come back.” Andrew reminded him. “We’re the only two people who know right now. He’s not coming back tonight, Neil.”

He nodded weakly and said nothing, but Andrew could hear the cogs whirring under the pretty red curls.

“What.” He said flatly.

“I—“ He looked at Andrew. As far as he knew, Neil never let himself be scared in front of someone like this. No one. “He’s going to kill me, Andrew.”

Andrew ignored his conscience and cupped Neil’s jaw with his hand, wearing the most stern expression he could muster. “I won’t let him touch you.”

Neil looked down at him and nodded once.

Slowly, giving time for Neil to lean away, Andrew kissed him gently. He tried to stop the shaking in his hands, the chattering of his teeth, but it was impossible, when unwanted images popped up behind closed eyelids but Neil was right there. He was so torn. So fucking torn.

Neil’s lips were slightly chapped and tasted like lemonade. Andrew could feel the flutter of his eyelashes against his cheeks. The tip of his nose was soft where it brushed against his, and Andrew’s heart was thudding so loudly that surely Neil had to have heard it.

When he stepped back, dropping his hand and taking in a nervous breath, he watched Neil slowly open his eyes.

“You like me,” The dumbass said, astounded.

Andrew’s ire twitched. “No shit, idiot.”

Neil winced. “Sorry, I—“

“Shut up. Shut up.” Andrew pinched his lips shut with his fingers, terrified of what Neil was going to say, because, he already knew the answer. Because Andrew was fucked up and Neil wasn’t even gay and there was no way in hell that he would ever reciprocate this—

Andrew regretted.

“Don’t say anything.” Andrew warned him. Neil looked at him, confused, as he paced away. Before he had the chance to do the opposite of what Andrew told him to, Andrew turned, running with his car keys already in his hand.

His mind was blank. He tried to conjure up any thought or feeling, anything at all, but all he could manage was I fucked up. I fucked up. I fucked up.

He thought Neil had stayed on the porch and resigned to watching him leave, but a shadowed figure ran in front of his car. Andrew slammed the brakes and threw himself out of the car with vengeance: If he could see himself, he imagined steam coming out of his ears. The idiot was caught in his headlights, cheeks as red as his hair and eyes bright with adrenaline.

“Are you fucking serious?” He snarled. “What are you doing, throwing yourself a car like that—“

Neil held Andrew by the jaw and kissed him, squarely on the mouth, effectively shutting up Andrew’s reprimanding and sending his pathetic, teenage mind into a frenzy. He instinctively grabbed Neil’s scarred hands and took them away from his face, holding them down and away from him. He couldn’t, however, resist entwining their fingers together as they stood in the middle of the quiet street, illuminated by his headlights and cocooned by the ignition warning and party music in the background.

Neil broke off, breathless and smiling, just a little bit.

“Kevin told me to stop pining over you, weeks ago.” Neil admitted, in the close proximity between them. “I didn’t even realise I was pining. Or that I like you at all.”

I like you, Andrew’s mind echoed giddily. “You’re so stupid.”

“I know.” Neil agreed.

“Don’t touch me.” Andrew warned.

“Okay.” He accepted, putting his hands in his pockets. He nudged Andrew’s nose with his own, his smile blindingly adorable. “Hey.”

“I hate you.” Andrew grumbled

“To the moon and back?” Neil teased.

Andrew shushed him with a weak growl, kissing him into silence.

“AJ,” A smug voice came from just behind him.

Andrew’s mind slowed down to the point of dysfunction. It was a year, exactly a year, since Andrew had last seen or heard from the man. It was ironic that his worst nightmare would come to life on a day Andrew had been ecstatic for: A day, just for him and Neil. A day where he would kiss Neil again.

The police had been anonymously tipped. Andrew had sought out Officer Higgins to warn him about how Nathan Wesninski had previously bought out a murder investigation, and that he was high-risk and absolutely could not be allowed bail. The pig had taken it seriously, as he always did with Andrew. Especially since Andrew and Aaron had anonymously provided him with invaluable details on abusive foster homes. He owed Andrew a favour, so he knew that Higgins would come through.

Neil, with his many, many issues, had naturally ingrained trust issues in all police. If Betsy was murdered and the murderer managed to buy out the investigation, Andrew wouldn’t trust them with even a penny either.

Neil trusted Andrew, though, so he had to trust Higgins.

Soon, the police would gain a search warrant to the house, and Neil would have nothing to do with it: it was being kept as extremely confidential, to avoid Nathan’s ears from alerting the man himself. The search and consequential discovery would surely notify Neil’s father, who remained up in Baltimore, but by then it would too late. Neil would be safe. A dead body would be found in Nathan’s cellar. There was no escaping prison, this time around.

The uneven, sarcastic grin and menacing glint to the junkie’s eyes had returned. Andrew sat on the hood of his car, waiting for Neil as Exy practise finished, reading Jekyll and Hyde for the nth time and smoking. He’d been at peace, thinking vaguely about telling Neil how he felt, his final results, his plans for the summer.

Until Drake had appeared at his side.

“Higgins said I might find you here.” His ex-boyfriend pulled himself up onto the hood of his car, next to Andrew. Andrew was frozen. “When he told me that you’d got yourself mixed up in a murder investigation, I couldn’t believe it. It’s not like you to cause trouble.” He could hear the threat in Drake’s voice. He could hear that sickening, sickening grin. “Is your mom home?”

It was a trick question: Drake knew that she wouldn’t be. Thursday nights was one of her two late nights volunteering at Easthaven.

“How about Aaron?” Drake laughed softly. “Speak of the devil. Aaron!”

“Drake? What are you doing in town?” Aaron smiled, speaking casually. He didn’t know. He didn’t know, because Andrew had never told him: Andrew’d never told anyone, except—

“Just visiting Mom before my first employment.” They talked like friends, because they had been friends. Oh, fuck. Andrew was going to be sick. “Andrew picking you up?”

“Oh, no.” Aaron shook his head. “I spend Thursdays with my girlfriend, Katelyn.” Aaron was looking at Andrew now. He hoped Aaron could see the red flags, but he knew that his brother wouldn’t: He was always tired after practise, and it was getting. In his head Andrew was screaming, as though that would help Aaron to see. It didn’t work.

Drake’s grin widened. “Oh, cool. Have fun!”

“Will do.” Aaron saluted the two of them. “Oh, Andrew, he’s just talking to Coach—“

“We’re going.” Andrew managed, sliding off the car and rounding to the driver’s door. If Aaron mentioned Neil, Drake would assume, and then—and then he might—Neil didn’t—he couldn’t—

Andrew let out the smallest of sobs before Drake could open the car door and slide inside. His hands gripped the steering wheel as he swerved out of the school’s parking lot.

He closed his eyes and wished this all to be a horrible, horrible dream.

When he opened them, his vision was fragmented, like shattered glass shards. It was dark in his bedroom, just how he always remembered this happening. His arms hurt, bruised by Drake’s fingers. His armbands were gone, knives were gone, defences were gone, and yet—

Drake was gone, too.

Andrew scrambled upright, almost dry heaving with the effort. He reached out and grabbed for the first thing he could, but it wasn’t a knife, or a lamp, or anything he could use to defend himself. It was a fistful of soft fabric, that smelled like Neil’s laundry soap. The raised scarring beneath was Neil’s skin. Distantly, he thought, impossible, but the wiry limbs and red curls were not Drake, so Andrew couldn’t care less.

His awareness came in bits-and-pieces. He realised Neil had covered him with a sheet, and that they weren’t the only two people in the room.

Aaron was standing with an Exy stick—Neil’s striker stick—over his head.

“Give me a good reason not to crush you to a pulp right now!”

Andrew’s attacker was a crumpled head on the floor. How had two teenage midgets beaten a training soldier so badly?

The volume of Aaron’s yelling made Andrew’s ears ring.

“Get out. Get out!”

Neil let go of Andrew to stick a knife at Drake’s throat—Andrew’s knife. The man paused, terrified in the presence of these tiny, psycho teenagers. “If you ever come near him again, I will make sure you spend the rest of your short life in prison. I heard rapists never last very long.”

“Get out.” Aaron echoed, shoving him with the butt of the Exy stick. Neil grabbed it off him and gestured towards Andrew, before disappearing.

Andrew’s twin fell onto his knees in front of him. “Are you okay? Do you need to go to hospital? You’re bleeding so much.”

“Did he hurt you?”

Aaron shook his head. They clutched onto each other. “Why didn’t you tell me, Andrew?”

“I didn’t know how.” He muttered. “I couldn’t tell you or Mom. I just didn’t know how.”

“But Neil knew.” Aaron murmured. “I told him that you’d gone home with Drake, your old friend. He went white and forced me to come back here.”

Neil looked at him from under his eyelashes. “What?”

“I want to know what your father’s name is.” Andrew knew his father had created a falsified identity for Neil to attend Evermore with, which he maintained at Palmetto. He also knew he was named after his father, in the typical, egocentric European fashion.

“You’ll have to tell me something that no one else knows, too.”

Andrew swallowed. “Okay.”

“Nathan.” Neil said, softly.

“You don’t seem like a Nathan.”

“I’m not.” He turned to look at Andrew. “I’m Nathaniel.”

For a moment, they sat in silence.

Then Neil’s fingers drifted to take the cigarette from between Andrew’s fingers. “Why did you hurt yourself?” His hand drifted over the black armbands, never touching.

Andrew forgot that Neil was irritatingly perceptive sometimes. “It was the only way I could keep myself from telling people how my boyfriend was hurting me.”

Neil said nothing at that, fingers drifting over his own scars. “He’d better be far away from here.”

It was an unexpected streak of protectiveness that had warmth blossoming in Andrew’s chest. “He left for military training after graduating last year.”

Neil nodded, satisfied. Andrew closed his eyes. Telling someone lifted that weight off his shoulders. The lightness was incredible.

“Just—“ Aaron pulled him up, keeping the sheets around him. “Come to my room. I’m calling Mom.”

Andrew let himself lean against his brother and said nothing to fight him. It was beyond time to tell them the truth. “Neil?”

“Right here.” A soft voice said from the stairwell.

“Go home.” Andrew croaked.

Neil hesitated, curls bouncing, gaze unwavering, but promptly vanished. Aaron tucked him in under his own covers, sitting by him on the floor and leaning their foreheads together. Andrew knew he was on the phone to Betsy.

“Andrew, I’m coming home.” His mother’s voice lulled him, the remnants of anxiety and adrenaline washing away with her soothing voice. “I love you to the moon and back, honey. I’ll see you soon.”

He couldn’t find it within himself to reply: The pull of exhaustion was irresistible and he fell fast asleep within moments.

He dreamt of a happy teenaged boy, in a peaceful home with his brother and his mother. They were all safe. He had everything he ever wanted.

Even in the dream, Andrew knew it was impossible.

Neil was leaning against his—Andrew’s—car as he came out of his front door, waiting for him.

“You know, a ‘good morning’ is a commonplace greeting used in the English language—“

Andrew grabbed him with handfuls of his ugly hoodie and said: “Yes or no?” When Neil nodded, he kissed him against his own car. Neil made a small noise. Andrew couldn’t remember whether or not it was characteristic of Neil: They had only kissed at the semi-finals celebration, two and and half months ago.

Two months ago, Drake had been effectively banished by Aaron and Neil—two weeks after that kiss. Neil’s father had been arrested a mere week after that, forcing Andrew to come out of his shell to comfort Neil in his panic. Then Neil had withstood a long, agonising trial about his abuse and his mother’s murder. No, he had not known there was someone in the cellar, or who that person was. Nor did he know his father’s tendency to murder resistant employees. Nor was it reasonable to ask for a child to report their murderous father after being threatened and hurt by said man.

Andrew thought the trial was unnecessarily long for something so simple, and Neil had been the heart of it. He had accompanied Neil home from Columbia Courthouse every evening, sat with him and a cigarette outside Wymack’s apartment, until Neil had managed a weak goodbye and went inside.

Never did Andrew dare to kiss him. Neil, equally as distraught, never tried or asked. Now a week after his father’s conviction and resulting imprisonment, Neil was looking at Andrew with the original snarky grin that caught Andrew’s attention during tutoring sessions, the brilliant spark returning to his eyes.

Andrew felt much, much better.

“Hey.” Neil murmured, sandwiched between the car and the car’s owner.

“Hey.” Andrew returned. Today they were going to get school supplies. Things would be going back to normal -- with one new, exciting addition.

Neil pecked a small kiss on Andrew’s cheek.

“I hate you.” He grumbled.

“To the moon and back, I know.” Neil said with his small grin. Andrew couldn’t help but flush.

A cab caught his interest, swinging into the driveway opposite Betsy’s quaint cottage home. Neil stood back, following Andrew’s line of sight and watching the cab as its passenger door opened and a young man clambered out. The cabbie grabbed a large suitcase from the boot as the man tied up his hair wrapping his arms around his stomach as he crossed the road.

