#and yet somehow i think ill be fine and normal after a couple days away. as if this literally wasnt one of my biggest fears

[arcaneyouth]

turns out being consistently harrassed for like 2 weeks does something to your mental health. who knew?

[nightwishesworld]

hello! do you think you could do a chapter with fem!reader whose afraid of thunderstorms and wakes up in the middle of the night because of it but doesn’t wanna wake alcina so she just stays awake but the storm goes on for like a week and this keeps happening until she notices and comforts you through it by like cuddles or talking you to sleep to distract you from it :)

Oh my god I hate the way this came out. My brain just could not process this for some reason. I also couldn't make it as long as a week, my apologies.

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

One dark evening at Castle Dimitrescu a storm rolled in. Relatively speaking, it was quite harmless and most of the inhabitants of the castle were unbothered by the storm.

Except you.

Late into the evening, whilst most were asleep, the storm was at its strongest - the crackle of thunder rolling through the halls as flashes of lightning illuminated the darkest corners of the room. You were trying to sleep, honest, but just as you felt the drowsiness of rest come to take you - a loud crack of thunder would jolt you awake and paralyze you with fear.

You sat with your back against the headboard, your breathing rapid.

You pulled the covers up to your chest and hugged your pillow close to your chest. Resisting the urge to run and hide in the closet like you used to do as a kid was becoming more and more difficult.

Another flash, another boom.

You knew it wasn’t logical, but you couldn’t stop yourself from flinching or jumping as the sounds of the storm roared outside. It was just so loud and you could swear the castle was shaking with it.

You squeezed your eyes shut, white-knuckling the pillow held tight against your chest and humming a song to yourself in order to distract your brain.

The sound of constant rain was suddenly accompanied by heavy hail falling, and that’s when the thoughts started charging at you full force.

What if the lightning strikes the castle? What if the castle collapsed? Did it have the right infrastructure? What if-

“Stop it, God. Stop it!” You begged your brain but to no avail. Your mind kept generously providing you with possibilities and images you did not ask for.

Another loud boom and this time you couldn’t help the cry let out before clapping a hand over your mouth and diving under the blankets.

When you didn’t hear anything for a few minutes you felt it safe enough to come out of hiding. Thankfully the vampire slumbering next to you wasn’t disturbed by your pathetic cries and whimpers. She had a rough day dealing with a very pissed off Mother Miranda and needed rest and relaxation as much as she could possibly get.

You forced yourself to lay still on your back and focus all your energy on controlling your breathing. That was the key to saving yourself a panic attack. You don’t know how long you were staring up at the ceiling, but dawn eventually came and your partner stirred from her sleep.

She would have been happy to see you if not for the redness in your eyes and puffiness surrounding them, obvious signs of lack of sleep.

“Are you alright, draga mea?” She wrapped her arms around your midsection and rested her head on your shoulder, kissing your cheek.

You didn’t answer, even though you knew Alcina wouldn’t just drop the question. She was sweet and caring like that, which is probably why you never had the heart to tell her how much of a coward you actually are.

“You didn’t sleep very well, did you?”

“Nightmares,” you rasped, trying to focus on Alcina more than the low rumbling outside. “I’ll be fine after a cup of coffee.”

She looked as though she didn’t accept that answer but quickly hid any doubts behind a warm smile. “If you’re sure.”

It felt wrong lying to her. You had never felt the need to hide anything from Alcina before, but this was just embarrassing. She’d probably laugh at you told her you were still afraid of thunderstorms.

The day progressed with relative normalcy despite the occasional sounds of rumbling. Alcina busied herself dealing with the mountain of paperwork on her desk for Mother Miranda and the girls were running amuck in the basement. Depending on which room you were in you could hear their laughter below you. Their mischief down there has always been a mystery to you, even now after living in the castle a couple of years. You knew what they were doing, but couldn't fathom the idea of enjoying it so much. You did find it rather disturbing that their torturing frightened you less than a stupid thunderstorm.

You huddled in the back section of the library behind the bookshelves so you couldn’t see the lightning out the windows. The loud rumbling still had you on edge, but a good book is always a welcome distraction. It worked so well, that you didn't hear Daniela approaching. You practically jumped three feet in the air when she was stood in front of you.

“What’s wrong with you?” Daniela asked, her voice was stern, but it also had a concerning tone to it. She had dropped her bag, keeping the knife at her side. Your breathing was heavier than usual as you tried to think of what to say. It was more than embarrassing to tell Daniela the truth. You knew for a fact she out of everyone in the castle would laugh at you. "You scared me,"

She rolled her eyes. "No, Dummy, I mean what's really wrong?"

You shrug and turn the page of your book. “Nothing.”

Another boom. You couldn’t fight off flinched.

“Oh, I think I get it. You’re afraid of-”

“Don’t tell anyone.” You clenched your fists, shutting your eyes tightly. Daniela wanted to laugh, but she didn’t. You watched as she cautiously sat back down. The redhead sat in front of you, the rain somehow sounding even louder than it had before. You looked over at Daniela, feeling the embarrassment creep upon you.

Daniela started at you with a rather confused expression, resting her arms on her knees. “Out of everything we’ve been through,” she began, “everything you’ve seen us do. Everything that goes on in this castle just below your feet,” she paused. “And you’re scared of thunder?”

You sat silently and twiddled your thumbs.

“Why?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you whisper. “It’s not important. You’re only going to run off and tell everyone.”

Daniela rolled her eyes and picked up her bag, headed once again for the basement. “Whatever, y/n, have it your way.”

You spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening shuffling around the library hiding from the white flashes. It was only when Daniela came to fetch you for dinner that you left. Luckily you were eating in the kitchen instead of the larger Dining Hall. The kitchen is much more manageable; marginally fewer windows to see the lightning. The meal carried on as it normally would; the girls boasted about their successes in the basement, Alcina discusses all the work she got done today and complains about the work she put off for tomorrow. It was almost enough to take your mind off the chaos happening just outside the windows. Almost.

The storm carried on just as confidently throughout the evening and into the night. It showed no signs of relenting, which in turn meant another sleepless night.

You wasted no time stripping your clothes and crawling into bed, back to the open windows. Alcina didn’t think much of it, simply chalking it up to being exhausted from the previous night’s lack of sleep. She wasn’t completely wrong, you did feel like you were ready to sleep for the next 24 hours. But you knew the storm wouldn’t allow you that luxury.

Pressure against your back and an arm wrapping around your midsection snapped you out of your thoughts.

“I hope you sleep tonight, my love.”

“Me too.”

An hour later and you were still wide awake listening to the rain being pelted against the windows. An anxious voice whispered impossible scenarios of the rain breaking through the windows and lightning striking you down in the safety of your bed. You tried your hardest to not toss and turn as to not disturb the woman next to you. She's not asleep yet, you can tell by the lack of snoring, but her breathing is starting to even out. You were curled up on your side, back to Alcina. She wrapped you in her arms, her chest against your back and arm across your waist. "Dove..." she whispered in your ear. "Y/n... "

"I'm sleeping, Al." You murmured snuggling further into the vampire’s arms, your eyes still closed.

"No, you're not." She stroked your side absently. “Are you sure you’re ok? You aren’t falling ill are you?”

You sigh. “No, I’m not getting sick. My body is just too exhausted to relax.”

Alcina hummed, burrowing her face in the crook of your neck. “I’ll stay up with you for a while.”

