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After his run in with Victor Hesse, Steve escaped a guarded ambulance. In his haze, his feet take him to your apartment. And after a nasty fall into you bathroom window, he can’t help but give stitched apologies when he sees you again.
“For fucks sake.” You mutter, sitting up slowly and pulling the gun from under the table.
Slowly you crept to your bathroom, gun raised as you pushed the door ajar.
You saw the tread of his shoes first- boots you hadn’t seen. Then blue pants.
Then the blood. Your heart sunk.
You used your foot to push open the door, clocking the safety off.
“Don’t move-“ you spoke before pausing.
Steve laid there, against the wall. His head leaned to the side, sitting on his shoulder.
“Y/N,” he breathed.
“Fuck dude,” you clicked the safety on, setting the gun on the counter. “What the fuck happened?” You fall to your knees in front of him.
“I’m sorry,” eyes half lid looking at you- trying to look at you. “I’m sorry I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Steve babe,” you take his face, wiping blood off his cheek with your thumb. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” Your hand trails panicked down to the hem of his shirt and he hisses when you lift it. “I know I need to see.”
You pull his shirt up and it peels from the towel he’s stuff his wound with.
“Um. Okay- okay, I’m going to stitch you up but I need things first. We need to move you to my room-“
“I’m sorry,” he says again, his voice was weak this time.
“Don’t-“
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, “I didn’t want to leave.”
“You’re-“ you sigh wrenching your eyes shut for a second, “you’re not dying, so stop.”
You move to stand and he grabs your arm.
“Please,” he whispers, “just..just let me say it.”
You pause, scanning the man. His skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, he was pale and his hair stuck to his forehead.
“Steve.” You whisper as his hand moves to the back of your head. You let it. You let him pull your forehead to his.
His voice shakes. “I didn’t want to leave.” He says again, “I was trying to protect you.”
“I didn’t need your protection,” you murmur. “I needed you.”
“I know,” he says again, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” his voice cracks and he takes a sharp breath in when he moves. “I’ve never wanted anything more than I’ve wanted you. And I-“ he swallows and groans, “it scared me to think I could lose you like I did mom.”
“Baby,” you move your hand to his face. “Okay, okay,” you nod. Eyes close you lean your nose against his, the tip dragging up his bridge before you kiss his forehead. “Okay.”
“I love you.” He whispers. “I still do.”
You press your forehead against his and nod, tears pricking your waterline. “I love you too. I never stopped.”
He nods weakly.
“And as much as I’d love to keep hearing your voice- baby I really have to get you patched up okay?”
“Okay,” he groans trying to move, “okay.”
“We need to get you to my bed okay? You remember where that is?” Your hand squeezes the space between his cheek and neck. “Steve?” You whisper.
His eyes are closed now, his breathing shallow. Your heart drops and you take a breath.
“Steve!” You smack his cheek and his head bobs up.
“Yeah- yeah.”
“You remember where the bedroom is? I’m gonna need your help moving you.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, I’m going to help lift you up.”
“Yeah.” He whispers. He leans forward from the wall and you snake your hand behind his back.
“Okay big guy, on the count of three we go up, yeah?”
“Yeah. Three.” He starts standing and you follow after a slight pause.
“You get heavier?”
He lets out a light chuckle.
“I mean you’re killing me. I don’t remember it being this heavy.”
“I’m in a bulk.” He answers. His words are slurring now. But he’s talking. He’s responsive. That mattered.
You open the bedroom door, pushing it open and leading him in.
“I got a new vanity.” You say as you lower him to the bed.”
“Ts pretty,” he says in a breath, closing his eyes. “You’d been looking for that one,” his voice trails off.
“Okay, I’m going to go get what I need, and then I’m gonna fix you up.”
He nods.
You move his legs up on the bed, taking his shoes off. You set them to the side and unbuckle his pants, pulling them off carefully.
He doesn’t move. He doesn’t make a sound. But he’s breathing.
Next is the shirt. Each arm through the blue button up that belongs to some poor HPD officer.
You look at your vanity, at the eyebrow scissors that laid next to your blush.
It would have to do to cut off the tank.
It took longer than you wanted but finally it was off. You pulled them from under his back and tossed them to the floor.
You give him a quick look before moving to the kitchen to wash your hands.
You open the sink cabinet and pull out a white tin box and the gloves next to it.
You pull your phone from your pocket, opening your call log.
With a sigh you click Danny’s. “Something every day,” you mutter as you placed the phone to your ear.
Two rings. It took two rings. “Hello?”
“Daniel.”
“Danie-Daniel? You call me after three months of absolutely nothin’, on my phone, on the phone I pay for and all you say is Daniel?”
“Danno-“
“No no. No! I mean-“
“Danno Steve is here.”
“What- Steve? Your Steve? Our Steve? He’s at your apartment?”