The car had hidden Andrew and Neil from view until the man had stepped onto the pavement, spotting them standing by the car garage. His eyes were hooded, circles underneath darkened with exhaustion, brown skin having lost its colour and his hair a matted mess of dark curls. The cab peeled off after payment and the man turned a hollowed view onto Andrew.

Neil stayed quiet and still at the man’s approach.

“Andrew,” The man started. “You won’t know me, but I’ve been kicked out of my parents home. I have nowhere else to go. I’m Nicholas Hemmick, your cousin. Will you let me stay?”

i hope u like the way i included nicky. wouldn’t be a proper au without the babe.

that’s all from me! hope u liked it

[bbhyuckie]

love triangle part two

welcome to part two of this painful mark/reader/yukhei fic. heres part 1

genre: angst and slight fluff

words: 2.3k

warnings: theres a lot of cussing in this!!

you lean up without thinking and press your lips against his

and he is so so surprised but he’s been mastering hiding how he feels for years now

so he kisses you back like his life depends on it

and he doesnt care that you have tears trailing down your face or that he knows that this is all fleeting and an act of emotion from you

he just cares that right now he can be here for you

the kiss is chaste and sweet and despite the circumstances,, perfect

something about the contact makes the burning in your stomach subside for a moment

the stinging in your eyes is stopping

and even though you still definitely want to die you feel like you can stand on your own again

mark squeezes you tightly and places a kiss just above your eyebrows before he lets you go

your legs are wobbly and you miss him instantly

hes standing right there in front of you and you miss him

“stay here ok?” he says, running his hands up and down your arms “let me go grab my keys”

you nod your head

he turns away and youre left there alone with your own emotions for the first time

alone with the weight of yukheis laugh and that pitch in his voice you will never be able to unhear

left with how fucking stupid you feel because obviously he doesnt have an interest in you

left there feeling like a joke

and a bad one at that

you know that you must look ridiculous, standing out here like this

leaned against the sports building with your eyes puffy and your cheeks red and the bitter resentment for yourself staining your tongue

you dont want to be outside anymore

not when there are still people wandering around the campus with snooping eyes

you check your phone and see that theres no new calls or messages

and you think mark is taking too long in there because you want to be out of here now

you take a sharp breath in before pressing your palm to the door of the sports house and stepping inside

you dont know what to expect exactly, youve never gone in past the doors before

yukhei and mark always told you to just wait in the front after their practices or games

you slowly wander down the hallway until you hear something

and that something sounds an awful lot like the voices of both mark and yukhei

your blood runs cold as you walk up to the locker room you hear them talking from

and you realise they arent talking

theyre arguing

you push the door open slightly and peer in

yukhei is half dressed in his baseball uniform and if you werent violently stressed out about the situation at hand you would have appreciated his state of undress

mark looks like hes absolutely fuming

“--too fucking thick skulled to realise whats right in front of you” you catch the end of what mark is saying tightly, like hes trying not to yell

yukhei cocks an eyebrow and you know that look

youve seen it before and you always hoped you could forget it

when his eyes glass and his jaw tenses and his demeanor changes

youve only seen it a handful of times and every time it signalled the calm before the storm

yukhei walks closer to mark and it feels more like a prowl than anything

a challenge

“you wanna say that again, mark?”

yukheis words are cold and calculated as he peers down the bridge of his nose at mark

“which part” your skin crawls the minute mark opens his mouth, you know this wont end well “the fucking idiot part or the shallow slut part?”

yukhei stalks impossibly closer “look, mark” he says it like the name tastes bad in his mouth, “i don’t know what the fuck has gotten into you today, but you best figure it out on your own time.”

yukhei turns and makes for the door to the gym and you think it might be over

“are you actually that fucking blind?” mark asks, and he sound like hes genuine

yukhei keeps walking and mark follows and fuckfuckfuck

“i’m not done, yukhei,” mark says and he reaches out and shoves the taller boys shoulder

yukhei stumbles but catches himself

and as he turns you swear you could die

because the calm before the storm has passed

and suddenly its a downpour

yukhei lunges back at mark and grabs him by the collar of his shirt and pulls hard

in  heartbeat mark is up against a locker with yukheis hands caught up in the fabric of marks uniform and theyre both yelling and theres no way they can possibly hear what the other is saying and its so much

you dont remember when you walked in the room fully, but youre there now, just in time for the grande finale

“--if you want to keep pushing away the only person on campus that’s worth a shit, then be my fucking guest, yuk! maybe now she realizes what a piece of shit you are-- maybe, maybe now that you’ve shown your true colors she’ll get that you’re only interested in someone you can crawl into bed with and fuck a few times before you get bored!”

yukhei tightens his grip on mark, “and what if its true? why should you give a shit, huh?”

“because when shes too caught up in your dumb ass, she doesnt realize that someone here actually wants the best for her. so either figure it the fuck out or leave her out of your games.” mark nearly growls it out

yukhei looks stunned for a beat before he pulls his arm back and curls his fist.

“yukhei.”

youre a moment too late

the room falls quiet

yukhei yanks his hand out of marks uniform and turns around

“y/n, i--” yukhei tries

“mark, let’s go.” the shake in your voice cuts through

mark stares at you wide eyed for a moment before he wipes the blood from his newly split lip and grabs his bag off the ground

you turn and make for the door when yukhei tries again, weakly calling your name

and any other day under any other circumstances you wouldve stopped

wouldve listened

wouldve tried

but with the words he was yelling frenzying around in your mind

and the image of him slamming mark against the wall

and the image of blood oozing out of marks lip

you cant do it

“practice starts in five.” you echo his words from before and this time your voice is absolutely wrecked

you know youre crying again as you barge out of the locker room doors and nearly run down the hall to the exit

mark is behind you and he hasnt said anything yet

youre grateful for that

hes the only person in your life that seems to know when you dont want to hear anything more

by the time you get to marks car you cant tell what youre feeling anymore

overwhelmingly hurt, of course

but theres so much more underneath that

theres anger and longing and disbelief and just

an indescribable heartache

you never thought you would feel something like this

never wanted to

and all of it makes your stomach turn and if you hadnt been too nervous to eat at lunch that day youre sure youd be sick by now

you drop into his passenger seat and he climbs in the drivers side and starts his car

as youre pulling out of the parking lot he asks “do you wanna talk about it?”

“no” you say quietly

“okay” he says, nearly as quiet

he reaches over the console and rests his hand on your knee, gliding his thumb back and forth

the rest of the ride is quiet until he turns on a street heading to your neighborhood

“i don’t want to go home yet.” you say and it scares you how little you sound like yourself

your voice is shot and your nose is stuffy and it feels like youre in a foreign body with foreign emotions

“okay,” mark says in an instant, “where do you want to go?”

you think for a minute because you dont know

definitely not home

definitely not out in public

definitely not away from mark

“can we go to your house?” mark glances over at you “i can help clean you up” you motion weakly at his bust lip before you stare down at your hands

“yeah-- yeah of course we can”

mark knew he wasnt supposed to have anyone over when his parents were out of town

he knew good and well

and typically he followed that rule well and did his homework, played some video games and went to bed

but for you

for you he could make an exception

mark only lives a few streets away from you so you pull into his driveway soon after

he takes your bag for you and pushes the front door to his house open so you can go first

his house is perpetually new to you

you had only been over a handful of times, and always with the rest of your friends

it had never been you and mark before

it was always you and yukhei

your chest sank again as you realised that probably wouldnt be the case again

mark walked you through the foyer in to the living room

“you can get comfortable wherever. my parents are out of town for a while.”

you kicked off your uniform shoes and sank into his sofa

mark walked into the kitchen and placed both of your bags down on the island

“do you want anything to eat? drink?”

“water, please,” as the cottonmouth after crying began to set in

mark returned shortly after with water, a blanket, and the remote to the tv

as you sipped on your water mark threw the blanket over the both of you and clicked on netflix

you wondered idly how he remembered your favorite disney movie as he put it on the tv

you pushed yourself back into the couch cushions and pulled the blanket up to your chin as the emotional exhaustion hit you in full force

your body was screaming at you to go to sleep, to get some shut eye and stop feeling so awful

and the circumstances are perfect

youre warm and you feel safe and the theme song to your favorite movie is playing

before you know it youve dozed off

you dont dream and you dont really move very much

but you sleep deep and almost forget about all the shit youll have to deal with when you wake up

but when you do wake up

eyes drifting open

you really do forget about what you have to deal with

because mark is asleep and next to you and your head is on his chest and his arm is around you and its perfectperfectperfect

your phone buzzes from the kitchen and your bubble bursts, because you cant stay here and happy forever

slowly, you detangle yourself from mark and the blankets and tiptoe to the kitchen

you glance out the windows and see that its started to snow and its already dark out

you pull your phone out of your bag and wish for the blank screen you had seen outside of the sports house earlier that day

but luck does not seem to be on your side

theres three missed calls from yukhei, a string of message, and a text from your mom

you check your moms first, because truly nothing compares to  mothers wrath

momma bear: hey sweetie, where are you? are you coming home tonight? the roads are getting bad

you typed out a quick response of “hey mom! sorry, i fell asleep doing homework at jennies. do you mind if i stay the night here?”

her bubbles immediately popped up on the screen and you were filled with anxiety

bubbles

bubbles

bubbles

momma bear: sure thing sweet pea, text me if you need anything. love you

“love you too!”

you breathed out a sigh of relief

and then remembered yukhei exists

yuk: talk to me

yuk: im sorry

yuk: what did you hear?

yuk: i didnt mean it

yuk: i didn’t know u were there i really didnt

yuk: y/n

yuk: at least talk to me

yuk: im so sorry

you clicked your phone closed and put it back in your bag before glancing back over at the living room

mark was still fast asleep, bloodied mouth slightly parted and head tipped back against the sofa

his arms and legs were situated a little oddly but you realized they were you shaped from where you had slipped out

without much thought, you grabbed a cloth and wet the corner, walking over to him gingerly

you succesfully washed away the blood and forming scab he had on his bottom lip without waking him

to be honest you watched him for a while

you watched the deep rise and fall of his chest

watched the way his hair moved when he readjusted

watched the way his eyes moved under their lids

and the memories of all he had said so much earlier in the day kept coming back to you

he could yell at yukhei all he wanted, but how could you be so blind?

of course mark was here

mark had been here from the start

always listening and never judging

awake at all hours when you needed him

guilt hit you in waves

because you knew that if you never came to the realization that he had feelings for you, he would have let you keep stepping on his feelings

because you thought you loved yukhei, but it had nothing in comparison to the way mark must have felt for you

a yawn racked your body and you looked up at the clock in marks kitchen

you had been awake for an hour, lost in your own thoughts and lost in mark

you decided that was enough for one day

so you tucked yourself back under the blankets, back into the couch, and back next to mark

you could worry about everything else tomorrow.

part 1, part 2, part 3

[mindgoesmad]

October 23rd, 1992 - 8:00 p.m.

“Atticus!” His Mother Helena yelled from the kitchen, her voice echoing into the living room where he sat. The small boy lifted his head and looked over curiously in her direction. Even at five years old, he knew that tone of voice all too well. She was about to tell him it was his bedtime, and quite frankly, he wasn’t ready just yet. Ignoring her call, he continued to play with the Hot Wheel track that was scattered across the floor. If he absolutely had to choose a favorite, it wasn’t some sports car or muscle car; it was his 1950s Oldsmobile. He received it as a gift from his Grandfather Aleksandar last Christmas – a spitting image of his own car. The navy-blue color, the white wall tires, Atticus absolutely loved it. Anything his Grandfather gave him was his favorite. They were best friends from the moment he was born, and it would continue to be that way until his death 16 years later. Aleksandar was the ultimate badass, and he looked up to him so much; always wanting to stay right by his side any time he was around.

“Oprostite, mladiću…” Helena was now standing right behind him, hands on her hips with a dishrag in one of them. “I know you heard me calling for you. It’s time for bed.”

Atticus groaned and his small eyebrows furrowed together. “I’m not tired.” He stated defiantly.

“I don’t care, and I didn’t ask that.” His Mother said firmly, starting to get a little irritated at this point. “Don’t make me go get your Father.”

With that statement, Atticus slowly rose to his feet, standing at a short three foot, two inches tall. Who would have thought this five-year-old would grow to be almost six feet tall by the age of eighteen? He was always relatively small for his age in his younger years, but that didn’t hinder his attitude in the slightest. Huffing and puffing, he grabbed his car and very sassily headed up the stairs – his Mom standing at the end of them, smiling, and making sure he went all the way up before she walked back towards the kitchen.

8:30 p.m. –

After accomplishing the typical nighttime duties, Atticus laid in his bed in the dark; staring up at the ceiling. Teeth were brushed, toys were put away, and his Spiderman thermal pajamas covered his tiny frame. For someone so small, and so young, he was so incredibly aggressive and gutsy. He never wanted to go to bed when he was told, and he certainly did not appreciate anyone telling him what to do – parents, or otherwise. Eventually, he would comply… but not without putting up an argument first and thinking he could get out of it. A long, exasperated sigh escaped his lips, and his frown grew deeper with each passing minute. “I don’t want to go to bed…” He mumbled to himself, turning onto his side and now facing his bedroom window. As headlights quickly illuminated his room, he sat up and quietly stepped out of his bed – curiosity always got the better of him. When he saw his Grandfathers infamous blue Oldsmobile outside, a grin smeared across the boys' face. Sleep? Who needed sleep? Not him. Not with Grandpa Aleksandar around.