“You will not. Go to sleep Al, I’ll be fine. You had a long day yourself, one of us should be able to sleep."

"Why don't we go sit in the Drawing Room or the Library? I'll hold you in my lap and read to you." God no. Way too many windows. "Goodnight, Alcina." You feel her sigh against your skin, pushing a few stray hairs around. "Can I do anything?" "Stop worrying, it's just insomnia." "I'll stay up with you then. You shouldn't be up all by yourself staring at the ceiling." "I'm not alone, Love, you're right here with me. Asleep or not I'm still in your arms, and that helps a lot." You feel her smile against your neck and pull you closer against her front. "wake me if you need anything."

You actually slept fairly well; only waking up a few times to have Alcina soothe you back to sleep. Being tucked away in her embrace did a world of help, but you still woke up hours before Alcina did. Her eyes fluttered open and focus on your groggy face. She frowns.

"Did you sleep at all?"

You smile and kiss her lips. "Yes, I actually slept a lot better last night than before."

"Good," she pulls you back to kiss you again.

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

Later in the afternoon Bela and Cassandra invited (dragged you really) into the Drawing Room to play a game of cards.

Everything was going really well. You were laughing and playing with the girls like everything was as it should be in Castle Dimitrescu.

You were made astutely aware of the situation outside again when a loud crack of thunder shook the castle. There was another flash and clap of thunder, this time loud enough to make Cassandra flinch.

You abruptly shot up from the table. “Sorry. I need a minute.” You rushed down the hall into one of the guest rooms. Cassandra and Bela shared a confused glance and watched as you hurried away. They’d never seen you so flighty and nervous before. Neither could tell what was wrong.

They laid on the carpet and silently counted to sixty before following you to down the corridor.

“Y/n?” Bela softly knocked on the door. “It’s been a minute.”

There was no response. More thunder. Bela frowned. “We’re coming in, okay?”

She opened the door a crack and poked her head inside. You were nowhere to be seen. “Y/n?” Cassandra called, stepping further inside and glancing around the room. The sisters checked under the bed, then under the covers, even under the shade of the bedside lamp. Then Bela peered out of the rain-soaked window for good measure. Where else could you be?

Just as Cassandra decided she was stumped, she heard a rustling from behind her and a muffled, “I’m in here.” She turned around in confusion because the only place they hadn’t checked in that direction was…

They crept over to the closet and carefully slid open the door. The girls smiled when they found you sitting on the ground, curled up with your head between your knees. “Playing hide and seek now, are we?” Bela said. “Next round I call being the— um, y/n?”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, staying right where you were. “Sorry.”

“S-Sorry for what…?” Cassandra crouched down beside you. The closet almost had enough space for the three of you to fit.

“Y/n, please. Something’s obviously bothering you, can’t you tell us?”

All three of you startled as another flash of lightning cut into the room, followed by another growl of thunder. You tightened your grip around your legs. Bela’s jaw dropped.

“It’s the storm,” she said, half a question, half a statement. “You’re scared of thunder?”

“It’s childish.”

“Oh, y/n…”

“I’m weak. Something as dumb and simple as loud noises shouldn’t make me so—”

“Y/n. Look at me.” Cassandra’s gently stern tone convinced you to move your head so your chin rested on your knees. You side-eyed the girls, trying to imitate your usual stoicism. It was difficult with red-rimmed eyes.

“A phobia doesn’t make you childish, or weak— do you know how many people have a fear of thunder, y/n? A lot of humans.”

“A lot of Uncle Heisenberg’s lycans as well,” Bela chimed in.

“And are you going to go around insulting them? No, Y/n, because that’s not nice. So don’t insult yourself for the same thing.” Cassandra waved around her index finger as she spoke. Your eyes widened and followed the movement. Both girls laughed.

“Is that what’s been giving you nightmares?”

You shake your head. “I just haven’t been sleeping; too tense.”

Cassandra giggled. “Just ask mother for extra cuddles, not like she’ll say no.”

“Or a more intimate distraction,” Bela winked.

Both sisters giggle at the blush creeping on your cheeks.

“Can we sit here with you?” Bela asked, already taking the vacant spot on your right.

You shrugged— as much as you could in this balled-up position. “You don’t have to.”

“It’s ok y/n, we don’t mind.”

They sat on either side of you, Bela holding your hand, enjoying the comfortable silence that cast over you.

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

A loud crack of thunder jolted Alcina awake. Cursing to herself she eyed the clock across the room–2:06 am. Raking a hand down her face, she jolted again when another crack of thunder echoed through the castle. It wasn’t a minute later that an insistent downpour of rain started pelting the roof and windows followed by an angry howling of the wind. You stirred next to her in the bed. You were mumbling in what sounded like a mix of Romanian and English. Alcina swallowed thickly because she knew what that meant; another night terror. She laid back down and curled herself against you, cocooning herself against your back. Alcina placed a few stray kisses on your shoulders and the nape of your neck, smoothing her hands along your hipbone in the process. You calmed after a few minutes, your mumbling returning to the steadying breaths of deep sleep. Alcina sighed in relief and closed her eyes in hopes that she could drift back to sleep.

KRAK-OOOOOM!

Alcina sat up on the bed and saw you still appeared to be sleeping, though you looked somewhat agitated. She reached over and attempted to run her fingers through your hair but all that succeeded in doing was causing you to jolt awake.

You woke up with a strangled yell and starting crawling out from underneath the sheets. You sat with your back against the headboard, your breathing and heart rate rapid. Alcina crawled over and realized you were having a panic attack. “Y/n, can you hear me?” You nodded, your eyes squeezed shut as tears started leaking from the corners. You clamped a hand over your mouth, and Alcina realized you were trying to silence your breathing. “Honey no, don’t do that, just focus on me,” she pulled your hand away from your mouth slowly. You shook your head and tried to take your hand back. “No no no... I can’t- I-I-I can’t wake Al-Alcina,” you gasped. “It’s alright, Dove, just follow my breathing.” Alcina took exaggerated breaths to demonstrate. You started calming down slightly. “That’s it, everything is alright, just keep breathing.” You seemed to calm down more with the breathing exercises. “I’m going to get you a glass of water“ Alcina started to say, but was cut off by you grabbing her arm. “No! Don’t-don’t lea- don’t leave, please, don’t- don’t” you closed her eyes, her breath quickening again. “Sweetheart, breathe with me. In, out. In, out.” Alcina took your hand and put it on her chest. “Breathe with me. In, out. In, out.” Your breathing returned to normal. After sitting in silence for a bit, Alcina turned to her.

“Another night terror?” She asked. You looked away for a minute, ashamed of yourself.

“No.”

God, you probably woke her up, good job.

Alcina couldn’t keep an amused smile from forming. “Can my little dove not sleep because of the thunderstorm?”

As if on cue, a blinding bolt of lightning crackled down from the sky. The following rumble of thunder seemed to shake the castle. You let out a whimper and shielded yourself from the sky. “How could I possibly sleep when it sounds like the sky is falling?!”

Alcina hums and pulls you close against her. “There’s nothing wrong with a healthy fear, Dove. It brings out the human in you.”

“UGH! Just-!”

KRAK-OOOOOM!

Another shriek, barely muffled by Alcina’s shoulder, had you violently trembling. You were barely holding yourself together.

Wracked with terror, eyes shut tightly, you found yourself unable to prevent the reflexive compulsion to cling to something nearby.

