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iridescent-petrichor · 4 years

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the elevator

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings: y/n has a panic attack

Words: 1.9K

A/N: Okay so I wrote this about a month ago but I still don’t know if I like it or not. I feel like it’s just not well written, but it’s as good as I can do so hope you enjoy!

In your two years of battling monsters and telepathic little girls, and other dimensions, you never knew you’d have to face evil Russians broadcasting a secret code across Hawkins, Indiana, with your little brother, your boyfriend, a girl from your highschool, and Lucas Sinclair’s younger sister.

The five of you hesitantly approached the box in the middle of the room. You put your hand on Dustin’s shoulder, not sure if you were trying to comfort him or yourself. Erica pulled an exacto-knife from her backpack, handing it off to Steve so he could cut open the box. Once he did, you all saw the top of a metal container. You didn’t work at the mall, but it definitely didn’t look like the usual inventory.

Steve reached forward, twisting the top. With a hiss of air, he pulled it off to reveal four smaller containers. From your angle, none of you could see the contents of them. Curiosity continued to rise between all of you, and you couldn’t help leaning forward to try to get any sense of what was inside.

“That’s definitely not Chinese food.” Steve set the top of the container on top of another box, before reaching for one of the handles. “Uh, maybe you guys should, you know, stand back.”

You moved back a couple of steps with Robin and Erica, silently trying to tell your brother to do the same.

“No.” He said, not taking his eyes off the box. You looked up at Steve, shrugging helplessly.

“Just… Just step back, okay?”

“No.”

“Step back-”

“No!”

“Seriously.”

“No!” Dustin repeated, finally getting Steve to stop and look at him. “If you die, I die.”

You rolled your eyes at how dramatic he was, trying to ignore the pit of anxiety growing in your stomach. It had been many months since any of you had to deal with fighting off demodogs, and the Hawkins Lab was shut down now, but the idea of secret Russians setting up shop in Hawkins made your heart drop.

Steve stared him down for a couple seconds, before shrugging. “okay.” He reached back into the box, twisting, and pulling one of the containers out. He held it up, and you stepped forward when you saw the unfamiliar green liquid encased in a glass cylinder. “What the hell?”

“What is that?” Robin asked.

Before anyone could even try to respond to her question, you all felt a rumbling around you. The entire room seemed to shift for a moment, effectively catching everyone’s attention. The pit in your stomach grew painfully, and you moved closer to your brother and boyfriend for some semblance of safety.

“Was that just me, or did the room move?” Dustin asked, glancing around before his eyes landed on you. You shook your head, indicating it was not, in fact, just him, and moved towards him some more.

“Booby traps.” Erica whispered, not at all helping your anxiety.

When a mechanical whirring noise started, you wrapped an arm around Dustin, exchanging fearful looks with Steve.

“You know what? Let’s just grab that and go.” Robin yanked the container of weird liquid out of Steve’s hand, and turned to the exit. Dustin immediately obeyed, turning around to press the “Open Door” button. After pressing a couple times, the door had yet to budge.

“Is it not opening?” You whispered, feeling Steve’s hand grab yours in a silent reassurance.

“Which one do I press, Erica?” He ignored you, continuing to press the buttons on the keypad.

“Just press the damn button, nerd.” She retorted.

“Which one? I’m pressing the button, okay?” Dustin said, raising his voice while he continued to press the button.

“Press open door.” Erica mimicked his tone, growing frustrated.

“I’m pressing open door!” Dustin yelled back.

Steve released your hand, frustration taking over. “Just open the- press the other button.”

Without Steve to ground you, you suddenly felt like you couldn’t breathe. Even if you wanted to stop the argument that was unfolding before you, you could barely find the words to calm your friends down.

“Guys, get out of the way so she can push the button-” Robin tried to talk the group down, but Steve had already shoved Dustin to the side to try it himself.

“Would you stop?” Steve urged Dustin.

“I’m trying.” He shot back, glancing at him for a moment before turning his attention back to the buttons.

“Would you let me just do it? Would you stop?” Steve continued to argue, smashing random buttons to see if any would work.

“Just open the door!” Robin started to yell as well; anxiety evident in her voice.

Another mechanical clang resounded through the room, effectively shutting everyone up. You were pressed up against one of the walls trying to calm yourself down. Being in an enclosed space seemed so much more terrifying than when you had to fight the demodogs. At least then you had space to run if something went awry.

A moment of silence fell over the room; the calm before the storm, it seemed, because the room was suddenly plummeting down to god knows where.

You dropped to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest, screaming.

You buried your face in your knees, barely even able to process everyone else screaming as you fell to your presumed death. Your hands were shaking uncontrollably now, and you pulled them together in an attempt reduce the amount they were trembling.

“Shit! Shit!” Dustin screeched, pressing any buttons to try to reverse what was going on.

“We’re going down! We’re going down!” Steve yelled, gripping one of the boxes to stay steady.

“Yeah, no shit, Harrington!” Robin replied, holding on to one of the shelves for dear life.

“Why don’t these buttons work?!” Dustin’s voice was shrill as he continued slamming the buttons. You squeezed your eyes shut, praying that this was some insanely vivid nightmare.

“Press the button!” Erica’s voice reminded you that it wasn’t, and you hugged your knees tighter to your chest.

“What do you think I’m doing?!”

“Come on, press something!” Just press the button!” Steve interjected, waving his arms around in desperation.

“Push it!” Erica screamed, the two kids now slamming every button they could, to no avail.

Suddenly, the room came to a halt. Everyone – except you, considering you were already on the floor – fell to the ground.

Everything felt so unreal – which was something considering what you’d been through. You knew your friends were talking, but their words went in one ear and out the other. You kept your head down, trying to control your breathing, not taking notice of the hot tears that were streaming down your face. It was the most helpless you’d ever felt – you couldn’t even control your shaking body. When you tuned back into the conversation happening around you, you heard Dustin speak.

“-we’re stuck in here.” Dustin muttered.

Great. You picked your head up, looking around the elevator for Steve. He was about a foot away, next to Robin at the buttons. While his presence calmed you slightly, you couldn’t have felt more hopeless and scared. You were trapped in a room with no places to hide - unless you could fit behind a pile of small boxes - miles away from anyone that could help you, and you had no weapons. You were like sitting ducks for whatever Russians awaited on the other side of the door. With a glance towards Dustin and Erica, your heart sank even more. They could die down here; they’re too young to be here. Why did you agree to bring Erica along? You hadn’t even noticed Robin’s gaze fixed on you. It was so hard to breathe, but no one else seemed to be having any issue with it, and why the fuck couldn’t you stop shaking?

“Just so you nerds are aware,” Erica’s voice felt distant, and you almost couldn’t hear her over the sound of your own heartbeat. “I’m supposed to be spending the night at Tina’s, and Tina always covers for me. But if I’m not home for Uncle Jack’s party tomorrow and my mom finds out you four are responsible, she’s gonna hunt you down, one by one, and slit your throat.”

Steve was practically shaking from frustration as he leaned forward on the boxes in front of him. “I don’t care about Tina-”

“Steve.” Robin’s voice was barely audible, but her eyes were trained on you, curling in on yourself.