9:00 p.m. –

Atticus had managed to quietly creep down the steps without hitting a single creak in the floorboards. That was something that he had mastered over the countless times of him sneaking downstairs. Sometimes he wanted a snack, or three, when he didn’t finish his dinner like he was supposed to. He could faintly hear the muffled voices of men talking hastily from the kitchen, but the doors were closed. All he ever wanted was to hang out with the men in his family, but sometimes they would shoo him away and tell him ‘adults were talking’. That made Atticus so mad. He couldn’t wait to be an adult someday and be able to be apart of everything. If someone were to ask him how he felt about that stance now though, he would say he wished he had gotten more of a childhood and that he was a stupid child.

The back door had shut, and the kitchen grew silent. The small boy was laying on the floor trying to look through the crack at the bottom of the door to see if they left. Once he didn’t see any feet, he popped back up and slowly twisted the knob of the door that lead from the dining room to the kitchen. The room was completely empty, and a disappointed grunt escaped him. ‘Hungry…’ Atticus thought to himself, making his way to the pantry. He pulled the doors open before hearing footsteps on gravel right outside the back door. Frantically, the boy shut himself in the pantry and peeked into the kitchen through the slotted doors. He made a game out of it, pretending to be a ninja when he snuck out of his bedroom. Getting caught meant he lost, and he was competitive. Naturally, he would do just about anything to not get caught. Punishment was also something that helped him stay as sneaky as possible. The last thing he wanted was his Father Ivan smacking him upside the head for being so unruly.

9:30 p.m. –

Atticus had tried to keep quiet the best he could, but the things that were happening right before his eyes were far too much for his young mind to comprehend. Ivan, Aleksandar, and his Uncle Leon had dragged an unconscious man into the backdoor. A dirty rag was stuffed in his mouth, his body limp, his hands and feet tied together with very thick rope. The boy couldn’t rip his eyes away. He was entranced with it all, and of course, he always let his curiosity get the best of him. Atticus really knew now that if he was found, he would be in so much trouble that he’d regret it for weeks… but he had forgotten about his game that he always so innocently played. He wasn’t a ninja anymore – just a curious child in a place he should not have been.

10:00 p.m. –

The prisoner was now strapped to a chair but was fully awake and scanning the room in a frenzied state. Aleksandar, Ivan, and Leon went back and forth from speaking in Croatian, to English. Atticus only knew some Croatian, but by no means was he fluent. Picking up bits and pieces was the best he could do, but even then, his young mind could not wrap around some of the things that were being said.

“You think you could just rip us off, Jakov?” Atticus’ Father spewed. He had never seen him this angry before. Red in the face, sleeves rolled up, and tie loosened – he looked like a madman.

“I didn’t! I swea-…” Leon backhanded the man now known as Jakov in the mouth, and blood slowly began to drip out from between his lips.

“Let’s just get this over with, please.” Leon said, looking over at his Brother Ivan before they both looked to Aleksandar. Neither of them did a thing without their Fathers say so. He was in charge – the leader of a large crime family in Croatia. Atticus’ family. Something that he would learn in the years to come.

Aleksandar was always a very reserved man. He was someone who liked to watch and soak everything all in. Never making impulsive decisions, never losing his cool; a true businessman through and through. That did not mean, however, that he would take treachery lightly. He was a man of his word, and he handled things with grace and tact. The two sons he had under his wing though… They acted on anger. They were always quick to jump the gun and answer any form of disobedience with severe consequences. As they looked to him for an answer, his response was pulling a cigar out of its case and lighting it. The room was quiet. The tension in the air was unbearably thick.

“Did you steal from the compound, Jakov?” Atticus’ Grandfather asked calmly, taking a drag from his cigar and blowing it into his face.

“Y-yes…” Jakov started. “But it was only to take care of my family! I would never lie to you, Mr. Petrović…” Jakov was shaking in his seat, eyes pouring tears down his face and blood coating his busted lips.

“Ah… but you did lie to me, Jakov.” Aleksandar stated before smashing his cigar out in the ashtray next to him. “You know the consequences of something like that. I cannot trust you anymore.” The old man’s voice was raspy and deep, obviously affected by the years of smoking. Reaching into his inside jacket pocket, he pulled out a large bowie knife and removed it from its case. “Your family will still be taken care of… but we have no use for you anymore.”

Atticus’ little heart began to pound in his chest as his eyes watched everything unfold from the pantry. His eyes had to have been the size of saucers from everything his young mind was trying to take in. He had seen movies and tv shows, but that was about the depth of it all for him. The movies he did watch that held inappropriate things for a 5-year-old, caused his Mother to yell at his Father every single time for it. She always tried to shelter him and baby him. He was her baby, after all. Her only child. Helena did not want him tainted with the ways of the world, but she knew deep down that was inevitable given with what she married into. Atticus began to grow up at the age of five.

Aleksandar handed the knife over to Ivan, Atticus’ Father. Ivan was a harsh and angry man. He never hesitated with anything, and was purely emotion driven – dangerous, but someone that would get a job done no matter how heinous the act might be. He gripped the handle of the knife and approached Jakov until he was standing right before him; somewhat shielding Atticus’ view from the pantry.

“P-please…” Jakov began to uncontrollably weep and beg for his life. “You don’t have to do this, Ivan. We grew up together! Please!” Ivan just stood there and didn’t budge; standing as still as a statue. He didn’t respond with words, and he had no patience for begging thieves. Pulling his arm back somewhat, he raised the knife and brought it up to Jakov’s throat. Before the man could say another word, Ivan grabbed him by the hair and slashed him with an unmatched ferocity. When he stepped to the side, Atticus could see Jakov now. His Father had lacerated his throat so deeply, that he almost decapitated him. The males limp head tilted backward and exposed the gash even more, and all he could see was red. The brief gurgling sound, and the wetness dripping against the floor rang in the boys ears. In that very moment, Atticus let out a cry; eyes filling up with confused tears. He felt such an overwhelming sense of fear.

The three men feverishly ran over to the pantry and pulled the door open, only to see Atticus’ small frame standing before them. He looked up at them, face splotchy and eyes bloodshot. The expressions on their faces were that out of a horror movie. All three met him with petrified faces, and the room was filled with silence once more. Aleksandar picked Atticus up, pressed his face into his chest, and took him out of the room – leaving Leon and Ivan to clean up their mess.

“Shh…” Atticus’ Grandfather whispered to him. “You are a Petrović… We do not cry over those who wrong us."

10:30 p.m.

[thepineapplejuicer]

Z nation fanfic- Z Fighter

(None of the znation character belong to me, only Maren)

I will be posting regularly on my Wattpad https://www.wattpad.com/leesh54_C

Part Two:

With dead Zombies around me I was convinced that the group would move on, yet there he was, cruising next to me. "You sure, Miss? Its dangerous out there." he asks again. I glare at him, to familiar with that phrase. The woman next to him offering me a smile. In all honesty I wasn't sure if they were genuinely nice people or just looking for a victim. Either way I wasn't interested in group activities, "Don't worry, sideburns, I can handle myself."

He just frowns and shrugs his shoulders, zooming faster, but slow enough that if I changed my mind he would stop.

I didn't.

I just glanced over to see the three figures, a women and two men, one younger and one older looking me over from the trunk of the pick up. Soon enough he sped ahead until they where out of sight.  Thinking of what he said I chuckle to myself, "I am the danger." 

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

I sit quietly on a dried up fountain, somewhere in New Jersey, Zs beat to a pulp at my feet. The popping of my knuckles sound gruesome, as if they should be broken. My throat clogs up with the saliva I keep forgetting to swallow. I keep getting lost in my own head. I unwrap the bandages around my hands and forearms, laying them down on my jean jacket. Scratchy fabric numbs my finger as I graze it. I glace down at the patch, yellow and white with the logo of a kangaroo.

"This logo is great! This place will be packed in no time!" I remember saying.

"Of course, sweetheart! Who doesn't want to learn how to box?" his voice is different, for some reason I cant remember it being sweet or meaningful. It is distorted, deep and angry, but it doesn't match the memory. Suddenly the memory changes, beautiful beige and orange turn into greys and whites. The sweet sounds of encouragement and laughs turn into shattering glass and pathetic tears. I remember the exact moment my own father's footsteps became my biggest fear.

An empty gym with one member, forced to train day and night.

One member who paid the bills.

One member who got beat close to death dozens of times a week.

The only one who cared enough.

The only one to convince herself she was helping.

I still remember the feeling of his old gloves, the smell of old leather, the rusted brown with 10 year old dreams sewn within the stitching. I still remember the last thing he said to me when I burned them.

His voice was clear as day, but interrupted immediately.

I am pulled back to the abandoned city as an enormous explosion shatters all silence for miles. I swing my head behind me and watch the cloud of smoke rise above buildings wondering what had caused it. I quickly grabbed my jacket and bandages, running the opposite direction.

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

Along the rooftops I keep an eye out for cover, sunset will be creeping up on me soon. Its been harder to keep my mind from wondering ever since I got to New York, nothing seemed real. Maybe I am finally realizing that all this....

I jump over the ledge onto a new building, shorter than the last.

All this is pointless.

I stop and take a breath.

You don't live through something like this, the apocalypse, you survive and so far surviving is getting more fruitless for me. I've seen families together, protecting each other, but me? I've lost that long before the outbreak. Love is as extinct as world peace at this point.

I sit down on a fuse box, covered by a rusting green cover.

I chuckle dryly, "I've got nothing to loose."

Feeling this way, it comes with survival, thinking that there is nothing out there but death. God, it's nothing like the movies or games. I can't go one day without asking myself what the point is, yet at the same damn time I'm to much of a coward to pull the trigger. Two years of suffering alone, two years of killing and starving. I've never felt like I had absolutely nothing, but this was it,  a human's breaking point. The songs about how strong we are, God were they wrong.

I cant stop laughing as I cry, playing with the mask in my hands.

Our breaking point was just hidden behind all the things that kept us going.

In the corner of my eye I see something black and woven. Suddenly I gasp as I am pulled down.

I turn only to be greeted by a hidden face with heavy hands over my nose and mouth.

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

My eyes slowly peel open, breaking the layer of crust that sealed them. A familiar roar of cheering jolts me up and I find myself in boxing gear, my baton next to me. I look down at the black, blood stained sports bra and shorts and then at the clean bandages around my arms and feet. My jean jacket hugging my body loosely. "wake-y wake-y!" a male voice yells over a loud speaker. I look up and see cage bars all around me, through them a crowd of people, standing on the ground and on cars all screaming chaotically.  My eyes land on the woman in the corner, face purple from bruises and bursting with cuts.

"In this corner we have the Tattoo Madame!" he drags the name loudly as he points at me. I scrunch my face in a baffled expression, "Tattoo Madame, what?" I mouth, still in awe.

"And in this corner we have Itty Bitty Betty!"

My eyes follow his arm as he points to the woman in front of me, jumping around like an amateur fighter, punching the air. "what the-"

"LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLE!"

A loud dong sends the crowd into a frenzy and like someone unclipped her leash she catapulted herself toward me. "Whoa, hey!" I grunt, ducking to the side. She turned, and I couldn't tell if her face was permanently angry or me dodging her was like insulting her mother. She came at me again, sloppy but with intense speed. Her footing was wrong and improvised, like a mix of fighting styles, but none of them pairing well with each other. I duck and send her in different directions, trying to buy some time to look around for a way out. "BORING!" the man yells, his voice traveling to megaphones in the corners.

That's it.

I'm sick of dancing.

The moment she comes in for a blow, I offer a decoy punch and launch my bare foot into her jaw, feeling her bone pop out of place against my toes. The crowd gasps and 'oos' in unison, watching her go down.

"It's unbelievable! Incredible! One hit people! She went down with one hit! She didn't even need the Taser! Gents, give it up for our new champion!"

"Champion?" I whisper looking around the cage.

"Who will be her new challenger?" his voice calms down as the crowd does, that's when I yell at him. "What the hell is going on?!" I scream.

He looks at me and smiles, "Really shouldn't have been lost in thought, little girl."

My eyes widen, "Did you knock me out?!"

He ignores me and pumps up the crowd.

"Come on you wimps! Whose going to join this lovely lady in the ring?!"

The crowd goes quiet until one voice blurts out, "I will."

I turn and feel the air leave my lungs, "Sideburns?" I whisper.

He simply winks as the cage door opens. I don't know what his plan is, but I'm ready to run for it-

A loud gunshot stills the crowd and we all turn to the announcer whose head is punctured with a single bullet. Before everyone looks back I turn to see the man from the pick up truck signaling for me to follow. I scoop up my baton and rush out the cage, several people grabbing us. A second gunshot drops a random spectator, spiking fear in the others. I tase those around me, creating an electric shield as I run into the dark street. Some of the men and women come after us. I stop in the middle of the road, refusing to run anymore, but suddenly two light beams blind me, running over those who chased us. I hear a woman's voice, rushed and enraged, "Get in!"