Which, in this case, was Alcina, who was left staring in shocked silence at the violently trembling form with arms wrapped tightly around her midsection. She immediately wrapped her arms around you again and began rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“Calm down. You’re fine,” She spoke softly, ignoring the buzz under her skin as she soaked in the unwitting embrace like a dry sponge in water. Soothingly, she rubbed up to your shoulder blades. “There we are, my love,” Alcina chuckled. “I’ve got you. Listen to my voice,” She rumbled, speaking soft but firm as the thunder forced smaller tremors through the floor. “You’re going to relax. I’m going to help you. Just lay here with me and close your eyes. I’ll hold you all night if you want me to.”

Gradually, the sound faded and petered off back into the loud patter of rain against the windows but Alcina held you tightly still. She could feel the flutter of your heartbeat against her own, almost impressed that you hadn’t passed out from fear alone.

“Why didn’t you say anything? The storm’s been going on for days now you must have been petrified.”

“I didn’t want you to know,” you mumbled into her neck. “It’s a pathetic fear I’ve had since I was a kid. I don’t want you to think less of me.”

“You think something as trivial as a phobia would make me think less of you?” She pulled you even tighter against her. You melted into her embrace. “Clearly I haven’t been a very good partner to you.”

“No Al, it’s not like that. Gods, you’re an amazing partner. It’s just my stupid insecurities. You’re all so fearless and brave. You’re not afraid of anything, and then there’s me; tiny, inferior, afraid of a little thunderstorm.”

She sighed and continued rubbing circles on your back. “I’m not fearless.”

“Yeah right,” you scoff. “What could the great and powerful Alcina Dimitrescu possibly be afraid of?”

“Death.”

You wriggled out of her arms just enough to turn and face her. “What? But, you’re immortal. Death isn’t really something you have to worry about.”

She gave a small smile and brought a hand to cup your face. “I never said my death, sweet one.”

Oh...OH

“The girls are clever, they can get themselves out of most situations unscathed, but still, we can be slain. And there have been some pretty close calls in the past. And you,” she rubbed gentle circles on your cheek. “Your death is inevitable. It gnaws at the back of my mind every time I look at you. Every time morning I have to untangle myself from your embrace I remember that one day I’ll wake up alone and wish I cuddled with you for just a bit longer."

"Al, I didn't-"

"I can't always be there to protect you, including the girls. If I could take the brunt of all conflict for you I would gladly do so, but that's unfortunately not how life works. I'm just left worrying until I know for sure you're all safe."

She hummed into your neck and kissed your pulse point. "How selfish of me, I'm supposed to be comforting you, not the other way around. If I paid more attention I would have known, I’m sorry, my love.”

“Don’t apologize, just hold me.”

Alcina kissed the top of your head. “With pleasure.”

Soon enough you did fall asleep again, your arms still clinging tight around the vampire’s upper midsection. Alcina found a comfortable enough position and allowed herself to drift away as well.

[erimeows]

Feverish

You were surprised to have been called to the med bay a little bit past nine in the evening, woken up by your phone ringing and Ratchet on the other end. You clutched your robe close to your body as you raced through the hallway, sleep in your eyes and worries in your head.

The lead medic had given you no explanation, only telling you to come meet him outside of the med bay as soon as you could before he hung up on you.

You wondered if it was an emergency, if someone was injured or dying, if something had happened during patrol- Wait, no. Their night patrols didn’t start for another hour or so, and if it had been an emergency, someone like Bumblebee or Optimus would’ve called you in a panic.

Still, the whole situation was weird, and you were worried, so when you saw Ratchet outside of the med bay leaning against one of the walls, you immediately approached him with your concern etched in your features. 

Upon seeing you, Ratchet stood up straight, then put a strong servo on your shoulder in a reassuring manner before looking down at you. His pale blue optics burned into your (e/c) eyes, and though you tried your best, you couldn’t read his expression.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the medic spoke.

“Optimus Prime has fallen ill.”

“What?” You immediately sputtered, and your eyes flew to the door of the med bay; closed, you couldn’t even see Optimus. You just prayed that he was okay. In the time that you’d known the Prime and his team, you’d seen him injured or sick plenty, though the former was much more common. He never prioritized his own health and tried to push himself to do things, even when he was unwell, so he took forever to recover... Hopefully it wasn’t something severe. “How bad is it? Is he awake? Have you told the team yet?”

“Hey, hey, slow down. It’s nothing crazy, (y/n), so don’t worry,” Ratchet’s words, said in an uncharacteristically gentle tone, soothed you, if only a little. If it were serious or ‘crazy’ as he put it, he would’ve told you directly instead of lying, so you believed him. “This morning, I was the first to wake and go into the kitchen to make myself an energy booster when I saw him stumble in... As in, he was literally stumbling over himself and I could see steam rolling off of him from overheat. He insisted he was fine, but something was off, so I dragged him to the medbay for testing. He’s low on energon and coolant, he was overheating, and there was a minor glitch in his vents from some battle damage that I had to fix. He’s recovering fine, but my main concern is that his chassis seems to be overheating to kill an infection. I think it’s just your run-of-the-mill space bug based on the labs I did, so I gave him some antibiotics.”

“You didn’t answer some of my questions-” You started, now concerned with whether you could actually go and see Optimus or not.

It wasn’t uncommon for the red and blue bot to ignore his own needs, but for him to have ignored symptoms that could’ve turned into something much worse had Ratchet not caught them... You wondered if there was something bothering Optimus that was making him neglect himself, more than he usually would.

“So demanding, you youngin’s,” Ratchet huffed and rolled his optics at you. “It’s not that bad, he’s awake, and no, I haven’t told the others yet. Our nightly patrol is soon and I have to break the news to them somehow, which is why I called you here. You can’t go with us anyway and they need me since we’re down one bot, so I want you to stay with Prime. He responds the best to you...” You blinked and then blushed at that, (s/c) cheeks burning bright. It was true that you and Optimus were close, but for Ratchet to acknowledge it like that... Well, you were flattered. You’d loved Optimus for as long as you could remember, and even though Ratchet surely meant that in a platonic way, it was nice to know that the effort you put into your relationship with the bot meant something. “His condition isn’t from a decline in his physical health- I had to pry like hell to find out what it was, but Prime finally broke and told me that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten an energon cube or ran a self-evaluation to make sure he was functioning properly, which is why he’s energy-depleted and why the damage to his vents went unchecked. He’s so stressed from the leadership that this team needs that he isn’t taking care of himself anymore, and now, it’s led to him falling sick again. I think there’s something else going on in that processor of his, too, but he wouldn’t tell me anything else... I just know it’s more mental than anything.”

You stopped, frowning. What else could Optimus be hiding from everyone? Was he doing something dangerous? Had something happened? Was he breaking down from stress?

“O-Oh.. Okay,” You mumbled and leaned into the servo of Ratchet’s that was on your shoulder, sighing when he ran his thumb over a sore spot on the groove between said shoulder and your collar. The two of you had developed a close bond over the past couple years since they’d been on earth, with you, Sari’s tutor and caretaker, also acting as a second medic for the team with Ratchet’s training. While he’d trained you in how to care for the Autobots, you’d given him the basics of human anatomy and medical care, so with that time spent together, you were close- whether the old grump admitted it or not. “What about his medicine? How often does he take it? Is there anything else I need to do?”