“-Or Uncle Jack’s party!”

“Steve.” Robin tried again, worry etched in her voice.

“Your mom’s not gonna be able to find us if we’re dead in a Russian elevator!”

“Steve!” Robin’s voice made him stop. He turned to her expectantly, but she didn’t take her eyes off you. He looked down, cursing under his breath before dropping to his knees in front of you in an instant.

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice was gentle, not bothering to turn around when Dustin continued talking about a way to climb out of there. “Hey, you okay?”

You shook your head, just slightly, keeping your eyes shut tight. When another tear rolled down your cheek, Steve’s hand instinctively shot up to wipe it away before he froze, inches away from your face.

“Can I touch you?” As soon as you nodded, he used his thumb to wipe the tear off your cheek. His hand fell, gently rubbing up and down your arm. “We’re gonna be okay, y’know.”

He shifted his position, sitting as he rubbed your back as you tried to gulp down air.

“When we get outta here, we’re gonna have so much ice cream, okay?” He joked, smile widening when he saw the shadow of a grin on your face. You nodded weakly, putting your head on his shoulder. Your breathing was still shaky, but you felt yourself calming down a little. “You know I’d never let anything happen to you right? Or Dustin.”

“We shouldn’t have brought the kids.” You respond quietly, without looking at him. The room is empty besides you, and fear crawled painfully back up your throat for a moment to realize it was because everyone climbed to the top of the elevator. “What if-“ you stopped, taking a breath. “What if we don’t make it out?”

“We will. We’ve dealt with worse.”

“We had Eleven. And weapons. And Erica and Robin don’t even know about-” Steve cupped your face with his hand, making you stop.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

You nodded, not entirely believing him. He continued to rub your back, placing a kiss on your forehead. While you weren’t fully calm, you tried to let yourself relax a little bit as Steve comforted you.

With the newfound silence you were able to catch your breath, and Steve did everything in his power to distract you from the current situation.

A couple minutes had gone by before you stopped shaking. “I’m okay.” You whispered to Steve, who promptly helped you stand. “Well- okay as I’ll ever be trapped in a Russian elevator.”

Steve laughed, and you were glad to share a quiet moment with him. Little did you know, spending the night in a Russian elevator would be the best part of the next 24 hours.

#do i hate this? yes #will i post it anyways? also yes #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader

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raz-b-rose · 4 years

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Daminette Soulmate AU Scars

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23608933/chapters/56792128#workskin

For as long as Marinette could remember, she had always been covered in scars. Her parents were concerned to say the least. What was going on in her soulmates life for a new scar to appear on their daughter's body on an almost weekly starting at the age of four. Marinette however felt differently. Yes she was worried but she had the feeling that he was a fighter, and he was, in her heart, the strongest person she knew.

The scars slowed as she grew older, but never gone for long. They almost stopped altogether when she turned eleven, only the occasional scrape in her knuckles or knees now. She did have one thing to thank about this bond though, that only she could see the colors. To everyone else she would be walking around painted in pale green lines on almost every surface of her body. She would trace his scars over and over, dreaming of the day she could see his green eyes for herself.

She would dance around her parents, spouting her all her dreams and desires. Everything from their wedding to what their house would look like and how many kids they would have. Her parents tried to be supportive, but the possibility of what her soulmate's life was like left their hearts heavy. Marinette remained the optimist, believing that everything would be ok.

All those dreams were crushed one day however, shortly after she turned thirteen. She had been taking a shower, when the worst pain she had ever felt pierced her heart. She cried out, grasping at her heart, trying for anything to make the pain stop. She started to cry, it hurt so bad.

Then she felt it, a new scar forming just below her clavicle, before everything went numb.

She laid there in the bathtub, the water beating down on her, but she couldn’t feel a single thing. She can feel her panic rising, it takes her a few tries to get out of the tub, her brain having trouble connecting the loss of touch to the grip her hands are trying to maintain on the tub's rim.

She collapses onto the floor, crying when she can’t feel the cool tile against her cheek, or the water pooling around her body. Her sobs increase when she can’t feel the tears she knows she is crying. Why can’t she feel anything?

She can hear her mother knocking on the door, her voice rising in hysteric as Marinette fails to respond. She pushes herself up slowly, fumbling at the lock on the door, feeling a small victory when she finally unlocks it before falling to the floor again.

Her mother rushes in, quick to scoop her daughter up, crying when she sees her daughter's newest scar, quick to cover her in a towel, attempting to delay the inevitable. “Mom, I can’t feel anything.”

Sabine tears up even more, knowing the harsh truth her daughter had to face at just thirteen years old, much too young for heart break. But was there ever a proper age for it? She gently carries her daughter to her room. She dresses her, and brushes her hair, knowing that any gentle touch she normally used to calm her Dou Dou, would have no effect now.

Marinette kept asking her mom questions, anxious for answers, confused and scared. Her mother remained silent, only sitting behind her. Marinette glances at her mirror in the corner, watching as her mother brushes out her hair, wishing just this once she could feel the pain from a stubborn knot. Then she sees it, an ugly green scar right where she had been in intense pain earlier.

Marinette can feel herself starting to hyperventilate. She pulls at her shirt, frustration growing when she can’t feel the soft cotton. Most of the time, scars healed in thin lines or round circles, depending on what made the original injury. This however looks like it had healed over rough and bumpy. It was still a little red, blotching around the edges, a few scabs covered it as well.

“Mom he died” There was no way to survive an injury to cause this scar. Her soulmate was dead. Before she had even gotten to see his green eyes, he left this world. She watches, horror growing as her mother brushes her hands over her back. He had been impaled straight through. Marinette started to feel sick, at least she still had that.

“I’m so sorry Dou Dou, but you will never be able to feel anything again.” She hugs her close, kissing her head softly. Marinette doesn't miss how her mother doesn’t tell her she’s wrong. Now her heart feels just as numb as the rest of her. It was a solemn night in the Dupain-Cheng household.

She started therapy that week, learning to move without touch, learning to function as if her second half wasn’t snatched right from under her. It was a good thing she did, or Marinette figures she would have only wallowed in self pity, and festering anger at the unfairness of it all. But she would be strong for him, whoever he was. Was, she reminds herself.

And strong she was. When she returned to school, she didn’t let any of her friends know what had happened, practicing careful movements, too careful sometimes and overcompensating her reactions into clumsy falls and spins. She put on the facade of one who spaced out easily, one who you had to call loudly to grab her attention. A classic space cadet.

Life became a new normal, and the pain lessened, and she grew older. Life was good, and she was finding the ability and joy to see all the blessings she still had in life. She genuinely smiled more, her heart healing and ready to overflow with love for those around her.

It was because of this life through her for another loop. She became the hero known as Lady Bug, and one could say her loss was a perk for how often she was thrown against solid objects. But she took it in stride, and worked hard to improve her skills to help Paris survive.

Chat Noir became suspicious as more and more fights continued. He finally asked after a particularly nasty akuma, if her miraculous offered extra protection. “I can handle a hit ok, but I can definitely feel it. You always get back up without flinching.” She flinched at that, and he definitely noticed.

