#but I know I have to keep learning if I wanna keep drawing these loser men who are ofc ripped 😔

[seancefemme]

saint & soldier

#they both passed out from blood loss after their chivalry contest over who would sleep on the couch smh #Matt murdock #Frank castle #daredevil #the punisher #fratt #mattfrank #matt murdock x frank castle #Frank is sleeping on top of the covers cause he’s a gentleman ofc #but Matt’s gonna be pissed when he realizes that Frank not only bleed all over his sheets but also wore his boots in his bed #but later he finds a scrap piece of paper with the letters IOU scratched hard enough into the paper that he can read it with his fingers #didn’t think I was gonna finish this sketch but I’m glad I did! I think it turned out sweet ty 4 gassing me up mwah #also realized I haven’t used purple much in my art lately so ofc I have to exploit the giant neon billboard outside Matt’s apartment #IDK HOW TO DRAW MUSCLEY BODIES SO BE NICE PLEASE LOL T_T #but I know I have to keep learning if I wanna keep drawing these loser men who are ofc ripped 😔 #k bye <3 #mine #my art #daredevil fanart

[kcsplace]

Steve gets started attending Community College,but he doesn't tell anyone, embarrassed that he might fail, that they'll tease him, that they'll be embarrassed by him.  Nancy is going to go off and change the world, Jonathan's photography talent is gonna get him into art school somewhere, Robin is having colleges trip over themselves to offer her scholarships and Eddie's band is starting to draw crowds that aren't just about "checking out the maybe-possible-kinda-murderer-dude". 

Why would any of them want to hang out with a loser like Steve?

Steve, madly desperately and stupidly in love with Eddie even if he hasn’t said anything thinks that means he can't have kids now, but he knows he's good with them.  He also knows what its like to go from hero to zero and just how easy it is to be a shit in school and how important it is to change.  So he thinks he could be a good guidance counsellor.  He thinks he could help those kids out.  Kids like Max and Eddie that don’t have all the things he had growing up, kids like himself who didn’t have positive role models, kids like Will and Robin that are a little different.

His father shat all over that dream, told him he'd be shit at it, just like everything else he tried - he can’t even win a championship in four years of trying -, and so he's not paying for it.  As a result, sure in his decision, Steve's been working to pay for college (much easier in the 80s admittedly and at CC) but he's burning the candle at both ends, especially working for the credits to transfer as a junior into a four year college. 

Eddie finds him asleep in his car outside his latest job, all his textbooks on the seat next to him.  He lets himself into the car, wakes Steve up, all the textbooks in his lap, flipping through their pages in the dim illumination provided by the dome light.  Steve thinks Eddie's gonna mock him, tell him he's gonna be bad at it, he won’t be able to hack community college let alone a four-year, and even if he could, what school would hire a loser like him to help kids? He’s waiting to hear all about how stupid Steve is to think that just because he kept a couple kids alive, he thinks he can guide them during their most vulnerable times.  Steve tries to steer it off, starts blathering out that its nothing, just y'know, Robin tells him all thetime its good for the brain to learn and his dad’s been riding him to grow up and shit and that it was just an available course, but Eddie isn't actually dumb.

He starts dropping off notebooks to Steve's work, new stationery, he likes the feeling that his gifts help Steve get his grades, that Steve's working toward his future with the pens that Eddie gave him.  Its stupid little shit but seeing the pens that Eddie gave him shoved behind Steve's ear or him chewing on them while he studies...it gives Eddie the warm and fuzzies OKAY? he doesn't wanna talk about it

Seriously, Robin, he doesn’t wanna talk about spending a quarter of his legally obtained paycheck (fuck you so much, Sheriff) on shit from Ink Spot and he isn’t gonna.

after six months of keeping Steve’s secret, Eddie heads over to the Harrington house for some movies and weed - its not a school night after all - only to see Steve’s textbooks sticking out the trash.  He finds a dejected Steve sitting by the pool, and drops them all in his lap.  Turns out, after weeks of work and research, Steve had gotten a C on an important essay. 

“So you just quit?”

“Why not? I clearly can’t handle it.”

“Y’know, maye you should.”

“’Scuse you?”

“The kids deserve better than some iidiot that just quits the moment shit gets tough.”

“Glad you agree.”

“Or, you could let me help you.”

“You. the guy that took three goes to graduate?”

“Just proves I stick to shit until it’s done. And I’m gonna make sure yu do the same.”

One year, countless study sessions, one immense blowout fight over the Oxford comma, and a loyalty card to the Ink Spot later, Steve turns up on Eddie’s doorstep with an envelope that he thrusts at Eddie.  Tearing into the envelope like a gremlin, Eddie stares at the words in front of him.

“Well????!”

“Dear Mister Harrington, we are delighted to inform hmpffff-”

Eddie might not have been prepared for Steve to kiss him, but he got on board real quick.  Literally.  Dropping the letter and its promise of a place at Purdue for Steve to transfer to complete his degree, Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck, hopped and wrapped his legs around the man’s hips.

“Never made out with a college boy, before.”

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #kinda #Caseys steddie fics

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Carpe Noctem 2

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You sit against the arm, one leg hooked over the other as the silent third mirrors you, nursing a gin as you set aside your flat soda. You really just want this to be over. Looking at the twins, neither of them have got very far into their cocktails. This isn’t just going to be an in and out deal. In fact, you’re more than certain they’ve duped you again.

Your best efforts as usual add up to nothing. You’re stuck there, the designated driver, the third wheel, the ugly one, beside a huffy brat ogling the dollish twins from afar. Well, you guess you’ll just have to wait this out.

You take out your phone and pull up your last message from Johnny. The usual; asking if you want him to save some slices for you. You hope it’s not too late to say yes. You reply and lean your phone against your leg as you once more peek over at the girls. They can flirt but you’re all going home together. That’s the agreement. Besides, these dudes are shady.

You check your phone. It’s close to midnight. He’s probably gaming or passed out on the couch. You kind of envy that thought.

“What’s wrong? Too good for me, sweet cheeks?” The voice draws you away from the screen and you hit the lock button.

“No, I’m good,” you assure him, “enjoying the music.”

“Ha, right,” he empties his glass, “you want a drink?” He looks pointedly at your forgotten soda, “a real drink. Might loosen you up.”

“No, I’m good.”

“Ah, geez, you think you’re a real catch. Well, whoever you’re texting doesn’t seem to agree.”

He stands up and strides away. You frown and put your phone back in your purse. Typical loser. You’ve dealt with the kind before. You’ve been in this same position too many times. The twins don’t really learn lessons. Mostly, because you’re there to keep them from any hard ones.

Whatever. Johnny’s at home waiting. That much you know. That guy doesn’t matter. Besides, he’s a bit old to be preying on the regulars here. It’s a bit ridiculous, pathetic if you’re cruel.

He sits back down and slurps loudly. You try to ignore him but can’t as he stretches an arm across the sofa, his hand close to your shoulder. He wiggles on the cushion, as if trying to bother you. You acknowledge him with a terse look.

“Lloyd,” he introduces himself with a wink.

“Wow, it only took you one drink to settle for me,” you tut and roll your eyes, “dude, don’t even. I get it. Let’s just both count our losses.”

“Hey, you got me all wrong. I get shy with the cute ones,” he pokes his tongue out, “aw, come on, let’s have a bit of fun.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend? The one ignoring your texts?”

“He’s not– it’s none of your business.”

“Oh, don’t be so uptight. I can play nice. I can be a shoulder to cry on… a lap to sit on.”

You nod and give him a sardonic smirk, “does that usually work?”

“Well, I’ve slept with a lot of married women and I’ve never walked down the aisle,” he boasts.”

“Okay, so you’re scum.”

“Wow, that hurts,” he retracts his hand and touches his chest, “you’re missing out. I would put that extra cushion to good use. With how tight your wound, I can tell the boyfriend isn’t doing much with it.”

“Alright, thank you for your commentary,” you shift and turn so he’s only a blur in your peripheral.

“It’s not an insult, baby, it’s an offer. And it stands… much like something else.”

You shudder in disgust and flick your fingers in his direction. You’ll give the twins thirty more minutes.

🎀

“We should go. I wanna dance,” you say to Selena, “it’s girls’ night. Not girls and some dudes.”

“Alright, I get it,” she leans in, almost condescending and slightly drunk, “but he’s fucking loaded. And so hot. Like girl, there are boys down there, these are men.”

“Right, and I’m sat with the creeper with a broom growing under his nose.”

“Look, if you wanna just go, go.”

“And leave you with a bunch of strange men.”

“I don’t think you need to stick around because I don’t plan on leaving with you.”

“Come on, Selena, you know I can’t just leave you.”

“Well, I’m telling you to.”

“Please–”

“Enough. You’re not my mother.”

“No, but I’m your friend,” you insist.

“I’ll make my own mistakes,” she shrugs, “so, tell that dude to get a life and go home to yours.”

You stare at her. She gets like this and it’s no arguing. You always found that twins always acted like the stereotypical only child. They got their way and would settle for nothing less. She struts off and you look over at Sabrina. Great, she liplocked with the other one.

You go back to the sofa to get your bag. You’re frustrated. You won’t be able to sleep with the pit dipping in your stomach. You’ll be up all night until you get the text telling you they’re okay.

As you stop at the end of the couch, Lloyd stumbles, almost into you, before falling and flopping onto the cushions. His drink splashes over his shirt as he pats the spot beside him.

“Why don’t you sit down?” He invites you in a slur. You can tell by his eyes that he’s bombed.

“No thanks,” you grab your purse but he catches the strap, “hey–”

“Oh,” he reaches to set down his now empty glass, the mess glistening all over his satin shirt and his chest bared beneath it, “let me clear the throne.”

He wipes his mustache with his finger and you cringe. You tug on the strap but he doesn’t let go. He giggles and his head lolls as he does. It’s almost pitiful watching him. Out of his mind and almost helpless to his own vices.

Great. The twins are going to owe you.

You drop your bag and go to the bar. You grab a few of the cloth napkins folded neatly on it and return the man as he grumbles. You wipe off the stray droplets on the couch and sit, focusing on cleaning him up. You can’t just leave him soaked with gin, can you?

“Mmmm, lower,” he purrs as you wipe along his chest.

You say nothing and try to dry off the open collar of his shirt. You feel a tickle along your side and it crawls down to your hip. You stop him, tossing his hand away from you.

“Look, I’m just getting you tidied up, then I’m leaving.”

“Can I come with you?” He snickers.

“Please, no,” you retort.

He pouts and lets his head fall back again. “We’ll see.”

#dark lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #drabble #series #the gray man #carpe noctem #the club #au

[yulin-pop]

Hello, may I ask for a scenario of a GN!Reader encouraging the dorm leaders to do the Pocky game with them and they do? I don't know if you have a character limit so you can pick which dorm leaders to write this scenario with! ;D

⤷ ✧ Let’s play

- order 9 | scenarios | Housewardens P.1 (Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim)

P.2 - (Vil, Idia, Malleus)

Gender neutral

Requested by @miviun !! I’m gonna spilt this up into two parts. I’ll do the rest of the housewardens tomorrow if I have the time. Thank you for requesting!

Riddle Rosehearts

There was absolutely favoritism towards you. Everyone in Heartslabyul knew that Riddle highly favored you. So much so, he often invited you to private tea parties. You graciously took a sip of tea personally brewed by Riddle. He’s gotten better at making and pouring tea. He was so used to people doing it for him that he never exactly learned how to.

“How is it?” He asks nervously. He sat across from you.

You smiled at him and set down your cup. Clearing your throat you spoke, “Very good! Much better from the first time. You spilt it everywhere.” You joked.

He flushed at your teasing. He was always a lot more quiet when with you. He always wanted to please you, even you could see that. It was cute.

“Hey Riddle,” That caught his attention, “You wanna play a game with me?” He perked his head up at the suggestion.

“What game do you want to play?” He eyed you with curiously. You pulled out a small box from your pocket and put it on the table.

“The pocky game! All you have to do is eat the whole thing before the other person and you win.”

“Seems easy enough.”

“But you have to do it on the same stick!”

Riddle was thrown off by that rule and looked at the packaging as you opened it and moved your chair next to his. You pulled out one single stick and grabbed his chin. You stuck the side dipped with chocolate in his mouth and put yours at the opposite end.

This sudden closeness made him what to pull away but that would mean he would loose, right? He bit down at it and moved closer. Your lips curved up into a smile and you bit down to move to closer.

Slowly, you two moved closer and closer to each other. Riddle realized what would happen if neither of you pulled away.

This is just a game. There is only one winner and one loser.

He told himself as he bit down. In one quick movement, he felt something warm touch his lips and your hands had grabbed his shoulders. He squirmed frantically yet you still didn’t move away.

You pulled back and he scooted back from your while covering his lips with the back of his hand.

“Fun game, but it was a draw.”

Leona Kingscholar

In his usual resting spot, Leona laid his head on your lap as you lazily scrolled on MagiCam. You suddenly put down your phone and looked down at him. He wasn’t awake but one word from you and he would open his eyes.

“Hey Leona.” You said while brushing your fingers through his hair. Just as expected, he opened his eyes and peered up at you.

“What is it?” He grumbled. You dug in your bag and pulled out a red box.

“Have you heard of this one game called the Pocky Game?” You asked nonchalantly. He raised an eyebrow.

“If this one of your human games, I’m not interested.” He stated as he looked at the box.

“It happens between fae and beastmen too. But, you wanna play?” You asked again. He knew you were just gonna keep pressing him to play it so he complied.

“Fine, if it’s dumb I’m quitting and going back to sleep.”

“Great! All you have to do is finish the pocky stick first before the other person. It’s on the same stick though.”

“Eh? That’s it?”

You nodded and you set the tip of it your mouth and leaned downwards, his head still on your lap. He took a big bite and you smirked.

You moved downwards and he did most of the work. You could tell he was getting bored and just as he was about to break away, you put your lips against his.

Your hands that were originally on the grass now held the sides of his head and kept him in place. When you pulled your head back up. He leaped at you.

“Maybe this game isn’t so dumb anymore, now is it?” You asked teasingly.

Azul Ashengrotto

He’s a very busy man. Being a busy man, there’s not a lot of time for you. You’ve tried to salvage this by hanging around him silently while he works. You were happy to just be near him and as long as you didn’t disrupt him, he was okay with the arrangement. You sat on his desk with your legs crossed and playing when a pen.

You were beyond bored! Lately, Azul has been busier and busier. You suspect it’s because of the change of Mostro Lounge’s policies. Either way, you didn’t like it! You were dying for attention beyond just asking you to fetch him something.

“Azul, you’ve been working for too long.” You said in a scolding voice. He perked up his head and glanced at the clock.

“W-Wait, how long has it been exactly?” He asked as he adjusted his glasses.

“Four hours and 37 minutes! You can’t just ignore me for that long!” You claimed as you moved closer to him. He sighed and glanced back at his papers.

“I supposed I do need a break.” Usually, he wouldn’t take breaks but since you’re here, he will.

He turned his chair away from his desk to face you. He stared into your eyes and you looked away.

“You wanna play a game?”

“What type of game?”

“A fun one.” You suspiciously said.

Azul raised an eyebrow yet didn’t question the strange answer. “What’s the game called?”

“The Pocky Game.” You shuffled around in your bag and pulled out a red box. You approached him and got down on your knees to be around the same level as him. “It’s really easy. All you have to do is finish the stick before the other person.”

“That’s easy—!”

“The same stick.”

He froze as you stuffed the end of the stick in his mouth and connected your own at the other end. He clenched the seat arm rests and stared intensely as you bit down a huge chunk. He felt you lean forward and he nearly pulled away if it weren’t for your hand that had grabbed onto the side of his head.

Getting closer and closer, he couldn’t find a chance to interject. You were so close. If he were to move just a little bit closer you two would—

Your eyes were equally as shocked as his as you felt his lips touch at yours. You pulled his head away and had a huge grin.

“Wow, I didn’t know you had it in you to do something as bold as that!”

Kalim Al Asim

It wasn’t often that you got complete alone time when Kalim. Jamil is always there to watch and guard him at every chance he gets. But Jamil is now temporarily out of the picture! This is a rare opportunity.

“Kalim, let’s play a game!” You suggested with enthusiasm. Kalim lit up and nodded rapidly.

“Yeah! Yeah! What game are we gonna play?” He asked as he sat closer to you. You pulled a small red box out of your pocket and showed him it.

“You might’ve heard about it from Cater but it’s really simple. All you have to do is finish the stick before the other person.” You explained as Kalim listened carefully.

“Oh, and it’s on the same stick, right?” He asked with a point. You nodded and pushed a bit into his mouth. You smiled as you pulled your hand away and carefully out down the box. To your surprise, Kalim moved into you and put his arms at your shoulders, urging you to bite into it.

You complied and bit down on the other end. Kalim was oddly bold. He was probably more interested in the food than the actual game. You laughed a bit making him laughed with a closed mouth.

He moved in slowly and at the perfect moment, your lips connected with his. He flinched at the contact and loosened the grip he had around you. He softly stared into your eyes and hugged you. He broke the kiss and laughed childishly.

“I’m lucky Jamil wasn’t here to interrupt. If so, he would’ve killed me.”

#riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #requests #scenarios

[arogustus]

Splatband Analysis - Hightide Era

So I was eating breakfast the other day when I found on the back of my milk carton this picture about a band being missing? Now, I think they’re exaggerating a bit on the “M.I.A.” thing. Sure, they haven’t been mentioned since Splatoon 2, where they got to cameo in the White Day artwork and are involved in the backstory for Ink Theory, but you know who else hasn’t been mentioned since Splatoon 2? SashiMori. And I don’t see anyone making a big deal about that (other than me, Nintendo, please), but I digress. Let’s talk about these losers.

The Band

Hightide Era is an indie band that developed a strong enough fanbase to get their music into the Turf War scene. The band started life with Taka performing on the street, before later being joined by Kuze, and then Nishida, in that order. One of the first things we learned is the meaning of the band's name, which refers to both the nature of the band's sound, brimming and full… and also the ecological realities of the world. Seems the band has environmental concerns they wanna draw attention to, enough to make it a part of their name. 

Taka

The band's pianist and vocalist, and the overall center of attention of the band, which is exactly what they want. They’re an incredibly talented musician, having practiced piano since the age of Four, and attended the same prestigious academy that Karen did, having been her senior while she was attending. After that, though, they grew tired of all this academic music nonsense and took to the streets to perform, which is where they met Kuze and Nishida. 

The most obvious thing to know about Taka, outright told to us in their own description, is that Taka is a shallow poser. Their main motivation for making music isn’t for any artistic merit, but just because it gets them attention and adoration. Which, considering they’ve been at it since the age of Four, is pretty concerning. Also very superficial beneath the surface. It’s an Ichiya situation, with a lot of surface level charisma concealing a superficial personality. It must be pretty effective too considering they have a dedicated fan in Karen. That desire for attention also keeps them from adding a bassist to the band, it draws attention away from the low notes they hit. What an ass.

White Day art time, we see our stinker leaning back on their chair, clearly spectating the epic battle between Tangle and Finn like a weirdo. They must get a lot of enjoyment out of seeing chaos going on around them. Or maybe they’re trying to peek at Finn? In which case they probably didn’t get to stay as a spectator for long. 

Kuze

Kuze is the drummer and a stone fish. He plays on cheap drums because it provides a very messy but powerful sound that compliments the other members trying to look cool. He probably just likes the way the drum sounds and thinks it looks cool. He’s also a fashion designer, he made the uniforms the band wears. Probably has a lot of talents in that area, too. 

He’s the third and final member of Underpass Bass Drum, so he’s an active turf player. It’d be cool if one day we got an idea as to what their weapon preferences are. Maybe they even wear a uniform too, what with him being a part of the team? Ah, I’m speculating.

White Day has him sitting with Paul and Jawn. He’s not playing the game, so he’s probably just hanging with them and watching, perhaps waiting for his turn. But there’s one thing you can see him do, and that’s giving Taka the side-eye. It gives the vibe that he knows about Taka and their shenanigans and doesn’t tolerate them too much. Or he’s just keeping an eye on them in case Finn notices and takes it as a challenge. 

Nishida

Nishida is a herring and a guitarist. They don’t like being in the spotlight, despite the stereotype revolving around guitarists. May or may not have something to do with the fact they are the youngest of 247 siblings. Like, yeah, that’s a huge ratio of sibling teasing, bullying and fawning, especially since they’re the youngest. Still, they don’t hate attention, they’ve apparently been featured in a serialized magazine that talks about their guitar skills. And apparently people they’re trying to “put on airs” (it means they act like they’re better than others, to be snobbish), when really they don’t do that… most of the time. Is it trying to say that they’re only occasionally snobbish and act egotistical?

In the White Day artwork, they are shown engaged in conversation with Taichi in the back of the bar. They’re more social than they appear, at least, but we may never know what the nature of their conversation is. #Nishida x Taichi Romance. They also brought their guitar for some reason, despite absolutely no one else bringing anything. Wonder what that’s about.

—

And that’s Hightide Era. I never cared about them until today, but I’m glad to say I’ve gained an appreciation for them as of this analysis. There’s something to love about everyone, even if some of them could probably use a little less attention (*cought* Taka *cough*).

We are down two bands. The Chips that Chirp, the neurodivergence squad Chirpy Chips, and everyone’s favorite band of fish freaks ω-3. I’ll go with the Chips first, and then finish with the Salmons. This is fun.

#splatoon #splatbands #splatband analysis #hightide era #taka #kuze #nishida #my work #i see the appeal of these guys #they're all hot losers #it all makes sense now

[goremet-chef]

guhh im so bothered rnn (vent/rant)

so... i? idk. ive been out as trans in my house since 2020. my mom doesnt call me dom (sometimes she does if my sibling encourages her to, but she defaults back to my deadname anyways) and ive learned to accept it. i dont think she ever will and its sad for me, the reality that once i start my transition, ill need to just.. leave a lot of my family behind. they think its some rebellious choice like i hate all of them but im more worried about them hating me

my mom says shes supportive but is actively right wing, shes having an inner battle with her ideologies, i know that. i can tell by how she talks about homeless people vs how she talks about us being queer

so. whatever. thats my mom i guess. but for a long time, i wasnt out to my moms husband. i despise him and ive never intentionally started a conversation with him, let alone come out. ive started to not care about what he thinks. i know what he thinks, he thinks gays should die, said it straight to my gay siblings face. okay, cool. doesnt concern me, moms bf is absolutely fucking nothing to me.

to remedy this sort of like... we didnt wanna DEAL with what he might say if he heard both my siblings calling me dom, cuz both of them do, so whenever theyre around they would just refer to my deadname, but i saw it made them cringe, so now everyone calls me 'that one child'

that one, other one, etc etc

no one even calls me my name anymore

it makes me feel so hopeless. ive EXPRESSED it makes me upset but my younger sibling doesnt care (the one most guilty of it), because they dont understand why it upsets me, i guess thats enough reason to keep going

its so dehumanizing to be reduced to actually nothing. i ALREADY have heaps and heaps and HEAPS of identity issues. sometimes it gets so bad i start having crazy ass delusions, sometimes im not even present and its a different part of my mind in my body

its hard enough as is!!! now my family wont call me anything at all

it makes me feel less bad about leaving, but i dont think ill ever leave at this rate

need to start T, change my name, get a job, all in that order. starting T seems impossible at this rate. i.. dont know what to do. i cant keep LIVING like this, because im not living at all

i never leave my house because im too ashamed in how i look, i cant BEAR the thought of anyone else perceiving me as female, i cant fucking do it!!! im so tired. my house is like a prison for me, genuinely.

and my family dont get it, obviously. they think its my choice, im some kind of hermit who doesnt care about being outside because i have internet. they are so fucking wrong. i miss going out, i miss being around people, i miss existing like everyone else, but i just cant do it man. not like this

so it becomes a waiting game, when am i gonna bring up starting it? how do i even move forward once i do? what if she says no? id have to do it on my own but i cant.. i cant even order things for myself without freezing like shutting up will get me out of there, i cant fucking do it

she doesnt even know!! we were in the car together and she was like yknow theres people who cant even make a doctors appointment. what losers.