“One pill every six human hours, they’re the white gel capsules that are rationed out on the table by Prime’s med-berth. I just gave him a dose, so don’t get him another one until three in the morning. He also needs to drink plenty of energon, coolant, and lubricant to get better, so make him do it, even if he gets pissy with you- shove it down his throat if you have to... But those are all things that I already told him, and he’s fully capable of taking care of himself. I don’t need you in there to take care of him so much as I need you to stay in there to make sure he doesn’t get up and do anything stupid. You know how he gets when he’s sick.”

“Unfortunately, I do...” You let out a long sigh and crossed your arms over your chest. It was going to be hard dealing with Optimus- hell, you could already imagine how he would be trying to sneak out of the med bay to go on patrol or trying to make you bring paperwork for him to do. You wouldn’t allow either, but considering how much larger he was than you, you’d have to convince him to relax instead of just being able to hold his aft down like Ratchet or Bulkhead could. “I’ll make sure he stays put. I’m assuming you’re taking over leadership until he recovers, Ratchet?”

“As the team medic, I’m second in command, so yeah... I have to. I’d let Prowl do it, but Primus knows he doesn’t want to, and I wouldn’t let Bumblebee or Bulkhead within a ten mile radius of any form of responsibility like this. I’m really the only option.”

“Right...” You imagined what a patrol without Optimus, led by a stressed and grouchy Ratchet would be like, and then cringed. “Good luck.”

“Thanks. I’ll need it.”

With that, Ratchet withdrew his servo from your shoulder and waved at you before turning around and walking down the hallway. You figured that Optimus shouldn’t be left alone for too long, so you quickly entered the med bay and shut the door behind you.

It was dark, with a small night light plugged into the walls that illuminated the room just a bit. You could see Optimus, who looked uncharacteristically pathetic, weakly laying on a med berth with a small side table on the ground next to him. On the table were some energon sticks, a cup of coolant, and the white pills that Ratchet had mentioned. 

“(y/n), is that you?” Optimus asked, trying to sit up, but immediately groaning in what you assumed was pain and flopping back down. His eyes squeezed shut, a strained grimace taking over his face-plates. You pulled one of the stools by a wall-counter to the side of the room where Optimus’s berth was and put it right by his side table so you could sit by him. You were close to his face, so you leaned down to look at it as his optics slowly opened back.

He was sick, and it would take at least a few days if not a week to recover; you could tell just by looking at him. His ocean-hued optics were abnormally dark and foggy, his powder blue faceplates were stained dark with heat, and though he wasn’t steaming like Ratchet had described this morning, there was definitely still heat radiating from his frame.

“Yes, Optimus, it’s me... I’m here to watch over you,” You leaned in to kiss the top of his helm, able to feel just how hot the metal felt against you. When you pulled back, you frowned at the absurd amount of heat- almost hot enough to make your lips sting, while Optimus’s normal temperature was a bit cooler than that of an average human’s by a degree or two. “Ratchet called me down here and told me what’s going on a bit ago. The team’s on patrol right now.”

“Slag, I can’t believe Ratchet told you,” Optimus groaned again, this time in annoyance instead of pain. “I told him not to earlier when he was fixing my vents... He’s probably going to tell the rest of the team, too. I have to get up and go supervise the patrol-” He forced himself to sit up this time, forced back a wince, forced his optics to open fully, but the second you pressed a rushed hand to his chest plates and attempted to push him back, he froze.

“Oh, no you don’t!” You argued, eyebrows furrowing in frustration as a pout formed on your face. 

“Oh, yes I do!” The Autobot argued back without hesitation, but didn’t actually move to push your hand away or leave even though he was fully capable of doing so, only resting one of his servos on the one of yours that was on his chest- stumbling and overheating or not, he was much larger and much stronger than you. Then again, he probably knew that Ratchet would beat him to a pulp the second he recovered if he dared lay a single digit on you to escape the med bay. “As much as I appreciate the concern, I don’t want it nor do I need it, and I certainly don’t want it from my team. It’s bad enough that you know. I know they’ll start asking questions when I don’t go on patrol with them, and if they hear that I got sick from overexerting myself and not getting enough rest and energon, they’ll never let me hear the end of it-”

“Well, maybe that’s what you need, so lay your stubborn ass down! I did not come here with my hair all fucked up and in this stupid robe in the middle of the night when I could’ve been sleeping just to have you run away from me when I’m trying to take care of you! You getting up right now just drives home how bad you are about prioritizing yourself,” Optimus’s plump and normally soft lips, now chapped from dehydration, pulled together into a tight frown- it was the face he made when he knew he was in the wrong. “You’re getting out of your bed when you’re supposed to be resting so you can go lie to your team and tell them you’re fine when you’re not, and for what? Your pride?”

“No, I just don’t want them to worry for me. I’m already stressed out enough and the last thing I need is for that to contribute to their struggles. They’re all dealing with so many of their own problems, and I’m sick of being a burden to everyone around me...”

Optimus huffed, but gave up and laid back down, much to your relief. He still held your hand, though, and you let him- even if he was sick, you didn’t want him to let go.

“You’re not a burden, and just like how they’re dealing with their problems, you’re dealing with yours. You don’t have to be perfect to be loved and respected, and not to insult your acting skills, but... They won’t believe you if you walk out there overheating and struggling to stay standing to tell them that you’re perfectly fine. Ratchet told me how you were stumbling around this morning.”

“I hate that you’re right,” He mumbled, and you wondered why he always had to be so childish when he was sick. 

Then again, as much as you hated Optimus’s stubborn personality, it was a major component of who you’d gone and fallen in love with all that time ago. It was crazy, you thought; just the extent that you loved Optimus Prime to, and how terribly unaware he was of it. You thought it best to keep the fact hidden, as you didn’t know what his feelings were, and he had so much on his plate already... It hurt to think that he didn’t know how loved he was- not just by you, but by everyone around him, who he was always bending over backwards for, completely unaware that they’d do the exact same for him.

“And I hate that you treat yourself like this. Plus, as much as Ratchet threatens us all with consequences for our actions, he’s not going to tell them what’s going on in depth; just that you have a fever and that you’re resting, you know he respects patient confidentiality. He’ll probably even downplay it because he knows that’s what’ll make you happy.”

“No, you’re just trying to reassure me, but...” Optimus paused and let go of your hand, fully settling back into the berth. You took your hand back and looked off to the side, already missing his touch. “I know you want to, and that Ratchet probably told you to spend the night here and take care of me, but I’m alright now. I’ll stay and rest, I promise. You can go to your room to sleep, I know you’re usually not up this late, and I’d hate to keep you up with my problems.”

You didn’t really want to leave him, but you were tired, and you believed his words. His tone was genuine enough.

“Are you sure?” You asked and received a nod in return. So, you stood up and collected yourself. “Okay, if you’re sure... I’ll leave and go get some rest, then come back at three to give you your antibiotics and make sure you’ve got something on your stomach.”

Silence. 

The second you turned around to leave, though, Optimus was grabbing the back of your robe and holding the cloth between his digits, tone low as he spoke again.

“Actually, (y/n), wait... Don’t leave me. I need you.”

You turned back around and looked at him, confused. Hadn’t he just told you seconds before that he was fine and that you should leave to go get some rest so that he could fall into recharge as well? What was with the sudden change of heart? Was there something going on with his physical condition, or was it something else?

“Huh? But Optimus, you said you needed to rest...” You muttered, which earned you a shake of his head in return.

“I will,” Optimus promised. “Please, just stay and don’t question it. I lied to you, I don’t know why, but I can’t be alone right now. Don’t leave me.”