“My soulmate died a couple years ago, so I am unable to feel anything anymore.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry Bug, oh man”

She rubs her chest where her reminder sat, “I never knew him, but it still hurt you know, left quite the nasty scar.” She tried to lift the mood with a dry laugh, but it just made the air thicker.

“Pain like that never goes away.” He was so quiet and gentle, leaving both relieved and saddened for the other that they could understand the pain of loss. Their bond strengthened a little more that day, and only increased more over the years.

Her carefully built and maintained facade was quickly broken however with the arrival of one Lila Rossi. The girl was cunning and perceptive. Why she had it out for Marinette, she may never know. Lila was careful, starting with the casual talk of soulmates, before moving onto the unfortunate topic and widely varying stories of those who lost theirs. Some say you died with your soulmate, others said you couldn’t tell when your soulmates died, and of course Marinette's reality, that you lost the ability to feel.

Lila however took these speculations a step further. She claimed that her cousin lost her soulmate and not only lost physical touch, but her emotions as well. That she could no longer love, that she went to acting classes to hide among those who could feel emotions, that she was nothing more than an empty shell.

Marinette never engaged with these conversations, put off by the idea that it could be the truth. After all, she was proof that it wasn't always true after all. She still loved deeply and felt joy and anger and sadness. She was still herself, just without her perfect other half.

Her friends were quick to sympathize with Lila’s cousin. How tragic, and how horrible that she would never be normal again. It wasn’t until she entered the classroom one day, faced by the suspicious and scared stares of her friends, that Marinette knew her life was to change again. She doesn’t know how Lila found out, but the reality is she did, and Marinette would take it in stride.

Lila accused her of pretending to be everyone's friend, that she was a monster trying to fool everyone around her. The class seemed to trust every word that Lila spoke, after all, logically speaking, she couldn’t have good intentions if she couldn’t feel anything. Marinette could only be offended, betrayed, shocked and hurt.

She told them it was true she could no longer feel the physical world, but she assured them that her emotions were intact. She loved them all dearly, and nothing would ever change that. She could tell they didn’t quite believe her.

“You are a great actor Marinette, trying to trick us like that” Lila whimpers, trying to make herself look small.

“In theory, if I can’t feel good emotions, why would I be able to feel bad ones?” Marinatte asked, desperate for them to think this through. “I could never be anything, much less mean spirited and conniving.” Lila looked like she took personal offense to that.

“That's a good point” Rose whispers, her hands clasped tightly, clearly the whole situation stressing her out. She did hate confrontation afterall.

“I have always loved you guys, but if you want to believe differently, I can’t stop you.”

“How do we know you really can’t feel anything, maybe you’re just trying to get sympathy” Chloe just had to spark the situation back into a raging fire. Soon everyone is talking over the other, each looking more and more agitated as moer words are exchanged.

Marinette just sighs. She walks up to Nathanial, asking for his exacto knife. He hands it over, with some trepidation, but hands it over nonetheless. Marinette smacks the table top loud enough to get everyone's attention.

“I was thirteen when he died,” she pulls down her shirt enough for everyone to see her scar, the emotions ranging from sympathy to horror. “And I haven’t been able to feel anything since this scar appeared.” With that she takes Nathanial’s knife to her forearm, cutting three even lines, her hand nor flinching or wavering once.

“Marinette!” Everyone cried out, scrambling to help her. She doesn't realize she's crying until someone, Kim she thinks, is asking if it hurts.

“It’s never going to stop hurting,” she sobs, “he’s gone forever and I will never be the same again! Is this proof enough for you!”

“What is going on here- Oh my goodness Marinette!” Ms. Bustier rushes up the steps, quickly taking Marinette to the nurses office. The adults are panicking, Marinette tells them the truth, letting the nurse know that she doesn't feel anything so she doesn’t have to waste her medicine on her. It took quite a bit of convincing from her parents to let her leave without the medicine or a doctors office visit.

Things were tense in the classroom for a while after that, and Lila and Chloe stopped talking to her altogether. Marinette had imagined worse than this if her friends were to find out, she would take the tip toeing over the silent treatment anyday.

The girls tried to stop talking soulmates around Marinette, but she wouldn’t have it. She encouraged them to talk about their dreams and thoughts about at all. She wanted them to continue to hold onto that hope and future for as long as they could.

It wouldn’t be until Marinette was sixteen that her world shifted once again. It was dinner time, she had a slip with the knife, and sliced her finger. “Ow!” Marinette turns to throw away the food when the burning sensation actually registered in the unused part of her brain. She freezes, staring at the blood pooling around her finger, relishing in the hurt. Not that she enjoyed pain, no she just couldn’t believe she could feel pain once more.

“Mom! Dad!” Marinette starts to scream because this could only be a dream. There was no way she could feel again. “Mom! Dad!”

“What is it Marinette?” They bust into the apartment, her mother quick to grow frantic at the sight of blood now covering her daughter's hand and arm.

“It hurt. The cut hurts.” Her parents freeze, exchanging bewildered glances.

“What?” Her mother sounds like she’s trying not to believe it. Marinette agrees, it's too good to be true. So she reaches up to touch her hair, relishing in the greasy unwashed state, her face too oily, her shirt a soft silk. She spins around, swinging open the freezer, laughing at the burning cold of the ice cubes. She fails to notice the new scar forming along her knuckle on her right hand.

“Marinette sweetie, please sit down so we can take care of that cut.” Her father pushes towards the island,

She winces at the disinfectant, trying not to wiggle in her seat to feel the hardwood beneath her. The pressure from the bandaid just adds to her new reality, she starts with a laugh before it mixes with tears.

“What does it mean?”

“I don’t know sweetie, we will go to the doctors first thing tomorrow,”

Despite Marinette having stayed up too late touching anything and everything in her room, she didn’t feel overly tired while waiting in the doctor's office. The fabric used on the waiting chairs were itchy and Marinette decided she did not like that, but couldn’t feel regretful towards her shorts at all.

“Well Ms. Dupain-Cheng, there have been stories about soulmates falling into a coma, and that could explain what is happening now.”

“A coma?” Marinette whispers in surprise, hope blossoming in her chest once more.

“Yes, it's very unlikely that you have a new soulmate, with you being sixteen and all.”

“Doctor you said stories and not studies, sorry if I would like a little more of a solid reasoning.”

“Unfortunately, it's been a hard area to study so research is often limited and incomplete.”

“I see” Her mother murmurs, gripping her hand tightly.

“The only other explainable reason is her heart healed from the loss. After all, people can’t come back from the dead.”

Marinette felt a little crushed after that. The possibility that her soulmate was possibly still dead was not one she really wanted to consider but she needed to be realistic. It has been three years now. Her body had probably finished healing from the shock. So Marinette pushed aside the notion of an awakened soulmate in a hospital somewhere and instead focused on her second chance at living life to the fullest.

Her friends couldn’t believe it, the romantics holding out for the coma theory, despite Marinette protests. She melted into the first hug she had felt from Alya and Adrian, each of them crying tears of joy.

When she told Chat Noir later that day, he looked at her in confusion before exclaiming something she never thought she would hear him say as LadyBug. “Marinette?”

“What?”