[jos-corner-of-the-world]

Unexpected (6)

Part 5

You sat on the floor in the practice room lazily as you watched the guys work.  You felt really guilty they were here doing your work, but after you tried helping them and getting rejected a few times, you just let them work.  You watched fondly as Lily ran around “helping” as much as she could.

Before too long though, you had to kick them out for the beginning of classes.  They were reluctant, but you knew it would be a frenzy if some of your students saw them here.

“Sure you’ll be okay?” Yoongi asked at the door.

“I told you a thousand times, I really am okay. It was just a minor fall and I don’t even feel the cut.” you assured him.

His eyes were guarded, and he looked apprehensive of leaving you alone.

“You’ll call if anything happens, or if you need help with anything?” He asked.

You smiled at him.

“I promise.”

Classes were spent working on dances for the showcase.  Usually certain classes met at certain times and days, but for the next couple of weeks, you allowed the students to come in even if it wasn’t their scheduled time.  A lot of them were nervous about the showcase and wanted the extra practice.

Imogen had suggested that you charge extra for extra time in the studio, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. For one, they weren’t learning anything new, just using the studio to practice in so they had each other for questions.  And two, they wouldn’t need to have the extra practice time if it wasn’t for the showcase you  needed to save your business. You weren’t going to put your students at a disadvantage when all they were doing is what they love and work hard for.

“Hey Michael, can I see you for a second.” You asked, coming into one of the rooms he was practicing in.

He followed you to his office.

“What’s up Ms. Y/n?” he asked, his usual way of greeting you.

“Michael, how many times do I have to tell you that you can just call me Y/n?” you asked.

“As many as you want, but I’m still gonna call you Ms. Y/n.” Michael laughed.  “My momma taught me to show respect and I respect you.”

“Well, that I do appreciate.  So, you know the choreography you helped me on with the Ed Sheeran duo dance? How about you be my partner?”

“Really?” he asked, surprised.

“Absolutely.  You’re one of the top students, and you’ll be going to a performing arts college in a couple years, so if you want the extra dance, I’d be happy to give it to you.”

“Yes! I’d love to.” he agreed happily.

You sent him back to the dance he was working on before you pulled him away.  You sat at your desk smiling, knowing that this was going to turn out well.

The next two weeks of preparations flew by quickly.  The guys had to make an unexpected trip back to Korea for a few days, but they came back as they promised they would.  Their time in Chicago had even gotten extended for another month as they would be recording their new album and doing various different trainings here.   You smiled at the thought of having another six weeks to spend with them.  That was going to be one hell of a hard goodbye when it came time, but you knew it would.

You were pulled from your thoughts when you heard a heavy fall and someone cry out in pain.

You ran from your office into the various dance studios, knowing Michael was the only one here right now.

You found him in lying on the floor, cradling his foot.

“Michael, what happened? Are you okay?!” you asked, dropping to the floor next to him.

“I was messing around, doing some flips and I fell. It hurts, Ms. Y/n. It hurts really bad.” Michael said, trying to hold back tears.

You got him in your car and drove him to the local sports doctor that helped out with your studio sometimes.  His mother met you there shortly after.

“Well there’s definitely good news here.” the doctor said putting showing Michael’s xray.

“There’s no break or fracture to your foot.  You’ll have a horrible bone bruise, and it’s sprained, but with a few weeks of healing you’ll be just fine.  I suggest with your future, you take a few months off and let it heal completely, that way there will be no ramifications to your career later.”

“Ms. Y/n, I’m so sorry!” Michael wailed, hearing he’d have to sit out.

“Michael, don’t.  You need to focus on your future, and not this one showcase.  You’re going to have so many more opportunities to show your talents, just you wait.” you smiled at him.

“But who else is going to learn the dance when the showcase is 6 days away?” he asked.

“Aw hon, that’s for me to worry about. You just have to focus on getting better, alright?” you said.

“Okay. I really am sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, these things happen.”

You were panicking, absolutely panicking. Michael had been right, who was going to learn this dance?  But you weren’t going to let him see you freaking out, it really wasn’t his fault he got injured, and you weren’t going to be angry with him or hold any animosity towards him for getting injured. It could have happened to anyone.

You heard the front door open, knowing the guys were supposed to show up.  Lily was going to be with Clara this afternoon, so this morning you told the guys just to walk right in.

You looked towards the practice room door and saw the guys standing there, amused faces intact.

“Why are you laying in the middle of the floor?” Taehyung asked.

“It’s all fucked.  It’s going to fail, I’m going to fail. It’s hopeless.” you said.

“Whoa, that’s some interesting language coming out of your mouth right now.” Yoongi said. But he wasn’t laughing. He could tell you were distraught about something, and it made his chest constrict a little.

“Sorry. I’m just in a really tough spot right now.  My dance from my duo got hurt during practice. He’s fine, but he can’t participate in the showcase. I know it seems I’m angry at him, but I’m not. He’s the best dancer I have, and I don’t know that anyone else is going to have time to learn the dance with just under a week left.” you said, flopping over on your stomach.

“I’ll do it.” you heard someone say.

You jumped up to your knees, looking around frantically at the group.  You thought it was Jungkook who said it, but you weren’t sure.

“What?” you asked.

“I said I’ll do it.” Jungkook confirmed.

“Funny.” you said, throwing yourself back down on the ground, staring at him.

But the looks on all their faces was serious.

You stood up quickly, giving them what you assumed was an extremely confused look.

“You’re serious! Why are you serious right now?!” you asked.

“I’d like to help with the showcase” Jungkook said seriously.

“Holy shit. I-- I want to say yes so bad, but I don’t know.” you admitted.

“Why don’t you know? You can even use me as a way to garner more interest.” Jungkook said, smiling happily at the thought.

“While I appreciate that so much, I won’t do it. I want to succeed on my own. Prove to myself I have what it takes to be a successful business owner.  If not, then I know that while dance may be for me, owning a business is not. But thank you anyway.”

“Noona, we just want to help you be successful.” Jungkook said.

“I know sweetie, but this is my own thing.” you said, smiling at him.

“But if you want to dance, I’m fine with that. It’ll just be a surprise.”

“Okay!” Jungkook agreed easily.

Part 7

[unabashedly-here]

A/N: If there was a way to describe how Peter Parker looked while he was talking to the reader, it would definitely be the gif of Matt Smith in Doctor Who. There is absolutely no doubt about that in my mind. The only thing from Homecoming is the videos from the beginning and the compound moving.

Part 1,      Part 2,      Part 3       Part 5   Part 6

The next week was seemingly never ending, from your perspective. You were alone in the Avengers Tower, except for the occasional government worker strolling around. That left you with your worries for the team and, more importantly, Tony’s and Peter’s well being. You couldn’t believe that Tony would bring a kid to fight against highly trained Avengers. You could only imagine Aunt May’s sorrow if her last remaining family member was killed doing something that she couldn’t have possibly known about.

Ned noticed your change of attitude during school as you tried to maintain your grades with the newfound stress your father had accidentally placed on you. At first, he teased you that you weren’t the same because Peter wasn’t there, but stopped when you didn’t laugh or brush it off in any way. “Y/N, I was just joking,” Ned said carefully, “Is everything okay?”

You tried to smile. “Yeah, I just haven’t been sleeping well,” you mentioned before lying, “My father has a work thing for the week and it’s just hard to fall asleep by myself.”

Nodding, Ned offered, “How about we have a movie night then? Maybe killing your eyes will make you too tired to even think about being awake.” You laughed a bit at the mention. The suggestion was entirely platonic since Ned knew how you felt about Peter. He was trying to see what Peter thought of you, but found it harder to read his best friend’s emotions as easily as he once was able to.

“That sounds like fun,” you answered sincerely. It was Friday, so you didn’t have to worry about school work just yet and longed to spend some time with one of your friends. “Since Peter isn’t here, we can actually watch something besides The Empire Strikes Back!” The boy was obsessed with the second Star Wars

“Maybe we can finally move onto Return of the Jedi,” Ned joined in on the joke. “I’ll text you a time and you’ll text me where you live?” You nodded, deciding that you’d rather have company than keep your secret. Besides, you could trust Ned. He was one of your closest friends.

That night, you were checking your phone constantly to see if your dad would contact you in any way. You didn’t reply to Peter’s text concerning a secret he found out about you, so you weren’t expecting a text from him. He was fighting in Germany anyway. No time to text when you’re Spiderman. The fact still shocked you severely, but you focused your nervous energy on setting up the movie night with Ned.

Your phone rang, making you run over to the table and look hurriedly. It was Ned so you breathed out to calm yourself down. You picked it up and Ned just began talking without letting you say anything. “Hey,” he rambled, “Are you sure you gave me the right address, because I’m pretty sure this is the building Tony Stark’s penthouse is in. Are you in another apartment building around here? I don’t see many arou-”

“Tell the doorman that Y/N invited you,” you cut him off with a nervous laugh.

Ned sounded star struck. “Okay.” The click signified the call ending and you made sure that the system was working properly. You might be able to keep up with Tony, but sometimes the TV system bested you in your darkest moments. Your phone began exploding with the amount of frenzied texts Ned was sending you. Apparently the doorman was leading him to the door. You opened it with a smile before tipping the doorman and pulling the shocked Ned in. “Please don’t freak out,” you said before Ned could even comprehend what is going on.

“You’re- you’re-”

“A Stark, yeah,” you finished his sentence, “And I really want this to stay a secret.” When Ned didn’t reply, you waved a hand in front of his face. “You catch my drift?”

“How is this even possible?”

“I’m Tony Stark’s daughter,” you explained, “My mom isn’t with him anymore. They got divorced after having me.” You began setting up the snacks before looking up. “Is this weird? This is probably strange.” Ned only nodded with wide eyes. “Does this change our friendship?” He shook his head quickly.

It took him a few seconds to form another sentence. “Does anyone else know?”

“No one,” you stated, “And you aren’t going to tell anyone, right?” He shook his head again.

“Your dad is Iron Man!” Better he had his little freak out in private instead of at school.

You nodded before asking, “So what movie do you want to watch?” Ned, still shocked at how casual you were handling this and at the overall evening, stated some random movie. He barely watched it, wanting to know more about being related to Tony Stark and how you got to this point of your life.

“Why didn’t you tell everyone?” Ned asked one more question before he had to go home.

Sighing, you leaned on the doorframe and looked at Ned. You were acting very nonchalantly, but you knew that you were hiding something rather important and you hoped that they wouldn’t hate you for keeping it a secret. “I didn’t want people to think I got into Midtown because of my father,” you revealed, “Plus, I didn’t really want to popular because of my last name.” Ned nodded, still slightly dazed.

Having Ned to hang out with took your mind off the unease you felt about your dad and Peter. In return, you answered all his questions, feeling slightly relieved that at least one of your friends knew who you actually are. You still had no idea if Peter knew that you were a Stark or anything like that. F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed you the next morning that the team would be returning later in the day so you arranged to be at the airport to greet Tony and potentially Peter.

Once the airplane landed, you let out a sigh of relief. You would have been notified if anyone was seriously injured, you told yourself. Knowing that Steve, Wanda, and Sam wouldn’t be on the flight, you did a mental checklist on who could possibly be on. You had heard that Clint had joined Steve’s side as well as a new hero. Someone was missing. Natasha Romanoff’s disappearance unsettled you, but you focused on who was on the plane.

Vision was the first to get out of the plane. He didn’t appear to notice you, or he knew that you were more worried about the other people on the flight. You offered a halfhearted smile in his general direction, telling yourself that you'd talk to him once you were back at the tower. When you saw the familiar brown hair as he stuck his head out of the plane, your smile bled from your face when you saw some of the injuries on his face alone.

Peter was still smiling widely, regardless of the black eye he was sporting. He exited the plane with a little hop in his step, looking over you for a second. His eyes grew wide as he turned in your direction. You smiled slightly and waved, your nerves clearly shown. His little hopping turned into tripping as he scrambled to get to you. Peter stumbled over his words breathlessly as he approached you, "Hey Y/N! W-w-What are you doing here? Not like I'm not h-happy. It's just unexpected. I mean-"

Out of your peripheral vision, you could see Tony getting out of the plane and shot Peter an apologetic glance before you heard Tony yell, "Y/N! You have to help me with some repairs. I'll need your small hands." Tony, after realizing that your hands were just slightly more nimble, decided you would be essential with the small nooks in his suit that Tony couldn't get his hands through. He didn't trust Dummy the robot of course. Peter looked between the two with a flustered expression, knowing that you knew Tony Stark, yet not knowing the actual extent of it.

Approaching the two teens, Tony asked, "Is Spiderling bothering you?" Peter looked absolutely appalled that he would just reveal his secret identity to you. Rolling his eyes, he waved off his concern. "Don't worry," Tony stated, "Peter Parker, this is Y/N, my daughter."