The plead from him was unexpectedly vulnerable, honest, open. You appreciated it, but at the same time, you were concerned about what exactly was going on with him- you felt like there was more to the story than stress and leadership and lack of self-care. While all of that was definitely in character for Optimus Prime, there was something else that he wasn’t telling you about, too. With how close you were to him, it wasn’t abnormal for you to have deeper discussions, but for him to admit that he wanted- no, needed you there with him and couldn’t be alone was something you’d never thought you’d hear in your lifetime.

“Okay, I’ll stay until you tell me to go, then. Thank you for being honest with me.”

With that, you sat back down on the stool and looked at him. A little bit of that light had returned to his optics, but he still seemed like he was in rough shape.

“Thank you.”

Silence again.

Instead of adjusting to get comfortable and slip into recharge, Optimus just sat there with his back against the board of the berth, optics trained on you. It had taken a while to get used to when you’d first met him, but nowadays, you were used to the Prime’s intensity, especially when it came to eye/optic-contact. Still, though, the way he was staring at you now... You couldn’t quite interpret it. Then again, could you usually? Optimus was hard to read sometimes.

“You’re not resting,” You teased, but received a serious response in return.

“I’m thinking, and then I’ll rest.”

“You’re sick, the last thing you need to be doing is overthinking like you always do,” You reached out to him, rested your palm on the side of his face and tenderly ran a thumb over the apex of his cheek. Surprisingly, he leaned into your touch with a smile.

“What if it pertains to you? It’s either I tell you and get my closure, which is daunting, or I sit here overthinking it like I always do.”

You felt your heart drop to the bottom of your stomach and flinched. It had been obvious that something was on his processor, but it had to do with you? What was it? Did it have to do with your feelings? Tense, you talked again.

“...Have I done something? I’d rather you tell me.”

“You’ve made me fall in love with you.”

The words were whispered but still felt so loud, filling the room with their impact in a way that made your cheeks hot and your heart beat hard against your chest.

“Your illness must be making you delusional,” You laughed nervously, but Optimus only gave you a sloppy grin and laughed. You moved your hand to the top of his helm to check his temperature, but it hadn’t changed- as much as you wanted to believe it, you were sure he was being serious and not having feverous hallucinations like you’d initially suspected. Still, you thought it proper to ask. “Do you feel hot? Are you overheating again?”

“No, (y/n), I’m just in love with you,” Optimus peered at you, smile falling a bit. “I mean, yes, I am sick, and I’m still overheating, but I’ve been in love with you for- Ah, I’m actually not sure how long it’s been... I just know it’s been too long.”

There was a pause, in which the two of you seemed to be processing what important things were said; in the span of just a minute or two, Optimus had boldly laid his feelings out for you on the table, unabashed and proud, the tension that came with two years worth of pining that you’d been doing solved so... Quickly. You were surprised you hadn’t felt your jaw hit the floor.

Had he really loved you the whole time? Or was this a recent development? Why was he only telling you now? Had his stress over his feelings for you also contributed to his sickness?

“I’m not sure I can talk about this in good conscience when you’re so vulnerable,” You smiled back at him, (e/c) eyes meeting his ocean-hued optics as you removed your hand from his head. Shyly, he reached out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “It feels selfish, but... I love you, too, and that’s why I want you to rest and get better, maybe not stress out so much.”

You kissed the back of his servo as he pulled it away, earning what you hoped was a blush and not more symptoms of overheating.

“I’d kiss you if I weren’t afraid of getting you sick,” Optimus sighed. You were sure that you probably couldn’t catch whatever he had going on since he was a Cybertronian and you were human, but you didn’t want to test that theory, so you left it alone.

“It’s okay,” You reached out to hold one of his servos in both of your hands, squeezing reassuringly. “I can feel the sentiment. Just focus on getting better, okay? We have all the time in the world.”

“Sometimes I fear we don’t- Have all the time, I mean, and I suppose that’s why I finally broke down and did this- I like to believe I’m impervious to everything around me, but I’ve already died once, and every time I get sick, I always think about what will happen if I go offline without telling everyone around me just how much they mean. I didn’t want to be scared anymore, not when it came to you.”

“I...” You stood and got on top of the berth so you could sit next to Optimus, curling into his side. “Me, too.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?” The Prime asked and wrapped an arm around you. Gentle. Strong. Warm.

“Would you like me to be?” You asked in return with a tilt of your head.

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll be here,” Optimus looked at you, clearly somewhat doubtful, but you only shook your head with a smile. “I promise, I won’t leave you. Just get some rest, okay?”

“...Okay.”

So, you stayed, and when Ratchet walked in the next morning to see you curled up by Optimus’s side on the berth with your (lip/chap)stick smeared on his servos, both of you sleeping peacefully for once, he couldn’t help but think that Optimus getting sick once in a while wasn’t so bad after all.

[bakingandbooks3]

A Court of Song and Serpents

A bit short but the begging of a project I'm SO excited for- hope you love this as much as I do.

Summary: What a time to be alive as Nesta Archeron, going backward to move forward and finding that the places she once called home are now empty tombs.

Nesta

Nesta held her breath for a moment, a pause, and stilled entirely. The Court of Nightmares. She knew the verdict would be severe, but never would she have expected exile to a world of terror. The horrors of that place, of how it was once the main residence of the High Lord- till Rhysand.

Rhysand, the man who boasted of lands bountiful with choice and reason, now sat across from her donning unmasked hatred. A look he kept shielded from his mate, reserved just for Nesta. The kind that rips one apart from the inside out, would carve out the belly of a beast, burn a witch on a wooden pyre.

Nesta felt nothing, she always did. It wasn’t hard to see what he was thinking of her, how his beautiful wife’s wretched sister was little more than a gambling thief who slept her way through his glorious city. Now, fingers smeared that blank canvas so pure of her darkest shades.

Eyes flicking back, she studied that same sister. The Cursebreaker, the Savior.

How small and insignificant she became next to the glimmering shining thing Feyre was. The lands spoke of her beauty and kind touch, and how she sacrificed everything to save a world of people, and Fae that she was raised to despise.

Nesta wished it’d be known that her touch wasn’t always kind.

She built her bricks firm enough that her house of grace never shattered; Held firm, it was all she had left in her. Too many eyes on her filled with grief, excitement, retribution-Nesta was keenly aware of how this Court of Dreams felt of her.

“This is an exile.”

Rhysand's smirk peaked so slightly, his mate tensing.

“No, no. This is an intervention, a chance for you to find yourself away from bad influences and habits. You can’t keep living like this, and I refuse to let it continue happening and I take the fall for it. Your decisions are impractical and immoral. You are sober much less than you are drunk and-”

“If you’re going to condemn me, do it. But don’t sit here and act as if this is out of kindness.” Nesta snarled. She hated the barbed words, but it’s what she felt. “Who are you to question my morality?”

“I think I can speak for my wife when I say that your presence here is….” Rhysand growled but pulled back, like he forgot Feyre was right there, too.

Nesta wished he would’ve let go, so maybe that facade Rhys reserved for Feyre was broken. No, that’s cruel. As much as she hated this and him, he was making her sister happy.

Something Nesta could never do.

“I do not give a shit what my presence is doing. The decision has already been made, so stop scolding me like a child and make good on your word, Rhysand.” Bile rose in her throat, the words feeling nothing but slimy and disgusting. Foreign, yet habitual all the same. Sometimes, she forgets there once was a woman called Nesta who was so much more than the viper living in her now.