“You are! You’re Marinette, oh my gosh”

“What are you talking about Chat?” She laughs nervously. He drops his transformation before she can protest, leaving Adrian in his place. She gapes in surprise for a few minutes before joyously throwing herself into his arms. It had been a rough and wild two years, but things didn’t feel all that different in the long run.

Things weren’t all that different for Damian. He felt lost and empty when he woke up in his father's arms. Yes he was thankful at a second chance at life. He felt overjoyed to be with his family again, but something was missing. A year being dead so it was understandable that he couldn’t feel anything. Titus’ fur, bat cows horns, or the cool steel of his blades. Something must be wrong with him. A side effect from the magic? How would his family react to finding out? So he kept it a secret, afraid of the possible rejection.

It was one week later that he discovered another side effect of the magic. He now had super strength and flight. It was a learning curve to say the least. At least the loss of physical touch helped with the super strength part of things.

He couldn’t keep his secret for too long though, however six months was an amazing feat to say the least. He had gotten cut during a scuffle, the blood going unnoticed until Dick had panicked, calling for Alfred to bring the medical supplies.

“Why did you say anything!”

Damian can only sit quietly, refusing to look at Alfreds hands as he works the stitches into his skin. He knows he won't feel it anyway so why look.

“Master Damian, normally you would be a squirming mess as I do this, care to explain” His words may be stern, but his voice was so gentle. Of course he already knew the answer to his question. Bruce walked over, kneeling in front of his son, and Damian was shocked by the emotion on his father's face. He looked so solem and heartbroken.

“Damian can you feel anything?”

“No...but I’m sure it's just from the magic so I wouldn’t be too concerned father”

“Oh baby bird. Damian…” Dick sighs, coming up to hug him. Damian sits confused by everyone's reaction, for no one said anything else for a few minutes. Bruce was holding his head in his hand, and Alfred just continued to stitch him up, moving faster than normal.

“Damian I am so sorry, but when you died, your soulmate must have died as well.”

Well, Damian thinks to himself, that explains the empty feeling. He looks at his fingertips, where little blue prickmarks sat, then at his arms where the circled burn marks sat around his wrists. He had always theorized about what kind of girl his soulmates was. She must have a hobby like cooking for her to get the burn marks. And probably a craft of sorts for the marks on the tips of his fingers.

He always felt like she was a gentle spirit, patient and energetic. He tried to not think too hard about when they would meet, if they would ever meet. At the time he was with his mother, and soul mates were a taboo topic. With his father, he never felt the need to bring it up, and no one ever discussed it freely. So he assumed the same rules apply.

“They say sometimes when one soulmate dies, so does the other. If you still can’t feel anything then..” Dick doesn’t finish his thought.

“Oh” Damian hops off the table, shuffling back towards the manors elevator. He pauses before he pushes the button. “So I will be like this forever?”

“Most likely.” His father answers him.

“I see, I will use this new development to the best of my ability. Good night.” Dick can’t find the emotional energy to chastise him for taking such a rational approach. It must be his base morals rising back up to cover the hurt.

And fighting to cover the hurt Damian was. The idea that something he only realized he wanted now that he couldn’t have it stung worse than any physical would he had ever gotten. Except maybe that stab through the chest. That definitely didn’t feel great, and he can only hope his soulmate didn’t suffer from it like he had.

Damian decided to stop focusing on the impossible and strived for perfecting his new found abilities and refining his ingrained training. Two years and a good portion of the training was wasted. It happened in a moment with no warning.

He had been practicing his punches on a cliff side, the rock having a similar consistency to a punching bag. He paused to take a drink of water before throwing another punch at the rock wall, only to recoil in pain. “The hell!” His hand started to throb, the skin tinted red and knuckles bleeding.

Damian was now more confused than ever, jumping when the spray from the ocean splashes against his legs. Crouching down he runs his fingers through the sand, the damp grainy sensation oddly satisfying. He tries to fly back up to the manor, but finds he can’t do that anymore either. Well crap, Damian eyes the rocky cliffs. That's the last time Damian relies so heavily on magic.

Finally back on the Manors grounds, he lays for a moment, enjoying the cool grass, still damp from the morning sprinklers, and the warmth of the rising sun on his face. Now the only question was, why is this happening and what does it mean.

He marches past his family in the kitchen, heading straight for the cave, quick to gather as much information he can on soul mates that he deems necessary. Hours later the only explanation he can find is that his soulmate could have fallen into a coma at the moment of his death. So he started searching the world for anyone who had fallen into a coma the day he died, but found nothing. His frustration grew.

“Hey, you’ve been down here for awhile. Do you have a new case?” Damian eyes Tim, deciding whether or not he wants his input or not. He decides he has nothing to lose, only to gain from his thoughts on the matter.

“I regained the ability to feel while simultaneously losing my gained powers.”

“Whoa that's like near impossible to happen”

“Unless my soulmate was in a coma for the last three years, which I have found no record of.”

“Well perhaps neither of those things ever happened, so the magic has worn off.”

“Or?”

“She really is gone, and the magic restored your body to normal with the exchange of your powers. It would be better to ask one of the magic users in the League, not really my preferred area of speculation.”

Damian immediately sought out who he could, eager to find an answer for this phenomenon. However they all had either the same theories or no answers. Even Zatanna couldn't help him, it was after the urging of his family that he halted his search.

She might not even be out there, she could honestly be dead and his hyper focus on this false hope isn’t helping. So he let it go, let the idea of her go, let go the last sliver of hope he had that she was still out there waiting for him. It was time to move on. He tried to ignore the lingering blue on his hands, and took to wearing gloves on the regular. This decision would leave him ignorant to all the new scars that would appear as Marinette would forget to be careful some days and had reignited her passion for sewing. Marinette as well would miss her new scars as she had so many already, it was quite easy to miss the fresh ones. She would simply overlook them, focusing on never entertaining the idea of a second chance.

It was shortly after Marinette regained her feeling that Wonder Woman approached them with the offer of mentorship and even league membership in the future. To say she and Chat were surprised was an understatement. While Chat was quick to agree, it took some convincing from her partner and the prospect of meeting a past user of Tikki’s for Marinette to agree. She also met Nightwing, the lead trainer of hero youths and Zatanna, another magic user. They both offered invaluable insight and wisdom they eagerly accepted. It was tough learning on the fly all these years.

Damian had heard of these new heros, but elected to keep his focus on Gotham while the rest of the family was quick to introduce themselves. Chat made frequent trips to the space station to meet with other heros while Marinette stayed in Paris as much as she could, continuing her work on their search for Hawkmoth. It was through Chat that she and Red Robin met, both quick to help the other with their research.

They quickly became profesional friends, and it was during one of their virtual brainstorm sessions that she became acquainted with Red Hood. It took a little longer for her to open up to him. Jason would consider them good friends while Marinette considered them to be good colleagues. Jason was determined to win her over to his view of things.

Thanks to everyone's constant assistance, Hawkmoth was finally defeated by the time she was just shy of turning twenty. It had been far too long a fight in her opinion, but the man was smart, Marinette had to give him that. Now that Marinette felt safe enough to leave Paris, she accepted Red Robin's offer of training further with the league. Under the pretense of going to American College, she left home.