IM losers, would she have said that if she knew? does she know and decided to say it anyways? i dont know, but its just.. everything seems so hopeless at this point. i want to just give up, accept im not gonna be who i truly am, but man i cant stand being any more miserable

it makes me wanna cry, the only time i get to feel myself how i think i should be is either if i draw something fictitious, or if i spend hours in the mirror making sure i look masculine, my mustache is convincing, etc. AND FOR WHAT? literally for fucking WHAT, because i dont leave the house anyways!!!!! dolled up like i have somewhere to be, like my appearance will get me what i want, when im stuck at home! i got nothing to prove to them, they think what they think

its fucking dreadful. im so scared of my life passing me by, and here i am wasting away in my bedroom for the last 3 years. no progress, nothing. at first, i was scared about even starting T because theres a higher risk of heart disease, but. i dont fucking care if it KILLS me. i dont care!!! if it kills me i dont fucking care im not living the life i want to live anyways. the risk of death is worth it at this point, i mean that so seriously

idk. im just tired, is all. i wish everyone could perceive me the way i dream they would. only time that happens is online, or when im not with my family at all and instead with my friends. but we only hang out like. once in a blue moon

and yknow what? im not even safe then. i remember we were at my friends house for halloween last year (we always meet up). i had my full leatherface costume one, my face was touched up to make it look like the mask. and still. dressed that way, when my friends mom asked me what my name was, i said dom and she was immediately like. "oh, dominique?" no. my name is fucking DOMINIC.

i didnt say anything besides correcting her, but it was such a blow, man. the only time ill be happy is if im closely monitoring every single thing i do, to make sure i dont appear feminine at all. no matter how i look, now matter how deep my voice is. miserable. why would anyone think that id choose this

#tw transphobia #tw dysphoria #tw queerphobia #tw misgendering

[fand0mh03]

Ahs Coven incorrect quotes

Queenie: Oh, here’s my award for the most rules broken!  Cordelia : That’s not an award, it’s an angry letter from our boss.  Queenie, hanging it on their wall: Well, it has the word ‘most’ in it, so I’m calling it an award!

Misty: Let’s watch Sharkboy and Lavagirl.  Cordelia : Okay.  Misty: And make out during the scary parts.  Cordelia : Th-  Cordelia : The scary parts.  Cordelia : Of Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

Cordelia : Misty, can you help me? All of my clothes keep disappearing for some reason.  Misty , wearing a hoodie that's 5 times bigger than their size: Spooky.

Misty: Wanna get out of here and grab a bite to eat.  Madison: I don’t usually eat with losers.  Misty: Neither do I but I asked you, didn’t I?

Queenie: Hello friends!  The Squad:  Queenie: You might be wondering why I’m taped to the ceiling

Madison: Do you care if I take the skin off this Furby?  Madison: I want to make him a god. Once he is free of his sinful flesh, he can begin a path towards enlightenment. He will take care of us.  Cordelia : I literally could not care less but never say anything as frightening as that ever again.

Zoe : Go fuck yourself.  Maddison : Come over here and fuck me yourself you coward!

Cordelia: Alright, listen up you little shits. Not you Mallory . You’re an angel and we’re thrilled you’re here.

Maddison: I can’t believe all these people are wearing black. black is supposed to be my thing, they’re all just posers.  Zoe: Maddison, for the last time, we’re at a funeral.

Madison: If looking good was a crime, you’d be a law abiding citizen.

*at a zoo*  Zoe : What are they in for?  Cordelia : Zoe , this isn't prison.  Zoe : So they can leave?  Cordelia : No, but-  Zoe , pointing at a meerkat: I bet that one murdered someone.

Cordelia: Did you buy eggs like I asked?  Mallory: Even better!  Cordelia: What the fuck did you-  Mallory: *holding up a chicken* Her name is Fluffy.

Queenie: That shirt looks great, Maddison.  Maddison: Thanks.  Queenie: But I bet it would look even better on Zoe 's floor.  Zoe : Are you hitting on Maddison... for me?

Cordelia: Truth or dare?  Misty: Truth.  Cordelia: How many hours have you slept this week?  Misty:  Misty : Dare.  Cordelia: Go to sleep.  Misty : I don't like this game.

Zoe : Are you the big spoon or the little spoon?  Misty: I'm a knife.  Cordelia , from across the room: They're the little spoon

Misty: When I get murdered, can you make sure I become an unsolved case? 

Zoe : wHat? 

Misty: I want to be on Buzzfeed Unsolved. 

Zoe : Can we go back to the part when you said "when I get murdered"? 

Mallory: *Takes a sip of milk and gags* 

Mallory: Oh my god, is this expired? 

Mallory: *Takes another sip of milk* 

Mallory, to the Squad: I’d die for you. 

Queenie: Then perish. 

Zoe : You will. 

Cordelia : Please don’t. 

Maddison: Cool. 

Misty: I’d die for you first. 

Misty: Remember, Madison, don't do anything I wouldn't do. 

Madison: I think I crossed that line when I got a date. 

Zoe : I have a new hoodie. 

Maddison: Wrong. 

Maddison: We have a new hoodie. 

Madison: Don't joke about murder. I was murdered once and it offends me. 

Madison: Hopefully Queenie has learned a lesson about respecting other people's feelings. 

Queenie: Oh, shut up and die Madison. 

Mallory: Do you know the ABCs of first aid? 

Queenie: A. Bone. Coming out of the skin is very bad. 

Misty: Welcome to Fucking Applebees, do you want apples or bees? 

Zoe : Bees? 

Misty: THEY HAVE SELECTED THE BEES! 

Zoe : Wait- 

*Mallory approaches, shaking a jar of bees menacingly* 

Mallory: Misty... Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor? 

Misty: Your text told me to satanize the house before you returned. 

Mallory: 

Mallory: I wrote sanitize, Misty. 

Misty: If you got arrested what would be the charges? 

Madison: Theft. 

Cordelia : Disturbing the peace. 

Queenie: Aggravated assault. 

Mallory: Arson. 

Zoe : All of the above. In that order, probably. 

Madison: There's no way they like me back. 

Queenie: Zoe  would throw themself in front of a moving car for you. 

Madison: Zoe  would throw themself in front of a moving car for fun. 

#Ahs #ahs fanfic #ahs coven #ahs fandom #american horror story #queenie #madison montgomery #zoe benson #cordelia goode #misty day #mallory

[limelyrics]

Bring It On/劣等上等

Woah

(Grow up! Nah mean!)

Ooh

Ah

(Track Giga)

(Rin and Len in the house, let’s go!)

Pa pa ru pa ra ra ra ra ah

We’re the best so bring it on

Hoppin’ city, number 1

So, to the childish games and math, we say goodbye

Though the tricks are obvious, I’ve still got no pride

Keeping up appearances is such a red flag

Just keeping up the status quo, how boring is that

(That’s boring)

Come on, turn it up!

Cos’ I’m better than you scrubs!

Why don’t we nip that boredom in the bud

(Ooh)

Mama, no matter what, I can’t end up in a place like this

And maybe I’m going crazy

But I’m so damn bored of all this stupid playground drama

I am moving on up

So goodbye!

Fuck all that boring nonsense

Da da damn, I’m growing up

And you can’t stop me from learning about the bitter when push comes to shove

Pa pa passing all the time

Oh, time is flying by but now I don’t see how I’m in my prime

We’ll adapt, we’ll evolve, and I’m sure we’ll find love

And our past, and our sin, we’ll move on above

So bring it on

(Just bring it on)

(Ha!)

Yeah, all out

Bringing on changes, no doubt

Shut up about that green thot, she’s not hot anymore

Now, burn up

Ace-ing this whole life thing, jealous?

Need a pen, it’s all red

Yeah, I’ll get a hundred percent like I said

Girls, drinking, money, and drugs

That’s all the shit that I love

Chill out, it’s aight

Hey, take a joke, man

Everyday I wanna flip them all the bird

But it so fucking absurd, I don’t have enough hands

So throw them up!

And what’s up?

Loser

Yeah, you always were

Bring it on

Don’t tell me to calm down

Before I die I’ve gotta leave my hometown

Gotta grow a little taller and learn my way around

So blow a kiss, roll the highlights now

So tell me that you’re ready!

Da da damn those boring days

So full of our malaise

Won’t repeat once again when we have found our way

Na na nobody can see whats coming

So then it’s a draw, no one saw what the future brings

Every glitch, every bug, every hole that we dug

We’ll get up, we’ll dust off, we’ll struggle until it’s something we love

(Rin and Len in the show)

No no no, I won’t give up

To those things that I can’t let go of

You catch my busted up aesthetic cause

Now, I know, it’s me myself and

I’ve only got my fist

(I’ve got my whole heart)

Trump card is this

(I’ve got a new start)

Shout out to all the shit

“I’m done! Farewell!”

So this is it!

We’re never giving up!

Da da damn, I’m growing up

And you can’t stop me from learning about the bitter when push comes to shove

Hopefully our paths will cross again

And maybe that is when you’ll see that I’m an adult then

Centuries, wait for me, take opportunities

So go out on a limb

Bring it on and let the story begin

Ah

Lovin’ this era

Say goodbye to all the lies

We’ll see you later!

Bye guys!

#translyrics #vocaloid #lime's translyrics #vocaloid song #giga p #giga #kagamine rin #rin kagamine #kagamine len #len kagamine #I've been posting so much because i'm quarantining since two of my close friends got covid #so i haven't had any motivation to work on anything besides translyrics LOL #a lot of these (including this one) were reworks from years past #OR they were abandoned wips that i gave new life

[strawberrymoon-cocoa]

Hello, I'm Mona! This year is my tenth year of being Champion, as well as "stand in" Chairwoman, of The Alolan League.

This is my personal blog and any opinions expressed do not represent The Alolan Pokèmon League as a whole.

I am very interested in learning about other realities and investigating Ultra Wormholes. If you have any information on either of these, or if you yourself are from another reality, please contact me!

FAQ can be found here. If you have any questions you think should be on it, please send me an ask about it(^_^)

Ooc from here! This is an AU version of Selene, specifically moon🌑 protag ten years in the future! Different name is to differentiate but still keep the moon theme

Ooc posts will be written in pink

The FAQ will be made up of questions to add context to stuff, but also if people think there's something I should add please tell me I am stupid.

Pfp is drawn by me

My main is @ririthu where I reblog a loooot of stuff and sometimes post art.

I also run @tapu-cocoa-addict which is. Regular age Selene but headcanon based kinda. Technically the past version of this blog so sometimes things that happen there affect this blog cause it’s funny.

And @ub-heaven-or-hell an oc blog about a girl who takes care of Ultra Beasts for the Aether Foundation.

Questions to and about her are highly encouraged!! I do genuinely want to explore her as a character,,, this is both an ask blog and rp blog tbh

^ references. Dyes hair and uses colored contacts a lot, but natural hair and eye color is same as Selene. She deffo looks more serious than she is. I draw her kinda Asian cause in this canon, her mom is Kantonian and her dad is Galarian,, they only lived in Kanto until she n her mom moved to Alola and her dad moved back to Galar. Family dynamic I kinda wanna explore... ask her about it 👍

Some of her pokémon(NOT JUST main team):

Pua, male Decidueye

Maiuu, Lunala

Anu, female Ninetales

Ika, male Bewear

Pulu, male Dusk Lycanroc

Huna, female Mimikyu

Nani Loa, Male (mega) Gardevoir

Weli, Female Kommo-O

Blossom, Female Sakura Dartrix

Has more pokémon but these are the ones she takes the most with her

Muse info:

Mona, she/her, 21 years old

Basically an AU version of what I think Selene(SM protag) would end up as in the future. Yes I have two Selene blogs don’t worry about it :)

Poor eyesight loser

Doesn’t specialize in any one pokémon type, but her favorites are grass, ghost, psychic and fairy

In official events(i.e challengers battling her, other public matches, interviews, etc) she acts professional and stoic, while in her personal life she’s moreso calm, outspoken and nice. Like a gap moe 👍

Among other stuff, she really likes cute things

Changes her look regularly. Outfits, colored contacts, hair color… yk like in the game :)

Still has the blank smile but only in interviews lol

She’s not a researcher of any kind, but because of her experiences with Ultra Wormholes she’s picked up a special interest in other worlds and alternate realities. Please talk to her about it lol

Also come to realise how crazy her life was and continues to be

Generally a bit of a geek I think. Loves caring for pokémon, loves the “Animals” games, that kinda stuff.. also enjoys listening to music like any sane person

Has in more recent years realised that her experiences are not universal and that most normal people don’t know what a Wormhole does lol

There's still traces of that little gremlin in there if you can push the right buttons. She's just a bit more mature

#pkmn irl #pinned post #pokemon irl

[astringofmadhousefloozies]

Nickèd Names

Yuu finally learns who her funny Horned Boy is. This one takes place just after the ghost wedding. Content warning for coarse language and frank talk of bodily functions.

As always, check my Twisted Wonderland Fanfiction tag for more, and don’t be afeared to send me a message if you enjoyed something!

~*~*~*~

"You're finally back in class?"

You nodded at Deuce. "Stopped pissing blood every time I sneezed, so I'm back."

There's much to be said for kissing pretty ghost girls, but the main drawback is that when you do, you immediately, catastrophically hemorrhage from every pore as all your organs fail, and even with magical healing, you're still bedridden for a week. You wouldn't be doing that again. Maybe. Eliza was very cute.

"You're back. Excellent." Trein dropped a stack of papers in front of you. "Here's the work you missed."

You blinked up at him in horror. "Professor, I nearly died."

He stared back, face impassive. "You nearly did. And I'm fond of your work ethic. That's why you get this instead of a fail."

"... I'll take that."

~*~*~*~

It's after dark, so he should be along any time now. You set your phone down and wait.

True to form, your funny horned boy is soon sitting on the railing of your balcony, smiling at you. "You're all better now?"

"Better-ish." You might never get to stop taking those pills and supplements. "Why didn't you come by the room?"

"You don't know that I didn't. You slept a fair deal."

"Rude. Let's walk."

~*~*~*~

You're too tired to try the woods, so you're both slowly picking your way around the dorm grounds, your pretty horned boy keeping an eye that you don't trip. You could count the times he's touched you on one hand; when you asked, he said he didn't want to be rude. Perhaps he wasn't as fond of you as he seemed.

A buzz from your phone, Ortho wanted a symptoms check-in. You tapped back that you're fine, and your boy peered over your shoulder, leaning this way and that. Curiosity took the better of you.

"... You do know what a phone is, right?"

He chuckled. "Of course I do, my child of man. Not all technology is unknown in my homeland."

"Do you have one? I can give you my number."

He shook his head. "After I broke my last one, we decided it really wasn't necessary."

"You can replace them, you know."

"It was my... fifth?" He started counting on his hands. "No, sixth. They're delicate. After going through that many in as many weeks, we simply canceled the contract."

Your eyebrows went up through no effort of your own. "Jesus, you have the dropsies that bad?"

"The what?"

"Dropsies.” You mimed opening your hand, dropping something. “You dropped them."

"The first one went that way. Most simply shattered when I pressed the screen too hard, and one Lilia threw against a wall."

You decided to ask Lilia how he know your boy later. "Why'd he do that?"

"I tried to download a game and got, in his words, 'so many viruses.' " He seemed rather proud of himself. "They clearly weren't bad ones, I did not cough once."

"No, honey, that's not how that-" Even in the gloom, you saw he'd turned an alarming shade of red, and you backtracked. "Uh, you want to see anything on mine? I have pictures."

"Only if you don't hand me it."

~*~*~*~

"So there is a camera on this?"

"Yeah, most phones have them. Watch." You opened the camera, and hit the button so that the front camera was on, reflecting your spotty face and a wide-eyed faerie boy behind you. "This one's for selfies."

He made a face of pure confusion, and you hit the button to capture it, and showed him.

"Could you... not do that again? It's not proper." 

"You know it doesn't steal your soul, right?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but again, sheer confusion stopped him until he gathered himself. "You always surprise me. But no, it's that... portraits are a formal thing. You shouldn't share that."

You blinked up at him with your best, sweetest face. "Is this just because you don't want me to ask around for your proper name with it?"

he stopped, blinked, inclined his head. "That didn't occur to me until now, but yes."

"I'll keep it to myself, I promise," you lied, and he believed you, and therefore did not hex your phone when he returned you to your room.

~*~*~*~

It was only partially a lie; you didn't actually show it to anyone. You simply set the picture of you both as your lockscreen, so you could enjoy it anytime. And this was what got Ace staring at your phone like it started sprouting feathers and clucking.

"Why do you have a picture of yourself with Malleus Draconia?"

Ah, so that’s it, you thought to yourself. "Who? That's my Horny Boy."

"what"

"Yeah, he said I could call him whatever I wanted because names are special and he's kind of a dumbass and let me."

Ace put an arm around your shoulder. "Yuu, I need to tell you why that is the second stupidest thing you've done in your life."

~*~*~*~

"He's not scary. You're clearly mistaken."

Ace flailed, halfway between exasperation and disbelief. "He's the strongest magic user in the school! Fifth strongest in the world! He is the Prince of Thorns and a big scary dragon and could kill you in the blink of an eye."

You frowned at him. "He is a great big loser who likes gargoyles and has zero clue about anything, ever. Have you ever actually talked to him?"

Ace gave you his best are-you-fucking-stupid-or-something face. "Of course not. He's also a third year, on top of everything else. I don't want to get turned into a rose bush or something."

"He's actually very easy to talk to. Probably because everyone's too scared to talk to him."You paused. "I'm gonna go talk to him."

"Nope!" Ace pulled you back in to your seat. "What if you curses you because you know his real name?"

"I highly doubt that. Let me go, Ace."

He smirked at you. "If you wanna go so bad then pull away." 

"You know I can't do that, Ace." You're still too weak from your sickroom stay. "If you want me to stay, fine."

So you sat on his lap with a heavy flop, and watched him wince in pain. Even with all the weight lost from your illness, you're still too heavy for him. But he, stubborn brat, still gripped your arm and glared at you.

A battle of wills, one overweight brat and one stubborn weakling, rapidly losing sensation in his legs. "You're not going. I can stay here all day. You'll get bored before I do."

He's not wrong, but you have a secret weapon. "Keep me here and I'll fart on you."

He narrowed his eyes at you. "You can not fart on command."

You leaned over. "You don't know that. For all you know I had cabbage rolls for lunch and it's been brewing all day. You really wanna try me, Trappola?"

He did not want to try you, and, let you go with a grunt of disgust. "If you die, it's not my fault!"

"I'm not gonna die!"

"You said that about the ghost princess!"

"Is everyone going to hold that against me now?"

"YES!"

~*~*~*~

You found your horned boy in a pissing match with Kingscholar, and you decided to be as petty and obnoxious as possible. Walking up behind him - Malleus, what a pretty, pretty name for a witch boy - You simply wrapped your arms around his middle and squeezed, while he froze in place posed like a cowboy about to draw.

Leona started snickering. "Really? You get that few hugs in your life?"

"Shush." You peered under Malleus's arm, while he looked down at you. "Malleus? Can we talk a moment?"

Interesting. He could turn even paler than what he was.

~*~*~*~

"So the entire reason you didn't share who you were is that you thought I wouldn't want to hang out any more."

He nodded. "Most people are afraid of who I am. And you have generally unkind things to say about monarchies, as it is. I did not think you would take the prince thing kindly."

"Well." You shrugged. "Now I know why you kept taking notes whenever I started on that."

"You have many interesting things to say about it!" He brightened considerably. "I couldn't have a shift to elections within my lifetime, obviously, but much of it would be great to try implementing."

"Wouldn't your big scary grandma have anything to say about that?"

His smile was thin, but genuine. "She has much to say on most topics. But, if she did not want me to be exposed to new ideas, she could have simply kept me at home and continued with my private tutors."

You couldn't argue with that. "One last thing, Malleus."

He tilted his head slightly, face faintly pink. How could anyone be scared of him? He's so adorable it's enough to make you sick.

"I don't think I'll call you Horned Boy anymore, now that I know your more proper name."

He looked... disappointed, and you continued. "Mal's a little better for a nickname, yeah? Less of a mouthful."

He made a small noise, considering, before brightening. "Anything that you call me is perfection, my friend."

#twisted wonderland fanfiction #twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #ace trappola

[watchmegetobsessed]

VALERIE - Part VIII. (Harry Styles)

i can’t believe we are slowly nearing the end of this story, don’t forget, we only have two more parts left!! please leave a feedback/coment/like/ANYTHING if you liked this part, it means so so soooo much to me!!

word count: 5k

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

Harry can be such a persistent pain in the ass sometimes. You haven’t decided if you like it about him or not. If he makes up his mind about something it has to be that way, no objection.

He texted you in the morning that he would be coming over to your place after work, because he is looking after Valerie for the night, for the first time ever and he needed you to tell him everything he needs to know about taking good care of her.

“I think Rosa will tell you all about it when they arrive. I got a list from her as well,” you tell him when he calls you during your lunch break.

“I know she will, but I’m a single man, it’s bold of you to think I know anything about babies.”

“What are you talking about? You are always so good with her. I’m sure it’s gonna be fine.” Steven has a business dinner tonight and Rosa was invited as well. You know that because they asked you first if you could look after Valerie, but you had already made plans with Marcus, so you had to turn them down. Guess they found someone who is free, but it seems like Harry is a little panicky about it.

“Is it not the best time to admit that I have no idea how to change a diaper properly?”

You laugh at his question and you can almost picture the worried look on his face, lips pressed together and that little crease showing between his eyebrows.

“Then why did you say that you’d look after her?” you ask giving your salad a shake before you start eating.

“Because Rosa sounded so desperate, and I wanted to help. I thought I would figure it out, even googled it, but I’m not sure I have the right idea about everything.”

“What do you mean you googled it?”

“Well, if you’d look at my search history it would be filled with maternity sites where they describe in detail how to wipe a baby’s ass,” he states, making you laugh once again. 

“You’re nuts,” you sigh, shaking your head. “Unfortunately, I have plans tonight, so I don’t think I can help you.”

“When?”

“Um, Marcus is picking me up at seven.”

“That’s perfect, Rosa and Steven will drop Val off at mine at four, so I’ll have plenty of time to go over to yours so you can show me everything.”

“Harry, I’m working until five.”

“Alright, I’ll be right there at five thirty.”

“Harry... “ you chuckle, shaking your head. 

“Please, Y/N! I’m begging you! This is a kinda life or death situation. You can’t do this to me! You still owe me for the time you were looking over her!”

Closing your eyes you lean onto the table. You already know you’ll say yes, how can you not when he is right about owing him one, but you should really learn how to say no next time, before people start to see you as the loser who just does as she is told all the time. 

“Okay. I’ll be home by five twenty.”

“Fucking perfect. I’ll see you later,” he cheers before ending the call. 

Turns out he is quite punctual, because just as you walk around the corner you see his car parked in front of your building and you just smile. He spots you from the rearview mirror and gets out, unbuckling Valerie from her seat as well.

“They left you the seat as well?” you ask and help him get the huge bag Rosa packed for Valerie.