Sometimes she remembers that she can’t ever be her again.

Home was nowhere for her, not in a person, not in a place, certainly not in this bombastic group of “heroes”. Nesta didn’t need a hero, she just needed someone to care. But Nesta knew better, no one would. She was taught to be unlovable, just a woman to be sold off and married- to climb her mothers' ever-growing social ladder.

But Nesta on her own was never enough, even with her mother six feet under and rotted away there were unsung expectations unmet. She was a catastrophic failure and a dark smear on a family name that never truly held weight to her.

Nesta looked up, felt everything all at once again, could only see one man pacing a worn-through tether between them. He wasn’t going to stop this, but she could see it, how it looked like he wanted to jump out of his own flesh, the veins of his arm prominent and knuckles normally so brown a new fresh fallen snow.

There was no prince to save Nesta, much less any will to save herself. So when Mor took the pleasure of bringing her to a living Hell, Nesta did not fight.

She was tired of fighting, after all, she fought an inescapable fate for the first twenty years of her life…

Flowers always made Nesta sneeze, but Elain lit like lights during winter whenever she could thread them through her hair. They all symbolized something, Laine would say. There are ones for good days, and hard storms, for sunshine and stars.

Nesta was always adorned in flowers that paralleled the estate. Astute, cold, tired, where she was warm, comforting, and smelled like cookies- ones that Celia normally baked for the sisters. She never asked Laine why she picked the ones for her that she did, her reasons would stay silent for now.

Spring was a high time of activity in the Archeron estate. There was always a flurry of activity, from preparing their mothers' obscene balls, to guests at every corner in every room. The halls were sprinkled in candles and on walls hung frames nearly kissing it was packed so tight.

They were in the gardens. It was an Elain day, as the girls would call it, and no matter how boring or mundane her wishes were they’d be fulfilled. Nesta was propped on the floor in front of Laine, who was bunching handfuls to weave in tangled auburn coils that gathered on Nesta’s head- as a bird's nest would.

Eventually, Nesta would have to learn braids or risk knotting the curls entirely.

The eldest basked in the silence she created from mentally muting her middle sister, and spared a glance at Feyre. What she saw was not surprising, but required far more willpower than she expected to not burst into laughter and risk the flowery rat's nest on her scalp.

Feyre appeared to be so bored out of her mind she was eating discarded flowers of Elains. Actually, ingesting them, as if she was a critique. When Elain wasn’t looking at Feyre, she’d grab another couple and study them- analyzing her next experiment. Glaring at the blues and yellows as if she was speaking to them, “Which one of you will make me puke the fastest so I can run away?”

In time, Feyre looked up from her taste tests to see Nesta grinning at her so violently you’d think Feyre hung the moon.

And Feyre beamed back, crossing a pinkie across her chest and pointing it back to Nesta. Then she viciously spit out the grass she’d just finished chewing, crying directly at Laine, “This MUST stop at once, my stomach hurts far too much to continue on here.”

Elain, in a garden so quiet, simply ignored her sister's poor attempts at escape. Making Nesta work even harder to stifle the shaking of her shoulders, covering her mouth and nose before she started wheezing. Elain would hardly hurt a fly but sent Nesta a glare that could’ve easily killed a man.

Nesta cleared her throat, “I do believe there are more of the blue flowers down that hill near the pond. Would you mind getting some more for Laine?”

Feyre was already on her feet, mouthing her thanks as Elain turned her back to get the next bunch of flowers, “Why of course I will!” And with a very bad curtsey, Feyre threw off her shoes and was rolling down the hill, spinning wildly, her laughter sure to be heard in meadows far beyond theirs.

You would find the Archeron sisters all together, or never in the same place.

Laine was the easiest to find, by the waters or pond on the east side, in gardens surrounded with bugs and willows calling to the young girl. She could hardly read but if the text included any mention of colors and blooms, suddenly she was a scholar. Elain was not simple or dull, but rather a passive spirit, like a summer wind- brief, fleeting, but teeming with love and hope.

Feyre, as their mother said, was a reckless wild child. Far too young to care, far too small to be whipped into shape. If you were sent to find her and your life depended on it, may the Mother bless you. Feyre liked the kitchen, because of the immaculate food and maids who would shove any sweet down the littlest Archerons throat. But, also for the immeasurable amount of sharp items to be found in there. If it was pointy and could stab a wall or scare their ice-cold mother, Feyre would be running the halls with it in hand or making targets of her fathers old trade route maps.

Then there was Nesta, the firstborn. Molded to be another woman that she somehow couldn’t fit, as if her feet were too big or hair too long, Nesta was outgrowing the standards forged into her being. You would see her as a ghost, floating in and out of rooms, comfortable in silence and slumber, but never escaping people. She loved the maids and could recite all of their names like clockwork, and the workers loved her in turn. Always stuck in new worlds between pages or willingly dragged by the two youngers, Nesta teemed with liberation. She was often alone, but never lonely, and found new loves in the library or in the fields beyond marble confines.

Adela was constantly dissatisfied with her eldest's progress inside these walls, as if at eight she should’ve already been engaged to a prince. Granted, Adela knew better. Nesta would never truly find another kingdom to buy into when she already had a crown waiting for her elsewhere. She was known as fair and beautiful beyond her years, would age like fine wine, and become so much greater than Adela ever was. What Nesta saw as fit would normally come to be, an instinct Adela was unprepared she would inherit. Nothing left her more confused than this daughter only by blood, who was hated by both her parents for reasons far from the same, and how at less than ten years had an entire mansion wrapped around her fingers.

But Adela would wait, and simply leave them be for now. When viper's strike, they kill. And even though the Matron of the house wanted her little queen gone, she had other ways to see this through.

Anyways, children's blood on her hands would stain her diamonds.

---

Cassian

Cassian was violently fucking ill. Watching whatever the fuck that was did not help in the slightest. The second she was gone, so was he.

The General and High Lord were not on speaking terms, his presence was an obligation and not a request. When Rhys first displayed his plans, Cassian just about murdered him. Had his brother on the table in a chokehold that the Shadowsinger had to come and release Rhys from. The way his so-called family planned her exile was… horrific.

Cassian was full of light and humor, but not dull the way his family made him out to be. He could see this for what it was, punishing an already broken female for not meeting every damn need of a fully grown woman that was no longer her responsibility. Cass knew better than to downplay the sacrifices Feyre made, but he was also well aware that Nesta's habits were hardly a financial problem and more of a reputation scandal.

That’s what the High Lord did best, when his Court was breaking at the bonds, the mess would “disappear”. Just like the Illyrians hidden in the mountains, the displaced families of Spring, the homeless warriors of Night.

Cassian loved his brother, but more often than not he wondered when Fate would come to bite them in the asses for Rhys’ neglect.

Now, here he was, in his mothers' cabin, wings dragging behind him wiping tears long since shed over a woman who was thrown to the wolves and torn into so many scraps he wasn’t sure how he could put her together again.

He missed his Nesta, the one who threw glares and begged for her people, not this one who hardly spoke and caved into herself enough that she couldn’t see where she was heading.

Cassian fingered for his mug in the wooden cabinets and hit his mark, soon placing water to heat over a small fire over the counter.

He was not okay, not okay at all.

When you look for something in the dark for too long, you eventually find what you need but not always in the way you expect. Cassian coped the same as Nesta Archeron in his first years post-war. It was suffocating trying to be the happy one while dying inside. He watched men he looked up to fall and a lover he admired take her last breath- too much in far too little time. Cassian was not an idiot, he was simply perplexed. Why was he allowed to grieve in unacceptable manners, but Nesta was a sinner in holy clothing?