"Daughter?" Peter echoed, still terribly confused.

"Yeah, daughter, so no funny business," Tony warned before turning to you, "Ready, kid?" Not able to trust your words, you only nodded and began walking towards the limo. You knew Tony was trying act casual even though you could see his own injuries right in front of you. "Spiderling, we can give you a lift as well." 

Peter was still in shock over all the information violently thrown at him. How could you kept this a secret from your friends? He was well aware of his own secrets that he kept from you and your friends, but he couldn’t understand why you'd want to hide this. If anyone knew you were a Stark, you wouldn’t have gotten a tutor if you didn’t want one. You could have been popular with Liz Allan and Flash. You wouldn't have to be friends with him and Ned, Peter noted disappointedly.

During the car ride, it was strangely quiet, considering Peter had been talking Tony’s ear off the whole trip. You avoided Peter’s gaze by looking at your phone and pretending to be busy. Sometimes, you’d look up and smile a bit at his anxiousness, but looked away before he could see it. Peter tried not to look hurt and focused on what Tony was saying.

Once Peter left the car, Tony’s cool expression faded to a smile at you. “Was everything okay while I was away?”

“Everything is fine,” you mentioned, “How was Germany?” Tony looked down for a second before looking back up and smiling to reassure you. He didn’t want to tell you what he found out about his parents and how it changed him. 

“Same old,” he chuckled as they approached the Avengers Tower. It wasn’t really the Avenger’s Tower since they preferred the facility upstate and Tony started using this as his Stark Tower again. Tony looked at it nostalgically. “I’m planning on selling this building,” he stated as if it was nothing of importance, “We’re going to be staying permanently in the Facility upstate.”

You looked at him with wide eyes. “What about Midtown? I couldn’t possibly commute.”

“Well, you can go to school somewhere near us,” Tony offered with a little nod, “Oh, yeah. You must see Peter quite a bit.” His face showed genuine realization at the fact before he thought for a bit and turned to you. “Hey, can you watch the kid? Make sure he’s doing okay. It’s going to take a couple of months to sell it anyway.” You only nodded, not wanting to push Tony at the moment.

When Peter got into his house, he first had to deal with Aunt May’s concern and hastily lied about what had injured him. He lied about a guy named Steve from Brooklyn as he explored his souvenirs from his trip. Peter looked through all the footage, stopping at the video from in the car home. It was some of Mr. Stark and Peter noticed you look up. He must not have seen it, but you smiled tinily at him before looking back down.

He couldn't have guessed that you were Tony Stark’s daughter. Why wouldn’t you trust him? Didn’t you trust him? Peter groaned when he realized the secret he had been keeping. He was being hypocritical. He looked back at the video of you smiling when you thought no one was looking and found himself smiling back.

Crap, he was definitely in too deep. 

[canumoveurseatup-no]

Easter Egg Hunts

Summary: who doesn’t love Easter? And Easter egg hunts?!

Pairing: DaddyDom!Pietro x Little!Black!Reader

Warnings: 18+ since it’s Cg/L despite there not being any sexual descriptions, mentionsnof church

A/N: i know i said i was gonna upload the clint and pietro hex girl au first but i’m stumped for now so i decided to make an Easter Cg/L special! Thank you all for being patient with me!

this was small and done in a rushed, don’t hate me too much for it.

———

all the Russian in this is a rough translation so if you actually speak Russian just bear with me okay, I tried.

malen’kiy- little one

Spasibo- thank you

Tetushka- auntie

gde papa?- where’s daddy?

Da- yes

Printsessa- princess

khoroshaya devushka- good girl

Nyet problem- no problem

Ya lyublyu tebya- I love you

Khoroshaya rabota- good job

——-

“Gde papa?” you asked Wanda who sat with you in the kitchen dying eggs. You were wearing your night gown, bonnet snug on your head, body and teeth tingling with cleanliness.

“He went to the store to get some last minute Easter decorations and to talk to the bunny for your basket”

You gasped and ran to your phone on the charger, immediately dialing Pietro before it was too late. Easter was tomorrow and you wanted your special candy.

“Da, printsessa?,” you heard the beeping of things being scanned through the phon

“папа, I want the edible easter grass in my basket. Tell the bunny,”.

You heard him laugh at your request. This was your first Easter together, especially with you as a little so he was learning a lot about this holiday and you.

“That’s a thing?,”

“Yes it’s a thing! And it’s really good,” you sat back down with Wanda and put him on speaker while you continued to dye eggs, “Tetushka and me are dying eggs,”

“Are you having fun? is tetushka being nice to you?,”

“Of course I’m being nice to malen’kiy. She’s a sweetheart. Well behaved too, of course she’s having fun,”

This was Wanda’s first time watching you since you’ve come out of the toy box as a little. You were an absolute good girl, not once have you caused a ruckus.

“khoroshaya devushka” he praised, “Well I’ll be back soon. I’ll talk to your well loved easter bunny about your... edible grass”

“Spasibo papa,”

“Nyet problem, malen’kiy,”

“Ya lyublyu tebya,”

“I love you too, princess,”

You hung up first and went back to painting pretty flowers on the eggs that finished drying.

“Your Russian is getting a lot better”

“Spasibo,” you thanked her and bashfully smiled. You and Pietro had been dating for six months now and every other day you’d spend a few hours learning Russian all by yourself.

“Have you found a dress for church tomorrow?,”

Tony figured it would be nice for all of you to go to church since it’s Easter and you all could use a little deliverance.

“Yeah, it’s a pretty lavender and I’m gonna wear my white cardigan,”

“Sounds beautiful malen’kiy,”

She gave you a baby water bottle while you focused on painting the dainty flowers. Easter was one of your favorite holidays. All the pastels and candy and bunnies everywhere. You were hoping you’d get a new stuffed bunny this year! You usually have to buy them yourself but you have a Daddy now and you’ve been hinting that you wanted the Easter bunny beanie boo. The big cute eyes called to you with the array of colorful fur.

“I’m back!,” half an hour later Pietro came up in the elevator with a bunch of bags and you tried not to look at all of it to ruin the surprise. But you just couldn’t wait for your basket and hopefully new stuffie.

“What are you guys up to?,” he hit Wanda upside the head and she threw a paintbrush at him which he dodged and kissed you on the tip of your nose.

“Painting now!,” you squeal

“Inside voice, malen’kiy”

You nod in slight embarrassment but continued to paint your eggs in excitement. He sat with you and picked up an egg to begin painting as well.

He began painting an intricate bunny while humming your favorite lullaby.

“What time do we have to wake up for church tomorrow?,”

“Service starts at 10:30 so I’d recommend waking up at 8 for you since you like to spend so long on your hair,” Wanda answered him.

You heard the elevator ding and the voices of others flooding down the hall speaking of Easter dinner plans. They must’ve come back from shopping as well since you heard the rustling of bags.

“Okay but I want mashed potatoes and gravy”

“I want cranberry sauce”

“That is disgusting!!,”

“It’s literally the BEST?”

“The words cranberry and sauce shouldn’t go together!”

“I want turkey...”

You giggled at Peter’s simple statement.

“The roast is already in the crock pot. Peter the turkey is being marinated and Bucky, I’ll have your cranberry sauce. Sam, mashed potatoes in gravy was already on the menu,” Wanda gave a cheeky smirk, “Thanks for picking up the extra stuff I needed,”

Of course they’d all be bickering over what to eat for a holiday dinner.

For Christmas last year Steve and Natasha had a whole screaming match about whether you all should have ham or turkey for the feast. Until you and Sam explained that most big households just cook both. Peter and Bucky went back and forth on the topic of potato salad and macaroni salad. It happens a lot, but it’s quite entertaining for you to listen in on.

“Okay but can we have red velvet cake?,” Tony walked in snacking on robin eggs.

“Printsessa has put it in the works already,” she nodded

“All done!,” you held up your egg that sported a cute chickadee hatching out of an egg with flowers all around.

“Khoroshaya rabota, malen’kiy!,” Pietro praised yet again.

You loved it when he did that. You loved the attention of being a good girl, it made your stomach flutter with butterflies.

“Spasibo, papa!,”

“You’re so cute,” Clint came over and pinched your cheek until Piet slapped his hand away.

“No pinching, unless it’s me,”

He hated for anyone to touch you, little or not. Man or woman, he wouldn’t even let Wanda touch you simply because he wanted your affection all for him and him for you.

It was nearing your bed time and you yawned. Pietro knew you were ready to go to sleep, “Say good night to everyone, baby. Time to get some sleep so the bunny can surprise you,”

He picked you up and you tiredly waved to everyone while he took you to bed. You were excited for tomorrow.

All the hymns at church, the pretty pastel colors, the food, the pretty woven baskets, the eggs with candy hidden in pretty flower beds.

You dreamt of all of that. Including a big cute Easter bunny.

———

You stood in the pews clapping your hands and singing with the choir. You stood by Tony who was wearing his infamous colored glasses and tapping his foot. You and Sam were getting into the choir’s rendition of a gospel song. Everyone else was clapping and bopping their heads along. Your favorite part of the service was the songs.

You enjoyed the sermon as well and pinched Piet and Peter who were falling asleep here and there.

The service wasn’t that bad, but you were excited for the Easter egg hunt now! Running to find the most eggs so you can rub it in the faces of others was your favorite.

Once you all got back to the compound, Pepper handed you all specially made Easter baskets made by you all and made for someone else.

Clint made one for Wanda and Natasha,

Nat made one for Peter,

Sam made one for Bucky,

Bucky made one for Tony,

Tony made one for Pepper,

Thor made one for Steve,

Steve made one for Clint,

Vision made one for Wanda

Peter made one Thor despite him not being exactly familiar with this holiday.

And you and Pietro made one for each other. While each basket was made by someone else, each one had one item from each team member. It was honestly adorable.

You squealed as you saw the bunny beanie boo in a giant clear egg, sitting atop your beloved and well awaited edible grass. You hurriedly popped the egg open and put a few strings of it in your mouth, happily chewing and swaying side to side like baby Groot sitting in his pot.

“Spasibo, papa!,” you jumped in his lap and he helped you open your other eggs that were filled with a bunch of treats and trinkets.

You all were grateful for your baskets and thanked each other.

“I love my bunny! What should her name be?,” you were playing with the ears and held her tight.

“Look on her tag. She already has a name,”

He opened the heart tag and found the name “Lollipop” along with her birthday which is November 14th. Beanie boos were your favorite. You couldn’t wait to add her to the family.

“Everyone get your running shoes on... the games are about to begin” Tony clapped his hands and rubbed them together like he was plotting something.

Every year you all had a master Easter egg hunt and whoever found the Golden got the grand prize inside. Sometimes they ranged from the keys to a new car, to two weeks uninterrupted vacation.

For the past three years, Sam has been on a winning streak and you all want to put an end to it so he can put a cork in it. Four years ago Natasha won a shopping spree in Paris, all expenses paid by Tony. The year before that Clint won a new car of his choice. It’s all fun and games and while Tony puts in a lot of money for this, he’ll lut money into a charity as well.

So it’s a fun day.

You all change and and get your yearly egg hunting baskets. Pepper and Tony take you all out to the back yard, both of them wearing cute bunny suits like parents. In the distance you can see glimpses of colored eggs. Usually those will contain candy or money and other cute small trinkets like jewelry or a new watch or a gift card somewhere to shop or eat.

But you were looking for the grand prize. You wanted that egg.

Tony and Pepper placed blindfolds on all of you and spun you all around a bunch of times.

“READYYYY?!,”

“SET!,”

“GOOOO!!,”

You all ripped off your blindfolds and began running in a frenzy. Tripping and laughing at each other. You were hysterically giggling at your dizziness as you picked up a red egg and then an orange one, throwing them in your basket.

“Malen’kiy, there’s one right there!,” you heard Piet shout from the side lines. He decided to watch you rather than become involved. He figured it was a cute tradition and to just watch you have fun.

You saw him point above your head and you saw a bigger green egg propped up on the branch of a tree. You struggled to get it until Wanda came up and snatched it before you could.

“Hey!! That was my egg!!,” you whine and stomped your foot.

“Ya snooze ya lose, printsessa,”

“But I wanted that one,” you pouted.

She shrugged and ran away and you plopped your butt on the ground and folded your arms.

“Y/N! Keep going. There’s more eggs out there, baby,”

“But I wanted that one!,” you felt yourself regressing and tears welled in your eyes. Everyone decided to play dirty this year. Sam tripped Bucky and used him as a pedestal to get a big egg. Peter web snatched an egg from Clint and Natasha tripped Steve. Everyone was getting down and dirty.

You felt a rush of air as Piet rushed over to you and kissed your cheeks, “Don’t get upset, printsessa. There’s more eggs. Plus, you can get back at her by finding that golden egg and rubbing it in her face, whaddaya say?,”

He smiled mischievously and you smiled back, “Play dirty,”

He rushed back by Tony and Pepper and continued smiling. You saw him nudge his head toward the furthest bush in the deepest depth of the compound yard which sprouted a small glimmer of the golden egg. Everyone else was still focused on getting the other eggs. You stood up and dusted yourself off and ran around collecting other eggs, knocking the others over to get more and laughing at each other.