“Yes, he’s here. Broke into my bathroom. He’s bleeding, a lot. Nasty hole off the center lower abdomen. He’ll be fine but I need to patch him up. And I need you to get here. Like now.”
“Yeah babe. Okay chin and I are on the way.”
“Kay, see you soon.”
You hang up the phone and toss it on the dresser.
“Alright,” you whisper to yourself, popping the sanitizer bottle cap open. “Nothing too big here baby girl, just stitching up your ex navy seal ex boyfriend.” You open the kit and pull on your gloves. “Just a normal Wednesday afternoon. Deep breath.”
It was almost cathartic, stitching your ex. Your mind was quiet as you cleaned the blood around his wound. It was focused when you pulled the paper towels stuffed in his skin. It worked like a clock as you packed his wound with gauze. It was still when you deep stitched it after a refresh. It remained still when you stitched the opening back in place.
But it swam when you looked at him. It replayed your fondest memories.
When he took you to the beach that Kono frequented- and taught you to surf. Or tried to.
When he held your hand in the gym when you were frustrated with yourself over another incorrect form.
How his hand felt on your back as you two walked the flower field in the trees.
How movie night felt as you laid on his lap. He’d brush your hair, braid it as the movie played.
He’d braid your hair every night. You slept in braids, and he wanted to braid.
Or when he kissed you, soft and slow when he came home to dinner.
Home.
You smile slightly, taking his hand carefully, thumbing at his fingers.
“Fucking idiot.” You whispered, pressing your forehead to his hand. “If you don’t wake up, I’ll kill you myself.” You kiss his knuckles and stand with a sniffle.
You pick up the dirty gloves and toss them in the trash by the bed.
“Y/N?” You look towards the door.
“Danny,” you call out, walking down the hallway. His eyes meet yours and your shoulders fall. He opens his arms and you fall into it.
He wraps his arm around your back, the other finding place in your hair. “You okay?” He asks ins soft voice.
“It was bad Danno,” your voice is stiff and muffled. “It was really bad.”
“I know.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your head.
“I’m sorry.” You voice cracks. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Hey hey, babe it’s okay. It’s all going to be okay. You got nothin’ to be sorry for.”
“No I just- I just fucked off when he left me okay? And I held it against you too.”
He wipes the tears from under your eyes. “It’s okay, I promise you, it’s okay.”
“He told me he still loved me. Told me he was sorry,” you sniff. “I’m scared Danny, I’m so fucking scared he’s not going to wake up.”
He smiles lightly, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “If you’re the one who stitched him up I know he’s going to be fine. Besides, he’s a tough asshole, ‘Kay?”
You nod. “He’s in the bedroom.”
Danny presses another kiss to your forehead before walking down the hallway.
You look awkwardly at chin, “Hey Chin,”
“Hey Y/N. Sorry we had to meet again like this.”
You smile lightly, taking the man into a hug. “It’s okay, thanks for being here.”
He ruffles your hair light as you two follow Danny.
“Um- after a short course refresh, I stitches him up. Shank wound I’d say- cylinder and not awful in diameter.”
“How’d you manage that?”
“A friend of mine works as a surgeon, every now and then he gets me extra supplies for my first aid kit. Last week he got me absorbable stitches. Good timing I guess.”
He nods. “You usually do have something for everythin’.”
“Do you guys want coffee? Tea?”
“Yeah actually, if you don’t mind? Coffee?”
You look towards chin who shakes his head. You nod and step out of the room.
Danny follows shortly after and sits at the table.
“So, I know Steve wouldn’t have killed the governor. What’s going on?” You look up from your iced coffee. “Wo fat?”
Danny gives you a look. “You know he doesn’t like you getting involved with that.”
“What? Are we forgetting he showed up in my bathroom? That he bled up my sheets?”
“No. No I know. I know.” He rubs his face and sighs. “He wanted to- He wants to keep you safe y’know.”
“I know.”
“It is Wo Fat. He killed the governor. Pinned the murder on Steve. We’re trying to clear that.”
You nod quietly.
It quiet for a moment. “How you feeling?”
You shrug. “The man I was going to marry is laying in my bed, in a puddle of blood. The man I love broke into my bathroom half dead, crumpled on my floor, and framed for murder. I’m not feeling exactly great.”
“What…What exactly happened with you two? One day I saw you in his office dropping off food and when I turned around you weren’t speaking.”
It’s your turn to give him a look. “You expect me to believe you don’t know?”
“No I mean- I mean he told me some. Protecting you from Wo Fat. Being scared of you turning out like his mom. Hurt. Dead.” He shrugs. “But there’s more to it than that. I know that.”
You signed and rubbed your eyes. “We were going to have a baby.” You say, eyes glued to the condensation rolling down the glass of your cup. “I um- I found out probably a day before I miscarried. I wasn’t far along, I would say even a month. I just had a feeling- I um, I had a dream. I took a test the next day. I didn’t even get to tell him before it was all gone. Before she was gone.”