“I told them I need to do groceries so Steven left it for me.”

Valerie babbles to Harry relentlessly, who occasionally hums a response as the three of you go up to your apartment. 

“So, what exactly do you want me to show you?” you ask, setting the bag down on the couch as Harry puts Valerie down on the plush rug to wander around a bit as the two of you discuss what he needs help with.

“Diaper change, feeding and burping. I think I’ll be alright with the rest.”

“Okay, first of all, she doesn’t need to be burped, she’s old enough to skip that. Only try that if she is fussy after eating,” you tell him and he nods, mentally taking notes. “Alright, let’s see a diaper changing. How many did Rosa leave for you.”

“Oh, she left a bunch but I dropped by the store and bought another pack just to be sure. Let me grab it from the car.”

Harry runs off, in the meanwhile you sit on the floor with Val and get everything you need from the bag to change her. You figured he just bought a smaller pack in case he might mess up the first few times, but when Harry returns he has a huge pack under his arm, written on the side you see that there are 92 pieces in it.

“What the fuck, Harry? Are you trying to supply her for the rest of the year?” you snap with a laugh.

“I panicked, don’t give me shit about it!” he whines joining you on the floor. 

You put an old blanket down and grabbing Valerie you make her lie on her back as Harry opens the mega pack and hands you a clean diaper. You go over the whole process step by step, making sure you cover every detail that might come to you naturally but wouldn’t be that obvious for Harry. He intently watches your every move, at one point you almost expect him to get a notebook and pencil to take notes.

“Okay your turn. Let me see what you learned.”

Scooting over you let Harry take your spot and his hands carefully reach to get rid of the diaper you just put on Valerie, who is still carelessly babbling around, stuffing her fingers into her mouth without a worry in the world. She surely doesn’t give a damn about being experimented on. 

Harry’s fingers work delicately on her, doing everything just as you told him and he even folds the used diaper in a prettier way than you did.

“See? It’s not that hard. Just expect some poop in it the next time,” you tell him and laugh at the grimace that tugs on his face.

“How often do I need to change her?”

“Just… give her bum a sniff now and then, you’ll know when she has left a gift for you.”

“Awesome,” he sighs nodding. “Okay, now onto the feeding.”

It’s been a while since the night you looked after Val, since then Rosa has stopped breastfeeding so she is now fully on baby food from any store and basically anything pureed. Rosa packed a few different kinds of foods and wrote on the list that Valerie has been a fan of smashed apples, banana and peas.

Harry takes her to his arms and sits at your small dining table as you get one of the baby foods with a small spoon and her bib.

“Feeding is nothing special, just make sure to give her small portions and wait until she swallows everything. But she is a calm eater, so she takes her time tasting everything and then swallowing it,” you explain to him and show him what you just said, bringing some food to her mouth on the spoon. Harry watches her take it, some of it ending up on her lips and you wipe it off with the spoon when you pull it out of her mouth.

“See? She is quite chill, you have nothing to worry about,” you tell Harry. Some babies tend to turn feeding into a race and they want to get as much food into their mouth as possible at once. Valerie is a luckier case in this field. “Wanna try?”

Harry nods and you drop the spoon into the jar, putting it to the table before you take Valerie from his lap. Once again, he is doing perfectly fine, feeding her just the right amount and wiping the excess off her lips and cheeks easily. He had nothing to worry about. 

“You’re doing great, as if you were a natural,” you tell him smiling and you swear you see him blush. 

“I’m a little far from that. I’m still in panic that I do something wrong.”

“It was a bold move to say yes to Rosa if you are so worried how you’d do.” Harry keeps feeding her, eyes focused on the spoon and the little girl sitting on your thighs.

“Rosa sounded really desperate, I wanted to help. That’s what godparents are for, right?”

“I guess,” you nod. You watch him treat her so delicately and gentle, before you could even stop yourself, your thoughts wander over to imagining him be just like this with his own baby. 

The thought of Harry being a dad and taking care of his baby has a weird and surprising effect on you. You imagine him doing all these everyday things like feeding her, playing with her, falling asleep on the couch with her curled up on his chest. You’d give an arm to see him like that, the vision of a curly haired little girl playing all too vividly in your mind. You see him having a girl, that’s what feels right for him. He would definitely make her feel like a princess and a total daddy’s girl. 

Your eyes wander over to his arm where his tattoos are showing from under his rolled up sleeves. Surely soon enough Valerie will be coloring the many shapes and maybe one day he’ll do the same with his daughter. There’s no doubt Harry will be an amazing dad.

Realization hits you hard that how badly you want to witness all of these and it gets to your head a little too heavily, feeling your eyes tearing up a little. You need to take a few deep breaths that draws his attention to you.

“You alright?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows at you as Valerie finishes up the lasts of her meal. 

“Yeah, I just… I need to start getting ready,” you say clearing your throat as Harry takes Val from you. “Feel free to stick around,” you tell him making your way to the bathroom with the sheer intention of having an ice cold shower before you lose your mind over your wandering thoughts. 

Harry seemingly takes up on the offer and stays, playing with Valerie in your living room while you soak yourself in the freezing water. It helps though, you feel a lot more put together when you walk out, wrapped in your fuzzy bathrobe, your damp hair falling to your shoulders. 

“Feel free to get anything from the fridge, by the way,” you tell Harry as you move into your bedroom to start getting ready.

“Thanks, but I’m alright,” he calls back. “Where are you two heading tonight?”

“Just this new Indian restaurant Marcus has been wanting to try out.”

“Sounds nice.” Harry walks into your bedroom with Valerie in his arms as you sit at your vanity and get started on your makeup. You watch him from the mirror as he slowly walks around your bedroom, just looking around, examining the framed pictures and little memories you keep on your walls, shelves and dresser. 

You catch his smile when he sees the photo you and him got from Rosa and Steven, you put it next to a childhood photo of Rosa and you. 

“You had braces?” he asks looking at that photo.

“For three years.”

“Well, they surely did a great job on your smile,” he teases you. You know you had a quite crooked smile back then, it was actually your idea to get braces. One insecurity off the list once they straightened your teeth, a lot more to deal with that couldn’t be fixed that easily. 

Harry continues to snoop around as you do a quick, natural look, just the bare minimum. You don’t necessarily like wearing much makeup, but you like what just some mascara and blush does to your appearance. You leave the room a little to blowdry your hair and when you return, Harry is sitting on your bed, eyes watching over Valerie, who is playing with one of your pillows that has a fuzzy cover on. 

You catch Harry’s eyes from time to time as you loosely braid your hair, watching yourself in the mirror. He always smiles when your eyes meet. When you’re done with everything at the vanity, you step to your small closet to find something to wear. You narrow down the choices for three dresses, but you can’t quite decide which one would be the best.

“Wear the light blue one,” Harry speaks up, grabbing your attention. 

“I was thinking about that one too.”

“You wore it to dinner once a while ago. It looked great on you.”

“You remember it?” It’s a surprise he remembered since it was quite some time ago, more than a year, to be exact. You weren’t on good terms back then, but it seems like he still had an eye for the small things. 

“Yeah,” he chuckles softly, his cheeks turning red again as he turns back to Valerie. You grab the dress from the hanger and go to the bathroom to change. 

It’s one of the kind of dresses that just don’t let you wear a bra, but you’re fine with that, because the final look makes up for the discomfort it causes. You try your best to pull the zipper up, but your flexibility didn’t get any better through the years. A heavy sense of deja vu comes over you as you walk back to your room, holding the dress to your chest. Harry looks up at you curiously and you don’t miss how his eyes wander up and down your body.

“Could you please zip me up?”

“Sure,” he breathes out as he gets up from the bed and steps behind you. 

It’s just like the day you met, you suddenly feel like it’s years ago and he is helping you zip up your bridal dress. His fingers brush against your skin the exact same way as he pulls the zipper up, and his fingertips even run over it once it’s all done, like they did back then. You wonder if he thinks the same or it’s just an irrelevant little moment to him, nothing more. 

Stepping to your mirror you take a look at yourself, Harry standing a few steps behind you, his eyes taking in your look as well. For a moment you doubt this is the look you should go for, but as if Harry could feel your hesitation he steps forward and his eyes catches your gaze in the mirror.

“You look amazing. Marcus is a lucky guy.”

Turning around you smile at him breathing out your thank you. 

It’s nearing seven so you quickly pack your bag and choose a coat that goes well with your dress while Harry packs Valerie’s stuff. Just when you put on a pair of white heels your phone starts ringing and Marcus’ smiling face appears on the screen.

“Hi, I’ll be right down in a second.”

“Great, see you in a bit.”

When all three of you are ready to leave you lock the door and you head down. There’s a heavy silence between the two of you in the elevator and you don’t know how to break it, but it’s almost painful. 

“Call me if you are having trouble with anything,” you tell him as you walk through the hall, out of the building.

“I’m not gonna ruin your date night, but don’t worry, I had a great teacher,” he smiles at you. Marcus is parked right behind Harry’s car and he gets out seeing you walk out of the building. “Hi Marcus!” he nods in his way.

“Hey, didn’t know you were here too,” he smiles nicely and as he steps to you he presses a soft kiss to your lips. 

“Just needed some help with this little Princess, but we are off. Thanks again, Y/N,” he smiles in your way as he buckles Valerie up in her seat.

“No problem.” Stepping to the car you peek inside catching Val’s attention. “Be good and don’t give Harry a hard time, okay?” you tell her and she just stares back at you with those curious eyes of hers. “See you later,” you tell Harry nodding his way before following Marcus to his car.

As you sit in the passenger seat you watch Harry start his car and drive away and suddenly you wish you were sitting in his car. Your heart is aching to spend the rest of the evening with him and Valerie.

The guilt quickly kicks in when Marcus asks about your day. You definitely shouldn’t be thinking about being with Harry instead of your boyfriend who did absolutely nothing to deserve to be thrown away. 

You try your best to forget about Harry and focus on Marcus, because that’s the right thing to do. 

It takes all your energy to stay present and focus on your surroundings and what’s happening to you, because every other minute you find yourself thinking what Harry and Valerie are doing right now and if everything is alright. You try to tell yourself that if something was wrong he would text or call you, but he said it himself he wouldn’t want to bother you during your date.

“Is there a specific reason why you are paying absolutely no attention to what I’m saying?” 

Marcus’ voice snaps you back from your thoughts once again and you feel the heat crawling up your neck to your cheeks.

“Sorry, I just… I’ve had a tiring week.”

“You know, that’s totally fine, but you don’t seem to share it or anything without me asking about it. Is it something I do or you are just… not planning on letting me get closer to you anytime soon?” You can feel the little harshness in his tone and he has all the rights to be annoyed at you, but you still feel the need to defend yourself. 

“That’s not true. I just tend to keep things to myself.”

“It’s fine, but building up a relationship kind of requires a lot of talking. I want to hear about whatever it is that’s on your mind. How else should I help you or be there for you if you keep shutting me out every time?”

“I’m sorry if it’s coming off this way, but I’m just… not used to this.”

“To what?”

“Having to always think about someone else too, not just myself. I know it sounds selfish, but I’ve been on my own for a long time, I need time to adjust to the changes.”

“You know that I wouldn’t push anything on you and that I’m gonna wait for as long as you need, but… sometimes I feel like you’re not even trying.”

“I am trying!” you snap, feeling yourself growing frustrated that he is questioning your efforts even though deep down you know he is right. “I do want to share things, it’s just…”

I don’t want to share them with you, you think to yourself and the thought makes you shudder. The worst thing is that in the back of your mind you know exactly who you want to share things with. 

You shake your head with a defeated sigh. It’s a dead end and you clearly need to make a choice if you want to climb the walls and see what’s on the other side, even if it’s just another dump filled dead end, or you could just turn around and walk away with the possibility that you’ll never get to see what’s on the other side. 

Part of you is struggling with opening up to Marcus because deep down you know he might not be the one for you, but the other part is violently holding onto him because… if it’s not gonna work out with him, who else will it? Marcus is everything any girl would wish for in a guy, nice, funny, good looking and caring. There is nothing you could bring up against him except that you just have this weird feeling in the back of your mind. If you can’t make it work with him, who else could you possibly try with? You constantly feel like you’re running out of time and chances. The music might still be playing and there are plenty of empty seats, but it will eventually stop and you don’t want to be the one without a seat. 

Dinner cuts quite short as your little fight poisons the mood pretty fast. Clearly, Marcus is fed up because of your behavior while there’s nothing you really can or would do about it, so the drive back to your place is quiet and tension filled. He kisses you goodbye when he drops you off, but it’s more like a dry peck on the lips before you basically escape from his car. 

You are quick to get rid of your dress and change into sweatpants and a hoodie, the urge to call Harry and check in on him takes over your thoughts quite fast and you find yourself calling him.

“Y/N, hey!” you hear his voice on the other end.

“Hi, how is everything going?”

“Everything is fine, I just gave her a bath, we’re gonna watch some cartoons and then I’ll try to put her to sleep. Are you already back from your date?” 

In the back you can hear a shriek from Valerie and Harry coos at her, that’s followed by a giggle from her.

“Um, yeah. I…” sighing you close your eyes. You feel like an idiot, but it seems like you just can’t deal with your feelings tonight, so why not completely give up? “Can I come over?”

There’s a short pause before he answers. “Sure, of course. But is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just… I don’t want to be alone.”

“Alright. We’ll be waiting for you right here.”

You call an Uber and in thirty minutes you are walking up Harry’s driveway. The lights are on inside and the nerves you’ve been fighting on the way here feel to dissolve quite fast, as you think that he is still up, even though he told you he’d be waiting for you. 

You ring the bell and just a few seconds later Harry opens the door, Valerie in his arms, now wearing a pink onesie with the hood on her head.

“Hey, come inside,” he invites you in. “Can I get you anything?”

“No thanks, I’m fine.”

“So,” he sighs after locking the door and turning to face you. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Is it okay if we don’t?” you ask biting into your bottom lip. You know he is probably dying to know what made you want to come over and that you probably should tell him since you are seeking shelter at his place, but you just don’t have the energy to talk about it.

“Totally fine,” Harry smiles and you return it with a quiet thank you. “I was just about to put Val down to sleep, wanna join us?”

“Sure.”

You follow him to his bedroom where the same portable bed is set up that was in your just a few months ago. Harry lays her down bringing a blanket over her as you sit next to the crip while he grabs the book Rosa packed. Harry joins you on the floor, your legs mingling as you sit facing each other and Val can see you through the sheer side of the bed. 

You watch her in awe as Harry starts reading a story, Val listening to his deep voice as if she understood every word that left his lips. A few pages into the story you see her eyelids slowly close and she eventually falls asleep, her little chest rising and falling steadily.

The two of you tiptoe out of the room so you don’t wake her up.

“I’m gonna make a tea, you want one?”

“Yes please.”

You walk into his kitchen and while you sit on a stool at his kitchen island he starts the kettle and digs into his little box that’s filled with filters. 

“Apple and cinnamon?” he asks, holding two filters up and you nod your head. When the water boils he fills up two mugs and throws the filters into them before placing them on the counter in front of you.

“You know, I’m a little mad you had it so easy with her,” you point it out with a smirk, making him laugh.

“I made it up with the panic at the beginning.”

“You really had nothing to worry about. You did great.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles shyly. “Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“I know you said you don’t want to talk about it, but I just need to ask. You’re not feeling down because Marcus did something to you?”

You smile at how careful and protective he is. Shaking your head you turn your gaze to the mug in front of you.

“No. It’s just…” You have to take a deep breath as you feel the tears forming in the corners of your eyes. “It’s stupid,” you breathe out shakily. Harry notices what’s going on and sliding off the stool he steps to you enveloping you into his embrace as you curl your arms around his torso and bury your face into the soft fabric of his shirt on his chest.

You really didn’t want to cry, especially not in front of him, but it’s been piling up for a while and tonight has been a little too hard for you.

“Shit, now I’ve cried in your presence twice,” you sigh with a shaky chuckle as you let go of him and wipe your cheeks. 

“Actually, it’s been three times,” Harry huffs with a smirk.

“What?”

“You cried at the wedding too, when we were talking outside.”

“Amazing,” you shake your head with a bitter laugh. “I don’t even remember that.”

“No surprised, you were quite drunk by then,” he chuckles. “But it’s alright, don’t worry about it.” There’s a pause where neither of you really knows what to do or say. You feel like such a cry baby for breaking down at such a simple question, but Harry couldn’t know how deep it was digging.

“Hey,” he speaks up finally. “Wanna watch a movie? I have quite a few movies saved on Netflix that I’ve been trying to watch.”

The small smile on his lips eases your nerves almost instantly and you nod with a thankful smile. The two of you move into the living room and he puts on some kind of romantic comedy as you get comfortable on his huge L shaped couch. The movie is not the best you’ve seen, but it’s good enough to stop your racing thoughts and relax for a while. 

When you know it’s nearing its end you think about if Harry will tell you to leave or let you stay. Because selfishly, you want to stay, and not just sleep on the couch. You want to sleep next to him like at Christmas. You miss what it felt like falling asleep with his arm wrapped around you and that’s exactly what you need today. 

When the movie ends, you glance over at Harry who is examining the carpet, clearly thinking about something really hard, but you make the move he probably wasn’t expecting.

Boldly, you stand up and just simply walk into his bedroom where Valerie is still sleeping in peace. You climb up to his bed and make yourself comfortable under the covers, waiting for his reaction with your heart pounding against your ribcage. 

You hear his tapping footsteps and you wait for him to arrive with your eyes closed. It’s just a soft huff that comes from his way when he stops at the door seeing you all curled up in his bed, but he doesn’t say a word. You hear him shuffle around a little before the mattress moves under you and he lies next to you. When he stops moving you turn around so you are facing him, only making out some of his features in the dark, but you can tell he is looking at you.

“Harry?” you whisper.

“Yes?”

“I’m gonna be a little more selfish now,” you say without any further context.

“Okay,” he breathes out, clearly curious what you meant by that, but he quickly figures it out when you move closer and cuddle to his side, laying your head to his chest. You tell yourself that it’s okay, you can be selfish sometime and just do whatever feels right. This is exactly that, just an act of selfishness because you want to be close to him, feel the warmth of his body and not feel so lost and alone for just one more night.

When you feel his arm weigh down around your shoulders, a wave of relief washes over you. Everything that’s been bothering you quickly fades and it’s just the two of you, lying in his bed in silence, but it has never felt better. 

You think about how you would be okay with feeling like this every night for the rest of your life and you wouldn’t ask for more. Nothing would really matter if you could end your days like this.

But then you remember that you might be alone with this thought. That you shouldn’t let yourself get fooled just because he was there for you when you needed him. Maybe you didn’t even need him, just someone and he happened to be the closest. But you figure that’s not true, because you wouldn’t feel the same way with someone else. 

You think back to when he apologized about everything he said after the wedding. He said that he was sorry and he shouldn’t have been such an ass to you, but he didn’t say he would act differently if it was to happen again. He would probably still end it right there, just in a nicer way and it makes you think that it’s all just his friendly side, nothing more.

And the thought that you are alone with this heavy and confusing feeling scares you to death, because you have no idea what you’ll do when you lose control over it.

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[collecting-stories]

Self Sabotage - JJ Maybank

Request: Hey babe ♥️ can I request 71. “Look I know we don’t know each other that well but I’m still worried about you.” and 123. “If I asked you to stay, would you?” With jj? Just some pure fluff and hear eyes

A/N: Told you I wrote this twice 😂

Pink Kush (the sequel) | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

The party was strictly kook. You had gone to Neptune 09er’s lengths to ensure that the “coded” party message that you sent out to ‘kooks only’ made it clear that there were no pogues allowed at this most elite summer celebration. But nothing could keep away the Outer Banks’ most notorious rabble rousers. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone that pogues crashed the party, or even that they found the party. Walking passed your house was enough indication that there was something going on. If Scarlett wasn’t practically dating one of Peterkin’s deputies, she the whole thing would’ve been shut down. But it never was and the pogue crowd always showed up.

And maybe it would’ve been fine except the blond one couldn’t keep his mouth shut and Rafe was equal parts dick, especially when he was drunk. You weren’t even sure what had started the fight. You were in the kitchen with Sarah, who was ostracized, blamed for inviting the pogues that showed up, and generally ignored by other kooks at the party, when Scarlett came in, fuming.  

“I swear to god!” Scarlett cursed, grabbing a bottle off the counter, “these pogue losers are such fucking...” she groaned.

“What?” You asked, looking over at her. It was only then you realized the wealth of people who had started to congregate near the back door. As if something was drawing them there. Behind the thumping of the stereo in the living room you could hear it. The sound of shouting. “What is that?”

“That fucking dumbass friend of your boyfriend’s!” Scarlett said, directing her comment at Sarah.  

“What?” Sarah headed toward the crowd and you followed, pushing through people only to be let out into the backyard. There by the pool, Rafe was shouting at JJ, cursing him out, threatening him. They’d get close enough to shove the other but not anything more serious than that. “Rafe!” Sarah shouted, catching her brother’s attention.  

He turned to look at her and JJ took the opportunity to tackle him, knocking both of them into the water. Rafe surfaced first, grabbing JJ’s shoulders and shoving him under the water, clearly prepared to drown the pogue.  

“Topper!” You yelled, catching his attention, “get your fucking friend!”  

Some of the other pogues were at the water’s edge, trying to reach them without actually going into the pool, a strategy that obviously wasn’t working. Topper got in, grabbing Rafe and pulling him back enough that he released JJ, the other boy practically unconscious as he floated in the water. Years of life guarding at the Island Club’s indoor pool had afforded you the ability to know CPR like the back of your hand and you ran over to help as two guys pulled him out of the water.  

“Move,” you insisted, pushing your way through people and falling to your knees beside him. You leaned over JJ, pressing your ear to his chest for a moment before laying your hands over him.  

“You know CPR?” One of his friends asked, hovering your space as you counted out compressions.  

“Yes.”  

You apologized to the guy, Pope as you later learned, for snapping once JJ had sputtered out the water he swallowed, throwing himself forward and laying his head back down on your lap, pressing the side of his face into your thigh. You brushed hair off his forehead out of instinct, trying to cradle him against you too.  

“Are you okay?” Pope asked, helping JJ to sit up. You patted his back gently, moving around so you were on the other side of him.  

“Do you wanna go inside?” You asked. The crowd of pogues and kooks standing around watching hadn’t dispersed, hovering around trying to gauge if JJ was alright. Pope glanced around as Kiara came through the crowd to help. A little too late but she still weaseled her way in between you and JJ, helping him to his feet.  

“That would be good.” Pope said, wrapping his arm around JJ while Kiara stayed on his other side, helping him walk into the house with you. You could hear Pope telling JJ that they were taking him inside.  

The downstairs was mostly crowded so you led them upstairs, JJ managing by himself, pushing Kiara and Pope away when they tried to help him. “I’ve got it.” He insisted.  

“My room is right here.” You said, letting JJ pass you into the room, his wet footprints tracking across the wooden floor. Kiara hovered in the door while Pope went in after him.  

“Thanks,” Kiara finally said, somewhat awkward. To be fair, the two of you weren’t friends and you had spent the better part of the school year ignoring her for the likes of other kooks closer to your own tax bracket.  

“I’ll get a change of clothes?” You offered, not sure what to do now that JJ was in your room, just standing there in the middle of the room, soaking wet. You crossed the hall to your parents’ room, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and one of your dad’s old college shirts. When you came back into your room JJ was standing in the same place, a cut on his forehead, just above his eyebrow, bleeding. He kept wiping at it as if that would stop the bleeding. You held the clothes out for him, “here. There’s a bathroom right there.”