It was on her first night in Gotham that fate finally played its final card. She was on her way to the assigned meet up point, enjoying the taller buildings for longer free falls. She relished the air rushing into her eyes and past her ears. Just as she was reaching for her yo-yo she saw a figure swinging towards her. Before she could react, it had grabbed hold of her, leaving them tangled together swinging through the air. Marinette squirmed to see her mysterious rescuers face. Then she felt it, a strong pull of her eyes to his and an electric spark between their bodies when their eyes met.

Damian wanted nothing more than to stare into those ocean blue eyes for the rest of his life, but he didn’t want the rest of his life to be the next minute. He quickly swung them to a safe and secluded building top, conveniently the same Marinette had been heading for moments before. They stumble a little upon landing because of their refusal to let go of the other person.

“You’re alive.” Their whisper of unity only draws them closer to the other.

Marinette refuses to let pessimism take over, this is real, this is her soul mate, and he's very much alive. However she still reaches up to touch right above his heart, signing in relief as she feels the originator of her scar right there under his uniform.

“Woah hey Demon-spawn you can let Little Bug go now, you’re scaring her” Neither register the watching parties voices. Damian reaches up to brush away her tears, hyper focused on every feature he can take in at this moment. Her button nose, the barely concealed freckles across her nose, her peach lips mouthing the word alive over and over, and obviously her eyes.

Slowly Marinette reaches up to remove his mask, the boys freaked for a moment. After all, even they haven’t revealed their identities to her. They start to freak even more when Damian doesn’t stop her, but reaches up to help. His eyes were more beautiful than she had ever imagined. A dark green that complimented his arabian skin tone better than any color ever could. He was perfect.

She whispers the word alive one last time before standing on her tiptoes, tangling her fingers into the hair at the base of his neck and her lips meeting his. Damian leans down, arms wrapping tightly around her waist.

“What is happening!?” Jason shouts, desiring to run from the scene and needing to see it through to the end at the same time.

It was finally Jason’s freakout that they registered their audience but still didn’t have a care in the world. Damian pulls away first, leaning his head against hers, eyes closed, just relishing in the feeling of her in his arms.

Marinette’s legs give out from under her, Damian softly pulling her into his lap, still refusing to let go of her. She starts to cry uncontrollably, a death grip on the hood of his cape. “You’re really here, you really are alive.”

“I didn’t kill you,” Damian sighs, burying his head into her shoulder. Letting his brothers watch him kiss his soulmate was one thing. To let them see him break down and cry was another entirely. “You lived.”

Tim finally put all the pieces together, pulling Jason along with him off the roof. “Whoa, wait Red, they still haven’t told us what’s going on”

“And they won't for the next few hours. I’ll explain everything, just let them process this alone.” Jason finally relents to that, following him, but not without one last look at his baby brother. Damian had always been a tense on edge child, a habit that never fully went away as he aged, but never before had Jason seen him so relaxed and at peace.

Marinette and Damian stayed in their own little world for the remainder of the night, having moved from the roof top back to her apartment. They talked about anything and everything, always touching the other in some way. Damian was the first to awaken well after the sun had risen, Marinette sleeping between him and the back of her couch. He marvels in the fact that she was here. His fingers brush over her cheek, moving her hair out of the way.

Damian chuckles to himself. She looked like snow white with her ebony hair and peach colored lips contrasting with her fair skin. Finally Damian felt complete, no longer wandering lost in the world. He had found what he had looked for for so long. He would protect her from any more pain at all cost, the guilt heavy from having put her through so much turmoil.

“Stop that?” Damian eyes her curiously as she stares up at him through her lashes, sleep still heavy in her eyes.

“Stop what?”

“Blaming yourself for what happend.”

“But I-”

“You were taken advantage of, and manipulated to achieve the outcome your mother wanted. You were protecting your family, that is all that matters. That and that you’re here now.” She snuggles against his chest. “Leave the past in the past”

“Ok love, I will try for you.” Marinette hum, content with that answer for now.

Damian finally speaks again after giving Marinette a few minutes to fully reach functioning capacity, “We best go talk to everyone and get the drama over with”

Marinette chuckles at that. She would never have imagined that her soul mate would be the little brother to her two closest friends. Fate plays a funny game. “If I think too hard about it I get really embarrassed.”

“Then don’t think about it, see it as another mission to accomplish and that you will complete it flawlessly.” He kissed her hairline, slowly sitting up to stretch out. Rarely did he fall asleep in uniform, and no previous time has ever been comfortable.

Two hours later and they are at the Manor, Jason and Tim not overly surprised to see her, neither mentioning the night before except saying she should let them know when she’s ready to go out for patrol again. Damian is surprisingly docile towards everyone's inquiries about himself and Marinette. That is until Jason says Damian should have met her sooner, then maybe he wouldn’t have been such a murderous demon. That comment did not go over well with either of the pair, however one handled it better than the other. You would think it the other way around until Damian slaps his hand over Marinette's mouth to keep her from going off on Jason.

“Let's go eat lunch now, I’m sure Alfred is close to finished anyway.” Damian gently pushed Marinette through the door, but he can’t stop her from throwing a glare over her shoulder.

“Watch yourself Jason,” Marinette herself was growing increasingly overprotective of Damian, scared to lose him again. Jason can’t help the shiver of fear that runs its course through his body, Tim only laughs at his expense.

“Wow she still doesn’t trust you.”

“Oh common Little Bug, don’t be like that!” Tim shakes his head at their shenanigans. It was going to be an interesting new chapter in the Wayne household.Tim Watches from the doorway, leaning heavily on it as he observes them. He had never seen more life in their eyes or on their faces. Marinette had this new glow about her, and Damian looked at her with a gentless that none of them had ever seen before. After all, scars may remind you of your past, but they also show you the potential for your future. And those two had all the potential in the world.

#daminette #maridami #maribat #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne

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mockiatoh · 3 years

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The last few days have been so hard I can barely put it into words. I guess what I should really say is that the past few nights have been so hard I can barely put it into words. I manage okay most of the time during the day, but it feels like the sun goes down and my world starts to end a little bit. I’m sure that’s a symptom of at least one of the disorders--ha hah--but so much of it is also that during the day, it’s easy to stay occupied and surrounded by people who love me. Between my honey working nights and until literally yesterday being very (reasonably!) preoccupied with school, and most people I love going to sleep at reasonable times, I spend too much time alone when the sun is down. Or I remember to take my pill and it puts me out in a few hours, but then it feels like I work and e*t and sleep and that’s it, and it doesn’t feel much like living.

I remind myself that I literally only feel this way when I’m alone, and that it’s a good thing to reach out to people who care about me. I just hate feeling like a burden. I’m sure once my medication has a chance to build up in my sustem again, I’ll be doing better.