Bright walls and unlit rooms in the house were silent, only the winds of the mountains singing outside. The newly dusted snow wrapped the dirt in a delicate kiss- a forbidden touch. It was the peak of winter, just after Feyre’s birthday and another insufferable party.

One that Nesta wasn’t invited to.

Cassian wished he wasn’t invited either.

The cup in his hands was dwarfed in comparison to the bulky Illyrian holding it, but at least it was warm. At least it wasn’t empty.

Because if there was one thing he knew, it could always be worse.

Cassian knew that if things were a little different, he’d be the one sitting in a prison of darkness and Hell because of mistakes made as a child. He’d be exiled by family, cast away by the only living remains of a life once lived.

Nesta didn’t know but long before this he had called it even, their sins atoned for in hurting each other equally.

She was the only one in the world who could tell which smiles he was faking.

To anyone on the outside, one kiss was merely that. How curious it was, the iceberg went far deeper.

So when the mug crashed against the wall, and in its wake resembled his inner turmoil, Cassian took to the skies and found himself at the door of a place far too familiar.

.

.

.

AHHHHHHHH OMG OKAY hope you guys enjoyed this:) if you want to be added to the tag list let me know!

@lovemeforever12345 @champanheandluxxury @nahthanks@perseusannabeth@queenestarcheron@silvernesta

@loosingdreams@sayosdreams@audreycressworth@cyra04@that-golden-lyre@nessiantrashh@misswonderflower@dontgetsalmonella@caram267@bickbickbarnes@sabrinasam-blog

[genshin-impact-writings]

Hi!! May I have a tall cold brew with peppermint syrup and strawberry drizzle for Diluc please?

Hey there! Thank you so much for your request and your patience. I wasn't really sure where I wanted to go with this one and I also had to deal with writer's block while working on this, so I really hope it still came out somewhat okay. Anyways, here's your drink: a tall cold brew with peppermint syrup and some strawberry drizzle on top! <3

Prompts: angst, character A taking care of character B when they’re sick, “You’re so warm.” + “You’re shivering. Here, take my jacket.” (400 followers event: JJ's coffee shop)

Fever – Diluc x gn!reader

Dragonspine was beautiful at this time of the day. The snow glistened in the golden light of the rising sun and the sky was painted in the most gorgeous shades of orange, red and light blue as the stars and the moon slowly faded until, in a couple of hours, the approaching night would bring them out again.

You craned our neck, using your hand to shield your eyes from the sunlight. In the distance, you could see the silhouette of Mondstadt’s cathedral, its stony façade almost glowing in the sunrise. It was a breathtaking sight, and for a few moments, you just stood there and gazed at the town you had grown to love so much that you couldn’t imagine living somewhere else.

The only thing you’d probably never get used to was that damn cold on Dragonspine. Your breath was pluming in the frosty air, and your fingertips already started to feel numb, although you had picked the warmest gloves you owned when you got dressed for your mission.

It wasn’t unusual that the Knights sent someone to Dragonspine to collect their Chief Alchemist’s newest research date, so you came here quite often and knew what expected you but today was the first time that none of the other knights accompanied you. They were all busy with other commissions and while Jean had asked you to postpone your trip, you had insisted to go today. The data was important; the local alchemists needed them as soon as possible, and you really weren’t known for being unreliable. The only problem you had encountered was that no one was allowed to go to Dragonspine alone. The mountain was too dangerous and unpredictable to explore it on one’s own, so Jean had told you that she’d only allow you to go if you found someone to come with you.

With a barely noticeable smile you glanced at the man by your side, his flaming red hair even brighter against the pale, snowy background. It was rare that Diluc agreed to officially help the Knights with their matters but you knew that he could hardly deny you anything – which was probably the only reason why he was here with you now. Maybe he also didn’t want you to go to Dragonspine completely alone but in the end, you didn’t care much about his reasons. All that mattered was that you could collect Albedo’s data without further delays.

“Ready?”

Diluc gazed back at you. “Yes. Let’s get this done.”

In silence, the two of you made your way uphill. You pulled your scarf up higher to keep the lower half of your face warm but against the harsh, cold wind that steadily grew stronger, the fabric didn’t help much. A few minutes on this damn mountain and you were already starting to shiver. No wonder that most people avoided Dragonspine like the plague.

You hunched your shoulders as another gust of freezing cold wind hit you. With a deep sigh, you said, “I don’t understand why Albedo couldn’t have picked a warmer place for his research. I mean, yeah, the landscape is really pretty and I bet there are a lot of things to discover up here but it’s so freaking cold. I really don’t know how he hasn’t frozen to death yet.”

“Don’t ask me,” Diluc replied, watching you from the corner of his eye. It was obvious that you were cold, not just from the way you tried to adjust your scarf to cover more of your face. Your whole posture told him that the cold gave you a hard time today – a lot more than it did usually.

With a frown, he stopped in his tracks. “Wait a second,” he said and took off his coat in one swift movement, handing it to you without any hesitation. “You’re shivering,” he explained when you gave him a questioning look. “Here, take my jacket. I don’t want you to get sick.”

You stared at his coat. “Are you sure?”

Diluc shrugged. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” A faint smile flashed over his face as you raised your eyebrows and gave him another skeptical look. “Just take it, okay?”

“Thank you,” you mumbled while you slipped on his coat over your own jacket, indulging in his comforting scent that surrounded you immediately and the warmth of the soft fabric. You reached out for his hand, both to thank him once again and to drag him along. “We should hurry to get to Albedo’s base camp. It’s too cold to wander around without a coat – even for you.”

*

Exactly four days later, you knew that it had been a mistake to accept Diluc’s offer. His forehead was covered in cold sweat and he was shivering, despite the pile of blankets you had put over his body to keep him warm. Incoherent mumbles escaped his slightly parted, chapped lips as he tossed and turned in his sleep, suffering from yet another fever dream. It pained you to see him like this, very well aware that it was your fault that he was sick. If you hadn’t taken his jacket, he wouldn’t be in this condition right now.

Barbara had checked on him a couple of hours ago, warning you that it might get worse before he was going to feel better. “His fever is pretty high,” she had said, her hand resting on his forehead. “I can send you some herbs that will help to lower his temperature but other than that, all we can do is wait. But please don’t worry, (Y/N), he will be fine.”

You knew that she was right. After all, Barbara knew exactly what she was talking about when it came to injuries and illnesses, and the medical tea you had prepared following her instructions would surely help him, but still, you couldn’t stop worrying about him. His skin was even paler than usual and even the color of his hair seemed to be duller than normally. He looked absolutely terrible and he probably felt even worse.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumbled and leaned forward to brush a strand of hair out of his face. Beneath your fingertips, his skin felt burning hot and freezing cold at the same time, and you reached out for the damp cloth on the nightstand to gently dab away the sweat on his forehead. “This is all my fault.”

He mumbled something in his sleep again, a painful reminder that he’d contradict you if he were awake, insisting that the only reason for his condition was his own stupidity. And of course, you’d disagree until the conversation resulted in playful bickering.

But he wasn’t awake. And all you could think of was how much it sucked that you could do nothing to make him feel better.

*

A couple of hours later, Diluc finally woke up from his confusing dreams. He still felt like absolute trash, you could see it in his eyes, but somehow, he managed to crack a smile when he spotted you curled up in an armchair right next to the bed.