“Y/N babe I’m so sorry.” He reaches across the table to take your hand. You squeezed it lightly.
“I dunno I just shut down a little. I tried to play it normal.”
“Does he know?”
You nod. “Yeah. He does. It wasn’t long after that we broke up.” You shrug and wipe your cheeks with a deep shaky breath.
“After his sister.”
You nod. “Bout two or three weeks later. Not long anyway. We didn’t speak again after that. He tried to send me groceries- ice cream and flowers. In a card said he wanted me to feel better- you know.”
Danny nods. “The baby?”
“Yeah. I took it for the first couple weeks, I liked seeing his hand writing. I missed him. I didn’t take it after that. Hurt too much to think about it. Last thing I told him was I never wanted to speak to him again. I would’ve followed him to the end of the earth- but we were dating for what? Half a year? And he was vague when he spoke to me- I don’t know I thought he left because I,” you squeeze his hand and let go. “Because I lost the baby.”
“No. Oh you sweet girl no.” Danny moves the seat across the table, arms wrapping around your frame. You lean into his chest, finally snapping. The grief, the hurt, the exhaustion, the shock. Your eyes welled up and you hid your face in the cloth of his shoulder. Your body shook when you finally let yourself cry, Danny’s hand rubbing circles in your back. “He’s a prick but never and I mean ever would he do something like that. He loves you more than you could ever know.” He murmurs into your hair.
You nod quietly. It’s not until you’ve calmed does Danny take your head in his hands. “It wasn’t your fault. You hear me? It wasn’t your fault.”
And then it’s quiet. You find yourself on the couch, head in Danny’s lap asleep with the TV on while you wait for Steve.
While Chin sits in the room waiting for him to take up.
You aren’t sure how long it was before you feel a tap on your shoulder. “Hey babe,” Danny smiles lightly.
“Is he awake?” You sit up.
You don’t wait for an answer, you walk down the hall and Chin steps aside.
“Steve?”
“Hey,” he smiles. It’s warm. It’s alive. His eyes crinkle when he does.
“You’re a fucking asshole,” you sob, moving over to the bed and crawling in next to him.
“I know.” He breathes, “I’m sorry,”
“I’ve heard sorry more times today than I think I have ever in my life.”
“Lay down,” he says, he finger finds your cheek. “Just for a second.”
He doesn’t have to ask twice, you take a place next to him, your head resting on his shoulder.
He takes your hand and intertwined your fingers. “You stitched me up pretty good I hear.”
“I hope so.” You murmur. “Took a refresh on deep stitches. You’re my first victim though.”
He lets out a small laugh. “It feels better already,” he smiled.
“You’re going to need antibiotics though, especially with that towel shit you had.”
“I had few resources babe.”
“I know, I know. I sterilized it how I could but you’re going to need preventive antibiotics. Maybe some probiotic soda to go along with it.”
He looks over, pressing his forehead against yours. “Thank you,” he whispers. “The second time you’ve saved my life.”
“The second time?” You brush your nose against his. “When was the first?”
“The day I met you. Cussing out the world because your car broke down.” He smiled.
“You think you’re slick don’t you.”
“I mean it.” He says, “I knew as soon as I saw you I was going to love you. I didn’t know how- but I knew you were going to be special; important to me.” He presses a light kiss to your nose. “I love you. I love you, and I know I have to prove it to you again, but I want to.”
“I thought you left because of the baby,” you whisper, your voice suddenly small. “I thought protecting me was a front. I thought you were mad. So I said I never wanted to speak to you again.”
“No baby,” his voice is soft, “No I’m so sorry. I had no idea you thought that- that you felt that way. It isn’t your fault. I promise you. I was never mad.” All you give his a nod and he continues, “I love you. I want a life with you, I want to be a dad with you, I want to be a husband to you. Can I show you I mean it?”
“Yeah,” you smile, “yeah I guess you can McGarett.”
“Thank you,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss you. His lips brush yours like an invitation, hesitant but wanting. You close the distance and press your lips to his.
It’s soft. It’s slow. It’s elegant even, it pours out the months of want, the months of need and yearn. It pours out unspoken words and feeling. It becomes a promise.
Steve wasn’t going to leave you again. Ever. He was going to show you exactly what you meant to him. Steve wanted his life with you, and he was going to make sure that happened.
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For a touch of angst, how about Kuroo and Bokuto falling in love with the same person?
Bokuro college AU
He knew how wrong it was, he did.
It snuck up on him one day when Kuroo had introduced the two of you.
He tutored you. In chemistry. And you tutored him in ecology and botany.
He noted your hair, how long it was, how soft it looked. Kuroo had always adored long hair.
And he had smiled, goofy as he always did when you spoke. His eyes scanned and he noticed it then, how Kuroo looked at you.
With respect- or maybe adoration, he couldn’t clock it yet.