“Gotta love the kook life.” JJ muttered, grabbing the clothes and heading for the bathroom.

“Glad your recovered enough to be an asshole.” You snapped back.

“Hey,” JJ turned around at the door, glaring at you, “I didn’t ask to get fucking drowned by your douche bag friend.”

“I didn’t invite you to this party!” You said.

“Guys!” Pope snapped, stepping in between the two of you, “just...JJ go get changed.”

“I’m gonna grab some water bottles,” Kiara announced once JJ was in the bathroom, “might help sober him up.” She gave Pope a pointed look and he nodded.

“I’ll go with you.”

“Oh cool, just leave me here.” You replied, sitting down on your bed and rolling your eyes. Neither of them said anything, just headed out of the room and down the stairs to grab water bottles from the fridge.  

You stayed there until JJ finally came out, drying off his hair with a towel. “I left my clothes on the sink...”  

“I’ll throw them in the dryer.” You shrugged, “Look I know we don’t know each other that well but I’m still worried about you. Are you sure you’re okay?”  

“I’m fine.” JJ replied, tossing the towel in your hamper.  

“You gotta have a death wish.”  

“What?” He asked, looking over at you.

“Rafe’s fucking psychotic JJ, he would’ve killed you, ya know?” You pointed out, “if he didn’t show up uninvited to every party I wouldn’t have anything to do with him.”  

“Yeah.”

“Don’t say ‘yeah’ like you don’t believe me.” You said, “you don’t know me.”

“And yet you’re so concerned.”

“I am concerned!” You huffed, crossing your arms and looking away from him. “You almost fucking died out there...I literally did CPR on you and you’re gonna bitch at me? Look, I’m just trying to make sure that you’re okay.”  

JJ shrugged, sitting down in your desk chair and spinning it around once before facing you again. He had come to the party with everyone after he heard Sarah mention it to Kiara. It would’ve been fine, they got in unnoticed and mingled with some kooks without any trouble at all, but JJ was still fuming from a fight with his father and had, admittedly, being looking for a reason to pick a fight or get blacked-out. He saw Rafe and it was like the answer to his prayers. He started the fight and when Rafe tackled him into the pool and he hit his head on the side he’d honestly been happy to just let himself get wailed on, the older Cameron could’ve drowned him and he would’ve been thrilled.  

“Your still bleeding.” You noticed, getting up from your bed and going into the bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit from the cabinet.

He said nothing as you cleared some books off your stool and pulled it over so that you could sit in front of him, opening the kit on your lap and pulling things out. JJ sat still, tensing when you touched his face, pushing still wet hair out of his face so that you could clean out the wound and bandage it. You weren’t sure if JJ had sobered up at all or if he was still somewhat drunk, if he’d been drunk at all or just out of his mind. Either way, you could imagine him walking back down into that party.  

“This might sound crazy but, if I asked you to stay, would you?” You asked, pressing the bandage over his cut.  

“Why?”

“Cause I honestly don’t think you should be alone right now.” You replied, “but what do I know?”

JJ frowned, biting on his tongue, “did Kie and Pope go back downstairs?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded, they were at the edge of their patience and he knew that. They’d been putting up with and taking care of his reckless behavior for the last few months if not years. They probably left altogether or at least were staying downstairs so they didn’t have to take care of this. “You don’t want to deal with this.” JJ replied, an offering of an out to you.  

“Let me decide that?”  

-

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[cobaltusami]

Tropical Vacation pt. 2

Hey hi hello! This Is the last part for the day, I felt bad since the first one was so short and uneventful.

This one was funny to write, I liked writing Monokuma and Monomi's 'fight' scene xD

Characters In this part: Lee!Gundham, Lee!Kazuichi, Lee!Nagito, Ler!Nekomaru, Ler!Chiaki, Hajime, Fuyuhiko, Mahiru, Sonia, Hiyoko, Akane, Mikan, Peko

Words: 3,083

PT 1: [Click here], PT 2: [You are here.]

“KAZUICHI, I AM GOING TO DESTROY YOU!” Gundham yelled after his friend, chasing him down the beach in a full on sprint. The chase didn’t last very long though before Nekomaru quickly got In the middle of the two and held the breeder back.

“Easy Tanaka!” He barked. “What the hell Is going on?!”

“Yeah, Why are you so worked up? You guys sparrin’?” Akane asked..

“He’s trying to kill me!” Soda accused, pointing his finger at the angry boy in front of him.

“This fiend used some kind of powerful unseen force to send me flying into the water!” Gundham responded angrily. “You are lucky my Devas were not with me!”

Now that he mentioned It, Nekomaru did notice that Gundham was soaking wet.

“Easy dude! I was just playing around, I saw Sonia had your scarf and your zhu zhu pets!” Kazuichi retorted.

“THEY ARE NOT ZHU ZHU PETS!”

Nekomaru sighed in exasperation, why can’t It ever be something… normal with these two? “Y’know what, fine.” The larger student pushed both of them to the ground and proceeded to pin them both and tickle them. “If you’re gonna fight with each other… Then you’re gonna laugh with each other!”

Kazuichi shrieked as he felt his ribs being attacked, he cursed himself for not changing out of his swim attire back into his jumpsuit before launching Gundham into the water.

“NEHEHEHEKO NOHOHOHOHO!”

Gundham wasn’t much better off, Nekomaru was mercilessly tickling his exposed neck and collarbone. “FUAHAHAHAHAHA! F-FIEHEHEHEHEND STAHAHAHAP IHIHIT AT OHOHONCE!” He tried bringing his shoulders up to protect his neck but as soon as he would, Nekomaru would then attack his belly and hip, making his arms instinctively shoot back down to protect his body.

“Not until you two agree to stop fighting.”

“NOHOHOHO WAHAHAHAY! HEHEHE’S THE ONE WHO TRIHIHIHIED TO KILL ME!” Kazuichi cackled, flailing uselessly.

The Ultimate Team manager narrowed his eyes at the pinkette, he leaned down and blew a raspberry against his belly whilst vibrating his fingers into his ribcage.

Kazuichi exploded with screaming high pitched laughter, throwing his head back in the sand as he frantically shoved at Neko’s head and kicked at the sand.

He pulled back grinning then turned to Gundham, whose belly he was still tickling with his other hand. “Don’t think I forgot about you!” He teased, leaning down and blowing a raspberry against his neck.

Gundham burst into loud laughter, rivaling Kazuichi in volume. He tried to push Nekomaru away but this only seemed to encourage him, his other hand left Kazuichi giving him a chance to breathe and instead began poking at Gundham’s ribs and underarm teasingly.

He delivered another deadly raspberry to his sensitive neck, this time drawing a loud squeal followed by booming belly laughs. “GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!”

“Do you agree to stop fighting with Kazuichi?” Nekomaru asked, after a moment of no response he gifted him yet another raspberry.

“EEEAHAHAHAHAHAHA! FUAHAHAHAHAHA!” Tears were in the Supreme Overlord’s eyes from laughing so hard already.

“I’ll ask again, Are you gonna stop fighting?” He repeated, speeding up his tickles.

This time he was met with frantic nods. Nekomaru stopped tickling Gundham and turned back to Kazuichi. “Now, Will you stop fighting with Gundham?”

“As long as he doesn’t fight with me…” Kazuichi said nervously, sitting up.

“I don’t think that’ll be an issue, If he does, He knows what will happen to him!” Nekomaru laughed in amusement.

Gundham shakily sat up. “D-Do you also… vow… not to… push me Into anymore… water?” He panted.

“I dunno man, That’s kind of a hard one. The look on your face was hilarious!” Kazuichi grinned.

Nekomaru glanced at Gundham, upon seeing the somewhat downcast expression on his face he grabbed Kazuichi and held him down.

“ACK! Hey hey hey! What are you doing?!” He panicked.

“Promise you won’t throw him In anymore water.” He ordered.

“Okayokay! Jeez! I promise I won’t throw him In the water again!”

“And apologize to him.”

“What?!”

“You hurt his feelings, apologize for pushing him in the water.”

“No way! He didn’t apologize to me for chasing me!” Kazuichi fired back.

Nekomaru sighed. These damn kids never learn do they? “Gundham, C’mere.”

Gundham shuffled closer, looking questioningly at the larger student. “Yes?”

“There’s something I want you to do.” Nekomaru replied.

“What Is It, Fiend?”

“Hey, I don’t like where this is going…” Kazuichi squinted at Nekomaru, suspicious.

“Tickle him without mercy until he says he’s sorry.” The muscular student grinned at the horrified shriek that came from Kazuichi.

The Mechanic began frantically squirming, though he wasn’t able to move very much thanks to Nekomaru being freakishly strong. “Nononononono!” He didn’t much care for the dark look in Gundham’s eyes, nor the evil smile that followed.

Meanwhile further down the beach, the rest of the students were just chilling and enjoying the day. Or trying their best to.

“Are you sure we should not go check on Kazuichi and Gundham?” Sonia asked.

“Nah, I’m sure they’re fine.” Chiaki replied, building a sandcastle version of Princess Peach’s castle.

“Or one of them has finally killed the other and we’re going to have our first trial.” Hiyoko smirked. “I’m betting on Kazuichi being the dead person.”

Sonia looked horrified.

“Hiyoko!” Chiaki and Hajime chastised.

Mahiru approached the mischievous girl. “Okay, That’s a timeout.”

“What? But I--”

“Go sit on the steps!” she pointed to the steps leading to the beach, Hiyoko pouted and complied silently, crossing her arms as she sat down.

“Listen, I’m sure those two dumbasses are fine, Hiyoko’s just a bitch.” Hiko tried to reassure the blonde, Hajime tried not to laugh at that, but a chuckle slipped out. Mahiru wasn’t as amused.

“Hiko!”

“Where’s the lie?” Hajime whispered under his breath.

“Both of you get a timeout too.” Chiaki said as she stood up, she pointed to a second set of stairs. “Go sit until you can be nice.”

“Why? It’s--”

“I’m not going in fucking timeou--”

Chiaki squeezed Hajime’s side and poked at Fuyuhiko’s ribs, making them both immediately shut up. “Steps.”

They both complied, muttering under their breath as they sat down on the steps next to each other.

“You guys worried about Kazuichi and Gundham?” Akane asked, coming from the direction of said two students. “‘Cause they’re fine, Coach Nekomaru Is helpin’ them.”

Sonia let out a sigh of relief, her hand resting over her heart. “That Is good to hear, Gundham was quite mad when--”

She was cut off by a blood curdling scream that sounded vaguely like Kazuichi coming from the other side of the beach, followed by laughter. Sonia giggled. “I think I will go check on them anyway.” She said as she stood and walked off.

“Nekomaru Is wrecking them, Isn’t he?” Nagito asked amusedly.

“Oh totally.” Akane grinned. “I kinda forgot how vicious of a tickler he is, kind of makes me wanna challenge him to a tickle fight.”

“I think you’d lose.” Mahiru smiled in exasperation.

“For some reason, I get the impression that’s what she wants.” Hajime chuckled.

“Goodness! Whatever was that horrible scream?” Usami asked, appearing out of seemingly nowhere.

“Oh hey Usami.” Chiaki greeted the pink and white rabbit with a small smile. “It was the sound of Kazuichi getting tickled.”

Usami let out a small sigh of relief, then giggled. “Oh, That’s a relief. I am glad It was the sound of friendship, I thought for a moment that Monokuma had reappeared.”

“You rang?” Monokuma asked, suddenly next to her.

“Uwaaah! Where did you come from!?” Usami cried out in surprise.

“We could ask you the same thing…” Hajime said quietly.

“Wha? Has no one ever explained the bears and the bees to you?” Monokuma asked, tilting his head. “Alright I guess. Well, when two bears love each other very much--”

“Nooo! That is too mature for this audience!” Usami protested, putting her little hands on Monokuma to stop him.

“She does realize we’re not kids… Right?” Nagito whispered to Chiaki.

“For some reason, I don’t think she’s talking about us…” She whispered back.

Monokuma growled, his red eye flashing briefly before he shifted and threw all of his weight into his shoulder, promptly sending Usami flying from the force. “Keep your dirty pure hands to yourself, Monomi!”

“Uwaahh! It really hurts when you shoulder tackle me!” she cried, hitting the ground next to Chiaki.

“Anyways! I have an announcement for you Goody goody losers!” Monokuma said loudly as Nekomaru, Gundham, Kazuichi and Sonia all rejoined the group.

“Oh great, I get back just In time to listen to the homicidal tanuki.” Kazuichi frowned.

“For the last time, I am not a tanuki!” Monokuma snapped, raising his hand to threateningly show off his claws.

“He Is right, Children! Monokuma Is a bear, and--” Usami was cut off by Monokuma stomping over to kick her In the head.

“I don’t need your help!”

“Oogh! It hurts when you punt me too!” she sobbed, curling up in the sand. Chiaki got down on the ground next to her to comfort her.

Monokuma cleared his throat. “Now that Monomi Is done interrupting me, I have an announcement. As you know, I am the headmaster of Hope’s peak. That school, just like this island, Is currently full of students!”

“What?! There’s more than just us trapped by you?!” Kazuichi asked, shocked.

“Why are you telling us this?” Peko asked, crossing her arms.

“I’m glad you asked!” Monokuma bellowed. “Because, I think my students are starting to get depressed… So I think they might benefit from a change In scenery!”

“You don’t mean…” Hajime trailed off, nervous as to where this was going.

“Are you going to let those students out of the school??” Usami asked, surprised.

“Yup! Only for a while though, I wouldn’t want you all conspiring against me once you get acquainted with each other! I just hope those cold blooded killers can behave themselves for a few minutes...” Monokuma replied. “Puhuhu, Oops, did I say that out loud?”

“Acquainted with each other…?” Mahiru repeated. “You mean you’re…”

“You’re going to let them loose, Here!?” Kazuichi finished for her.

“You guessed It! Sharkboy Is today’s winner! Tell him what he’s won, Monomi!”

“W-What? What are you talking about n--”

Monokuma jumped into the air and elbow dropped the rabbit. “Nevermind! My joke Is ruined now, you’re so useless!”

“Uwah! It hurts when you elbow drop me!”

Hajime sighed at the scene before him. Is anything ever normal with these two?

After that, Monokuma left saying he had other business to attend to, After Usami had calmed down from getting a third strike from Monokuma she stood up and dusted herself off.

“What was he talking about? There aren’t really other students… Are there?” Mahiru asked apprehensively.

“No way, He’s clearly lying to us!” Kazuichi answered.

“There’s one way to find out…” Chiaki mumbled, looking at Usami. “Usami?”

“Y-Yes?”

“Was he telling the truth? Are there really more like us?” The pink haired girl asked softly.

Usami nervously looked away, stammering as she spoke. “W-Well, I don’t… i’m not…”

Chiaki frowned. “So It’s true. Is what he said about them true too?”

“N-No! I don’t… Think so…” Usami sighed softly, sitting on a beach towel. “Yes there Is more like you. I didn’t want to leave them, Please believe me! But I didn’t have time to grab any more of you before Monokuma showed up again.”

“Why didn’t you tell us before?!” Hajime snapped.

“Uwah!” Usami jumped In surprise, her ears drooping sadly. “I-I couldn’t! I felt too guilty and horrible for having to leave them behind! I can only imagine the horrors they’ve had to endure because of Monokuma.”

Chiaki gently petted the rabbit’s head. “It’s okay, It’s not your fault. It’s Monokuma’s fault.”

Usami sniffled, her ears perking back up. “Th-Thank you.” she cried. “But, I am at fault too. I should have fought him at that point, But I was scared and worried about what would happen to you all if I were to lose… I guess In the end It didn’t matter anyway.”

“So just to confirm, there’s a whole other group of students about to be released onto the island and we have no idea if they’re participating in the killing game or not...?” Mahiru asked quietly, fear prominent in her eyes.

Hiyoko got up and went over to her girlfriend, wrapping her arms around her to comfort her. “It’s okay, Mahiru! I won’t let them hurt you!”

Mahiru blushed. “I-I wasn’t scared!”

“I am afraid so.” Usami confirmed grimly, though the next moment… “However! This could be a very good thing too, Perhaps they are like you and refuse to play his game!” She suggested brightly.

Hajime felt a pit In his stomach, It took him a while to warm up to and trust the students trapped with him... he was definitely nervous and untrusting of this.

“Usami Is right!” Nagito spoke up. “We have to stay *Hopeful!”

Oh here we go…

“They are Hope’s peak academy students, after all! I’m sure they’re as reserved and strong willed as all of you Ultimate’s!” Nagito smiled, getting that look In his eyes again.

“Nagito…” Hajime said warningly, not wanting to listen to his speech again. “Remember what happened last time you droned on about Hope and Ultimates?”

“Oh, Right! Sorry, I guess even trash can be forgetful too, I’ll try to stop.” He smiled sympathetically at the Tsundere student.

“Stop calling yourself trash.” Chiaki frowned.

“But…” He stopped himself as Hajime and Chiaki both folded their arms and glared at him warningly. “O-Okay… Even though I am…--”

“Say It, and you’ll be sorry.” Chiaki puffed her cheeks in annoyance.

Nagito blinked, weighing his options. “Why are you so upset about me calling myself trash? I am trash. Do you get mad at everyone for speaking the truth?”

Unfortunately as he usually does, He chose incorrectly. Chiaki threw herself at the taller student, knocking him over into the sand. She then began squeezing his sides in rapid succession, avoiding his attempts to dislodge her hands quite easily.

“W-Wahahahahait! Chihihiaki!” Nagito squealed, trying to protect his sensitive sides from her merciless wrath.

“I warned you.” She deadpanned.

“Usami, Do you think we should be worried about these students?” Nekomaru asked over Nagito’s laughter.

“I don’t think so, I think we should welcome them with open arms! Who knows what horrors they’ve seen? We should treat them with kindness and love!” She answered.

“Then that’s good enough for me!” Neko grinned.

“Yes, I think It will be nice to make some new friends!” Sonia beamed, her eyes glittering happily.

“And who knows? Maybe there’ll be some cute girls In the class…” Teruteru said slyly.

“If you make any unsavory advancements towards the new mortals, I will put a curse so vile on you that even your future spawn will be cursed!” Gundham threatened, making Teruteru immediately shut up and shrink back with fear.

“I guess It doesn’t hurt to have some new friends…” Kazuichi reluctantly agreed with Sonia, no one was surprised.

“Ibuki thinks It’s a great idea! Maybe Ibuki will meet a musician to rock out with!” Ibuki’s eyes became starry at the prospect.

“Hey guys…?” Hajime spoke up hesitantly.

“Maybe there’ll be a gamer I can play with…” Chiaki smiled, still mercilessly tickling Nagito. “Or y’know… A therapist for Nagito…”

“Whyhyhy would a-ahahaha therapist wahahahaste their tihihime on sohohomeone lihihike mehehe?” Nagito laughed.

Chiaki narrowed her eyes at the Lucky student, attacking his belly with clawed hands. “You’re just asking for It, Aren’t you? Do you enjoy being tickled, Nagi?”

“NOHOHOHO!” he squealed, trying to curl In on himself.

“M-Maybe I-It won’t be s-so bad.” Mikan said hopefully. “I’m sure they a-are nice!”

Mahiru glared at Hiyoko, sensing she was about to say something unpleasant, The blonde girl immediately shut her mouth and snuggled more into Mahiru.

“Perhaps there will be someone who is knowledgeable with swords…” Wow, even Peko seemed enthusiastic about this-- well, as enthusiastic as Peko can be.

“Ooh! Maybe there’s someone strong I can fight with!” Akane’s face lit up excitedly.

“Guys? Aren’t you the least bit worried? What If they’re just like Monokuma said…?” Hajime asked.

“What’s to be worried about? If they step outta line, We can just beat ‘em up.” Akane grinned.

“We are NOT going to beat them up!” Nekomaru argued. “There are other ways of dealing with violent students than fighting!”

Akane put her hands on her hips and looked questioningly at Neko. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

Nekomaru glanced at Kazuichi and Gundham, who both seemed to blush at his gaze. “Things…” was his vague answer.

“I’m with Hajime on this one.” Fuyuhiko spoke up, standing up. “The thought of people we can’t trust coming on to the island makes me… kind of nervous.” he admitted.

Mahiru nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I agree too.”

“I’m kind of indifferent.” Hiyoko shrugged. “Maybe they won’t be as lame as you guys… but on the other hand, I don’t want Mahiru to be afraid.”

“I-I told you I’m not afraid!” The tsundere girl stuttered.

“It’ll be okay, guys.” Chiaki said softly, her tone contradicting her ruthless tickling. “As long as we stick together, We’ll be fine.”

“YEHEHEHEAH! WHAHAT SHE SAHAHAHAID!” Nagito cackled as she squeezed his hips. “YOUHUHU GUYS ARE ULTIMAHAHATES, THERE’S NOHOHOHOTHING YOU CAHAHAN’T HANDLE!”

“You’re an Ultimate too.” Chiaki reminded, pausing her ticklish attack. “And you’re valuable. Not trash.”

Nagito giggled tiredly as he caught his breath. “But compared to you guys… I’m not all that special…”

“Neko, He still hasn’t learned.” Chiaki called over her shoulder. Nekomaru sat down next to them and cracked his knuckles.

“I got this!” He chuckled, The next moment the air was filled with Nagito’s shrieking laughter as Chiaki and Neko proceeded to destroy the man with low self esteem.

Hajime was silent as he thought about the possibilities, It just wasn’t sitting right with him. But If Chiaki could look on the bright side… Maybe he was overreacting…?

He felt a hand rest on his back, looking to his left he saw Fuyu offer a brief reassuring smile, showing that he was just as nervous as Hajime but more worried about comforting him. Hajime faintly smiled back and put his arm around Fuyu’s shoulders, pulling the Yakuza into his side.

Mahiru gently punched Hajime’s shoulder affectionately. “It’ll be okay… We just gotta stick together like Chiaki said…”

Hajime sincerely hoped she was right about this…

#Danganronpa tickle #sdr2 tickle #goodbye despair tickle #tickle story #Lee!Gundham #Lee!Kazuichi #Lee!Nagito #Ler!Nekomaru #Ler!Chiaki #chiaki is still a scary ler #but Neko is ruthless-- #okay but Fuyuhiko and Hajime and Mahiru being bros at the end #they're so pure #Yes this Is going to have Kuzuhina In It bc I can't stop myself-- #oh well #Chiaki Is the friend who tells you she's gonna slap you if you don't stop being so hard on yourself #except she tickles instead of slaps #I totally made a victorious reference with the timeout bit-- #i'm not sorry

[caffeinated-cryptid]

you got an ego so big (it'll eat you alive).

roman-centric hurt/comfort (w/ remus, patton and virgil). 

11.7k words | AO3 link | warnings: self-hatred, semi-intentional self-destruction, various injuries, arguing, remus-typical jokes and topics.

“At the best of times, Roman’s job was a tightrope act between maintaining a healthy amount of self-confidence and the ability to adapt and take criticism. Throughout his life he walks this line many times, always with the expectation that if he were to fall one way or the other, no one would be there to catch him.

But sometimes when you’re up miles high, it can become difficult to see the safety net on the ground below you.

(aka an expansion on the premise that a bruised ego causes literal injuries and the issues this could cause when you're an insecure prince with a need to please and the weight of the world on your shoulders).”