You felt your wings push out from your back before fluttering up into the sky. Everyone stopped what they were doing at the sound of your beating wings. Once you were high enough your dove in the direction of the bush

“She found the egg!!,” you heard Clint shout.

You shot the beams from your eyes to put a big force field around them until you landed in front of the bush and dug through it, pulling the egg out. And jumping for joy

“I found it, I found it!!! I found the egg!,” you screamed and ran back to Pietro. It was a long run but you didn’t let your force field up until you were in the safe zone and hid behind Pietro.

“That wasn’t fair! You can fly!,”

“You all played dirty, you took my egg from me!,” you scowled.

“Fair enough...,” Wanda sighed.

“You broke my winning streak,” Sam whined like a baby. He hates losing, he’s an absolute sore loser.

“Go on, malen’kiy- open it,” Piet urged.

You happily squealed and popped the egg open to find a certificate.

“An all expenses paid room upgrade,” you read aloud, you frowned at the words until your jaw dropped, “DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?!,” you shout and look at everyone else, who just stare back at you and shake their heads.

“Papa! I can get the little room of my dreams!!,”

For the longest time you’ve been looking at stuff to put into your dream room but once it came down to it, you didn’t wanna ask for the help to make it. Money wise and effort wise. It was all a task to worry about.

“Aaaahh! Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!!,” jumping up for joy. And hugging the hell out of Tony and Pepper.

“I can’t wait! Thank you so much,”

You hand the certificate to Pietro and stick your tongue out at the others

“Neh neh neh neh neeeehh,” you place your thumbs on your temples and wave your fingers in a teasing manner before taking Pietro’s hand and taking him inside to clean up for dinner.

“Best Easter eevveeerr,”

———————

Okay this might not be the best but I wanted to dish something out so I’m not leaving you guys hanging for so long.

Thank you all for your patience. I love y’all so much

Please comment and reblog!!

Tags- @babybubastis @yournonlocalpoc @mbaku-babygirl @blackreaders-assemble @vozit @mokacoconut @spideys-wife @crawlingnightmares @valynsia @chonisberonica @warmchick @xye-weirdo @veryhellshdia @ilovefanfic86

[its-love-u-asshole]

hopping into puddles [Ch. 6]

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei/Kuroo Tetsurou

Summary: Tsukishima Kei has bad luck when it comes to a lot of things, mainly when it comes to love. In fact, if it were up to him, he wouldn’t be looking in the first place. But because of a curse brought upon him by his idiotic ancestors, his only hope for a normal life is to find someone who accepts him and his…particularly abnormal nose. Not that it’ll ever happen…

Or at least, that’s what he’s accepted.

Then Kuroo Tetsurou shows up. 

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Note: Second to last chapter everyone! Thanks for all the nice comments so far <3 ALSO THE KUROTSUKI GIFT EXCHANGE HAS OPEN SIGN UPS FOR ANY ARTISTS/WRITERS INTERESTED! 

AO3

The next thing Kei knew, he could smell the harsh cleaners of a hospital, felt the cheap linen sheets he was lying on, and heard the subtle tones of people having hushed conversations somewhere in the room. Vaguely, he thought he could hear muffled shouts and clicks from somewhere else, but it wasn't his concern yet. Kei opened his eyes, blinking slowly as they adjusted. He had a terrible headache, and felt slightly woozy, but otherwise, nothing was amiss. His glasses were missing, but he could see the blurred outlines of a doctor in a white coat talking with three other people in the corner. Kei cleared his throat, wincing at how dry it was, and it broke through the bubble the others seemed to be in.

"Kei!" His mother, who he could make out up close, lunged for him, gripping his hand like a vice, her freshly manicured nails no doubt leaving marks atop his hand. She sounded hysterical, head turning between him and the door of the room in a frenzy. "Honey...thank goodness you're awake! We have so much to do...but you should rest...but also you have to realize...oh dear I--"

"Rin, please," his father said, prying her away. "Kei is probably disoriented, we can worry about--"

"No, now's the perfect time to worry! There's--"

"Uhhh Kei," Akiteru cut in, coming up beside him and holding out Kei's glasses for him to take. Kei was more than grateful, to say the least. Regardless of what his mother was going on about, he needed to get a hold of himself first. He placed them on, finding comfort in the more defined lines of the room and their faces. He was in desperate need of some water and ibuprofen, but those were issues for later.

Something was nagging at the back of his head, and he had to know.

"What...happened?" Kei whispered, the room spinning a bit every now and then. His memory was a little fuzzy, but the gaps would come together slowly he knew, he already remembered it was a car wreck of some sort.

The doctor stepped forward, notably not looking Kei in the eyes. Oh right, don't have my scarf on, go figure. He would've rolled his eyes, if he had the energy for that, but he didn't. "Tsukishima-san, the taxi you were in was hit by another car on the driver's side. The vehicle veered and hit a lamppost, and you fell unconscious. You have a decent bruise on your head and some scratches, but otherwise, you're perfectly...fine." The doctor coughed, sparing a quick look at Kei's nose, and this time the blond had no issue glaring. "No internal damage whatsoever."

Right, he remembered now, just as he'd thought. He had been going to meet Yamaguchi, to buy a present for--

Kei's heart stopped, and he instinctively reached for his jean pocket, searching for his phone. It wasn't there. It had fallen out. Tetsu. He'd been talking to his boyfriend when it had happened. Kuroo didn't know if he was okay yet.

Kei stuttered, looking around the room frantically. "Where's my phone?"

His father's brow furrowed, and he shook his head in an attempt to calm Kei down. "Kei...don't worry, we can get you another--"

"No, I need my phone, or a phone. I...I have to call Kuroo a-and--"

Kuroo was probably worried, like the nerd he was, yet making fun of him didn't make Kei as amused as it usually did. He wanted to see Kuroo, tell him where he was. "I need--"

"Whoa whoa Kei, calm down," Akiteru said, placing his hand on Kei's shoulder. “I knew he'd be freaking out, so I called him and told him you were here. He should be here soon, alright?"

It made Kei breathe again, and for that he was thankful. At least Akiteru thought about more than just the press. Not that he could blame his mother necessarily, but for whatever reason, he could care less about who saw him now. He just wanted to be with Kuroo.

That's when the force of his feelings hit him. What would he have done if he'd never been able to see Kuroo again?

The thought was too much, the guilt of making Kuroo worry coupled with the fear of leaving him behind, and suddenly no other problem seemed comparable. It was overwhelming.

But his mother recovered quickly, impressively so. "Ah yes good but Kei, they...people saw. People saw you. They're all waiting outside the door, people with cameras! Oh no what are we gonna do?!" She was nearly sobbing, eyes crazed as if ready to defend her son with teeth bared from the media circus. Good thing his father and brother existed, making her take a seat as they consoled her.

Kei would admit, being exposed was a problem he'd have to deal with, but it would be more annoying than endangering. And besides, he'd have Kuroo. He hoped he'd have Kuroo.

There was a harsh bang from the other side of the room's wall, and Kei looked over, finally noticing how the window into the room was covered up, and he realized what the clicks and shouts from earlier must've been. Photographers, journalists...all trying to get a picture of the pig faced boy. Great.

Kei vaguely wondered if one was trying to break in now, and the doctor hesitantly made his way towards the door. There was a fierce knocking, and a few shouts from various people as they were pushed out of the door's way, and before Kei knew it Kuroo was barreling through the door. The doctor jumped back, the door slamming open before he could even touch the handle, and Kuroo glanced around the room frantically, his piercing eyes landing on Kei in less than a second.

There was this moment where they just stared at each other, Kuroo scanning him up and down, sighing in relief that Kei seemed alright. Yet, he looked absolutely fretful about the bruise the blond was sporting, a small injury from the crash. All the while, Kei kept his own gaze trained on the other, holding his breath in anticipation for the other to come closer. Neither paid any mind to the doctor and his parents scrambling to shut the door before photographers could peer in, they were so focused solely on each other.

And then the spell was broken, and Kuroo rushed over to him in the time it took Kei to blink, grabbing the blond's hand and cupping his face, hands shaking. "Baby are you ok--"

"I'm fine," Kei whispered, doing his best to scoff. It came out too weak though, more like a pathetic, choked noise. "You're embarrassing you know?" Despite his words, he shut his eyes tight, and fell into Kuroo's touch. Kei's mom was arguing with people in the background, but it all melted away, all with Kuroo's warmth and soothing voice. His hands were so soft, his aura making Kei want to fall into him, curl up, away from all this madness. No journalists, no hospital sheets and checkups. Just him and Kuroo. Maybe that's how he always wanted it to be.

Kei gasped to himself at the realization, opening his eyes to look at Kuroo's face. The doofus was looking over Kei's bruises and cuts, treating him with the most care, and it was more evidence than he could've asked for really, to finally decide that this was what he wanted, only after six short months.

"I was so worried about you, when I heard the crash and....I didn't know what happened, I left work and started heading towards town. Your brother called and just...my heart stopped when--what?"

Kei blinked, a flush creeping up his face at being caught, but he couldn't stop staring. He couldn't stop taking in Kuroo's face, every contour and edge, his stupid hair and cunning eyes, the lips which had kissed him and made him come undone. There was no intelligible way to answer the question, because Kei didn't know how to express his emotions so openly like Kuroo did. Didn't know how to say Kuroo was everything he wanted. So, he echoed the question usually, his voice small and cracked. "What?"

It was as if it was the only noise in the room, though Kei was aware of the cacophony by and outside the door. Kuroo's other hand came up to cradle Kei's face as well, his brow furrowed in the same stupid concentration he got when they had played board games, all those months ago.

Kuroo chuckled weakly, shaking his head as his face softened. It was a look just for Kei. "Well, look how the tables have turned. Now it's me that gets to ask huh?" Kuroo's thumb glided over Kei's bruise gently, the pad rough and tender all at once. "What's with that look on your face?"

And as he heard security come in, attempting to chase off the journalists, Kei let himself laugh too, because feeling this in love in a shitty hospital room swarmed by press was the last place he thought he'd realize it so completely. Sure, while he knew things would be an uphill battle from this point on, he didn't find himself giving a damn. He'd dealt with awful people staring all his life, as long as he had the select few who didn't, he'd make it, and forget anyone who tried getting in his way.

Kei grabbed Kuroo's hand in his, pinching it lightly in false irritation. Kuroo laughed louder, and yeah, this was all more than fine.

"What look? This is how I always look."

--

The fallout was more aggravating than he cared for, but he managed. If anything it was his mother who was suffering, now extra paranoid about people trespassing on the grounds to get a peek at him. She upped their security system and cameras, so goodbye make out spot, though it didn't much matter anymore. Sneaking out was fairly simple if they went out the back and took Kuroo's inconspicuous car, and spent a lot of time at his apartment as a result. It was mostly a win.

Although, Kei would admit he was developing serious cabin fever. He was reserved and liked his alone time, sure, but not being able to go out for a movie, or a nice dinner was a bit grating.

Besides, there wasn't much point now....

The day after the car accident, he woke up to his mother shrieking from the kitchen. Kuroo had stayed the night, and when they'd both gone out to check what had happened, she was staring at the newspaper, with his face on the front page. Well, it was bound to happen, he'd had his scarf pulled off on his way out of the hospital by some reporters, one of which Kuroo punched in the face, but that's all it took.

Now he was everywhere, or he had been...for a month or so. The news, the magazines, comedy specials...all talking about the unfortunate and unsightly deformities he was born with. Kei knew what they were all saying was cruel, and his whole household had essentially stopped watching television, but he couldn't find himself feeling particularly anxious or upset from all of it. Maybe because he'd had men say those kind of heartless words to him for years, he was so damn used to it, and he'd heard worse too. His parents were now seeing his reality up close instead of through the camera, they got to experience the disgust people had with him.

And well, maybe not just them...

The laughter of an audience called Kei's attention to the television in Kuroo's bedroom. He'd turned it on, ready to load a movie for them, forgetting the input defaulted to cable.

"But really," the host said with a laugh. There was a picture of Kei up on the screen, fading away every now and again to show a picture of his house. "The story is they tried to marry this guy off? For real?"

Err, okay. So maybe Kei could even admit that brought back some not so pleasant memories. He had constantly wondered himself what his parents had been thinking, but it wasn't like he could denounce their backwards method completely. Through whatever hardships, it had ended up bringing him Kuroo. It probably would seem like a one in a million chance to most people though, finding someone to genuinely fall in love with him looking the way he did.

Kei understood, it was stupid and these people were assholes, but he understood.

Kuroo however, did not.

Kei glanced to the bed, where his boyfriend was sitting, frozen with a death grip on the remote. Kei thought the thing might split if the other squeezed it any tighter. Kuroo's golden eyes were fixated on the show, narrowed viciously, his jaw set. Kei had only ever seen him so angry once before, when the journalists were crowding him in the hospital, but even that had been just a glimpse. This was pure rage.