And as they looked for a table in the packed campus library, he noticed how well you seemed to click between the two of them. How your words would slip easily into banter- how your laugh matched theirs in intensity.
A friendship blossomed there, one nobody was necessarily banking on as the three of you studied individually for midterms.
You’d pause to explain a concept to Kuroo, who’d stop to explain a chemistry concept to you. And both would stop to help Bokuto with his concept if he needed it, which surprisingly, to himself too, he didn’t need much.
And then midterms came, and then they passed. Their marks were good.
Talking extended outside of class, outside of studying in the library.
And you all were watching movies, walking to the dining hall or to eat off campus. Then you were coming over and having movie nights.
And Bokuto could see how you and Kuroo interacted, and he wasn’t sure how he felt. You two clicked, so so well. The jokes you two could make, the banter and wittedness surround your respective fields.
Your smile was light, how could he not want you around?
Your voice was smooth and reassuring to hear, especially when it was directed to him.
Your skin looked soft- the way your eyes did when you looked at Kuroo.
You had been level headed when Bokuto had needed it. You’d come to his games. You’d helped him with school. You’d spent the night on their couch when it was too late to drive.
You made him laugh. A lot.
How could he not want you around? He felt happy when you were around.
He thought he felt small, somewhere along the way growing apprehensive to you being there- though he’d never show it.
He wasn’t sure why he felt like it now, bummed when he saw you. Even worse when he realized you and Kuroo hung out separately.
A lot.
And he wasn’t sure why he cared- not entirely anyway. Something just sank in his stomach when he found out, through whatever selfie Kuroo had sent. And a cold feeling that embedded in his bones when he saw a story Kuroo had posted. Of you.
Sitting in front of a window as the sun went down. The sky was fluffy with pink clouds- and the background was too dark to truly make out. The attention was put on you, the soft smile you had as you held a plant in your hand. The sun hit your skin beautifully. You were glowing. And he looked- for a little longer than he should’ve.
The way your hair glittered, how soft the smile that placed on your lips was.
The highlighter you always wore- it stood out. Gold, like the sun.
Where your hair fell and how pretty your nails looked.
Or the rings that’s sparkled on your fingers- or the layers of necklaces that adorned your neck.
He felt left out? Left behind? He wasn’t sure which, but he went to bed early that night.
He didn’t like you much after that. It was a slow up kick of distaste- not responding much in the shared GC. Pretending to just be busy when the opportunity to hang out or study was hard - although it was hard when your best and roommate is constantly with you.
And his distaste furthered when he read that stupid text too.
‘Ko I think I really like her. Will you help me ask her out?’
He didn’t answer right away. He went to the gym early that night- without Kuroo.
He didn’t think about it. Or he tried not to at the very least. He wracked his brain.
Why was it such a big deal? Because he was losing his best friend? Scared of being left behind? Or because he was going to lose you?
He felt that twinge of jealousy hit his chest. He sighs deeply.
He knows the answer. Though it really hurt.
It wasn’t about losing Kuroo. It was about losing you. Seeing you in his apartment every other morning- or often at dinner. With Kuroo and not him.
It was saying goodbye to something that couldn’t happen now.
He figured then he’d move on.
He did help Kuroo, made up some lame excuse when he got home. Feeling antsy he said.
You said yes, to know one’s surprise. To his disappointment- you were over a lot.
Bokuto was the same around you. The two of you laughed together, the two of you cried together, you stayed while kuroo was out of town.
It became normal.
And as the years went on, Bokuto had his relationships here and there, he focused on hobbies- thinking he’d gotten over that small crush he’d come down with those years ago.
So why did he feel so sick when kuroo asked for help ring shopping?
“You’re proposing?”
Kuroo grins. “I am. she’s the one Kou I can feel it- I knew the second we studied together. I want to spend my life with her.”
And he knew it was wrong, to feel the way he did. Angry. Upset. Sick over that thought, though Kuroo would be happy.
“Congratulations!! Give me a day and I’ll clear my schedule.” Bokuto smiles wide, bringing Kuroo in for a hug.
Just so his best friend can’t see how his eyes are watering.
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Peaky blinders x sister reader with sensory issues, sensory overload piece next dears (requests are also open ❤)
Summary and cw: Reader goes into hyper sensitivity. I do not have Autism, I do however, have ADHD. I suffer with hypersensitivity and sensory overload. This particular story is one I'm writing off perosnal experience. It affects everyone differently, this is just how it affects me.
Tommy wouldn't say there was something off about you, but he'd probably say there was something peculiar about you.
You'd always been particular about things, ever since you were a baby, he can remember. He can remember you being /weird/ with things- like texture or temperature.
And he, along with Arthur, John and polly, mostly just him and Polly, assumed it was just normal; because to an extent it was. Babies find new things everyday and sometimes they don't like them, but they grow into them.
But then it became clear you /weren't/ growing into them. There were shirts you refused to wear because if how they felt on you. You'd cry and kick and scream. You wouldn't touch cold water unless it was for drinking- and don't get him started on wet floors.