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

To be overly aware of your own self is often associated with negative traits, such as narcissism, self-consciousness or a sensitivity to mistakes. Although to some with a proclivity towards the spotlight, it can become an inadvertent consequence of over-analyzing yourself in order to achieve those flawless performances. Naturally, gaining any sort of notoriety and attempting to retain that positive image means becoming intimately aware of your faults and staying open to change, taking criticism to heart all the while keeping relatably humble. On the other hand, it may also mean letting that same criticism become your one sole focus, tearing you down instead of becoming a rung in the ladder that's supposed to take you to higher places.

Roman often found that navigating these gray areas was a momentous task. To be proud of his work, but not be too unbearably egotistical to the point that it blinded him. To accept criticism but not allow the pursuit of perfection to destroy him.

His role was truly a balance; a thin tightrope he constantly had to traverse.

And on occasion, he would end up slipping.

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

I - bonds that tie us.

Roman first learned of his job as the ego when Thomas was young. With Remus at the helm of most of the subconscious and instinctual stuff as his id, perhaps he should've assumed that he would have a similar mirrored purpose beyond simply confidence, however it hadn't ever really come into play until one afternoon when the two of them were busy playing in The Imagination.

They had just concluded a close duel against each other and were putting their weapons away (cardboard ones, since Feelings didn't want them running around with real weapons once he found out they were using them to fight, and because Fear and Lies often fretted about them doing something stupid and getting hurt). Usually neither of them held the lead for long during their matches since they were so well-matched, but today Remus had won easily, which Roman chalked up to him feeling off ("Yeah right. Don't be such a sore loser." "It's true!"). Either way, Remus would be bragging about the victory until the next time they got the opportunity to duel, and that meant he was already rubbing it in as they prepared to leave.

On their way to the exit, Remus had taken the lead at some point and was throwing out ideas about they should do later when Roman unexpectedly paused and doubled over, clutching his head. Remus didn't notice that he'd stopped until he heard a groan and turned around.

"What's wrong? Didn't hit you too hard, did I?" He asked with a grin as if he assumed that Roman was still playing- perhaps trying to make up an excuse for his terrible loss.

"I- Dunno. My head hurts…" Roman cringed, eyes screwed shut.

Remus' smile faltered when he realized it might not be a joke and he walked back, peeling Romans hands away from his forehead. Underneath was a large red patch of irritated skin which looked set to bruise. His frown deepened because he definitely didn't cause that, nor did he witness any incidents during the day which would be the cause. "How'd that happen?

"Dunno!" He repeated, eyes going blank for a moment while he caught up with what was happening outside. The two of them were usually much too distracted when they were in The Imagination to pay attention to everything that transpired in the real world, especially on weekdays like this when Thomas would be in school and Creativity wasn't exactly needed during most classes. "...Thomas was told off for slacking in front of the entire class and he got some bad grades on his report card… He's feeling embarrassed, I think.

Remus was confused by how this was relevant until he pieced together that the two events were linked to what was happening to his brother. His eyes widened in realization before they settled into determination. "Then I'll fight him until he stops feeling bad."

That startled a laugh out of Roman, until his head started pounding and he cut himself off with a grimace. "...’Can't do that."

He laughed too, in hopes that it would lift Roman's spirits again. "Can too! I'll figure it out, then he'll be too busy worrying about his broken bones to care about what some dumb teacher said. Maybe then he'll get to skip school for a while and do something funner like-"

"Remus." Roman hissed over him, overcome with a sudden dizzy spell. His hand found Remus’ shoulder for purchase, which stopped his twin in his rant.

Remus stared at him in alarm. This seemed serious, and he didn't do too well with handling serious things. "Do... Do you want me to get Feelings? Or Learning? Or Lies?"

"No. None of them. I just wanna go home." He whined, leaning more and more against Remus for support.

' Home' in their case was what they called their shared room. It was where they always returned to at the end of a long day, and no matter what had happened, they could always feel their troubles wash away as they sat in their own little world once more. Roman longed for that feeling, to escape the too-bright sun of The Imagination which now felt like it was blinding him and just lay down for a while.

Remus nodded hesitantly, the plans he had spun of pulling a prank on Fear and Lies forgotten. Normally the two Creativities preferred to find the door of The Imagination manually (they claimed it made the experience more immersive when they were out on an adventure), but instead he reached towards the exit and the world twisted around them, ejecting them out together. They came out the other side back in their room, next to their bunk bed. Instead of climbing up to his bed on the top, Roman just about threw himself onto Remus' sheets. Somehow he managed to ignore the weird smell of the fabric that he always complained about, which spoke greatly about his current well-being.

Remus hovered behind him, unsure of what to do, when Roman let out another pained noise and curled up tighter. "What now?!"

"Thomas...parents.

Since that didn't really explain anything, Remus decided to check up on what was happening outside himself. Thomas' parents had asked to see his report card and they were giving him the 'not mad but disappointed talk', while Thomas was shrunk into himself in shame. Yikes, Learning mustn't be feeling too hot about this either. But right now his focus was on his brother, who the sight of in such a sorry state filled him with rage.

"Now I want to fight them too." Remus muttered darkly. "Take the knife from the kitchen that dad uses to cut up turkeys and make them stop talking forever. Then we won't have to deal with this again and you won't-"

Oh right, Roman was still injured. Focus, Remus. Concern. Right, he was concerned for his brother, who was hurting like he had never seen, even after their fights. What could he do about this? He was always so much better at destroying things than fixing them, so having to deal with a situation like this without any sort of guidance made him nervous.

"You can't hurt them." Roman protested weakly.

"Maybe if I want to enough I could!"

Remus walked around the bunk bed and settled down on the side Roman was facing towards. From this angle he could see new bruises spattered along his brother's arms. In a grotesque way, the different shades came together like a watercolour painting. Except instead of a canvas, they were on a body- Remus shook his head. Focus! He could draw sickly yellow and purple-inspired pictures later, when Roman would be in the mood to be more good-humored about it.

"You shouldn't, then. It's bad."

"...Alright then. What should I do Ro-bro?"

Roman cracked open one eye and looked at him. "Stay? Until Thomas feels better?"

Considering he was just grounded for the weekend, Remus wasn't sure how long it would take for this hit to Thomas' self esteem to blow over, but despite knowing this he nodded anyway.

"Okay."

He laid down next to Roman, not commenting when he hid his face against the covers and started sniffling, or when he eventually fell asleep, curled against his side like how they would sleep when they were newly-split. When Learning knocked in their door to tell them that dinner was ready, he made a weak excuse that they were busy and would eat later.

Without even asking he knew Roman would want this to be kept between them, despite how the others would undoubtedly fuss and nurse him back to health. And perhaps that was the reason why. His brother always wanted to appear infallible to the others and did so replicating the heroes from the stories they read, which often meant refusing to admit when he needed help and trying to do everything himself. If you asked Remus, he was trying way too hard to be like the Creativity that came before them, which was silly because they were different now and as they were, they needed each other.

Remus closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep too. This seemed like a big deal, so Roman's pride would have to pass eventually for him to seek help. Right?

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

II - even without dying you're dead to me.

In retrospect, Remus had underestimated Roman’s ability to keep a secret (maybe because he was so quick these days to run over to Feelings, now Morality, whenever Remus did something to upset him. Tattle-tale).

Now that they were older and their roles were more defined, their once shared-room had separated into two to adjust to this change. Even though it had been long enough that he should be used to the feeling of being alone, there were still times where Remus had to try to not let it bother him when he looked up at night, expecting to see the familiar underside of a top bunk and instead only finding the ceiling he had painted an underwater-themed mural on.

On nights like this, far too sentimental to enter a peaceful rest, they would go sleep in each other's rooms, saying nothing as they tried to pretend they were as close as they once were. Remus groaned into his pillow, fighting that annoying urge to seek comfort. He was a teenager now, he didn't want to be so attached at the hip to a side who had started looking at him with disgust and fear instead of the fondness they used to share. Sometimes he couldn't help it though, clinging to the days when everything felt simple and the biggest thing they had to worry about was finding time to create the things they enjoyed. At the very least he was glad that Roman didn't mock him for his occasional bouts of uncharacteristic sentiment; that would solidify for him that there were no remnants of the relationship they once had left.

With that depressing thought, he rolled out of bed. He couldn't sleep tonight so he was going to make that Roman's problem; that always cheered him up. Perhaps if he hadn't made such a disturbed face when Remus had talked about the brazen bull he had made earlier that day, he would feel a bit more sympathy for waking his brother up in the middle of the night. Buuut he didn't and he was feeling petty, so without a second thought he sunk out and into Romans room.

"WAKEY WAKEY~!" Remus clashed two cymbals together like one of those nightmare-inducing wind-up monkeys, only to belatedly realize the bed he was facing was empty.

He blinked, both in confusion and to adjust his eyes to the unexpected light of the room. Both of them may be night owls, but Roman would usually be asleep by 2am at least, and it was way past that hour. Looking around the room, his eyes latched onto the vanity where his brother was sitting, looking incredibly startled from the deafening crash of metal against metal.

"Get out!" He yelled once his shock faded into indignation, glaring at Remus.

Remus didn’t respond, staring at the medical supplies spread across the surface. Roman was in the middle of wrapping a compression bandage around his thigh, which he abandoned as soon as Remus had entered.

"Did you get something stuck in your ear again? I'm not in the mood to deal with you tonight, Remus. Leave ."

"What happened?" He blurted out before he could even think about the question.

"Doesn't matter. In case you've forgotten, the door's right there. Feel free to use it at any point."

Instead of complying (because when had Remus ever done that for anyone? No no, it was always more exciting to do the opposite of what people ask and see what happens), he crossed the room, ignoring how Roman increasingly looked like he wanted to punch him the longer he lingered.

"Bitch, it obviously does matter, otherwise you wouldn't be looking like you got trampled by a cracked-out horse."

"Lovely imagery." Roman gritted out.

"Lovely avoidance." Remus retorted sarcastically. "Aren't you best friends with Morality and Logic now? Why aren't they here sucking your d-"

"If you don't go back to your own room I'll run you through with my sword." Roman warned with an air of finality.

Remus snorted.

It was hard to be intimidated by the same side who had once cried when he had accidentally smashed an imaginary caterpillar cocoon with his morning star. In his defense he had forgotten to make the handle weighted when he first made it, so he was still getting used to the uneven distribution of the weapon...not like that stopped Roman from getting upset with him. Supposedly he had spent the last week trying to raise butterflies and wanted to show them off to Logic after they had learned about chrysalis in class, but Remus found that somewhat laughable considering he could just create a fully-formed butterfly if he wanted to. So he did laugh, calling him dumb for getting upset over nothing, and through tears Roman pushed him to the ground and told him he hated him for the first time. (After that, he may have spent the next week killing any butterflies that crossed his path, but that was neither here nor there. The point of this tangent provided a lá Remus Sander's brain was was that Roman could be a big baby and therefore he couldn't take anything he said too seriously.)

"Sounds like a good time! Save that idea for later though, because if you don't tell me I'll summon them over here to ask them myself."

"Don't. They don't know about this, alright? For once in your life can you just let it go?"

Huh. Remus tilted his head. It had been years since they first found out about the fun little quirk Roman had, and he just...never told? He figured at the very least it would be a good way to milk even more attention from the others; something Creativity had been seeking more often after Fear turned into Anxiety during middle school and gained a much larger role in Thomas' life. "Why?"

Roman huffed in frustration. "They don't need to. I can handle it myself."

"...Wow! Careful not to summon Lies, because you're full of shit and you know it." Remus fired back. He didn't even know why he was getting so mad. Minutes ago he was cursing his brother's guts for how their relationship had soured, and now all of a sudden it was if all of that dislike had faded into the background for something else. Concern? He hadn't felt concern for anything in years. Roman always made it seem like he could take care of himself, so that's what Remus had believed at first too, though perhaps stumbling across this situation was evidence of the opposite. Reasonable self-care didn't exactly look like 'patching yourself up at 4 in the morning'. At least, that sounded like something Lies would say which probably meant it was accurate.

"Ugh- Shut up. I've been doing just fine so far, without you or them, so you can take your fake pity and shove it up your you-know-where."

Remus didn't rise to the opportunity to poke fun at that statement, his mind going blank (and what a strange and unusual feeling that was). The idea that anything could have been hidden from him seemed unthinkable given how they used to tell each other everything. He hadn't even considered that that habit had become one-sided, given how it had never stopped being true for him. "...Roman, what does that mean? Has this been happening a lot?"

"..."

"Why did you never tell me?! This isn't something you can just keep a secret! If you won't say anything I will-

Remus' mouth snapped shut as Roman ejected him from his room. He landed back on his own bed and when he scrambled onto his feet to tried to rise up again, he found that his efforts were blocked. Roman had kicked him out and locked the door behind him. He never did that, no matter how much they fought or annoyed each other. It was the one thing they did that showed they still cared.

Remus trembled with adrenaline and shock. Taking his pillow, he summoned a knife and stabbed it and stabbed it and stabbed it until all of his pent up feelings were gone and there all that was left was the fluff covering his floor.

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

III - interlude.

As it turns out, he'd never get the opportunity to tell, because shortly after that, the newly appointed 'dark sides' were pushed away into their own corner of the mindscape after an explosive argument between the sides (during which Remus tried to ignore how closely Roman stood at Morality's side, sword brandished towards him. He didn't want to think his twin had a hand in their separation, even though it made so much sense).

When he argued about going back with Lies, now Deceit after being appointed the new leader of the unwanted and unloved, he was told through clenched teeth and pained eyes that he shouldn't. Not until Thomas was ready for him. For all of them.

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

IV - to the death of me, i'm just fulfillin' my destiny.

After that, Roman adjusted, and did so alone. Teenage years came with many challenges, ones he didn’t always escape unscathed. Despite the occasional rejection here, an unfortunate setback there, he felt as if he had grown a thicker skin for the trials they faced. Into adulthood he wore his ego like a suit of armor; Thomas was outgoing and likable, so of course it became easier to brush aside random negative experiences as minor blips, things that didn’t represent their worth.

This was challenged somewhat as he began pursuing creative outlets more seriously. This meant more work for Roman in general (Woo! Suck it Logan), but it also came with more opportunities to feel ashamed of a messed-up performance, embarrassed by a note sung wrong, hurt by an ill-intentioned piece of feedback.

So he tried to compensate at times. Sue him. Between the nights he spent nursing his wounds and wondering how to do better next time, perhaps he deserved to be a little self-congratulatory about the shining achievements he won for them. There was a certain safety in placing himself up on that pedestal, so high above that it felt like nobody could ever reach him; that he was above it all. But the reality was that this pedestal, gold-plated as it may be, was founded on an interior of paper mache, one wrong move from away from collapsing and sending him tumbling back down to earth.

It was a good thing that pretending came naturally to Roman. So natural that the fear of falling sometimes didn’t register with him at all.

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

V - the calamitous corollary of being considered.

Except, it may have been too much to expect nobody to ever realize there was something up with him. The fact that the sides had to work closely together alone meant that the excuse of being busy after every troubling experience could only work for so long.

The first one to find out was Patton, because of course it was. Sometimes Roman felt as if Patton wasn’t given enough credit for his intelligence. Even though he could be a tad slow on the uptake on other things, his ability to detect the slightest change in mood and discern how people were feeling could be uncanny at times. Emotions just happened to be Patton's strong suit, and while that was very much appreciated when it came to sharing excitement or talking through a heated problem, it was not so grand when you were trying to get away with hiding something.

The first time he let something slip was a few days after Thomas had been flat-out rejected when asking someone out on a date. It wasn't that big of a blow, considering they had barely known the guy for more than a month, but Roman had been insistent that they throw caution into the wind and give it a shot, sure that he had been receiving signals that proved that this guy felt a similar interest. Turns out, he didn't, and was very-much straight. At least the rejection had been somewhat carried out gently and he didn't seem too put-off about staying friends afterwards. Nonetheless the wound was still fresh, and Thomas kept internally cringing whenever he thought about it, which didn't help matters. Whatever. Roman dealt with the bruises that arose from the incident and dabbed a little foundation on the ones he couldn't hide with clothing. They'd get over it in a matter of weeks.

It was after the awkward feelings had finally begun to settle when it happened. Roman and Patton had been in the kitchen preparing dinner when Thomas received a message on his phone, and when he went to check it, he face-planted on the couch in mortification.

'Hey man, I just remembered that my cousin is coming to town this weekend. He's gay too so I thought you two could go on a blind date if you're still looking. :) Lmk your thoughts.'

Patton frowned upon sensing the sudden wave of embarrassment, pausing to check what had happened. "Well...That's thoughtful of him!" He chuckled, tone trying and failing to be positive. Roman couldn't share the same sentiment.

"Thoughtless is more like it! He wants to set us up with the first gay person he knows? Who's not even in the city?  Does he think Thomas has no standards at all?! How dare-" Roman's indignant protests cut off as he felt the skin around his collar grow tender and swell slightly. He let out a slight whimper when he pressed his fingers into the bruise to double check its location. Why now and in such a visible place?! He's going to get Thomas to drop that guy if it's the last thing he does-

"Ro! Are you okay?"

Right. Patton was still here. Don't panic.

"Y-yeah! I just remembered an injury I sustained earlier. But not to worry, 'tis but a flesh wound!" He joked.

"A flesh wound?!" Patton cried, reference flying over his head. "Let me see."

Gently, Patton moved his head upwards to get a better look at the bruise. It mustn't look good, because Patton, squeamish as he was, grimaced on sight.

"How on earth did that happen? I don't remember that being there just now."

"Uh." Come on Creative skills, work your magic. "A stray whomping willow in The Imagination? You know how they can be. I suppose it merely took a while to develop, bruises can be funny like that."

Luckily it seemed to work, because Patton sighed. "I thought you got rid of them all after that time one almost threw Logan into a lake. Did Remus make more?"

Heh. Good times. That was a slight lie on his behalf when he had told the others he had gotten rid of the trees; he had kept a few of them around because they were once a gift from Remus to quote 'spice up his boring forests'. Not for any sentimental reasons, of course, but because he thought it was funny and it kept him on his toes. "I guess."

Patton made a small 'tsk' noise, mouth still drawn in a frown but he didn't comment further. "Come on, I'll help you treat that. Does it hurt?"

"Of course not." He smiled. "Do you really think I could be bested by a mere tree?"

"Never! I do wish you were more careful when you go on your little adventures, though. It makes me awfully sad to think about you in 'pine'."

Roman knew it had been a flimsy excuse and even though Patton seemed to accept it, there was a hesitation in his eye which spoke of hidden disbelief. After some first aid and many more tree-related puns later, they went back to cooking, finishing up 30 minutes later. When Logan came down to dinner, immediately questioning the bandages around Roman's neck, he repeated the fake story, distracting him with a request not to go into The Imagination with the whomping willow around and packaging the thinly-veiled jab at the way Logan had once freaked out when he was swung around by the semi-sentient tree as a warning. Logan's concern quickly faded and he shot back a sharp retaliation that Roman didn't care to remember. He just laughed, feeling as light as a kite with the crisis averted.

The next time didn't go over as gracefully.

Thomas had found a different partner eventually, one that wasn't some friend's cousin. They dated for months, and just when he had been thinking about inviting his boyfriend to move in so he could be closer to his workplace, he'd been broken up with. On Valentines Day of all days. There was no better way of putting it; they had planned to go out to dinner, managing to book a table at a fairly classy restaurant, exchanged gifts, and near the end of the night his boyfriend had leaned across the table with a sad smile, thanking him for the evening before admitting he didn't see them working out anymore. He said it quietly, as to not cause a scene among the other diners, but that didn't stop Thomas from immediately bursting into tears. The scene had caused his (now ex) boyfriend to leave early after paying his half of the bill. At least the waitress had taken pity on him and brought over more complimentary bread rolls (which he took because he was not a complete fool, heartbroken as he may be), though even that didn't stop the confusion and embarrassment of it all.

As expected, the whole incident caused nothing but chaos; the right-brain sides were devastated, Anxiety was in a state of panic, and Logic had been metaphorically thrown out the window. As Thomas made his way home, they were at a complete loss for what to do. They had started the day, hoping to take a step forward in their relationship, and ended up with nothing at all. What worse is that they didn't even have a clear idea why (admittedly, that could have been due to, as mentioned before, the inconsolable crying).

It seemed like the most sensible thing to do at the moment was to throw the Valentines gifts away and gorge on the ice-cream that had been sitting in the back of the freezer for who-knows how long while watching a comfort show and trying to forget the whole evening. So that's what they did. As Logan tried to sort through what happened and rationalize what to do next, Patton wallowed in his misery as he dealt with the giant mix of feelings Thomas was going through.

After a few hours working through the brunt of it, enough to where his mind began wandering elsewhere, Patton realized with a start that he hadn't seen Roman since the start of the evening. He must have been so devastated too! Patton recalled how excited he was about the day ahead of them, how he spun fantasies of Thomas' boyfriend accepting the proposal to move in and then the future proposals that could come after that-

Patton mournfully sobbed. He needed to stop thinking about this, or else Thomas could start spiraling again. The best thing to do right now was distract himself, and to do that he should go check on Roman. Perhaps they could talk and have a mutual catharsis over the whole thing. Or better yet, he could put his energy towards someone else and he won't have to fall back into the thoughts that had been clouding his mind ever since they had left that stupid restaurant.

Splashing some water on his face to clear up some of the blotchy-ness, he left his room and crossed the hallway towards Roman's. He couldn't hear any noise coming from inside, so he tentatively knocked. "Kiddo?"

For a few moments there was silence, and Patton almost turned away, assuming that Roman might be blowing off some steam in The Imagination, until a voice cleared inside the room and answered. "Pat? What do you want?"

Patton was taken aback for a second, not expecting such a straight-forward answer. It almost sounded like Roman wasn't upset at all, but Patton sincerely doubted that to be true. His tone was almost too normal, and for anybody else he wouldn't have questioned it, but the lack of dramatics or flowery language was always a clear red flag for the Creative side. "I wanted to check on you since um- You-Know-Who took 'dine and dash' a tad too seriously." He chuckled humorlessly. "...Can I come in?"

There was some shuffling and muffled curses. "Why? I'm fine. Worry about yourself."

"'Why?'" He repeated, eyeing the door warily. "I'm concerned! I haven't seen you in hours and I- I know you must be upset about this too. Can we please talk?"

"I'm not exactly my most princely presentable self right now. Anyway, it's late. Surely this can wait until tomorrow?"

Patton looked down at himself. Instead of his usual garb, he had thrown on some more comfortable clothes hours ago, and they were currently crumpled from laying in bed, sobbing his eyes out. "I'm hardly my best-self either right now, Kiddo-" Before he could go on a spiel about how it was best to not bottle up emotions when they're fresh (and ignoring the hypocrisy of that sentiment), he heard a thump on the other side of the door followed by a quiet hiss of pain. Patton began to panic, and his hand flew to the handle. "I'm coming in!"

Before the other side could even consider protesting, Patton flung the fortunately unlocked door open and stepped into the room, gasping at the sight he was met with. Roman was on the floor, wincing as he clutched his leg. Although he was still dressed in his usual outfit, there were enough injuries on his visible skin that Patton could only wonder how far they went. He covered his mouth and stared in horror as Roman turned to look at him nervously.

"What- How did this happen?!"

Roman licked his dry lips, eyes darting away as he searched for an excuse. "I- The Imagination- This is from earlier-"

"You told me this morning you were going to spend the day helping Thomas write a love letter." Patton said, voice strained with panic and disbelief. "Tell me the truth, please."

Shoot, he had announced his plans earlier that day, hadn't he? He internally cursed his inability to keep his mouth shut, before lowering his head in defeat. "Can you keep a secret, Pat?"

Said side shifted uncomfortably, but his tone was resolute when he nodded. "If it means you'll let me help with whatever this is."