Kei moved to switch the input himself manually, but not before the last few words out of the host's mouth flooded into the room. "What kind of lost cause is--"

The television went black at the same moment Kuroo dropped the remote, or well....tossed it, the sound of it clattering against the floor too loud in the silence of the room.

Kei didn't speak, not yet. He didn't exactly know how to deal with this, to tell Kuroo that it was fine because people said awful things about him all the time. Instead he walked up to Kuroo, picking the remote back up and setting it on the bed next to the forgotten movie. Kuroo was quivering in front of him, fists resting on his knees as he got his anger in check. It was strange, seeing such a dorky, level headed person be this on edge. Kei decided he didn't like it. The blond exhaled, fingers locking together as he tried to figure out how to move the conversation out of this awkward deadlock, when Kuroo's arms came up and encircled his waist, pulling him in with crushing force.

Kei gawked, hanging onto Kuroo's shoulders to balance himself. "Wh--hey! Tets--"

"I hate them, those people saying things about you," Kuroo said, words muffled in Kei's stomach. "They're all lies."

Kei felt his breath hitch, and he glared at the wall above the headboard, like it was a screen replaying his whole past to him. Every rejection, every instance of hiding. Kuroo was an outlier, so sweet, so caring. Kei didn't deserve this. He felt his hands quiver, his throat suddenly too dry. "Maybe to you, but..."

"No," Kuroo cut off instantly, pushing Kei's hips back so he could look up at the blond. The look in his eyes was too much, more desperate than Kuroo should ever look. All because of Kei, all because of this stupid curse. "No, not just me. Kei, you're gorgeous, but more than that I...I love--"

"I know okay? I...me too but," Kei whispered, upset at the weak confession. He'd wished it had gone differently, but he didn't have the choice anymore. It lit a fire inside him, to know Kuroo felt the same, but it was dulled by the swell of insecurity, the one which never quite went away no matter how used to it he was. How he didn't flinch at the harsh words, the judging looks, but how they still took a toll no matter what. Why shouldn't they? Kei knew what he looked like, and just because Kuroo didn't have an issue with it, didn't mean everyone else was so accepting. "Well just, look at me Tetsu, I'm not--"

"I am. I'm always looking at you." Kei's protests died in his throat, Kuroo's gaze like a blockade, keeping out any of Kei's desires to talk himself down. There were a lot of things he could've said, how all that stuff people said didn't matter, because he was accustomed to it, and how Kuroo shouldn't be making such a big deal out of nothing. But that didn't seem right, not when Kuroo's stare was boring into him. So he waited, the sting of tears burning behind his eyes, but he refused to cry. "Kei, you're not impossible to love. Me, Yamaguchi, your family, we all love you. None of what those people say is true."

Kei closed his eyes tight, shaking his head as if to refuse the words, the ones which were beating away at every wall inside him. But Kuroo refused to stop.

"But you still believe it, I know you do," Kuroo sighed, thumb rubbing small circles on Kei's hipbone. "I see it whenever you read a headline or talk about the suitor meetings. You believe them all, and it makes me want to destroy every last one." Kuroo's hands tightened, and he had to take a deep breath, his back moving steadily as he grounded himself. Kei couldn't help himself, he threaded his long fingers in Kuroo's hair. It calmed them both usually, and more than anything, it made Kei feel at home.

Kuroo relaxed, but Kei knew he wasn't done, and while he wanted nothing more than to abandon the topic completely, he knew it wasn't happening. He just kept brushing his hands through Kuroo's terrible excuse for a hairstyle, and hoped his emotions could take what was to come.

Kuroo's hands were stroking his skin again, and Kei's ministrations halted. "I want to prove them all wrong, those people who don't see you for how incredible you are," Kuroo said, grabbing Kei's hand softly, like he was made of the finest material. Maybe to Kuroo, he was.

Kei shook his head, the tears still threatening to pool in his eyes. He allowed himself an amused huff, because Kuroo was unreal sometimes, but Kei could never doubt any of his words. For him, maybe that was dangerous, but he trusted Kuroo, had for a long time. "And how are you going to do that huh? I'm not suing anyone you know."

Kuroo laughed, bringing Kei's hand up and kissing the back of it, an edge of mischief in his eyes which told Kei they probably wouldn't be watching the movie. "Nah, while that would be fun, I have bigger plans."

Kei raised an eyebrow, even as Kuroo coaxed him to lay down on the bed, their eye contact never breaking, as Kuroo pulled a small box from his pocket, placing it right in front of Kei's shocked face.

"You can just marry me instead."

--

While Kei had said yes to the proposal, it hadn't stopped him from pushing Kuroo off the bed after he'd agreed. The idiot thought he was way too smooth for his own good. Of course, it didn't stop Kuroo from telling everyone the story. Ugh.

Kei elbowed him in the arm whenever he told it, but it didn't stop his boyfriend. Ever. Even with reporters finding out about their engagement, Kuroo had no problem proclaiming his love for all the world to hear and see. Kei was annoyed but he also couldn't help but be impressed at Kuroo's composure. Sometimes he was asked questions which were downright asking for Kuroo to blow up, talking about how Kei looked and what was in it for Kuroo. But his boyfriend kept his smile razor sharp, his eyes threatening as much as his words were sweet.

“Kuroo-san, what made you want to go through with this? Is the money really worth it?”

They’d been out trying wedding cakes that day, and a few reporters had managed to corner them. Kuroo had grinned then, but Kei remembered his eyes had been nothing but murderous, his tone enough to discourage the reporters from continuing.

“Kei’s worth more than any amount of money, and you can print that on the front page.”

Yeah, Kuroo kept his composure real well.

Behind the scenes, when it was the two of them alone in Kei's room, he could see the anger come out finally, noticed the lines of tension in Kuroo's face. But Kei was getting better and better at knowing what to say and where to touch to get it all to dissolve into nothing. How had it happened, he wondered. To think nearly a year ago, he never would've dreamed of having this, and now they were planning a wedding. He was going to marry Kuroo, and be his forever.

It was only when his mother mentioned the curse finally being broken when they married Kei remembered the legend at all. It was the least unbelievable thing about this. And speaking of his mother...

"Places everyone!" She rushed into the room where Kei was getting ready, his suit pressed and clean. He didn't look bad per se, but his nerves were eating at him now as his mother said those words, like it finally was crashing down on him.

It was his wedding day. He was getting married to Kuroo.

Fuck.

Kei was a boiling pot of happiness he didn't know what to do with, the anxiety and excitement blending into a jittery cocktail which caused him to rapidly pace the room. Down the hall, in Akiteru's room, Kuroo was getting ready too. Kuroo, in his suit, probably looking more handsome than anyone else at the wedding. In the world. God, I'm never telling him I thought that.

It had only been a little over two months since the proposal. The only reason wedding planning went fast wasn't because he and Kuroo insisted on something small, no it was because his mother came in and bulldozed her way into it. She organized everything, sparing no expense. For her, the faster they were married, the faster Kei's curse was broken, and her son could have a normal life. Of course she was happy for him too, but well, his mother had her fixations all the same. It had taken everything for Kei to insist they have the wedding at the house, not the extravagant ballroom she had picked out. He'd barely won.

"Kei! The ceremony is about to start, stop pacing before you get all sweaty," she scolded, her embroidered skirt and sun hat probably just as expensive as the wedding itself. "And are you sure you don't want to cover your face for the ceremony?"

Too late, Kei thought, he was already a mess of nerves, and he'd made his decision about hiding his face away. It wouldn't get in the marriage's way, and he knew Kuroo hated those godforsaken scarves, no matter how soft or expensive. "Yes Mom, I'm sure," he huffed, and his mother further critique his posture and tidiness.

But he listened, allowing his mother to do her unnecessary finishing touches in case there were pictures after. There was that too, there was only so much they could do to stop reporters from peeking in through the gates into the yard to see if the curse was a real thing, to watch if Kei suddenly did lose the pig snout. Kei didn't care, as long as they kept quiet. Besides, he'd be dealing with curious eyes regardless. A lot of his parents' noble friends were attending the wedding, and they were no better.

Luckily, he had Yamaguchi and a few more friends he'd made through the freckled boy. He was grateful for bartender, who Kei knew was probably smiling brightly in the front row, dealing with all the useless noble chatter. It almost made Kei laugh, thinking about the down to earth surfer boy in a suit, his cheeks lightly dusted with a sunburn as nobles eyed him strangely.

Kei was so glad he’d met him, and the friends he’d introduced to Kei as well. Although…they could get a bit too much at times. Hinata and Kageyama were obnoxiously loud and argued over stupid shit, but they didn't judge him, and it was all he needed to take to them quite quickly. There were Kuroo's friends from work too, one who was way too boisterous and excitable for Kei to keep up with, but he seemed happy enough for Kuroo's big day. Plus, Bokuto was overwhelmingly kind in ways even Kei could admire. It was good he was there.

Though, Kei did like to joke that all Kuroo's friends had weird hair.

Honestly, Kei didn't mind who else was at the wedding, he'd marry Kuroo no matter what.

"Alright," his mother said, flattening a stray piece of hair down on Kei's head. Her eyes were already watery, her smile ridiculously fond. "Oh Kei...I'm so happy for you. Everything is going to be fine from now on."

Yeah it will, Kei thought. Kuroo would be with him forever. And while the doubt inside him never fully went away, he felt it diminishing with every new day. He hoped one day it would be gone forever.

"The curse is going to be broken, you'll--"

"And you'll be married to Kuroo," Akiteru broke in, shaking his head at his mother's antics. He was standing in the doorway, eyes shining in glee, and Kei began to follow him before the words were even out.

"It's time."

--

The officiant of the wedding was talking to the crowd now, but Kei wasn't listening. It was the usual stuff, about why they were there, what a beautiful day it was, and how he was preparing to allow the couple to read out the vows. People were standing at the gates with their cameras, nobles in the seats were whispering and well, the couple's friends and family just looked happy to be there.

Yet, Kei could hardly spare them all a glance, not them or any of the fancy assortments and decor his mother had fussed over.

No, all Kei could focus on was Kuroo in front of him, a stupid grin on his boyfriend's face as he practically vibrated in anticipation. This was happening, and they both wanted it to happen. Kei's heart rate spiked.

Kuroo mouthed an 'I love you' from across the small space between them, and Kei flushed, nodding with a small smile on his face. Me too, so much. Sometimes he thought too much, but Kuroo never failed to reassure him otherwise. And that's how it should be from this point on, huh?

Kei didn't know if he could fully emerge himself in that reality, but damn, he hoped he could eventually.

"I would now like to ask the couple to recite their individually written vows," the officiant spoke, and Kuroo inclined his head, no doubt having already memorized his. The other had always been great with words. "May I stress that these are binding promises you've made to each other, and may they hold throughout your entire marriage."

The vows were the part of the ceremony he was most nervous about. Not because his feelings weren't real, but because he had never been talented at expressing his feelings in a verbal setting. His would surely fall flat next to Kuroo's, and while his brother had insisted they were fine, he felt his palms sweat.

But with Kuroo smiling at him like that as he began his own, Kei didn't have the heart to worry about it beyond that.

"Kei, when I first met you...I was an idiot. I won't lie and there's no excuse, I was going down a bad path, and I'm glad I saw that in time. But still, it led me to you, and I wouldn't take it back for the whole world."

Kei blinked, because the thoughts sounded like something he'd thought before. How all the nonsense, all the drama, he wouldn't trade it. Tetsurou had those thoughts too...

"I can't really say when I fell in love with you, maybe right at the beginning, when you scared me through the door to your room. Your voice carried through the microphone, all grumpy and accusing, just how I like it." Kuroo grinned smugly at Kei's huff of annoyance, but he knew it was true. The first time, when he realized Kuroo hadn't left yet...he hadn't known what to think.

Kuroo's features softened. "I could tell you were interesting, that there was a lot going on just from the way you talked, the details you picked up on. Everything fell into place after that, your snark, and god your laugh...it was music to my ears."

You're so cheesy. Kei shook his head, ignoring the way his cheeks heated up.

Kuroo laughed too, before reaching out to grab Kei's hand. "But that was only the start. Everything after that, the things we shared, I wanted it all. No matter what anyone said, I wanted it all to myself....and..."

Kuroo paused to clear his throat, and Kei wondered if he was just trying to look bashful for show, because ashamed did not fit Kuroo Tetsurou’s description in the slightest. You loser.

But Kuroo did pick his head back up after a while, and Kei couldn't take it, couldn't handle that face. Kuroo exuded love and affection, they were hardly touching, they were in front of a ton of people, and yet Kei soaked it up. Kuroo, who for whatever reason, looked at him like he was the universe.

"Moonshine," he said softly, and Kei wasn't even angry at how he let everyone hear the dumb nickname. "I want to be the one who loves you and protects you for the rest of my life. Until death, in sickness or health or just really annoying circumstances--"

Kei snorted, and Kuroo didn't seem to care about the look the officiant was giving him for breaking the formality of the situation. Like Kei said, Kuroo was as unashamed as ever. Perfect.