As you got older, your reactions changed. You matured and he thought maybe you'd grow out of it. He hated seeing you upset
Wishful thinking. You didn't.
Here you were, 18 and gagging over how a glass mug felt in hand.
It'd been a rough morning, starting when you'd woken up. It was too hot, for one. You kicked the blankets off and moved to get up, the cold floors instantly sent chills through your body. Shoes were the first thing on, you couldn't deal with that today.
And dressing had gone okay until you'd reached for your sweater, touching the fabric you felt yourself gag. You take a deep breath, shaking your hand before going to put it on.
It was fine then, after you'd taken a few breaths and stretched the collar and you hoped to christ you stayed that way.
Finishing your routine, brushing your hair, brushing your teeth (which was hard enough on its own), you head down the stairs. You avoid touching the railing, unsure how your body would react.
"'Morning poppet," Pol hums.
"Mornin auntie."
"There's some hot water in the kitchen, get yourself some tea." She smiles softly and continues her hike to another room.
"Mmm," you nod tiredly.
You weren't sure you'd be able to finish tea, even start it really, not with how sick you felt. Your mind flickered back to the floor and the shirt, you groaned softly. Christ that only made it worse-
"Hey now,"
"Oh- sorry Tommy." You smile sheepishly. "Good mornin,"
"Good mornin', lost in thought already? Pretty early for that."
"Wish I could stop." You hum with a sigh reaching up in the cupboard to grab a mug. You slid it off the wood shelf.
Your body shuttered and you gagged, followed by a cough before dropping the cup. It shattered once it hit the ground and you groaned, squatting and holding your head.
You vaguely heard Tommy call your name, you were too busy trying not to puke. Everything was too much now- your shoes touched wrong, you couldn't wiggle your toes enough. Your hair felt weird along your fingers and your sweater- the fucking sweater. It just sat /wrong/.
"Hey," Tommy whispers, he looks panicked. "Hey are you okay?"
"Tommy," you take a shakey breath. You could feel the gag at the back of your throat. "Get my shirt off- get my fucking shirt off," you looked at the ground, trying not to focus on the fabric sitting against your skin.
"What...?"
"Tommy pull it off!"
"Okay- okay," his hands immediately drop to the hem of you sweater and he pushes it up your torso before tugging it over your head. He tossed it to the side. You're left in nothing but pants and a bra now, heaving as you screw your eyes shut.
"What's going on?" John's at the door now, sounding just as panicked as Tommy looked.
"Go get Pol," he says simply.
"What's-"
"Go get Pol." He hissed, sending a glare to his brother.
You slide your hand under his jacket to grab his sleeve before dropping your head to your brothers chest. He shrugs off his coat and abandons it where it drops.
"Can I touch you?" He whispers, his hands hovering over your skin.
You take a deep breath and nod. "You can try," you mumbled.
He placed a hand on your upper back, the other in you hair. You don't seem to react and he silently thanks the heavens before stroking your hair.
"You alright?" His voice is soft, laced with concern. He understood it now, you had an episode. He hasn't seen one in years, especially not one this bad.
You nod, swallowing thickly.
"Do you need a bucket?"
You shake your head and close your eyes.
"Is she alright?" Pol calls out as soon as she's stepped into the room.
"Had an episode Pol," Tommy strokes your hair and looks up. "Can you turn on the record and tell the boys it'll be a quieter day today?"
"Tommy.." You mumble.
"And get her the white shirt she has, the long sleeved one with the small strawberry on the left."
Of course he'd take care of it. It was Tommy, regardless of how you'd voice your distaste for it, hezd always take care of the situation.
"Does she need a bucket?"
"No, she's alright."
"Broke your glass Aunt Pol," you whisper. "M sorry,"
"It's alright poppet, I can get another one."
You nod slightly.
She takes off and you can here her Inform Arthur and John. You smile slightly.
"Is it happening often? I haven't seen you like this in almost two years. You just not telling us?"
Then music.
"'Not this bad," you sigh. "Smaller things though, yeah."
He nods slightly. "Alright,"
"M sorry you have to deal with it."
"Don't be, promise it's no trouble."
He takes your shirt from Polly and slips over your head. You pull your arms through.
It was a shirt he had made, it was soft, oa fabric you never seems to mind. It was years old, and you'd slip into it whenever things got to be too much, or texture just wasn't cooperating.
"Alright sweet girl," he squeezes your arm gently. "Let's move to the parlor." He lifts you as he stands.
"Tommy I can walk,"
"I know," he smiles. "I used to carry you when you were a kid though, and much less of a rat."
"Not a damn rat," you grumble, thankful when he sets you on the couch.
"You alright?" John asked worriedly.
"You don't need a bucket do you?"
"Why do you all keep asking if I need a bucket? No Arthur, I appreciate the concern, I don't need a bucket."