"Okay..." Roman inhaled. "Okay."

And then he explained. Or rather, gave a shortened version of the truth which was less likely to give Patton a complete heart-attack: that bruised egos were something he experienced, but it was never this bad (true) or all that common (also true), and that they weren't something to worry about because he could usually take care of them himself (technically true). By the time he had finished, Patton still looked concerned, but had become less frantic with the information.

"You'll let me help in the future if you need it, right?" He asked, so close to shedding tears that Roman had trouble keeping eye-contact without becoming choked up with guilt.

"If I need it." He agreed.

Finally, Patton smiled, and went to fetch the first-aid kit hastily. As he helped patch him up for the second time that year, the look in Patton's eyes was so pained that Roman vowed to let him see this side of him as little as possible.

For a while, he kept true to this promise to himself, and on the occasions when Patton would drop by to check if everything was alright, if Roman had encountered any bruised egos since, he relished in the relief on his face whenever he would lie and said he hadn't. Distantly he wondered sometimes if this was how heroes were supposed to feel; protecting people by letting them live in blissful ignorance and bearing the burden of the ugly truth alone.

(It was thoughts like that that kept him going.)

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

VI - high highs and low lows.

And then came the videos. Youtube had been an excellent ego-boost for Roman. Similar to how life-changing Vine was, the instant gratification of likes and feedback and people liking what they made was enough to send him over the moon, and oftentimes it was able to ward away the downsides that came with it too; the stress of staying relevant, the occasional hate comment, the portion of dislikes that didn't explain what about the video was dislike-worthy-

Overall it seemed like a great idea, especially when the sides became involved. It gave them all the chance to gain their own spotlights, which most of them appreciated. Sometimes this wasn't always so good though. With the videos came more introspection than usual, which meant deeply examining each problem to try to find some kind of moral. And right now, Roman didn't want to do any sort of thinking exercise about how badly he messed up. At this point in their career, a simple audition should have been a cake walk, instead it was an ache walk...Okay, admittedly he wasn't on his best game right now. The point was, he had potentially thrown the whole audition by forgetting something so simple as the lyrics, and now the casting director would definitely only remember Thomas by the way he froze under pressure, which wasn't exactly an appealing trait in somebody looking to go up on stage where the pressure was set to 100.

After everything was said and done, Roman had no choice but to approach Patton for help. In his current state, he was much too dizzy on his feet to even contemplate showing up and trying to play it off cool, which would've been an laughable endeavor anyhow considering how outwardly embarrassed Thomas was. Betrayal from his own-- well. It was a bit too harsh to blame his current predicament on Thomas, after all the fact of the matter was that it was Roman’s fault for not being better prepared.

Anyway, that's how he ended up in his current position, being swaddled in a too-warm bed, injuries patched up and having soup spoon-fed into his mouth. The whole thing felt...strange. Usually during times like this he would be grinning and bearing it, the inner satisfaction he got from fooling everyone with his performance pushing him through the day, but he supposed this was unavoidable. It was better that only one side had to see part of the problem rather than exposing it to everyone, and out of all of them, at least it was Patton. It still didn't sit well that his secret was now out in the open, a throwaway joke to be used before moving along, but hopefully that would play to his favor and they'd view it as his usual dramatics. Not like he preferred to be seen as too incompetent to care for himself, even if it fit with his persona. He supposed it just went without saying that princes are supposed to have someone at their every beck and call, they're supposed to be indulgent and spoiled and ridiculous. But princes were also supposed to be leaders, someone who was caring and brave and ready to face any challenge.

Roman sighed, a wave of self-loathing washing over him. He didn't feel very princely at all right now.

“Kiddo, are you doing okay? Does something hurt? Is the soup too hot?” Patton asked, eyebrows drawing together in concern. He was such an open book when it came to the other sides, which meant that Roman knew exactly when he had worried or panicked the fatherly figure. Honestly, it only made him feel worse. Being doted over seemed like a good idea until it meant being the subject of pity and other people’s hurt.

“No no, I’m fine Padre. It’s fine. I was just taking a trip into thought city for a second there.” He cracked a smile, trying to ignore how the bruise at the corner of his mouth pulled at the motion. If only he could think of a more original nickname, perhaps that would be more convincing. He was simply drawing blanks today it seemed. “What do you think the others are up to right now? I’d bet 5 bucks Logan is losing his mind having to deal with Anxiety alone.”

Patton didn’t look entirely convinced, but the sudden change of subject encouraged him to stop any further questioning.

In the end they talked until the others had finished filming. Whatever happened during the discussion must have helped Thomas grow past his feelings, because one-by-one the injuries on Roman's body grew smaller until they had faded entirely. Seeing this, Patton noticeably livened up again, and he cheerily declared that he would take the empty bowl back to the kitchen and check in with the others.

As soon as he was gone, Roman’s face dropped, tired from all the smiling he had been doing, and he slid down further into the sheets. Perhaps he should consider himself fortunate that the others had helped out, but all he could think about was how they now knew about his biggest weakness and how embarrassing that was. Logan and Anxiety were the last two sides he wanted finding out about this, if not for their often-tumultuous relationships, but because they'd never fully understand. Neither of them were as dependent on validation as much as he was. Despite what others thought about them, they would just keep on going, meanwhile Roman couldn't truly thrive without some kind of feedback; he was too shackled to expectations and the need to please for that sort of self-indulgence, it was practically written in his existence. It simply wasn't enough for him to be great, he needed to be great and be appreciated. Without that, he felt as if he would burn out, like a candle who's supply of oxygen had been cut off, leaving only smoke and the charred wick behind as a reminder of the fire that was once there. And sometimes that made him feel pathetic, that so much of his esteem depended on what people thought of him. Other times it just made him envy the others who had no one to please but Thomas himself and what he deemed important.

...He was tired, but he needed to keep going. The least he could do was keep up the image of egotism so that those horrid thoughts of being lesser weren't picked up by the others. If they started thinking of him the way he thought about himself (if they didn't already), he wouldn't know what he'd do. He wouldn't stand to be pitied or mocked or anything that validated what he already knew about himself. He just wouldn't.

Rolling out of bed, he practiced his smile in the mirror, fixed his clothes, and sunk out to make his grand appearance.

He couldn’t let this happen again at all costs.

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

VII - an agreeable sort of self-destruction.

More and more often, Roman was glad that he and Remus didn't share a room anymore. From the nights he hunched over scraps of ideas and worked without distraction until the sun was on the horizon, to the days he woke up with tears clinging to his lashes and breath coming out in labored pants, until he realizes the dream about him messing up so badly that he's split apart a second time was merely a cruel trick of his mind.

Currently, there was no greater time to be grateful for their separation than the moment he hastily returned back to safety after Remus' debut to Thomas. If only his brother could see the way he paced back and forth and tugged at his hair, he was sure his other half would merely gloat and poke away at his wounds instead of doing anything to help. Or worse, use it as ammunition in front of the other sides as some sort of proof of his imperfection.

Speaking of, the video was disastrous. He had been out-cold the entire time so he had no idea what was said and had no way of directing the conversation at all, which was possibly the most aggravating part of the whole situation. Beyond that, there was so much that Remus could have told the others without his knowledge. Once upon a time, the two of them were two peas in a pod, and that meant they knew an unnameable amount of secrets about each other. (Like how Remus always used to sleep with this crudely-knitted octopus Roman had made for him when he discovered crochet. Remus claimed to have set fire to it when they were teenagers, but Roman had seen it tucked away on a shelf the last time he had been in his room, before the Great Divide). The room swam a little when Roman thought about it too much. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but it wasn't as if he'd done much to earn Remus' loyalty. Why would he take the higher road and keep all of that to himself now, when he had the prime opportunity right in front of him to make himself seem like the better twin?

Hold on... He was thinking about this all wrong. Remus didn't care about good and bad the same way he did. Sure he was adamant that his version of being creative was more interesting, but he never tried to convince any of the other sides that he was inherently better or more worthy of attention than Roman, at least not to the same extent he did. The realization hit Roman like a train on it's way to a damsel tied to railway tracks (for lack of a less Remus-y simile): had he been wrong to push his brother away when he was just trying to help? All this time he had expected nothing but the worst from him, all because he was loud and unapologetic and had gone about his concern in a way that frightened him. Though just because Roman had been scared, surely that didn't warrant the dark sides being pushed aside in such a manner, and clearly the repression wasn't any benefit to Thomas...And was that partially his fault? He had been the one who encouraged Patton to divide the sides up. He had come up with the name for them: light and dark.

When he really thought about it, there wasn't much 'light' about him, not when he had been the source of so many problems.

Making Virgil feel unwelcome and continuing to trample on his boundaries.

His insults toward Logan and attempts to diminish his importance.

Leading Thomas and Patton astray in his pursuits for romance.

Being too quick to side with Janus when he should’ve known that the deceitful side only stood for selfishness and not the fair-played ambition Thomas valued.

And now: his treatment of Remus for most of their lives. Pushing him away, pretending he didn't exist, trying to erase their memories together.

How could he have the gall to claim that he saw Remus as an awful reflection of everything he didn’t want to be, when the whole point of looking into a mirror means facing you and you alone?

Even his metaphors were hypocritical.

It was a shock that nobody saw through that statement or called him out on how he had wronged just about everybody. How truly unfortunate it was that he had been declared the hero when he had done very little to live up to that title. Heroes weren't mean. They didn't make people feel bad about themselves for merely existing. They're supposed to defeat the bad guys, yes, but every time he had thought he was accomplishing that, it turned out that he was always off the mark. At least this time he had it right with Deceit, but still, that didn't erase the history he had with misjudging what was acceptable. He couldn't help but wonder what sort of reflection that must have on Thomas' content. If his creativity, which was supposed to be a force of pure good, had made a countless number of errors, what did that say about the things they were proud of? How many things had they put into the world that were imperfect? That had a misleading message? That was problematic and hurt people?

The realization had his throat tightening in panic. How could he ever have confidence in his work when he had such a flawed system of right and wrong? How-

...Wait.

Roman's spiraling thoughts were fortunately put on pause as he passed by his vanity, being pulled back to reality in an instant and finally noticing the splash of colours that had made themselves welcome on his skin once more. He gaped at his own reflection. It wasn’t as if he was unused to the sight per say, but he hadn’t realized anything had happened today that would affect Thomas’ ego. Remus’ appearance perhaps? He had the feeling that if there was any discussion to be had in light of that it would be on the goodness of his character, which could be a worthy-enough explanation. But if anything wouldn’t that what the large gash on the back of his head (fittingly) represented? So where had the others come from? Unless…

Was it him?  

His own self-criticism had never left a dent on his pride before. Usually his injuries tended to be the result of outside sources; the kind of things that come out of nowhere and hit at you harder than you could ever expect. Did this mean that his own words were on par with Thomas’ harshest critics?

Roman shakily sat down. This... was a good thing, right? Perhaps he was finally gaining some self-awareness. He had been trying to make amends for where he had fallen short in the past, so this could be the sign he was making progress.

Yes. This was good. And if it wasn't, then perhaps this was just apart of his repentance. At this point he was sure everyone would agree.

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

VIII - the art of learning to let go.

The thing about tightropes is quite interesting. Like most other skills, it is something that needs to be honed. At first you try on a smaller scale and fall off more times you can count, but it's alright because that's why you practice in a safe environment. And then you progress to something more risky, and this time you have other tools to help keep you steady. Before you know it, you're up doing the actual thing; a rope suspended tens of feet in the air and thousands of eyes watching your every move, each one wondering if you really will make it across, or if they're about to watch a great tragedy take place before them. When you misjudge your own abilities and are thrust upon that rope when you're unprepared, however, all of the practice you gained can feel as if it has slipped away. As soon as you take your first step, the rope wobbles and you know somewhere deep down that your fall will be inevitable. But with so many expectant eyes baring into you, what else are you to do but continue forward? Continue until you're halfway across and your balance is so shaky that all you can do is watch as the rope swings backwards and forwards beneath your feet until you give up on trying to steady yourself entirely and-

Roman let go of the rope he had been clinging onto.

There was no grace in the way that he fell. It wasn't even a matter of choosing a side; ego or change. At first he fell so gradually that he didn't feel it at all, placing all of his thoughts and opinions into a neat little box and shoving them aside. Trying so hard to adapt, trying to be feel comfortable clinging to reasoning that contradicted his role, his meaning, his existence- and before he knew it, he was plummeting towards the ground because even then, that little piece of purpose he was forcing himself to mold his worth around did nothing but feed into the self-righteousness that must've always been there, hiding away under the surface.

Roman could only describe the feeling as air-sickness when he sunk out, his very being thrown into weightless uncertainty. Once he appeared back at his safe place, the place he wanted to be most, he felt his body connect with the ground once more as he collapsed onto the floor, body shaking with sobs and wounds he already knew were appearing.

He had been so stupid. Every step he took was littered with mistakes. Just when he thought he had learned, to try to be more accepting, to know when to give up, to listen to others instead of forging his own path, another thing came along and knocked him back to where he started and he was thrown back into the cycle of trying to atone for his actions. A cycle that never seemed to end.

His arm fractured and started to swell.

For once he thought he finally had it figured out. If he just followed the person who should've known what was best for Thomas, even if it meant going back on his own desires, surely then he would be on the right side for once. But all of a sudden that was wrong and now it was all his fault that so many bad outcomes had come about as a consequence of his lack of assertion. He may not have loaded the gun, but he had pulled the trigger, and that made him more culpable than anyone else.

His nose ached as if hit by an unseen force and began dripping blood.

Even his attempts at keeping his ego in check were all for nothing because the moment he felt threatened he lashed out towards Janus, the side who now all of a sudden deserved a seat at the table because he had gained Patton's favor (nevermind that he had agreed with him first. Oh no, that was just Roman being naive and easy to sway if only you stroke his ego a little. What importance could his opinions possibly have?). But that was the thing, wasn’t it? In the end he just couldn’t win, no matter what he did. When he tried to silence his voice it was too obvious and attention-seeking, and when he chose to project his thoughts it was too loud and abrasive. When he spoke out he was punching down, but when others did the same they were punching up up up. It left him wondering how much more he had to fall before it was no longer deemed okay to kick him while he was down. Was it his fault for choosing to sit atop his golden pedestal, making himself seem forever untouchable and unable to be hurt? And would things be different if he was sensitive like Patton? Complicated like Virgil? Respectable like Logan? Had he been making a mistake all along by pretending to be stronger than he was? But how was he ever supposed to let go of the walls he had built, knowing that the second they crumbled, all the things he had been trying to protect himself from would pass through and destroy everything he had worked so hard for? Maybe it was time to accept that this was all he could be; that there was no way for him to change, no way to soften his edges or stick firm to his beliefs that wouldn’t end with him in a losing position.

His ribs ached, bending unnaturally until he felt a snap in his chest.

Perhaps Janus was right by calling him evil. He had proven it time and time again that he was no good for Thomas. In fact, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to say that he was worse than Remus. At least he couldn't help the way he was, didn't have control over the problems he caused unlike Roman. He was supposed to be the half with all the bad parts removed. The 2.0 version, new and improved. He had no excuse for being as flawed as he was, not really. All this time spent thinking he was the good twin, and it was nothing more than an act of self-delusion. The grandeur of a side with nothing to show for it beyond his words.

His eyelid puffed up and mottled with colour.

...He was bad. Unneeded. Evil.

The capillaries across his knuckles burst and stained them a violent red.

Everything would be so much better if he just-

"Broman?" Oh shit.

Romans eyes flew open. And he realized belatedly that he wasn't looking at his floor; his floor had intricate Persian rugs and a soft fluffy carpet. This one had various stains and burns and felt scratchy against his fingers.

"What the fuck. Princey? You good?"

1) He wasn't in his room. 2) Wherever he was, Remus and Virgil were here too.

"M-my mistake! I must have accidentally sunk out to the wrong place. If you'll excuse me-" He tried, but his voice was hoarse and clearly not okay. Of all times for his acting skills to have failed him.

"Oh no you don't."

Before he could sink out through the floor, two arms latched under his armpits and hoisted him upright. He choked back a gasp at the sudden movement, senses flashing white as his injuries were jostled. He barely heard the shocked exclamation in front of him before the two voices discussed something hastily and he was deposited onto a soft surface. The ringing in his ears faded, just in time to hear Virgil speak.

"What happened? " He asked, voice layered with anxiety and sounding on the verge of a panic attack. Roman would have tried to reassure him if he didn't feel like his entire body was on fire.

"It just happens sometimes, when Thomas’ ego gets bruised." Remus answered bitterly when it became clear his brother wasn't in a position to explain. He then muttered under his breath: "Though this time is different, huh?"

"What? I thought- I didn’t know it got this bad.” Virgil whispers, horrified.

"Sorry you have to see this, Finding Emo." Roman croaked once he began slowly coming back to his senses. He would regret not being more composed later, but right now he couldn't really bring himself to care about anything. “I’ll be as good as Gucci soon.”

"No. Shut the fuck up, you don't get to say that." Remus said angrily. Why did he sound so mad? Roman tried to crack open his eyes to check, but the world was still spinning too much for him to really recognize what was he was seeing. On top of that it seemed one of his eyes was swollen shut. Joy. That'll make it more difficult to patch himself up later.

"'Told you before, I can handle myself." He finally managed.

"Yeah? Was that you 'handling yourself' when you dropped in and started bleeding all over my floor? Or when you stopped talking to me and kicked us 'dark sides' to the curb because your sense of superiority was more important? Or when you started acting like a royal prick to everyone just so they wouldn't know you spend your nights licking your wounds?"

"Stop." Roman pleaded, shamefully curling into himself as much as his body allowed in its current state. Remus paused in his tirade before continuing, more quietly.

"If you're uncomfortable just from that, you should try watching your brother slowly self-destruct for years and not being able to do anything about it. That's fucking uncomfortable." Roman heard a sniffle, and his body went cold. He hadn't heard Remus get upset since they were kids. Sometimes he forgot that there was more to his brother than his disgusting unpredictable persona, and the thought that he could've been hurting Remus all this time was something that had never even crossed his mind.

"I'm..." Sorry? Was he sorry? Apologizing was practically second nature at this point, but he couldn't even tell if the words would be genuine if he said them. Was he sorry for his actions or for hurting Remus, or was it the fact that he had been caught at all? If he had it his way, none of this would be happening, so perhaps he wasn't as apologetic as he thought. He really was the worst, wasn't he?

Remus seemed to pick up on what he was thinking about saying, because he laughed; not in his usual cartoon-ish way, but resigned and hurt. The sound pulled at Roman's heart. "Save it. Here's what's going to happen you Walmart Prince Eric knockoff. You’re going to accept our help whether you like it or not, and if you try to pull any self-sacrificing BS at any point, I’m going to eat your entire makeup collection.”

“...You wouldn’t. You don’t like the way glitter sticks to your teeth.” Roman argued weakly, just for the sake of being contrary.

“Try me.”

Roman sighed. He really didn’t doubt that Remus would be petty enough to go through with his threats, especially since he knew it how much it would bother Roman to summon a new set. In any case, he wasn’t in a position to do much of anything at the moment, and now that it was too late to pretend like this never happened, he figured he might as well roll with it. Future him could deal with the consequences later.

“Okay.” He said after a moments pause, looking to the Virgil-shaped figure, as much as the crick in his neck would allow. “...Just don’t tell Patton about this. Not yet.”

The figure shuffled, out of what was probably awkwardness after having watching the twins argue. “No worries dude. We’re not exactly on- uh. Y’know what, nevermind, I’ll just go get the medical kit.”

During the moments that Virgil had shuffled off, there was an empty silence. Roman spent it trying to blink his uninjured eye back into focus, until he was finally able to spot Remus standing across from him, an uncharacteristically glum look on his face. "You look like you're going to a funeral."

"Don't even joke about that. I don't need more thoughts about-"

"Death? I thought that was pretty par for the course."

Remus smiled wryly at him, sarcastic and mocking. "You dying, dummy. D'you think I never imagined it? Something happening and you disappearing because you never let anyone help you- and me not even knowing it happened? Finding out much too late? Being alone?"

Roman didn't know what to say to that. "Sorry." He blurted out, and this time he felt like he meant it. "If it means anything in retrospect, I wouldn't have ever let it go that far. I think."

"'You think.'" Remus repeated. "God, you need some self-care. It's a shame you and Jan-jan weren't friends before. It's supposed to be his job to make sure this kind of thing doesn't happen, you know."

Roman felt himself flinch at the mention of Janus' name before he could control it. If Remus noticed, he didn't get the chance to comment on it, because at that moment Virgil came bustling back with a first aid kit.

"I didn't know what else you needed, so I got some water, balms, bandages, frozen peas, and creams. Just in case." He spoke, noticeably out of breath.

"Water?" Roman asked as a glass was held towards him. He pushed himself upright with some effort and accepted it.

"For painkillers." Virgil replied, handing him some pills once he had set the other items down. "Also your throat sounded kinda rough, and when you cry a lot you can get dehydrated, so..."

Surreptitiously, Roman wiped at his face and tried to not feel too embarrassed that the two of them had heard him wail like a toddler who'd had their favourite toy taken away. Before he knew it, he had taken the pills and downed half of the glass while the other two sides unpacked the medical supplies. Virgil really had thought of everything he might have needed.

Roman blinked as he watched them, stunned that he would go to so much effort. "This is very thoughtful of you, Medic Parade."

Virgil paused as he pieced together the nickname, and then scowled. "Mayday doesn't even sound anything like medic- and it's not. I just didn't want to- y'know- get the wrong things and make it worse."

Remus elbowed Virgil in the side, perhaps in an attempt to cheer him up. "Hey, you can't do any worse than what we did the first time Ro got a booboo."

"...And what was that?" Virgil's hesitant tone indicated he wasn't sure if he want to know.

"Nothing!" Remus grinned.

"I'm pretty sure that was just a concussion." Roman stated before Virgil got the wrong idea and thought they were totally stupid, looking upward as he tried to recall the incident Remus was talking about. It felt like forever ago now. "Not like anything could be done, to be fair."

"'Just'-" Virgil made a strange choked sound. "Is this what my life's gonna be now? Having a worry-induced heart attack every 5 minutes?"

"Welcome to the club!" Remus cheered, offering a fist bump which Virgil ignored in favour of burying his head in his hands.

"Goddammit. Alright- let's get this show on the road I guess. Roman, take your shirt off." When Remus' eyebrows started waggling, clearly about to make an inappropriate comment, Virgil waved his hands wildly to stop him. "So we can look at the damage! Shut your mouth Remus!"

"I didn't say anything." He intoned, looking overly smug before turning to Roman expectantly.

Said man frowned, placing the glass of water on the bedside table next to him. Before he made any move, he glanced at Virgil who was looking red either out of Remus-induced embarrassment or frustration. Mood. "You don't have to stick around for this part if you don't want to. It can be a bit much, so I wouldn't blame you."

"I'm not a baby, Roman." Virgil retorted, crossing his arms. "Making sure you don't die or something is way more important than my comfort. I can't promise you'll be safe from me calling you an idiot until you're better, though."

Roman looked away again. Was that condescending of him to ask? He opened his mouth to apologize, before closing it in resignation. No need to make this into an issue; he'll ask Virgil whether he felt belittled later. "...Okay. That's fair."

Instead of going through the pain of trying to remove a shirt with a possibly broken rib, he snapped and it disappeared. He heard a sharp inhale, but in response to what, he didn't know. Roman looked downwards to check. Among the remnants of previous attempts at self-healing (some messier than others), the area around his right rib was inflamed and a large portion of his stomach was splotched with purple. Noticeably, his left arm was also burning red, but luckily it seemed like the fracture there was non-displaced, which hopefully meant it would heal quicker. Other than that, there weren't any major injuries besides his black eye and bloody nose that needed attention. Could be worse, considering how god-awful he felt! 