The medicine doesn’t fix everything, but it sure does help keep me from laying awake at three am desperately wishing I could open my arm from wrist to elbow, and that’s the difference I really need. I gave the boyfriend my box cutter--what can I say, I’m a classy bitch--after the last su*cide episode, and then when our roommate asked if we had an exacto knife, I told him to ask Cupcake for the box cutter. I don’t think he knows exactly but i think he knows a little. Right now I’m sitting here typing this trying not to stare too openly while he uses it for Art Reasons. I feel good about it being used for productive, beautiful reasons instead of being used to hurt. It’s just hard is all. I finally got to talk to the kids today and that makes a huge difference too. When I can’t talk to them, I feel like it’s just not worth holding on until morning. And I know that’s not healthy, but with everything going on, I”m really doing my best. A few friends were saying they see how hard I’ve been working and what a good job I’ve been doing coping wiht all this as healthily as I possibly can, and it meant so much. Sometimes it’s beyond frustrating that things that aren’t an issue for most people--eating enough to maintain weight, literally not seriously injuring myself--are such a struggle for me. I remind myself of everything I’ve gotten through, the things that have made me and broken me and remade me, the ashes I’ve crawled out of, badly burned but alive... and I know it’s normal for me to have these struggles. If anything, it’s amazing I’m doing as well as I am doing. Anyway if you’ve read through all this, thank you and Ily

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coppercatwrites · 4 years

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The Game We Play - Sherlock X Daughter! reader

Pairing: Sherlock x Daughter! Reader Word Count: 1136 READ!!!!: Suggestive themes of suicide. If this triggers you, please don’t click continue reading.

Anon asked: Hello! My friend recommended me your blog and i have an request. Can you please write Sherlock x daughter!reader with suicidal tendenc? I know this is triggering so its fine if you deny! Have a nice day. :)

A/N: I’m so sorry this took longer than I thought. I hope this was what you were looking for! Shout out to @melanoms for beta reading!!!

PS: If you or someone you know is thinking of suicide PLEASE please please please don’t put your thoughts into actions. Every life is worth living, even yours. Here’s a link of all suicide hotlines for most if not all countries. https://www.suicidestop.com/call_a_hotline.html If you’d rather not click on the link, please feel free to pm me. I’m willing to talk to anyone about anything. Your life and the lives of others matter. <3

Crumpling up yet another piece of paper, you toss it into the fireplace. After sharpening your pencil, you pull out another page.

Dad, Life is an interesting game we play. You’re better at playing it than most people. Sometimes most people think I’m the Tin Man, the one with no heart. They're wrong. I’m not good at playing the game. I’m sorry for cheating the game. The only way I can figure out how to win, is to quit the game itself. Love you, (y/n)

After writing this for the tenth time, your hands shook as you placed it in the envelope and laid your final sentence on your father's chair. Sighing, you walk over to your school bag. After opening your folder, you stare at it for a moment or two. Taking a deep breath, you stick the metal instrument from inside in your jacket pocket.

Too much of a hurry out of the flat, you trip down the stairs and roll down a few steps. Mrs. Hudson rushes out her door to inspect the loud noise.

“Oh, dear! Are you alright?”

Getting up from the stairs, you hold your head. “Yeah, I think I'm alright.”

She eyes you worryingly. “It seems like you’ve got a gash on your head! Here, come with me and we can patch it up. Have you rest a while.”

When you move your hand away, you see it covered in a little bit of blood. It takes you a moment to realize you still hadn't responded to her. “Oh, um, I think I’ll be fine, Mrs. Hudson. No need to worry.” Readjusting your coat, you make way for the door. Your sleeve held against your forehead.

“But dear!”

“I’m off, Mrs. Hudson!”

With that, you walk down the street. Once a block away, you look over your shoulder to be sure Mrs. Hudson wasn't coming after you. Thankfully you didn't find her, but you did notice your dad and Uncle John exiting a cab back at 221b.

Oh no…

Quickly, you hail a different cab. Once they stop, you all but throw yourself in and give directions to a place outside of town. After a few minutes of driving, you receive a call. When you see your Dad's caller ID, you turn your phone off.

“Ma’am, Your head's bleeding, do you need a hospital?”

“Uh..” you pause. “N-no I’m fine. Thank you.”

The driver takes a second look at your head while at a stoplight. “Are you sure? I also have a first aid kit in the car with me, you can at least try to patch it up?”

“I said no thank you, Sir.”

He shrugs and turns back around.

Casually you put your hands in your pocket. You freeze when the cold metal touches your fingertips. You glance at the cabbie and back outside.

Once at your destination, you open the door to leave but the driver stops you. “You need to pay.”

Your whole body freezes in the back seat.

I forgot the money… What do I do?

Your hand tightens around the object in your pocket. “Uhm.. I forgot my cash. I’m sorr—”

Your dad's voice pops into your head. “Don't apologize, just speak.”

“Cash or card mam, either will do.”

Slowly, you spit out the digits to Uncle John’s credit card. After the cabbie drives away, you take a moment to sit and wallow in the guilt you just gave yourself.

How could I forget the cab money. And how could I have just used John's card as an escape?

Dusting off, you walk into the woods.

One foot after another, you walk until you reach a river. Sitting on one of the rocks nearby, you take some time to appreciate the nature around you. When you close your eyes, you focus on the sound of rushing water.

Sticking your hands in your pockets, you realize you still have your phone. You stand up and whip your phone into the water. As you sit back down, you sit in between the rock and the stream.

You take out the item that you’ve been holding in your pocket and stare at it for a while. You brush your thumb across the sharp blade a few times and decide to test it on the back of your hand. After a few lines, you decide you’re ready. Just as the blade pokes your wrist, you’re startled by a deep voice.

“Nobody said you have to play the game alone.”

You spring up from where you were standing to find your dad standing by a shady tree.

“If I would have asked for your help, even more people would hate me.”

Sherlock sighs and takes a step forward. “Why should you care that these ‘people’ hate you?”

You furrow your eyebrows in anger. Your fist tightens around the handle. “ They constantly think I’m as heartless as you. I don't have friends because they think that I’m going to ruin their lives by deducing everything about them.”

“They’re just intimidated by you. If they took the time to know you, they’d see otherwise. Please put the exacto knife down.”

Your whole body tenses. “I don't know how you can live like this. It’s a curse that I’m stuck with. I’m constantly pinned as being an asshole or as smart as you. And the truth is, I’m not. So instead of tarnishing your family name, I’ve decided to quit the game.”

He takes a few more steps forward. “You are in this family too. The moment I adopted you, I’ve called you my own. Sure, people see me as heartless because I can be an asshole. They call me heartless because I can call out a lie when I see one. Sure, they’ll call me heartless because I don't understand some basic human emotions. But let me tell you, (y/n), I love you with what heart that I have. You don't have to be as smart, or be void of emotions. Every human being is different, not one is the same as the other. As for the people at school, they can piss off.”

You look away from his eyes as you can feel yours burn with tears. “I don't want to be like this anymore.”

He takes a deep breath. “ then let me help you.”

As soon as you drop the knife, he brings you into a hug. There, you let some tears soak into his coat as you grasp onto it for life. He puts his foot on the knife and flicks it into the river.

“Let's head back home and work things out. Everyone is worried about you.”

You nod your head and turn to walk out of the woods. “Dad, how did you find me?”

“I bet you could work that out on your own.”