"Despite all that, I swear to make you happy. I love you."

They held the gaze for too long, Kei only realized it when the officiant was nudging him, and he realized it was his turn. Panic seized him, because part of him wondered how he could possibly top Kuroo's honest, genuine feelings, said so smooth and certain...

Suddenly, the rehearsed, researched words which haphazardly summarized his feelings seemed too simple, too unfair for Kuroo. Kuroo...who'd done nothing but adore Kei unconditionally while asking for nothing in return...

He deserved Kei's true feelings.

Kei disregarded the vows he'd written down, stuffed his the pocket of his suit jacket, and left them sitting there, abandoned. Because truthfully, he didn't need them.

Kei sighed, offering up the most subtle of smiles, one only Kei and his family would be able to recognize, and let the words flow. "Tetsu, I'm not sure what to say. I spent hours trying to write proper vows, whatever those are even supposed to be. But I realize that was stupid. I don't know how to say how much I love you, because there's nothing to compare it to. I know that. How I feel, I've never felt something that intense."

He paused, raising his eyes to meet Kuroo's, and was met with pure encouragement, and maybe even the light sheen of water over his eyes. Kei doubted he could tease Kuroo though, not with his own voice beginning to quake. "You don't get angry when I need time to myself, you don't get uncomfortable my harsh sense of humor or...or see me as anything other than..."

Me. Someone you love, for reasons I'll never get.

"Well, you know, I'm sure you do. In that weird, perceptive way of yours. It's so aggravating, but I guess I like it. And if it's what you want, I'll be with you and put up with your dumbass puns for the rest of my life." Kei smirked a little, and Kuroo actually looked as if he'd protest in the middle of the ceremony about how awesome his jokes were, but he refrained. Instead he gave Kei one of those stupid grins, the ones which made him look like there should be hearts floating around his head, and nodded.

Kei let himself mentally catalog that look of shock and joy which stayed frozen on Kuroo's face, promising himself he'd never forget it. 

The officiant cleared his throat, again thrown by the non-traditional vows, and carried on with the ceremony. "The couple will now exchange rings."

Akiteru handed them over, and Kei could tell the other had cried, a fact which Kei would never let him live down. Never mind the tears of his own which he was forcibly willing back.

The silver bands slid on easily, the polished, unscratched metal shining in the sunlight. They were each engraved with personal touches, Kuroo's with small cat paws, something Kei had taken great amusement in deciding. His boyfriend was like a cat after all, cunning and agile, sometimes lazy, but always smart and quick. Plus, he liked having his hair pet, something he wouldn’t deny. Kuroo's pick for Kei's ring was obvious, the crescent moons finely etched on either side of his name. As time went on, they'd surely wear, but Kei felt that he was more than okay with that, having proof of their permanent partnership.

There was a hush over the crowd now, waiting and tense, but Kei was too interested in Kuroo's blissed out face, watching their rings glow together.

The only tension for them was how much they wanted to come together, how badly Kei wanted to have Kuroo in his arms, and maybe a bit of how much he wanted out of the damn suit.

"I now pronounce you married, you may kiss," the officiant said, a hint of curiosity in his face as Kuroo automatically took Kei's face in his hands. Because huh, this was the moment everyone was waiting for right? The marriage being sealed, the curse being broke, that's what everyone was waiting for. Not Kei, all Kei was waiting for was Kuroo's minty taste, the feeling of his husband's lips against his.

My husband. It definitely didn't sound bad to him.

Their lips met, as innocent and soft as their very first, and just as short. The touch was electric, and Kei's heart was sure to burst from the intensity of it. This was it, their first kiss as a married couple. He thought Kuroo was the cheesy one, but he repeated the fact to himself over and over as the comfort washed over him, never getting enough of Kuroo's lips on his. Kei wrapped his arms around Kuroo's neck, wanting to keep him close, but as he never was a fan of PDA, he found it in himself to pull away, still being held securely in Kuroo's arms.

It was when Kei reached up to check for tears that he felt them, the ridges, prominent as ever. He still had his nose, or snout, abnormal and apparent to any onlooker. He heard a lot of murmurs, some flashing cameras and his mother's frantic whispering to his father, and suddenly the media frenzy was stirred back up.

Kei looked into the crowd, watching the looks of surprise mixed with the ones who obviously hadn't believed in the curse from the beginning. He saw his father try to calm his mother down as she seemed to go in some sort of stupor, unsure of what went wrong.

Nothing, Kei thought. He'd have to deal with all these questions and concerns at the reception no doubt, but for now he shrugged, turning back to Kuroo, his husband.

Fuck, he couldn't stop repeating it. Not a good sign.

Kei smiled nonetheless, and Kuroo returned it tenfold, pulling Kei in for another kiss while everyone was distracted.

In the back he could hear the hushed inquires, the sounds of press backing up outside the gates, and disregarded it all. Kei didn't care if he was all over the news for the rest of time, not when Kuroo was looking at him like this, with rings shining on both their hands. 

[braindamageforbeginners]

Intermezzo: Free Solo Review

Pre-Cycle 11

So, first of all, for anyone wondering, I did get the go ahead from the warlocks on Tuesday to continue with treatment through Cycle 12 (assuming my blood tests come back okay), which is great news. And I’d normally write about that and how awesome it is (Hooray! More chemo!), but it’s been such a long, weird, event-filled week even by my standards (my car got hit by lightning)(that’s a dramatic exaggeration, but, like everything else in my life, far less of one than I’d like), that instead, I thought I’d review the fantastic (and - for me - utterly terrifying) film “Free Solo.” Also, that’ll enable me to put off trying to figure out my upcoming chemo schedule, which is somewhat less-predictable than others (I’d have to come in on Christmas Eve or Christmas according to my current estimate, which seems a little ghoulish even for me).

A bit of background. Even though I like rock climbers and have many friends and family in that group, and even though I have nothing but love for them, their utterly terrifying sport isn’t for me (and thanks to them for putting up with me long enough for me to figure that one out). Full confession; I’m not only psychologically unfit for it, I’m physically not a good candidate. Even putting my neurological issues aside (unreliable left leg, vertigo)(those are the lasting impacts of neurosurgery #3 and #2, respectively), I’m terrified of heights. And with good reason - I’m about 182 cm tall and 100 kg; if I fall, it’s a much bigger problem than if someone smaller/closer to the ground and lighter does. And I’m about 85% torso, by height. So, why would I see a film about a sport that frightens me? Simply put, Alex Honnold, who is possibly the world’s premier greatest living rock climber.

Many, many, many years ago, someone pointed out to me that everyone’s heard of LeBron James, or Colin Kaepernick; fewer people have heard of Royal Robbins (or Kelly Slater, for that matter), largely because the latter two exist in a weird sub-culture of extreme sports that’s not as profitable or plugged in to pop culture as main-stream sports (I’ve only heard of Honnold because I’m a big fan of the Banff Film Festival). So, one of the world’s most niche-sports-figure getting a film - even if it’s not in wide release - is really cool. Again, it means society, as a whole, is opening up to non-traditional people, and sports, and stories. Which, as a now non-traditional person (again, traditionally, people like me die within two years of diagnosis, and that annoying new gimp/cripple physical aspect makes life a lot less accessible than I’d prefer), is cool, and, more importantly, as a storyteller, it means more, different, and better stories.

The story of “Free Solo” is pretty straight-forward. A man works his whole life to perfect his craft, and then, at the height of his talent, decides to gamble it on a potentially lethal career high-point. Wait, what? Most rock climbers - and certainly my sub-par, failed attempts - use various safety equipment and climb with buddies and do other things to minimize risk. The downside is both minimized risk, and, from my limited understanding, some of these safety devices permanently “hurt” (or pierce, anyway) the rock. “Free solo” climbing eschews such devices, or, indeed, a sense of self-preservation. Says the guy who’s letting science use him as a lab rat for a poisonous substance. Again, when you’re desperate, you make odd choices. However, like me, A. Honnold points out that most free-solo rock climbs are calculated risks (to paraphrase him, “The odds of me actually falling are low, but if that happens, the odds of something really, really bad happening are high.”). Which brings us to El Capitain, the Everest of the climbing world. As I may have mentioned previously, this is the Holy Grail of climbing. If you ever go to Yosemite Valley in Yosemite National Park (and I recommend you do this before you die), you will not be able to miss El Cap. If you’re like me, you might even have to go lie down for a few minutes just looking at up at it (it’s terrifying even from ground level). Even though it’s been climbed by blind, deaf, and physically disabled people (it’s a long story; there’s an old Yosemite joke that El Cap is handicap-accessible), it has never been climbed (clumb? someone help me with these conjugations) without safety devices. Enter Mr. Honnold, stage right, and the codependent National Geographic film crew. To make a long story short, he climbs the mountain and survives, with the support of both the film-makers and his long-suffering girlfriend. Hooray.

The reason this film is worth seeing - and why I’m reviewing it - is that, for all that, it’s a very weird film (it’s a really good film, but it’s weird). First of all, the camera and framing devices need a little description. In every scene or shot of El Cap, it not only dominates everything around it, but they use some cool VFX devices at various points to show Yosemite valley shifting and swinging around El Cap. Which made me grip my seat rests, but also gave an interesting insight into how Yosemite is absolutely dominated by these staggeringly massive walls on all sides. Secondly, this is - as far as I know - the only character study of A. Honnold on file in video form. Even though he’s been prominently featured in the Banff Film Festival and other places, they don’t give a real sense of who he is - he’s just a sort of stand-in rock climber fantasy figure; a James Bond of the rock climbing world - in all the other films I’ve seen, he goes somewhere and climbs something impressive; there’s not a whole lot revealed except he likes to climb. And he’s pretty much fearless - according to a little background research (yes, I do read about my subjects before tackling them), Honnold isn’t known for being the most technically-proficient or skilled climber, but he is known for taking on risks and challenges that no one else in the climbing world does.  Qui audet adipiscitur and all that. This film delves a little more into that, actually following him into an fMRI (one of those specialized MRIs that shows which parts of the brain “light up” during various tasks and images. The science-person in me would point out that this test is so overly sensitive, it should be taken with a grain of salt (my favorite research poster of all time was one that used fMRI analysis to show which images a dead salmon prefers)(you read that correctly). However, in this case, it showed that Honnold’s fear threshold/tolerance was much, much higher than usual. The film also looks at what that looks like in a relationship, as they also follow Honnold’s girlfriend, Sanni McCandless, for some of it. In retrospect, she’s probably the real hero of the film, because she fully supports him in his near-suicidal ambitions. There’s also the weird aspect about how the world’s most recklessly brave climber gets... stage fright. The film actually documents this very well, about how Honnold doesn’t seem up to the task when everyone’s around, watching him; and it takes a series of hidden cameras and a tactical retreat by McCandless to force him up the wall. As someone who has, ah, “performance issues” when it comes to urine samples (I’d imagine that after a year of those, it wouldn’t be a big issue, like the IVs and neuralgia bother me less, but we all have our idiosyncrasies - I intend to ask the chemo ward to quietly move to a different floor next time), I weirdly get it. And I also sort of weirdly get how, in an extreme situation, sometimes the riskier, more outrageous path is also the safer one. Having said that, I still have to give the man props for a following through on a near-psychotic ambition and seeing it through.

ANYWAY… WEIGHT: 96 kilos CONCENTRATION: Not bad, but I’m also exhausted from a week of travel and holidays. Which reminds me, if I make it out of this alive, I intend to start hibernating from Nov.15-Dec, 25, which should make this sort of holiday seasonal travel a little easier. APPETITE: Good. I’m even starting to appreciate “fun” things, like non-vegetable or protein-based foodstuffs. I imagine that’ll definitely decrease as I get back into the grind and find my willpower renewed with... well, the same willpower that allows me to swallow pills that come in “biohazard” bags. ACTIVITY LEVEL: Good, but I’m still exhausted. SLEEP QUALITY: Okay. COORDINATION/DEXTERITY: Excellent; I even went to the gym yesterday without braces. MEMORY: Not bad, I still have trouble forgetting to complete long or multi-step tasks, but that’s hardly new.. PHYSICAL: Overall, not too bad. At the moment, I’m mostly tired, sore, a little cold, and hungry, which - if you haven’t had peripheral nerve damage or chemo-induced panic-attacks, might seem bad, but to have normal, every day physical complaints instead of my usual, hyper-bizarre ones... well, it’s deeply comforting, in an odd, slightly-masochistic way. EMOTIONAL: Good. I realize I just got a clean scan on Monday - I had to wait until Tuesday to review the findings, though - and after 24 hours of that sort of frenzied anxiety, the volume on standard emotional issues gets muted. SIDE EFFECTS: Tired. So tired. Which reminds me, based on my records, I’m pretty sure my limp’s tied into exhaustion/fatigue issues. Which gives me hope that, after the next two cycles (and possibly a six-month nap to catch up on my sleep) I might get something like consistent progress fixing that complaint.  CURRENTLY READING (For Donna): “A Monster Calls.”