Remus whistled. "You look like someone took a dalmatian and made it the colours of the bi-flag."

"Yeah. That's- weirdly accurate." Virgil winced. "What hurts most?"

"Uh- My arm and my ribs I suppose. They're a little... on the broken side."

"That's what I thought." Virgil muttered under his breath, grabbing the items to make a split. "I'll deal with those first, Remus you help with his nose and the bruising. And if you want to make yourself useful, hold these peas to your eye, dumbass."

"Your bedside manners are impeccable." Roman said sarcastically, taking the bag of peas and exhaling as he adjusted to the cold feeling pressed against his face. "...Here I thought there would be a grace period before you started calling me names."

"Just calling it like I see it." Virgil hummed. With deft fingers, he held the splint under Roman's forearm and began winding the bandages around it. "You should probably make an actual brace later when you're up to it, but hopefully this should keep it in place and remind you to not use it for now."

"But that sides my dominant arm-" Roman whined, about to complain about how he was supposed to get work done until Remus pinched the bridge of his nose none too gently, and he yelped. "Ow! Remus."

"Think of that as payback for the last 15 years." Remus replied lightly. "Tilt your head back."

Begrudgingly, Roman complied, resting his head against the headboard.  He stared at the ceiling as his brother and best friend silently worked their way around his injuries, applying topical ointment to his bruises and applying band-aids to small cuts. He didn't even realize they had finished until Remus bonked him on the head.

"All done! Shame it's not Halloween. You could go as a mummy again."

"Ha ha. What a comedian you are." Roman replied in a deadpan, but fought to keep a smile away anyway. The irony of how much he resembled that costume right now definitely wasn't lost on him.

"...I'm sorry for ruining that, by the way." Virgil spoke up suddenly from where he had been packing everything away, breaking the thoughtful silence he'd been in for the past few minutes. "Your costume during the Christmas video, I mean. And saying all of that harsh stuff to make a point."

Roman only stared, taken aback. "All of that happened half a year ago. I'm not upset about that."

"I know, I know. It's just... I've been thinking about it recently, all the times I haven't acted very...good." He bit his lip, averting his eyes. "Especially now, knowing that kind of thing literally hurts you."

"Virgil." Roman sighed softly, taking his hand. Virgil startled but didn't pull away. "You don't need to be 'good' all the time. Wasn't that the point you were trying to get across back then? All of us have made mistakes in our pasts, some more than others, but if you can forgive us for that, then you deserve the same acceptance for your less-than-stellar moments."

"Oh." He said, eyes glassy. His hand tightened around Roman's. "I'm still sorry, if I've ever made things worse for you or if I haven't been supportive enough."

"I- You have-"  Roman spluttered worriedly, sitting up.

"It's alright, I already know that we kinda work against each other at times. Part of the job." Roman's mouth closed with a grimace. "Still, it's unfair on you. You shouldn't be expected to perfect, especially not with an asshole like me there to tear into your work. So just...know that it's okay to tell us when you're struggling, okay?"

"Right..." Roman bit his cheek. Virgil seemed well-meaning, but showing that sort of weakness was a concept he still found difficult to accept, even if he had given in this time and allowed himself to be completely seen. Virgil noticed his lackluster agreement and patted him with his free hand.

"Hey. In almost any case we'd embrace you."

"...No one hates you."  Roman finished a beat later with a small smile. Virgil's face lit up and moved closer to his side. Upon seeing this, Remus unceremoniously squished himself between the two of them, careful not to bump against Roman too much (although Virgil definitely got the brunt of Remus crawling over him, to his dismay).

"Look at you two, my favourite dorks, bonding over feeling insecure!" He declared, throwing an arm around both of them. "Couldn't be me, but I still love you."

Roman poked Remus' side. "So that wasn't you admitting to being worried earlier?"

"Nope! New phone who dis?"

"You're insufferable." Virgil rolled his eyes fondly. "...I love you guys."

And Roman sighed contently, feeling safe and cared for. Things weren't perfect right now; he still needed time to heal and Remus and Virgil would undoubtedly want him to open up about what happened sooner or later, but for now he was was able to hear that he was loved and believe it to be true, and that was enough.

"I love you both too. Thank you."

#sanders sides #roman sanders #roman angst #creativitwins #platonic prinxiety #platonic royality #my writing #that's a tag now ig #....i've stared at this for so long idk if it's good anymore #bruised but not broken

[ttttaehyungie]

masked | myg x reader

masked | min yoongi x reader oneshot

☘  pairing | min yoongi x vigilante superhero!reader ☘  genre | college au, superhero au, humor, romance ☘  rating | NC-17 ☘  word count | 5.2k ☘  warnings | swear words, major violence/fight scenes, some childhood trauma, sexual humor (it’s like,,, one word but i’ll just tag it anyway) ☘  summary | Between academics in the day and crime-fighting at night, and your dumb rivalry with that one pain-in-the-ass, fellow vigilante Vulture, you simply don’t have time for dating. But, damn, is it hard when your partner for project work is as cute as he is. ☘  a/n | y’aaallllll this was so enjoyable to write :’) I hope you all have as much fun reading as I did writing this!

Submitted as part of BWC’s 1st Anniversary Contest.

A fist flies towards your face. You dodge leftwards. You grab the hooligan’s arm where it lingers in the air from the failed punch. Twist. He yelps. But you show no mercy. You hold tight to his arm and spin sharply on your feet. Using the momentum from your movement, you throw him over your shoulder. Thud.

He’s dazed. You seize the chance to kick him over onto his front. Locking his arms behind him, you pin him down with a knee as you fumble around in your backpack for the ropes to bind him.

A giddy excitement bubbles up, effervescent in your chest. Finally! After weeks of failed attempts, you’re so close to a solid capture. It’s just a pickpocket; small fry, really. But it’s a capture nonetheless.

Just as long as- you peek upwards to check- ok. It seems you’re in the clear. Vulture isn’t here. Wait-

Something rustles to your right. You jump in shock.

The thug takes advantage of the shift in your weight. He wrestles his arms free and pushes himself up, and you go tumbling off him. Before you can recover, he’s already sprinting off into the distance. No! He’s getting away!

In panicked desperation, you raise a hand and shoot out a force field. Dumb move. It only boosts him forward, aiding his escape. Ugh. Your victory slips like sand through your fingers.

Crack. A flash of blue pops into the middle of the street.

You roll your eyes. Part of you is relieved that the thief is not getting away. But for the most part? Unbridled annoyance.

You slump back on the ground to watch Vulture teleport in, capture the thief that you’d spent the last twenty minutes pursuing, and teleport out. All under two minutes.

Just as he’s been doing for the last few weeks. Damn. When will you ever catch a break?

“Rough night?”

Seems like your stifled yawn was not concealed well enough. Feeling slightly self-conscious, you shoot him a sheepish smile.

“Yeah. Busy fighting those assignments, y’know.”

He hums in understanding. “Let’s take a five minute break. I’m getting tired too.”

You nod. Yoongi stretches his arms out above his head and leans to the side to get in a good side stretch. Meanwhile, you avert your eyes. The sliver of skin that peeks out from where his shirt rides up has your cheeks growing warm.

“I’m gonna fill my bottle,” you announce, getting up from your shared table. “Do you want anything?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

The water fountain is just outside the library, but the short walk from the discussion pod and back is enough for you to shake off the drowsy haze you were in. By the time you return to the tiny room- they really weren’t kidding when they called it a pod- the spring is back in your step.

Yoongi looks up as you step back into the room and flashes you a smile. It’s small, but disarming as hell. Your heartbeat picks up.

“Recharged and ready to fight this project?” he jibes.

Right. The project. The project that you’re paired up for, literally for no other reason than sheer convenience. You just happened to be sitting next to each other when it was announced. But it’s fine. You’re chill, Yoongi’s chill. And that’s why you knew it was ok to just turn to him and ask, “Wanna pair up?”

The project is the only reason the two of you are talking. It’s not that you didn’t have any other opportunity to. Not at all. You’re both in the same course and you live in the same dorm.

And it’s not that you dislike the guy. In fact, far from it. If you’re being totally honest, Yoongi is 100% your type. Chill, and a laidback sense of humor with his light jokes. And not to mention, real easy on the eyes. With his platinum blonde hair- his dark roots just beginning to peek through- and striking eyes, all topped off with that heartstopping smirk of his, there is only one conclusion to be drawn. Yoongi is objectively attractive.

You’ve acknowledged this the moment you set your eyes on him at your dorm orientation tour. His blonde hair was freshly bleached at that point and pulled back in a snapback, showing off the bold, black brows that complemented his sharp, feline eyes.

It was uncontrollable. He’s just the kind of attractive that exerts a magnetic pull on your gaze, drawing you in relentlessly no matter how many times you avert your eyes.

And the kind of attractive that makes you lose track of what’s happening. You realized belatedly that you’d zoned out from the tour.

“-survival tips. Make sure you collect your laundry from the dryer promptly. One, because people who hog the machines are inconsiderate assholes. Two, because the dorm cat has a habit of stealing socks and underwear. So unless you like the idea of your unmentionables as surprise gifts for your neighbors- in which case, you’re a psychopath-, please just collect your laundry on time.”

A quick glance at the group around you confirmed that you’re not the only one bewildered by Jin’s words.

“Oh!” Jin’s voice cut through the buzz of confusion. “Just one last thing. There’s a strict no dating rule between the RA and students. I know, I know. It’s hard resisting this gorgeous face. But let’s all give it our best attempt, alright?”

You remember scoffing internally at Jin’s words. There’s just one simple rule you have for yourself in college. No dating.

Between your studies in the day and crime-fighting at night, you simply don’t have the time for it.

And it’s this same rule you have to remind yourself of as you tear your eyes away from the sight of Yoongi casually running his hand through his hair as he contemplates the project.

Just one last loop and- fuck. Did the loser call for backup? You drop the ropes to throw up a force field. The aluminum bat gets flung off into the distance, careening off your invisible force field. Thank god you heard the heavy footsteps approaching. You’ve been on the receiving end of baseball bat attacks, and let’s just say you’ve come to empathize greatly with baseballs after that experience.

You swivel to face him. Block his hook. Uppercut. The thug staggers backwards, clutching his jaw.

There’s movement in your periphery. The first guy has disentangled himself from the ropes. You spot him just as he breaks into a run. Shit. He’s escaping.

A kick lands itself in your side, sending you to the ground. Snap. A cold sense of dread fills the pit of your stomach as the visual of your wrist bent at an awkward angle registers in your mind. The tingling pain blooms as you shake it out.

But you don’t have time to take care of that right now. You’ll have to rely on the adrenaline to keep you going.

You take a second to check if your mask is still in place- alright, you’re good. Turning your attention back to the asshole that attacked you, you fix him with a glare. Before this, it was just a moral obligation to stand against lawlessness. Now, it’s personal.

You recover into a squat. Swipe a kick at his feet. He lands heavily. From his crumpled position on the ground, he makes a grab for you. But you shoot out a force field. The wind’s knocked out of him with the way he’s sandwiched between your blow and the hard asphalt.

Your kick is unnecessarily hard as you roll him onto his front. But an eye for an eye, y’know.

Learning from your earlier mistakes, you tie this one up swiftly.

“Ooh, kinky,” he mutters.

Your sharp retort sits tantalizingly on the tip of your tongue. But it’s too risky to speak. It’s far easier to get recognized by your voice than one would think. You would know. Even after over a decade, the memory of that gravelly voice still haunts you.

“I guess we’re doing this the hard way.” Smash! “I repeat. Where’s the safe?!”

No, you’ll never be able to forget it.

The thug beneath you grunts as you tug the knot extra tight. He deserves it anyway.

Now here’s the only part you hate about successful captures- lugging the offenders to the police station. It’s times like this you really wish you had a different superpower; superstrength, or superspeed, or, dare you say it, teleportation. You’ve considered using your force fields to lob the criminals forward, but all superpowers have their limits. It takes too much out of you to do that and you’ll be too drained to get back to the dorm by the end of it.

And so, with little care for how unglamorous it looks, you drag the thug all the way to the police station two blocks down.

It’s as you’re nearing the station, tasting the sweet relief of your task finally coming to an end, that you hear it- crack. The flash of blue pops up right before the station.

If it weren’t for the flash of blue and prominent crack sound, you wouldn’t have noticed him. Dressed head to toe in black- much like your own get-up-, Vulture manifests out of nowhere, together with a burly, scar-faced man. The other thug from earlier.

This is the closest you’ve been to Vulture. Before this, you’ve only ever seen him in the distance as he pops in to pick up your thugs and pops back out. But now, you’re close enough to pick up on the narrow gold trim that subtly lines his otherwise midnight black mask.

The thug in your hands groans at the sight of his accomplice having been caught. Vulture’s head whips towards you, finally alerted to your presence. Hurriedly, he drops ol’ scarface at the doorstep of the station and teleports out.

Damn, looks like you’ll be playing ding dong ditch by yourself again tonight.

Depositing the thug next to his accomplice, you thump on the door of the station twice and sprint back into the cover of the night.

The pain is truly setting in now. The adrenaline from earlier is all gone and there’s nothing sedating the pain. As if indignant from being ignored, the gnawing pain in your wrist comes biting back now with a vengeance.

But you’re already on campus grounds, so it’s just one more dash across the green, skirt stealthily around the building, up the tree to your second-storey dorm room, and you’ll be home free.

Your wrist throbs. At this point, you crave nothing more than to be showered and tucked into your bed in your jammies. Exhaustion from the entire ordeal laces your bones as you sneak your way back to the dorm.

Ok, it’s just round the corner now and- your heart leaps in your chest when you spot the shadow. Shit. In your impatience you’ve become complacent. You spin to identify the source and oh, thank god. It’s just the dorm cat skulking around in the quiet of the night.

Climbing the tree into your room has never been the easiest thing, but it’s made ten times harder with your wrist out of commission. But somehow, you manage it.

After a quick shower, you head to the shared kitchen to grab some ice for your wrist. You opt to leave the kitchen lights off, the shroud of darkness like a comforting blanket.

“Fancy seeing you awake.”

You jolt. Oh. Yoongi. You weren’t really banking on anyone else being awake.

“I could say the same to you,” you say, hand over your heart. “What are you doing up? It’s three am.”

He raises his water jug in reply. “What about you?”

“Lost track of time doing assignments,” you make up on the fly. “And then I tripped over my books in my sleepy state and busted my wrist.”

“Oh damn,” he says, hoisting himself off where he was leaning against the counter. “Can I take a look?”

His fingers are gentle as they turn your wrist to examine the damage. You try not to stare at how long and pretty they are. How is this even fair? How is it that even his fingers are attractive?

“It’s pretty swollen.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “Let me get you an ice pack.”

You don’t trust your voice, so you just nod, and move to sit.

He digs out someone’s bag of frozen peas and places it gently over your wrist where it lays on the table. The next fifteen minutes is spent in quiet conversation. Despite his quiet exterior, you discover that Yoongi is surprisingly easy to talk to. Of course, you’ve talked to him during your project meetings. But the content of your conversations then are largely restricted to the task at hand.

But here, in the midnight darkness, you find that the hushed words and laughter flow with such easy chemistry, and you desperately try not to fall any harder for him.

You take the peas- half-melted and dripping now- and dump it on the table. Wiping your wrist off on your shirt, you retrieve your bandage from your pocket and attempt to tie it yourself as Yoongi watches.

“Need help?” he offers.

“M’fine,” you reply distractedly.

“Really?”

Your family’s always lamented your obstinate nature, and you guess it’s not baseless.

Yoongi’s hand grasps yours. “Let me.”

Before your hand starts shaking from the nervous energy that’s growing in you, you let go of the bandage resignedly.

His expression is plain as he binds your wrist, as if this is a daily occurrence for him. Maybe it is. His movements look practiced, and the bandage is just tight enough that it restricts movement without cutting off blood circulation.

“You’re good at this,” you say. “Is there some secret side to you that you’re not revealing?”

He laughs a little. “I used to play basketball, and injuries were really common.”

You watch in fascination at the expert movements of his hands. Tucking the end of the bandage in, he pats your newly bandaged wrist lightly.

“All done.”

“Thanks, Yoongi.”

“Take care of yourself. I still need you alive for our project.”

Accompanying the usual morning bleariness that plagues you whenever you have just woken up, this morning it’s coupled with a dull ache in your wrist. Right. Your sprained wrist.

Shifting carefully to avoid placing any weight on your injured arm, you sit up to inspect the dressing. It’s a little mussed up, but its structural integrity is largely intact. Good, you won’t have to redo the bandaging then.

Or worse still, ask Yoongi to patch you up again.

Memories of the dimly lit kitchen come back to you, the faint glow of the corridor lights falling on the contours of his face, the high planes illuminated in an orange luminescence.

In the low light, the way his hands moved as they wrapped your wrist up wasn’t any less elegant and entrancing. The pressure that it exerted on your tender flesh was gentle, taking care not to aggravate the swollen injury.

Fuck. As if you weren’t already having a hard time holding off your feelings for him. Feelings had been bubbling up in you ever since orientation and they grew ever more persistent with each project meeting.

Why did he have to be attractive and nice? It would have been much simpler if he were just an asshole. But no, his personality just had to be as attractive as his appearance, didn’t it?

You stretch to work out the residual sleepiness, but your right rib aches in protest. Lifting your shirt and inspecting it in the mirror, a purplish bruise greets you. That sidekick really did a number on you.

Mornings like this really make you think twice about your decision to walk down the vigilante path. Mornings when the twinging pain of injuries sustained and the fatigue from having spent half the night patrolling the streets is just a little too much to bear. Mornings like this really have you wondering if you should just give it up for a normal college student’s life.

It’s truly tempting. The prospect of getting more than three hours of sleep per night is so delicious. Cuts and bruises would be a rarity. And the fluttery feeling of having a crush on a cute guy wouldn’t have to be marked as a distraction and suppressed into oblivion anymore. You want it. So much. Mornings like this, you really want to call it quits.

But your memory prevents you from doing so.

The way your mum’s hand trembled around yours as she urgently pulled you to the backroom is seared into your mind forever. Even now, your hand quivers.

Her eyes are wide with fear as she whispers, “Stay quiet.”

“The supers will be here soon, right, mum?” you ask.

“That’s right, ____.” She tucks your hair behind your ear with a shaky hand. “We just have to wait for the supers to get here.”

With that, she closes the door and the darkness envelops you. The padlock clicks just outside the door.

“Where’s the safe?” A gruff voice asks. Shivers trail down your spine.

“The cops are on their way,” you can hear your dad respond. Pride fills you at his bravery. “Look, you don’t have to do this. You can walk away right now and-”

“I guess we’re doing this the hard way.” Smash! “I repeat. Where’s the safe?!”

You can hear your mum’s pleas between hiccuped sobs.

“Well if you’re not going to tell me,” the voice continues, “I’ll just have to use brute force.”

More destruction ensues. You wince with every crash, keeping a lid on the whimpers that threaten to escape you. Where are the cops?! Where are the supers?!

“A locked door. Is that an indication of something?” The voice is close now; only the door stands between you.

Bam! The door before you rattles violently. You, too, shake in fear.

“I’ll tell you where it is!” Your dad panickedly relents. “The safe. I’ll tell you where the safe is.”

“Glad you changed your mind, old man.” The footsteps retreat.

And as you emerged from the room later that night, your nine-year-old eyes taking in the wreckage and the distinct absence of help from the police or from the supers that supposedly kept your city safe, your dreams shattered just like the glass shards that laid scattered across your parents’ store.

Ever since you discovered your powers at age five, it became your ambition to become a super. With a flashy power like yours, the chances of it happening were reasonably high.

But all that changed when your parents’ store was mugged. The supers you so admired were nowhere to be found. They were simply too busy fighting other bigger fish out there. And the police? It was a known fact that they’d gotten complacent ever since the advent of the supers.

And that left smaller stores- stores like your family’s- unprotected and susceptible to attacks by ruffian gangs that reigned in the streets. No one cares for petty crime. Not when there are bigger battles to fight out there. It was a flaw in the system.

A flaw that you aim to address through your vigilantism. What use were your flashy powers and lofty ambitions when you just remained frozen in inaction when the time calls for it? The gnawing guilt morphed into a thirst for redemption. You would become the defender of the streets.

So as lonely and draining as it is to live this life of masked identities, you can’t possibly give it up. Your conscience won’t let you.

Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to come out to the streets just days after sustaining your injury. But after icing and resting it for a day, you swear your wrist is feeling much better. Plus, you skipped your usual nightly patrols last night, but the guilt and worry had left you restlessly tossing and turning in bed. So here you are, mask on and back out on the streets.

The thug takes a swing at you. Normally you would have countered it with a block to follow quickly with a punch of your own. But with your wrist out of commission, you choose to duck down. Even your force fields would cause your wrists to absorb some impact, so the moves at your disposal are severely limited today.

You land a roundhouse kick to his side. He sputters. But he responds swiftly with a counterattack.

You’ve tried to attack mainly from your legs. Even so, your wrist feels the effects of the fight. Wrapped in its bandage, albeit sloppier than Yoongi’s expert dressing the other night but still secure enough, your sprained wrist throbs dully from the exertion.

In an attempt to soothe the ache, you roll it out- ah, the pain flares up your arm. You take deep breaths to work through the pain. You have to keep moving.

But it seems the thug has noticed your weakness. He moves quickly. Grabs your wrist and twists.

“AHHH!” The shrill scream of agony that escapes you is reflexive.

Somewhere in the midst of the white hot pain, you manage to scrape together enough sense of mind to shoot out a force field. It’s weak, and it adds yet another layer to your pain, but it’ll suffice. The thug stumbles back off-kilter.

You cradle your aggravated injury to your chest and blink back the tears. This was a bad idea. Maybe you should just give it up for tonight. It won’t be the first time a thug has gotten away, after all.

But it seems that he hasn’t had enough. He storms towards you, his face curled into a sneer.

You clench your fists. It protests in pain, but you ignore it and lower yourself into a fighting stance. You’re not sure what you can do now with the state that you’re in, but you have no choice.

Just as he picks up into a run, he’s yanked back. The immensity of the relief that washes through you as you hear that crack is so overwhelming, your legs go slightly jelly.

Vulture materializes, in his usual all-black attire, from beanie to combat boots. The gold trim of his mask glints ominously under the moonlight.

The thug takes a knee to the stomach. Vulture’s movements are so quick and sharp, the thug retches slightly. A right hook follows, without missing a beat. The thug veers to his right from its impact. But Vulture doesn’t give him an inch. He throws a left uppercut. A solid kick to the chest seamlessly completes the combo. The thug collapses in a heap on the ground.

Vulture moves like a predator on the hunt. The pace at which he stalks forward is completely unhurried. The lowlife attempts to crawl away, but he’s jerked back by the collar.

Still clutching your wrist, you watch dumbly as Vulture teleports away with the thug before you can get a word of gratitude in.

When you finally rouse from slumber the next morning, it’s from being jolted awake by the unmuffled blare of a car horn. The soundproofing in your room is shitty, but not normally this shitty. Turning to the window through which you slipped into your room last night, you realize it’s open. You were probably too tired to remember to shut it last night.

You pad over to the window, meaning to close it, when you step on something cool and smooth, but very unfamiliar. You retract your foot and look down.

Icy fear grips you. The sensation of it under your foot may have been unfamiliar, but the sight of it is definitely not. Laying on your floor is a black mask lined with gold trim.