#Sherlock #Sherlock Holmes fanfiction #Sherlock Holmes BBC #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock BBC #sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock holmes fanfic #sherlock fanfic #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #sherlock holmes x you

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lunatens · 5 years

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ghost of you

pairing: ghost!han jisung x gender neutral reader

word count: 1.3k

genre: fluff, platonic, ghost!au

warnings: mentions of death (it is a ghost au after all)

a/n: I got the idea for this a sUPER long time ago lmao I got inspired by the song ghost of you by 5sos but then I wasn’t feeling angsty and emo and sad so I just made it cute and fluffy and that’s why it’s platonic bc I feel like romance would get super angsty idk aNYWAYS !! I hope this is good I might write more for this au if people are interested? (also it was originally gonna be about hyunjin but then idk jisung fit better somehow lol)

“is that the last of it?” minho asks, dusting off his hands after he sets what seems like the millionth cardboard box on the floorboards of your new apartment.

“i think so? thanks again for all the help minho, it would’ve taken me so long to do this all by myself.” you and minho have spent all day moving everything in, blaring tunes and taking (too many) snack breaks. it was fun, but it was a lot of work, and now you’re tasked with decorating the place. minho waves goodbye before heading out the door. you listen to him go down the three flights of stairs, get in his car and pull out of the tiny parking lot. you’re alone at last, and you take a moment to enjoy the blissful silence; no more annoying roommates to wake you up too early in the morning or steal your food or take too-long showers. minho and a few of your other friends have invited themselves over tomorrow night for dinner (you agreed only if they promised to provide all the food), so you’re determined to make your new place look all nice before they come--needless to say, you’ve got a pretty busy 24 hours coming up. you brush thei hair from your eyes, grab the exacto knife from the kitchen counter, and set to work opening box after box of your belongings.

***

several hours have passed; the kitchen and bathroom are both done, leaving just the common area and your room. there’s cardboard everywhere--you promise yourself you’ll clean it up tomorrow. besides your bed in the corner and the small bookshelf you’ve spent the last two hours building, your room is completely empty. you let out a heavy sigh, picking a new playlist on spotify before beginning the process of decorating your room. it’s not long before you’re standing tippy-toed as you lean awkwardly over your desk to flatten a poster of your favourite band on the wall.

“it’s crooked, just fyi,” a voice rings out from behind you. you scream in shock, tripping over your desk chair as you turn around to face the source of the voice. you land with a dull thud and a groan on your hardwood floor. a face appears above yours, eyebrows furrowed in concern. the face belongs to a boy who looks about the same age as you, although unlike you, he’s slightly translucent and gives off a pale blue glow.

“are you okay? wow, you’re pale--you look as though you’ve just seen a ghost! HAHA! that was pretty funny, right?” the boy says, giggling at his own joke. you sit up and stare wide eyed and sheet-faced at him. as you process what he said, connecting it to his appearance, you open your mouth to let out another shriek. the boy glides over to you, worry washed over his face.

“no no no!! please don’t be scared! well, actually i guess that’s a lot to ask. don’t scream though, it’s really loud and hurts my ears and might concern the neighbours,” he asks, sitting cross legged in front of you on the floor. you shut your mouth, dumbfounded.

“okay, let’s take this slow, alright? i’m jisung, you’re y/n from what i heard earlier, right?” the ghost asks. he speaks softly and slowly, clearly trying to avoid setting you off again. you nod silently.

“cool! so i uh, imagine this is a bit of a shock to you, but basically, yes, i’m a ghost. oooh, spooky,” jisung says, waving his hands for effect. he giggles at himself.

“a ...ghost..” you repeat, trying to make sense of this situation. jisung nods enthusiastically.

“see? you’ve got it! honestly that was easier than i thought it would be. anyways, i came here to tell you i’ve been watching you decorate your apartment for the past couple hours, and you have a terrible sense of interior design. like, really bad.”

“so--wait, hold up. you’re telling me first of all, ghosts are real, and second of all, there's one right in front of me who’s here to judge my interior design abilities?” you ask in disbelief.

“well, lack thereof--i wouldn’t say you have any abilities. but yes, that’s all true,” jisung says.

“okay,”

“okay?”

“okay.” you take in a deep breath; time to reassess your entire life.

“...can i touch you?” you ask after a long pause. jisung just smiles shyly and holds his arm out.

“go for it,” he says, and you gasp as your fingers pass right through him. the air feels a little cold where his arm is supposed to be, but otherwise there’s nothing.

“woah.”

“i know, this is probably pretty freaky for you. but get used to it, because i’m not going anywhere any time soon! i’ve decided you’re my new bff, sorry you don’t get a say in this. now let's finish setting things up, and i can help you make things look less terrible,” jisung says with a grin and a wink, and you glare at him in response.

***

it’s deep in the late hours of the night, or rather early in the morning, when you finally finish as much as you’re going to do tonight. there’s still a couple boxes of miscellaneous objects and such, but you shove them in your closet with the promise to deal with them another time. as you cleaned and decorated, you learned a lot about jisung, who trailed along after you rambling on about his life story with the occasional interruption of “maybe move that to the right just a tad” or “don’t you think this would look better on that shelf over there?”

you learn jisung is, in fact, the same age as you--or at least he was when he died. he and his family were killed in a car accident a couple years back, and he finds it more entertaining to lurk around the mortal world rather than mope around with other ghosts all the time. he mostly haunts his old house, although it’s been abandoned the last couple years, so he spends most of his time lounging around inside walls and clanging on pipes and spooking the occasional stray cat that decides to venture into the small home in search of food. today, however, he was so rudely awoken by the various sounds of you and minho carrying all your stuff up to your third-floor apartment in the building next door. he decided to take a peek (all the other residents of the building are “boring old people” in his terms) and thought you seemed interesting, so he stuck around. which brings you to where you are currently; you sprawled out on your bed, eyes closed in exhaustion, with jisung perched on the top of your desk chair asking you questions about your life.

“are you gonna get any pets?”

“minho is bringing over my pet toad tomorrow, he’s been babysitting her while i move.”

“okay that’s good, cats and dogs don’t seem to like me too much, but toads are fine. who’s minho?”

“the boy who helped me move in today,”

“oooh, is he your boyfriend?”

“what? no, no definitely not.”

“you’re blushing.”

“no i’m not! it’s just hot in here. can you open the window?”

“...i’m a ghost.”

“right. we’re just friends by the way, me and minho.”

“mhm….okay, whatever you say. but don’t think i didn’t see you checking him out when he picked up those boxes!”

“jisung?”

“yeah?”

“shut up.”

jisung opens his mouth as if to reply, but shuts it after thinking for a moment. the room is filled with a comfortable silence, and you find yourself giving in to the heavy blanket of sleep beginning to wash over you. it’s not long before you’re snoring lightly, passed out on top of your bed still in your clothes from the day. jisung chuckles to himself, wondering how he ended up with someone so dorky as a neighbour as he glides out through your window and through the night air back to his dark and empty house.

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nakadoo · 7 years

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softly,,, i wrote souyo drabble,,,,,, bec,, ,, im obsessed,,, with the idea that yosuke has nice hands too, ,, , theres probably gonna be a part 2 to this but not right now, ,,

Yosuke tended to sell himself short. Souji's not really sure why it is, but it's been keeping Yosuke from seeing his true potential to be more than what he thinks he's capable of. He keeps comparing himself to Souji, keeps saying that he's just an average guy among more than average people. Souji wonders sometimes if Yosuke's aware that he was practically the glue that kept them all together, that his title as second in command wasn't just because he was the second among the group to attain his own persona.