Platonic Katsuki x reader, in which you have to comfort your best friend and remind him, even the strongest need help sometimes.
"My support?" Katsuki raised an eyebrow, "you need my support."
"Yeah totally," you grinned, then stepped into his dorm and sat on his bed. "Having such a rough time."
"I know you can lie better than that," he muttered with a sigh. He didn't move from his position at the door, only leaned back against the wood with his hands in his pockets.
You smiled softly. "Honest?"
"Honest."
"You look like you're having a rough time with everything going on," you hum, "and I just wanted to spend some time with you, watch a movie, talk, eat popcorn, play with your hair, whatever else. You know, make sure you're okay."
"You did?"
"Course I did, now come here."
"You're a rat." He muttered, sitting on the floor in front of his bed. Your fingers immediately ran through his hair and he noticeably relaxed.
"So you say. What movie are you thinking?"
"Something scary?"
"Whatever you want baby," You hum.
"We can watch scream," he leaned back, his head resting against your crossed legs.
"Still thirsting after Ghostface I see."
He scoffs.
"Before we start," he begin, hands still playing in his hair. "Are you okay, Katsuki?"
He was quiet for a few moments. "Just tired," he mumbled.
"You slept all day yesterday. 17 hours straight. You don't...you don't have to tell me everything, but I'm worried about you." Your hands found its way to his, and you gently played with his fingers.
It was true. Katsuki had been struggling, he didn't exactly try to hide it, but he didn't think it was particularly noticeable either. There'd just been so much loss lately. They didn't warn you about that when you started out in your first year, no they were fast approaching their third year.
And he was even more upset he wasn't able to deal with his emotions himself- that he wasn't able to squash the depression bug, no. Instead it took over him.
Before you'd walked into the room, he was staring with an empty gaze at a black phone screen, just pondering. He felt alone.
"Katsu?" You murmur, pressing your cheek into his hand.
It was then he realized his cheeks felt wet. "I don't- I don't know," he whispered in a broken voice. "I'm just...I don't know there's so much and it's getting hard to deal with."
"You know you can talk to us, right? We're your friends, we want to help."
"Heros do it all the time, I'm supposed to be able to handle it on my own-"
"No. They have help too. They have support systems, you have to have a support system." Your voice is soft. You've started gently petting at his hair, before slowly sliding off the bed. "You're not to blame. For any of it. For anything that's happened it isn't isn't fault. And I can see you trying- so hard and I'm so proud of you for just /being/ here, as cheesy as it is. But I'm worried Katsuki."
"I'm just so fucking tired." His head fell between his legs.
"I'm...I'm not the best with words," you start, "or verbal comfort, but I'm here. Always. I'm here, don't you ever think you're alone." You gently brush your best friends cheek.
"I think...I think I need a hug." He muttered.
You smile softly and move between his legs, wrapping your arms around his torso and setting your head on his chest. "I can do that."
"You've made me soft," he grumbles. "But uh- thanks."
More self-indulgent peaky blinders x reader bc I've always struggled with my femininity as a woman, especially when it came to trying on feminine clothes like dresses.
"No. I don't want to." You mutter, pouring the boiling water over coffee grounds.
"Why not? It's just like looking for a suit." Arthur spoke from the table.
"Except it's not." You hum. "The complete opposite, actually."
There was nothing more irritating to you than trying on dresses. Even getting fitted for them, you hated it. Every fucking minute of it.
"Still haven't grown out of that then huh,"
"I don't see why I can't just wear a suit to the damn thing, all of you are." You mumble, ignoring Tommy and taking a sip of your coffee. "I look better in those anyway."
"Is that what this is about?" John sighs, walking in the kitchen. "How many times do we have to tell you? You look beautiful. Always."
"Don't get fucking sappy," you roll your eyes. "I just don't like dresses. Or trying them on." You state, sitting down at the table.
"Nonsense. You love dresses when you feel good in them." Polly cuts in. She sets a plate in front of you.
"Thanks Pol," you nod. "But that's how clothes work, in general. Not dresses."
"But that's what this is. Still the irrational thought you don't look good."
"'Pol," you whine.
"You know, your mother carried you for nine months, gave you that body and face just for you to hate it."
"Pol how many times are you going to use that?" You groan rubbing your face.
"As many times as it takes for it to stick. You don't look bad, at all. I'm not just saying that because I've raised you."
"I look good in suits, yes. Thank you. Why can't I wear one of those?"
"It's too formal of an event, poppet. A suit won't work."
"Pols right," Tommy looks up from his paper. "As much as I'd like to let you wear a suit, it's too formal. We'll have to get you in a dress."
"Tommy.."
"I know, I know, you don't want to. We'll look around some shops, whatever you like We'll get, no questions asked. Whatever color, style- if you feel it looks good on you, we'll get it. And if you really don't see anything you like, we'll get one made, alright?"
You murmured something under your breath.