What does this mean? Is it supposed to be a sign? Is it some sick joke? Has Vulture figured out who you are? What does he want from you?

Picking it up in your hands and skimming your thumb over the textured leather, you recall the way Vulture defended you last night. Sure, you get frustrated when he swipes your captures. But you can’t deny that, ultimately, you’re on the same side.

But having operated wordlessly all this while, and only coming in for the kill, Vulture remains an enigma. You can’t be sure of his real agenda when you’ve never fought side by side with him, let alone exchanged a word. But you can’t blame him either. You haven’t been one to break the silence either.

Perhaps you will have to now.

As it turns out, you don’t get the chance to. Break the silence, that is. For the third night in a row now, Vulture is a no show.

And for the third night in a row, the criminal gets away.

You’re tempted to blame it on your sprained wrist. But you can’t help but recall all the times thugs have slipped out of your grasp, only to be picked off by Vulture. Honestly, these last three days have you reluctantly acknowledging that your job is much harder without your silent partner.

You strain your ears in anticipation of a crack sound. But for the third night in a row, you’re left disappointed.

What’s up with all these no-shows lately?

You groan as the call gets diverted to voicemail yet again. It’s the seventh call you’ve dialled to Yoongi. Checking the time, it’s now half an hour past your agreed upon meeting time.

You slam your laptop shut. This is ridiculous. Does he think that his cute face will let him get away with everything? Just because he’s produced nothing but quality work in your pairwork so far doesn’t excuse anything.

Ok. Maybe you’re being a little harsh on him. Maybe.

But can you be blamed for being in such a crappy mood? After the shit show that was the last few nights of crime-fighting, you’re already in a foul mood. And now, hauling your sleep-deprived self out of bed and to the library at eight in the morning on a Saturday morning, only to have your partner pull a no-show? Who wouldn’t be pissed?

You shove your things into your bag and trudge back to the dorm. If you get to his room and he’s still in bed… No one can hold you responsible for what you’ll do next.

But you spot him, squatting by the shrubs that line the dorm, as you’re making your way across the green, and he’s very much awake.

You march up to him, intending to tap him on the shoulder and give him a piece of your mind.

“That damn cat,” you hear him mutter. You pause, curiosity piqued. “THIS is why dogs are man’s best friend, not cats. Holly would NEVER.”

“Looking for something?” you ask. He jumps, and turns around.

“Oh, ____,” he says, standing up from his crouched position. “Yeah, I lost something.”

“Funny, because I was looking for something too for the past-” you check your watch dramatically “- half an hour now.”

He gasps. You can pinpoint the exact moment the realization hits him. “I’m so sorry! It totally slipped my mind.”

You sigh. He’s honestly too cute. As it turns out, the answer is yes. His cute face will indeed let him get away with everything; your anger is completely diffused.

“Let’s just take a break this week,” you say.

“You don’t have to do that on my account. Just give me five minutes to grab my stuff.”

“Nah, we’ve made sufficient progress on this assignment that we’ve earned it. And you look like you’re too troubled by whatever you’ve lost anyway,” you say with a wave of your hand.

You pause, weighing your next words. But damn your soft spot for him. “Hey, do you want an extra pair of eyes to help you look?”

He considers your offer for a second. Then, hesitantly, he says, “Ok. Yeah. That’d be great actually.”

“So what are you looking for?”

He purses his lips. Did the cat really steal his underwear? Whatever he’s lost must be pretty embarrassing if it’s this hard to tell you.

Finally, he sighs and spits it out. “I know it sounds weird but I’m looking for a mask.”

You feel your jaw go slack.

“A mask?” you echo hollowly. “Like a ski mask?”

“No, um.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Y’know what, forget I said anything. I’m sure I’ll find it myself.”

He turns back to inspecting the bush. But now you have to know.

“Is it a black mask? With gold trim?”

Yoongi freezes for a second. It’s all the answer you need.

He laughs, and you can tell it’s forced. “Have you seen it?”

“No way.” It’s a mumble at first, then it all comes tumbling out of your mouth. “No way. No way! YOU’RE Vulture?!”

“Vult- What?!”

“Right. Sorry. That’s just the name I gave you because you keep swiping my thugs. And yes, I’ve seen it. Seen it every night you pop in and steal my captures.”

“Wait,” he says, his eyes growing wide as he comprehends what you’re saying. “YOU’RE that hot vigilante with the cool force fields? The one who can’t keep the thugs restrained for nuts?”

“Is that what you think of me?”

“Hey. You have no grounds to complain. Not when you call me Vulture.”

“I’m so tired,” you manage to whine through a whisper. “We bagged three criminals tonight. Can’t you just teleport us back to the dorm?”

“You know we can’t do that, love,” he whispers, rubbing your back. “My powers aren’t the most stealthy. And c’mon, we’re almost there.”

Behind your own mask, you smile contentedly. The lonely nights of crime-fighting have become not so lonely after all.

As it turns out, your synergy with Yoongi is not limited to academic work. It’s been a month now and your teamwork functions like a well-oiled machine, your force fields weakening the thugs and directing them to where Yoongi waits in the shadows to teleport them off to jail where they belong.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, barely maintaining your hushed tone. The dorm cat slinks round the corner, yanking you out of your thoughts.

“That damn cat,” Yoongi mutters.

You pinch his ear, one of the few exposed parts of his body in this attire. “If not for ‘that damn cat’, we wouldn’t have gotten together. You have much to thank this cat for.”

You can’t see it but you know that he’s rolling his eyes.

“You have no defence because you know I’m right,” you taunt.

“Fine, you are,” he says and begins to lift his mask to lean in for a kiss.

You pull it back down. “Don’t get distracted now. We can cuddle later when we’re back safe, ok?”

He huffs, but there’s a spring in his step that was not there before.

And as the two of you round the corner to clamber back up to the safety of your room, the dorm cat watches with eyes aglow in the moonlight.

Your window clicks shut. It’s safe now. Jin shape-shifts out of his cat form and smirks to himself. He still remembers the mutually stolen side glances from orientation. How could he not ship your two dorky asses?

And all the sneaking around that both of you were doing every night, unaware that you both had a masked companion in each other?

But ah, it seems that you’ve finally got your shit together. All he did was nudge you in the right direction. Looks like it worked. Mission accomplished.

#btswriterscollective #ficswithluv #btsbookclub #btswritingcafe #btsguild #bts college au #bts superhero au #bts humor #bts romance #bts oneshot #bts fic #bts x reader #yoongi college au #yoongi superhero au #yoongi humor #yoongi romance #yoongi oneshot #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #myg college au #myg superhero au #myg humor #myg romance #myg oneshot #myg fic #myg x reader

[nothingbutimagines]

Elizabeths (Chapter I)

Pairing: Bad boy!Peter Parker x Reader

Warning: Cursing, death, mentions of suicide

Summary: Y/n is part of her high school’s most powerful and most popular clique, but she disapproves of the other girls’ behavior. When Y/n meets the new boy in school, Peter Parker, and begins dating him, what she has known to be her clique begins to unravel. Starting with the death of the clique leader, Liz Allan, one by one, people Y/n doesn’t like begin to die by her and Peter’s hands. Soon, she realizes that Peter is killing students he hates and begins to try to foil his plans, all while clashing with the new clique leader, Elizabeth “Betty” Brant.

Author: Dizzy

A/N: This is a Peter Parker AU I thought of doing. It’s a Heathers AU!!! This is going to follow a similar plot to Heathers, but of course, I won’t keep everything the exact same. Here, we meet our protaganist, Y/n, and our love interest, JD Peter.

Masterlist Request Any Of These Peter Parker/Tom Holland Masterlist

__________________

Dear Diary, 

Today, Liz told me she teaches people about “real life”. 

She said, “Real life sucks losers dry. If you wanna fuck with the eagles, you gotta learn to fly.” 

I asked, “So you teach people how to fly?” 

She said, yes. 

I said, “You’re beautiful.”

“Y/n,” a voice pulled you away from your writing as they kicked your side. 

You pulled your glasses off and looked up at the owner of the yellow skirt and white tights that kicked you. 

“What the fuck, Lizzie?” You snapped, pushing Lizzie Jones’ foot away from you. 

“Sorry, Y/n. Liz needs you in the commons. She said it’s urgent. Back me up, Betty.” 

“Yeah, Y/n, Liz said you have to hit the commons pronto.” Betty stammered, her arms tight around her books.

“Fine. I’m coming.” You rose from your spot on the stairs and followed the other girls. “Do you know what it’s about?”

Lizzie looked back at you. “How the hell am I supposed to know? She just said to get you.”

As you turned the corner and into the madhouse that was the common area, you caught sight of the brown hair that was tied back with a red scrunchie.

“Hello, Liz.” You spoke softly, almost submissive to the girl. 

“Y/n, there you are.” Liz smiled, her voice sickly sweet which made you think she’d want something from you.

If you knew anything about Liz Allan, it was that she always, always was nice when she wanted something from you. 

“What is it you need, Liz?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“I need you to help me get into Brad’s email to send Ass-trid Dumptruck. I want you to help me write a hot and heavy but realistically low-key essay that Astrid can’t help but read right now.”

“Liz, I don’t have anything against Astrid Dunstock.” 

“You don’t have anything for her, either.” Liz replied, shoving the laptop into your hands. “Just get into the email so I can write her a sexy letter to fuel her shower nozzle masturbation for weeks.”

“Let me think about it.”

“Don’t think.” Liz scoffed. “Just do it.”

You groaned as the other girls giggled, holding the laptop in one arm and attempting to type with the other. You furrowed your brow as you took in a deep breath, annoyed at your own inability to fight against peer pressure. 

“Betty, Y/n can’t possibly type with one hand. Bend over so she can work.” Liz smirk.

Betty gave you a look as you mouthed that you were sorry before the girl bent over in front of you and you began to type on the laptop, finding your way to Brad’s email. 

This wasn’t the first time Liz was having you send emails from Brad’s account, so you already knew the password, mumbling to yourself about how ignorant Liz could be as you pulled up the draft email page. 

“Alright, Liz. You’re in.” 

“Why don’t you type it up, Y/n? My nails just got done and it’s hard to type with them.” Liz said, wiggling her fingers in front of you, her nails long and sharp like claws and done in her signature red color. 

You knew she was lying, as she could never tell the truth. She just didn’t want to have the evidence trailed back to her. 

“Come on, Liz. I don’t want to do this.” You said, throwing your arms down and turning to the other girl.

“Do you think I give a shit?” Liz snapped back. “Just write the fucking email and then we can move on with our lives. Besides, you’re the only one who could possibly get down Brad’s diction.”

“Go fuck yourself.” You mumbled as you turned around, feeling Betty giggle from beneath you. 

“Would you like to speak up, Y/n?” Liz asked, moving to look at you from the side.

You gave her a smirk. “No, Liz. Now, why don’t you tell me what to write?”

Liz cleared her throat before speaking softly, her lips brushing against the hair by your ear, her breath hot and her voice soft, sending shivers down your spine. 

“Okay, Y/n, why don’t we keep it short and simple? Get in and get out, just like Brad would.” Liz said. 

“And you know that all too well.” 

You could feel Liz press her sharp nail into your cheek, the pressure so sharp you thought she was about to draw blood. Your proud attitude quickly diminished as she huffed, taking her nail off your face as you sighed and quickly typed up the email. 

“Alright. I’m done writing.” You announced, straightened up as you picked the laptop off of Betty’s back, and handed the laptop to Liz. “Just hit send and Astrid will get it right away.” 

“Come on people, let’s give that leftover lunch money to people without lunches! Those tater tots you threw away are a delicacy in Africa! Their Thanksgiving dinner!” You could hear Ned scream into the crowd of students in the common area as you took a seat beside LIz at your regular lunch table. 

“God, aren’t they fed yet?” Lizzie asked, taking a bite out of a french fry she took off your plate before flinging it back down on the plate, the ketchup splattering on the rest of your food. “Do they even have Thanksgiving in Africa?”

“Oh, yeah. Pilgrims, Indians, tater tots.” You replied as you ate the other half of the french fry, “I heard it’s a real party continent.”

Liz rustled in her bag beside you, gaining your attention as you watched her pull out a clipboard and slam it down on the table. She gave you a smile as she proudly flipped her hair over her shoulder while she watched your face fall and you internally groaned. 

“Y/n, guess what time it is?” 

“Ouch, lunchtime poll.” You guessed, setting down the milk carton in your hand as you turned to her. “So, what’s the question?”

“Yeah, what’s the question?” Betty asked, earning a swift kick from Liz.

“Goddamn, Betty, you were on FaceTime with me when I thought of it.”

“Oh, right. I forgot.”

“Such a pillowcase.” Liz scoffed, pulling you up with her as she stood up and began leading you through the crowded tables and into the large aisle of the common room. 

“This wouldn’t be about that bizarre dream you had the other night that were blabbing about on the phone would-”

“Oh, shut up. It is.” Liz cut you off. “I told Ned if he gave me another political topic, I would spit on him and he said if I didn’t want to do that, I’d have to think of my own poll.” 

You shook your head, looking away from her as you scanned the large room. Your eyes landed on a boy you’ve never seen before, and being in a small town, a guy that looked like him, you would’ve recognized. 

He caught your gaze, the boy who reminded you of James Dean as he slouched in his blue plastic chair, his leather jacket puffing out to the side to reveal the simple t-shirt he was wearing underneath. You couldn’t tell if it was the swooped dark brown hair or the Rebel Without a Cause lunchbox sat in front of him that made you think of the long dead actor, but the boy certainly knew how to get anyone’s attention. 

Transfixed on the boy across the room, you felt a sharp pain in your knee as you crashed into the blue chair of one Cindy Moon. You grunted softly, your hand reaching towards your knee as you bent down to rub it soothingly. 

Cindy turned, pulling her cardigan sweater tightly around her as the rest of her less stylish friends also turned as well, causing you to blush as you straighten up slightly, still a bit bent over as Cindy studied you for a moment. 

“Oh gosh, sorry, Y/n.”

“Oh, Cindy…” You replied softly, the embarrassment hinting in your tone. “I’m, uh, sorry I didn’t make it to your birthday party last month.”

“That’s okay,” Cindy shook her head, “Your mom said you had a big date. Hell, I’d miss my own birthday party for a date.” 

You laughed lightly with her for a moment, glancing over at Liz who was growing impatient as she watched the interaction.

“Don’t say that.” You playfully hit Cindy’s shoulder. 

“Oh, Y/n/n, while you’re here, I found this the other day.” Cindy beamed, picking up her purse and rummaging through it until she pulled out a photo and handed it to you. “I think it's Halloween in second grade.”

“Oh, where we got so sick from the candy that a single spin on that carousel at the Halloween fair-”

“-had us throwing up uncontrollably.” Cindy laughed as she finished your sentence, the warm interaction between you two cut prematurely by Liz’s swift swing pulling you away and causing you to drop the photo.

“Hey, I was talking to someone!” You snapped, tearing away from her. 

“Color me impressed. I thought you were finished playing Barbies with Cindy Moon.” Liz snapped. 

If you didn’t know her any better, you’d have thought Liz was somehow jealous of your interaction with Cindy. 

You followed her like a duckling, almost prancing to keep up with her as you approached the Country Club. You hated them just as much as the next, the daddy’s money boys and girls who were so pretentious they dressed as if they were always at the country club, hence their name. 

“Oh, great, here comes Liz.” You could hear Brittany say as you and Liz approached.

You could feel Liz’s unabashed false pleasantness radiating off of her. You hated the Country Club as much as the next guy, but never as much as Liz Allan did. 

“Hi, Brittany, love the blouse. Oh, let me steal a tater.” Liz greeted, her tone the same sickly sweet as the one she had had with you earlier in the lunch period. 

Brittany watched with a similar fake smile plastered on her face as Liz turned her back to her, now facing you as she pushed the tater tot into her mouth with a single finger, doing a vomiting gesture before chewing and swallowing the tater tot and turning to Brittany and her group. 

“Thanks. I got it at H&M.” Brittany smiled, turning to her group and back at Liz. “I totally blew my allowance.”

“That’s pretty very. Now check this out, David Dobrik gives you a Tesla and $2 million dollars and the same day you get to be on his channel, aliens come to earth and say they’ll blow up the planet in two days. What are you going to do?”

The table looked stunned for a moment and you watched as Flash chuckled, leaned back in his chair and put his sunglasses on. You rolled your eyes at the dramatic action as he started to speak. 

“That’s easy. I’d just hand the wad over to my father. He has the best stock broker in the state. And then I would take that Tesla out for a joyride. Just me, babes, and a car to drive while I fuck a chick in the passanger’s seat.”

“How charming.” You rolled your eyes. “The world will be Pompeii in two days and you’re going to invest your money?”

“Man, my father’s broker could triple it, double it in two days.”

“If I had that money,” Brittany cut in, “I’d give it all to the poor.”

“Wow. You’re beautiful.” You smiled with a nod as Liz jerked you by the arm, pulling you away from the flabbergasted Brittany.

“If you’re openly going to be a bitch…”

“I’m sorry, it’s just why can’t we talk to other kinds of people?” Your voice coming out whinier than you anticipated. 

“Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Do I look like Mother Teresa to you?” Liz asked, her tongue sharp as you walked alongside her. “If I did, I wouldn't mind talking to the Geek Squad.”

Your gaze followed along the extended arm and pointer finger of Liz’s body as you both made eye contact with one of the boys at the table, causing him to spill his milk all over himself in shock. 

“Oh my god, Elizabeth Number One just made eye contact with me.” He blurted out, stumbling over his words as another boy chuckled.

“It must be love.” The other one replied before you tore your gaze away from them and looked up at Liz, who always seemed to tower over you with her bright red high heeled boots. 

“Doesn’t it bother you that everyone at school thinks you’re a piranha?” You confront her, her eye roll in response making you feel like back peddling what you said.

“Like I give a shit.” She snapped so matter-of-factly. “They all want me as a friend or a fuck. I’m worshipped at Midtown and I’m only a junior.” 

You groaned. “Just pretend you’re doing charity work. Like saving a couple of oiled up penguins in the Dawn commercials. Like this shit will look good on college essays.” 

Liz looked at you in surprise, returning your statement with an eye roll as you had her convinced and she knew it. “Whatever. I don’t believe this shit. We’re going to a Columbia University party and I’m brushing up my conversational skills with the scum of the school.”

Dear Diary,

Sometimes I want to kill Liz Allan. She’s such a bitch saying, “I’m tall, dark, and beautiful. I’m such an individual because I look like a girl in a toothpaste commercial. I’m so hot Post Malone wanted to see my tits for backstage passes.” Damn, you Liz. You’re not special or a princess. All teenagers are the same. Didn’t you see Breakfast Club? 

You pull the clipboard from Liz’s arms as you guide her to the Geek Squad with your hand on her lower back, in a similar way to how your father would push you along in lines at the grocery store. You two stood there awkwardly for a moment before elbowing Liz, causing her to jump. 

“Alright. This is called a lunchtime poll. We ask you a question, you answer honestly. Now, David, whatever his name is, gives you a Tesla and 2 million dollars. When you go to do the big youtube thing, aliens come to the earth and say they’re going to blow it up in two days. What do you do?” Liz muttered, her attitude more sour than it was only moments before. 

“I’d go to the Pyramids.” Brian replied, the bony head of the Geek Squad. “With a girl.”

“Where are you going to get the girl?” the boy beside him asked. “Amazon?”

You couldn’t help but crack a smile as you looked at another boy. “What about you, Lucas?”

“I told you she knew my name.” He muttered to Brian, who in turn, elbowed him in the side. “I’d change my life. Get a new haircut, new clothes, revamp like in She’s All That.” 

“How sad!” Liz exclaimed. “Blowing all your cash to make up for a lack of popularity. And the reference to a chick flick! Did you see it with your mom? Or your new boyfriend?” 

You grabbed Liz by the arm and yanked her from the table and into the large aisle again, right where she had scolded you only minutes before. 

“If you’re openly going to be a bitch…” You trailed off, your tone harsh as Lizzie approached. 

“Ass-trid’s reading the email, you’re going to want to see this.” Lizzie laughed, grabbing you both by the wrists and dragging you behind her as she beelined to where Betty stood, back up against a pillar. 

“Oh god, here we go!” Betty giggled as you four began to watch. 

You suddenly felt sick. You wanted nothing to do with what was about to happen as Astrid rose from her seat at her empty lunch table and made her way towards the Jocks, where Brad sat, munching on his tater tots. You couldn’t understand what Astrid was saying as she pointed to her phone screen, allowing Brad to read it. You flinched as the boy erupted in laughter, food and spit flying from their mouths as they howled, leaving Astrid to run away in horror, leaving you with a pit in your stomach as you jumped away from your friends and into Ned’s table. 

“A penny for your thoughts! But, a dollar could save a life! Hi, Y/n. A five keeps the neighborhood alive! But, a ten will bring back the dead!” Ned shouted, the little chant ringing in your ears as you made eye contact with the James Dean boy again, his look as horrified as your own. 

Liz shoves a twenty dollar bill into Ned’s hand as she approaches you. 

“Shut up.” She orders as the boy grows quiet. “You wanted to be part of the most powerful clique in school and if I wasn’t already the head of it, I’d want the same thing.” 

“I’m sorry, what are you going on about?” You snapped, turning to her. 

“You heard me. That episode with the email back there was for us all to enjoy, but for some reason you are determined to ruin my day.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, let me fix that.” You replied before laughing mockingly. “We made a girl consider suicide! What a laugh! What a scream! I’ve never seen something so funny!”

“Come on, you jerk. You used to have a sense of humor.”

You let Liz guide you back to where Lizzie and Betty stood, talking about whatever book Betty had begun reading as your eyes landed back on the boy you’d found yourself so infatuated with. 

“God, Y/n, drool much?” Lizzie asked, as Liz groaned. “His name’s Peter Parker. He’s in my American History class.”

“Give me back the clipboard.” You ordered, pulling the clipboard from Liz’s hands. 

You sauntered away from the girls, scoffing as Lizzie began making oinking and sexual sounds in your direction and by how fast they were cut off, you knew Liz had probably slapped the other girl to get her to stop. 

“Well, hello, Peter Parker.” You greeted, stopping at a halt on the other side of his table. 

Now standing in front of the boy, you realized he looked less like James Dean and more like a young Jaime Bell.

“Greetings and Salutation. Call me Peter. Are you an Elizabeth?” He asked, the smile on his face a bit cocky. 

You chuckled, a light blush dusting your cheeks. “No, I’m a Y/n. L/n. This may sound like a stupid question…”

“There are no stupid questions.”

“Okay. Get this, David Dobrik gives you 2 million dollars and a Tesla and on the same day he’s supposed to give it to you in a youtube video, aliens invade earth and say they’re going to blow up the planet in two days. What do you do?”

Peter chuckles, his laugh light and airy as he runs a hand through his hair. 

“That’s the stupidest question I’ve ever heard.” He replies, his brow rising as he answers the question curiously. “Probably would just row a boat out into the middle of the lake. Bring along my sax, a bottle of tequila, and some Bach.” 

“How very.” 

“Come on, Y/n!” Lizzie calls from behind you. 

“I’ll be right there! God!” You roll your eyes as you yell, turning your attention back to Peter. “Duty calls. Bye.”

“Later.” 

Dear Diary, 

I take back what I said about killing Liz Allan. I don’t think I’m ready for jail just yet, not with a boy like Peter Parker around. Maybe we’re not all the same after all. 

_____________________

Tagged: @thewinchesterchronicles @spookyanairwin @audreylovespidey706

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