Yosuke is capable of so much but he just didn't really believe in himself; if someone held him at gunpoint and asked him to praise himself even just once, he'd probably consider his options for longer than necessary considering his own life was on the line.

They had a meeting today. No one was in the T.V. but Souji had decided that it was best to train, to keep them all sharp and on their toes, just in case an obstacle was in their path. He came to Junes a little early, mostly to grab a few groceries to take back home for Nanako.

Then he spots him, lingering around the hardware section of Junes, just looking down at a few items. Yosuke picks up something that Souji can't identify or put a name to, inspects it, weighs it in his hand, before dropping it back into it's bin. He does this several more times with similar looking items before deciding that the first one he picked up was the one he wanted.

"What's that?" Souji asks him, leaning over his shoulder to get a look at the item. He knows what it is now, not the name but just by it's appearance, and wonders what Yosuke could probably want with it.

Yosuke jumps at Souji's voice and nearly drops his item but he manages to catch it before it hits the ground. But he accidentally elbows Souji in the process, which would have been really funny if he weren't on the receiving end of the pain. "Sorry, partner!" he practically yelps. He offers a hand and tugs Souji back onto his feet. "You really need to stop surprising me like that."

Souji rubs at his stomach where Yosuke hit him and shakes his head. "Yeah, sorry. My bad," he apologizes. "So what're you doing here so early?"

Yosuke looks down at his little item, then taps one ear piece of his headphones with a click of his tongue as he explains. "Gonna fix them," he says simply.

"Fix?"

Yosuke's already making his way out of the hardware department, but not before grabbing some wire that looks too thin to be of much use. "Yeah, with how often we get roughed up in the T.V., it'll only be a matter of time before these break too."

Souji is a man of many talents and various tidbits of information. However, he's not quite sure he understands what his best friend is trying to say. "Huh?"

He's already paying for the items. He scratches under his chin as the cashier rings him up, before reaching into his pocket to unplug his headphones from his music player. He raises it up for Souji to inspect.

Souji takes it into his hands gingerly, like he's scared he might break it. But not that he's actually looking at it, it the wire doesn't match with the bit at the end (he still doesn't remember what it's called). "You can replace these?"

Yosuke gives a little laughed, amused by the fact that Souji looks stumped. "Of course you can," he tells him, taking his items without having them bagged. "I'll show you," he says, gesturing with a beckoning hand for his friend to follow. "Let's go round the back."

He is no stranger to Junes' staff room, he's been there countless of times before, so he drops his bag on the worn out couch and makes his way towards Yosuke.

Yosuke drops his bag down on the single table in the staff room and flips a switch to turn the ventilation fan on. He sits down, takes out a few things, and prepares to get to work. He pulls his headphones on, plays his music while he tinkers with the wire, pulling it and pinching it and bending it at various degrees until he stops and grins a little bit. "It's always the jack," he tells Souji as if Souji completely understands what he's talking about. "Good thing too, would have been a pain in the ass if it was the wire."

"Uhh, sure," Souji replies uncertainly, pulling up a chair so he can watch Yosuke work.

Yosuke unplugs his music player and sets it aside, picking up an exacto knife before getting to work. He's carefully cutting at the protective plastic, peeling at them until the wires are exposed.

There aren't many wires but Souji doesn't know what each one does but he's pretty impressed with the confidence that Yosuke works. He's probably done this many times before and for some reason Souji's a little bit bewildered and wondering why he's so surprised his friend knows all this when its so blatantly obvious how much he loves his headphones.

"See?" Yosuke says, straightening his back as he shows his handiwork to Souji again. There's a little wire sticking out that looks wrong, and Yosuke pokes it with his knife. "That's why one speaker isn't working."

Souji nods again. He knows the very basics of wires, like the difference between a series circuit and a parallel circuit but that's mostly it. He plants his elbows on the table, leans in a little closer and Yosuke hunches his back in concentration as he carefully separates the jack from the wires. He continues on, talking about how he has to strip back a few of the wire, expose something Souji again doesn't understand, and the rest of the explanation is still something that Souji isn't really too keen on. But the way Yosuke explains it makes it seem like its so easy to understand.

Yosuke plugs in the soldering iron he took from his bag and waits for the end to heat up. He takes out the wire he bought and the replacement jack, then arranges and prepares them on the table. "Just gotta put everything together then we're good," he grins cheekily.

"You know," Souji says as he watches Yosuke get back to work once the iron is ready. "You said I was pretty good with my hands... You're not too shabby either."

"Ah, jeeze," Yosuke says with a light blush dusting his cheeks and an almost pained look on his face. "I can't believe you still remember that."

"Well, it was a compliment. And I liked it," Souji admitted easily.

"Dude you are so weird sometimes," Yosuke laughs.

Souji shrugs and watches him connect the wires to the jack. If he really thinks about it, Yosuke's probably a lot better with his hands than he is. The way he manages his knives in battle is telling, and though the first forays into the T.V. world had Yosuke's hands all cut up with how bad he was, he'd improved so much since then. He could toss his knives five feet in the air and catch them easily.

...Now that Souji really thinks about it, he kind of really likes the way Yosuke's hands look. There are still scars from cuts that never really faded, calluses from battles as well as from practicing on his guitar. He had shorter fingers than his own, but they were bony and knobby and almost as awkward looking as Yosuke's whole personality but just as charming as Yosuke himself.

Souji leans his cheek into his palm, watching intently as his partner picks the soldering iron and starts attaching this to that, here to there, before finally encapsulating the exposed wires into the bought jack.

Yosuke tugs on the wire of the soldering iron and sets it aside to cool. He fiddles with his music player and plugs in his headphones. Sure enough, music is pouring out through both of the speakers and he smiles before plopping his beloved headphones onto his head. He plays with the volume settings, letting it go as high as it can, then slowly lowers it until he can't hear music anymore. He turns to Souji then, a little smile on his lips that makes Souji's heart flutter a little bit. "I fixed it," he says causally, "but I guess these are pretty old. Sound quality just isn't what it used to be."

Souji tries very hard to make it look like he wasn't staring dreamily at his best friend. "Then why not buy new ones?" he offers. "With all the money we get from the dungeons—"

"One," Yosuke interrupts with a happy appreciative smile. "That money is for new equipment and items for the T.V. World." He swivels in his chair to face his best friend and mirrors him, leaning his cheek onto his palm as well. "And two, I'm kind of attached to these. Unless they're completely ruined beyond repair, I'm not getting rid of them."

Souji hums thoughtfully, wondering how much it would cost him to buy a set of high quality headphones in the shade of orange that matched Yosuke's eyes. "You've had them for a long time then?"

"Mhmm," Yosuke hums at him as he cleans up his work place now, carelessly shoving his tools back into his bag. "Anyway, we should head up to the food court in case anyone's there already."

"Yeah," Souji agrees with a smile. He wonders idly if someday he'll be able to get a look at Yosuke's hands up close.

#souyo #im on this ship 4ever and ever #wordydoodles #persona 4

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