"What was that?"
"Yes. Fine, yes."
And so it began, within the next hour you were in town with your brothers, dress shopping.
"What about that one?"
"Wouldn't fill it out right." You mutter with hands in your pocket.
"You didn't even look at it poppet,"
"I did, already, over there when Pol was talking about that red one."
Arthur sighed, "Why don't you at least try it on?"
"I suppose so, if it'll make you happy."
"I think Pols got some too," John looks over to you, taking his attention away from the dress he was running his fingers across. "What about this one?"
You turn your attention from Arthur, who was grabbing the one he was eyeing to the one John had pulled. The fabric seemed soft. It was a lovely shade of green, with silver beads that adorned it simply.
"It's nice," you mutter. "Soft," you mumble once you've got your own hands on it.
"Isn't it? I really like the color. I think it'd fit your skin tone."
"Since when did you become so knowledgeable on the things of a woman." You smile.
"Since Esme, she's adamant I learn. I guess she was right that it would help." He hummed, "after all i have to be able to help my baby sister and keep my title as the favorite brother."
"Oh, you think you have that title?" You side eye him and lift dress off the wall.
"Oi," he makes a face, "Who does then?"
You say nothing, just smiling as you take a step back to move to another part of the store.
"Oh come on you have to tell me, come on. Who is it then?"
"Tell you what?"
"Who the favorite is."
"I can't tell you that, power shift and all."
"I've got some dresses dear," Aunt Polly gestures to the ones in her hand. "Let's try these on, okay?"
"I've got one for her too," Arthur holds his up.
"And I picked that one for her to try," John points.
"Mines prettier."
"Oh this is a competition now?"
"Oh Hush. Hand them here." She snaps. "You boys wait out here, we'll come show them once she's in them."
"Yes Pol," the chorus plays.
You make a face but ultimately follow Pol to the back room.
The first one up is a black one with gold beading, all you have to do is look at it before you know you'd not like it.
"No," you immediately turn it down. "I'm sorry aunt Pol, but I really don't like that one."
"Alright," she took a deep breath and set it aside. "Let's try this one then."
The next one was white. It was long, looked like it'd be form fitting to an extent, in the bodice anyway. The skirt was flowy with tassels that made an almost scale pattern. It was pretty, you had to admit.
You stared at it for a few moments before starting on your suit, unbuttoned the shirt (your jacket had been left with Tommy, good lad,) and slipped it off. Followed by your pants and shoes.
You held your arms up and the dress fell down your body.
You hesitantly open the door and walk out to where your brothers are.
"Oh that one's a nice one," John smiles. "Like mine better though."
"'I picked that one out," Tommy grins.
"I mean its nice," you nod, looking at yourself in the big mirror. "But it looks more like a wedding dress Tommy, you trying to see me off already?"
"No," he mumbled, watching you step off the ledge. "Just thought it was pretty "
You wave him off and walk back into the dressing room. The next one is one Pol had picked, she said anyway.
It was a light pink, a color you had to admit you enjoyed, so it was a downer when you looked in the mirror and hated what you saw.
"Let's just try the next one," you mutter
"You don't want to show the boys?"
"No Pol- no I just really want to take it off," you mutter, still scanning your form.
She stares for a few moments but ultimately nods.
The next is the one Arthur had picked. Red with black beading. Tassels that fell down your arms. It was elegant. You left the room and walked towards the boys.
"That one's awful nice on you," Pol smiles.
"I have taste, see?" Arthur grins. "Do you like it?"
You stare at yourself in the mirror. "It's...I mean its a nice dress, really."
"But...?" John pushes.
"Not for me. I don't fill it out right. I look like a man."
"If you don't like it, it's no trouble. Try on the next one." Tommy leans back in his chair.
"Sorry Arthur," you mumble.
He just waves it off with a small smile.
Then it's John's choice. The green one, forest silk with the simple sliver beading. It's a longer dress, and honestly you don't mind.
Aunt Pol helps you slip it on. "Oh..." She breathes. You look fantastic. It frames your waist and your hips before falling freely around your legs. It's sleevless, the silk coming up your back in a V to cover your shoulders.
"It's so nice," you whisper, fingers trailing down your sides.
"How do you feel?"
"Like a princess," you hum.
"Go on then, show the boys." Pol all but shoves you through the doors.
"Alright alright," you lift the skirt and hike up the platform.
John was smug. "You like that one don't you?"
"I do," you whisper with a nod, till staring at the dress. "God I love it," you laugh softly.
"Give us a spin," Tommy smiles, moving his hand on a small circle.
And you do. You spin with a stupid grin on your face, looking at your brothers when you've finished. "Does it twirl? Tell me it twirls."
"It twirls," Arthur laughs. "You look beautiful."
"Who's the favorite?"
"Oh hush John,"
"That's the one then?"
"Yes, this is the one." You hummed. "Not to much for you is it?"
"Never," Tommy stands, "go on get dressed, we'll pay and go home."
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Cw: Coming out, Panic attack
"Uh-" you looked around the room, everyone was hear. They stared curiously.
She called a fucking family meeting.
Of course she did, it was Ada. Ada fucking 'I think I can solve everything' Shelby.
"Go on then, spit it out." She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall.
"Ada," you hiss, glancing at her before returning your gaze to the boys.
"You have to. It'll help." She shrugged. "They won't care."
"You don't fucking know that. You have /no/ way of knowing that."
"Yes I do. I'm their sister."
"So am I!"
"Tell us what?" Arthur frowned, leaning against his chair.
"They won't care." She repeated.
"They very well fucking could."
"They won't-"
"And what if they do! Contrary to your belief, Ada, you don't fucking know everything. You don't make super bright decisions. Believe it or not, your brothers don't think the same way you do-"
"Care about what!" Tommy rose his voice to interrupt the commotion between the two of you.
"I don't want to marry a man! Okay...I don't," fuck. You took a deep breath. "I dont want to marry a man. I don't like men."
It was silent in the room. The boys sat in their respective chairs, polly stood in the corner. Your stomach sank. "Oh fuck," you whisper.
You were gonna loose your spot in the family, it was hard enough as it is to keep it with everything going on, they'd disown you, you were sure- christ you'd be on the streets. You were about to lose everything you held dear because your sister didn't want to wait.
It was hard to breathe then, silence surrounded you and rang in your ears. The world was moving, you were sure.
"Hey," Tommy started standing up and walking over to you, "deep breath, take a deep breath."
The words didn't seem to register, instead your knees buckled beneath you. Tommy was there to catch you of course, and for a moment you reached out to grab his jacket, before desperately trying to push away.
Christ you didn't want it to start now. You shoved back a little harder.
"Finn," he grunted. Finn immediately knelt behind you, wrapping his arms around your torso to pull you back only slightly.
"Hey, hey now," he tried.
"Ada," Polly hissed, "why would you make her say that in front of them?"
"I was trying to help!"
"Clearly she wasn't fucking ready!"
"I'm sorry," you whisper out, when you've managed to clock back into the world long enough for coherent thought. "I'm sorry- I- I tried to change it, and fuck fuck-" you struggled to take another breath.
Tommy was still kneeling in front of you, scanning your face. You looked down at your skirt and picked at the fabric nervously.
"It's okay," Finn spoke, "you don't have to be sorry, it's okay. Nothin' wrong with ya."
"I don't-"
"Hush now," Tommy lifted your chin so you'd look up at him. "Nothing, and I repeat, nothing is wrong with you. We don't care, it doesn't change how we see you. It doesn't change the fact that you're our little sister, you understand?"
You nodded slightly, sniffling as your head fell foward to your brothers shoulder.
"I'll get her some water," Pol nodded curtly, pulling Ada with her into the next room.
"You thought we'd care?" Aurthurs voice came. He sounded dejected almost, he sounded sad. Baffled that you'd be so terrified.
You nod weakly, "I did," you mutter, the words muffled by your place in Tommy's shoulder. "Thought you'd hate me for it."
"But Pol knew."
"Wasn't by my choice. She caught me kissing a girl about a year ago."
"Where?"
"My room." You groan.
"The redhead? What was her name..."
"Her name was Claire."
"But Pol wasn't upset-" John frowned.
"Doesn't mean you wouldn't be."
"You're still our sister," John hummed, smiling slightly. "I mean- Ada married a communist, had a baby with him too. That's worse than anything you just threw at us."
You snorted. "I suppose you're right on that."
"You know we don't care right? Same rules apply, if she treats you wrong, she dies."
"Yeah," you mumble. "Sorry," you rubbed your face in embarrassment. It'd been years since your last panic attack, you didn't think you'd have another one again. "Didn't mean to uh- to freak out."
"No matter," he squeezed your cheek gently before kissing your forehead.
"I for one," Finn helped you stand. "Think it's good that we can talk about girls together."
"And that we don't have to worry about you getting pregnant."
"Arthur," Tommy hissed.
"It's true!"
"You promise you don't care? You're not going to kick me out?"
"Never," Tommy hums.
The chorus of your 4 brothers follow.
"Is uh- is that why you can't sit on a chair right?" Arthur asks, scratching his cheek.
"Yeah you have no idea how to sit on a chair right, an impossible task for you." John snickered.
"And the suits is that why you wear suits?" It's Finns turn now, he's moved from next to you to next to Tommy.
"Yes," you rolled your eyes. "It's actually common knowledge that biologically gays aren't able to sit correct. No, it's just uncomfortable to sit like Ada or Pol does all the time. And I wear plenty of dresses too, wearing one right now. But suits have pockets and I like pockets." You state, matter of factly.
"You do sit like a man though." Tommy smiled. "Leaning foward, legs apart, elbow on your knee."