“Hey,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse and raspy, but it still made a wave of relief wash over you to hear him talk. “Hey yourself,” you replied and closed the book you had been reading half-heartedly over the past few hours before leaning in to put your hand on his forehead. His temperature was still too high but at least, he was awake now. “You’re so warm… How are you feeling?”

With a quiet groan, Diluc closed his eyes again. “Horrible.”

“Do you want some tea? Or a glass of water?”

“No… I think I just want to go back to sleep.”

“Oh. Okay.” Somehow, a part of you had hoped that he would magically feel better as soon as he woke up but of course that had been nothing more than wishful thinking. A cold as severe as his couldn’t be cured by a few hours of restless sleep, so it was completely normal that his body screamed for more resting time. “Do you want me to leave?”

He shook his head.

“Okay,” you repeated. “I’ll stay.”

“Come here,” he mumbled, shifting a bit to make some room for you in the bed. “Please. I don’t want to be alone. Unless,” a coughing fit interrupted him before he could finish his sentence, and he took a deep breath before continuing, “unless you’re afraid to pick up a cold.”

With an indignant huff, you climbed into the bed, draping your arm over the blankets in an attempt to hug him before craning your neck to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Get some rest,” you told him softly. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please consider reblogging. I'd really appreciate the support. <3

Taglist: @blissmal, @aimicoos, @childe-support, @rim0na,@the-gayest-sky-kid

[ushidoux]

He, Hercules - Ushijima x Reader

Summary: What is Ushijima if not strong? (~2.0k words)

Warnings: accident, temporary disability, implied depression, some suggestive themes, hurt/comfort

A/N: I have limited experience with athletic injuries and mental illness so bear with me. If there is anything you find inaccurate or insensitive in my depiction, don’t hesitate to pm me! <3

---

“Mr. Ushijima?”

You perk up when you hear the secretary’s voice call out your husband’s name, only realizing now that in your long semi-long wait you’d ended up dozing off, resting your head against his shoulder. Clearly, you must have been exhausted, because it takes you a moment to remember where you are, and why you’re here.

There are very few others in this small office aside from the single middle-aged man in the corner who you realize is staring quite hard at you, and you wonder briefly if it’s because you somehow looked inappropriate or acted inappropriately while you were asleep. There shouldn’t be anything very noteworthy about a young couple inside a therapy practice.

You glance at Ushijima who is barely moving despite the fact that his name was just pronounced. He’s as still as a statue and his expression is neutral as is typical of him, but you still perceive the lack of intensity behind his eyes, a constant reminder that no matter how much he acts as though he’s fine, he’s not.

Why else would you be here in the first place?

You nudge him gently.

“Love, they called your name. It’s time for your session,” you whisper into his ear.

He had been staring off at a fixed point across from him, but he does still respond to your nudges. When he rises, it’s done slowly, and he walks besides you with a slight limp in his left leg. He doesn’t wince with any step but the arm you hold onto as you walk with him through the hallway down to the provider’s office is stiff. You wonder if he resents how clingy you’ve gotten since his injury, handling him with kid gloves as though he were the most fragile of glass. You can’t help it. You’d almost lost him.

The office is open when you arrive, and a man who looks only a few years older than Wakatoshi is seated in a cream armchair, waiting, a measured smile on his face. Ushijima doesn’t smile back but he doesn’t frown either. 

“Welcome! Please come in and make yourself comfortable,” the man says without missing a beat, rising to shake his hand. He also shoots a glance at you, but before he can ask you to introduce yourself before politely shooing you out of the room (this is not couples’ therapy after all, even if it will help the two of you), you squeeze your husband’s hand before quickly exiting.

“I’m his partner, I’ll see myself out, thank you!”

You worry slightly about leaving him alone in this stranger’s care, but Ushijima is not a child and this isn’t the first day of kindergarten, he’s a man recovering from a life-altering injury and has finally agreed to go to therapy. 

You’re not sure how optimistic to be, but you’ve done an extensive amount of research and this particular therapist boasted credentialing in sports psychology, was highly recommended and had worked with a lot of current and former athletes alike. 

Of course, this would all be meaningless if Ushijima refused to talk, but as you started your car to pass the next hour at a nearby mall, you gave yourself a little bit of hope.

---

“Tell me about yourself,” is the first question the therapist asks, after offering not much more than his own name, and Ushijima is slightly annoyed by the question.

He does not want to be here in the first place, he doesn’t need to be here, and now he’s asked a question as vague and audacious as ‘tell me about yourself’ like he’s expected to pour out his feelings to this stranger from the very second he sits in this admittedly comfortable couch.

He pauses. He’s not sure exactly what he would say. 

He’s nearing 30. He’s married, no kids. If it’s not obvious, he’s from Japan. He plays volleyball professionally… well, played, up until recently. 

He frowns. That’s why he’s here. Because you don’t think he is okay, even if all of his injuries have essentially healed aside from this annoying limp that makes it obvious that he’s in some way not in optimal shape, broken, vulnerable. This  limp is the reason why he can no longer play even if he feels fine otherwise, and why he’s not exactly sure what to do next. 

But that’s beyond the point. The question is about himself.

What else can he say? How would others describe him?

His friends call him serious, just as the media describes him. Quiet and serious. Dedicated. Strong. 

Maybe he’s not that last thing anymore, but that too is beyond the point.

You think he’s sweet; you say this repeatedly. You tell him that he’s kind and considerate.

He thinks for a moment that maybe he was too kind. Kindness is what got him in this predicament in the first place, isn’t it?

A moment of compassion - a likely exhausted mother whose eyes leave her child for a split second to rummage through her purse, a little girl whose tiny legs take her just a bit too far out into an open intersection, a speeding car that shows no signs of stopping…

He remembers the exact moment he is no longer jogging but sprinting to take the child out of harm’s way, as well as the exact moment he hears his bones snap on impact, and he’s too shocked initially to feel pain, eyes frantically searching for the kid who now is standing on the opposite side of the street, looking at him in curiosity because the toddler is too young to understand what it means to see a body crumple. She’s unharmed, so he’s successful.

A woman screams and she sounds nothing like you. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing.

The car speeds on.

---

You sit in a food court, poking at some fries, but you’re not exactly hungry, just anxious. Is the session going okay? 

Even if the man is a professional at getting people to talk, Wakatoshi is a hard nut to crack. You could envision him sitting silently until the hour passed completely, before getting up to bow and exit stage left. It had taken you months to get him to agree to go to anything other than physical therapy.

You hope this is not an exercise in futility.

---

“I’m fine,” he grunted, just a couple days out of the hospital, once you’d started nagging him for weight-bearing on the leg that had just been operated on.

“Your leg was literally shattered!” You shouted. “You’re lucky they didn’t amputate!”

He gave you a mildly fatigued look. All he’d wanted to do was walk to the kitchen by himself, without crutches in his own house, and he’d barely made it a couple of steps before you were standing in the bedroom, looking all sorts of stressed and concerned. 

He figured your concern was temporary, so he attempted to quell his stubbornness. He had already been benched for the season, possibly to likely forever and pouring out his frustration on you wouldn’t be helpful.

“What do you need? I’ll get it for you.”

He frowned but he let you help him anyway.

---

“My name is Wakatoshi Ushijima. I moved here several years ago from Japan to play volleyball professionally. I was in a bad car accident a few months ago and my wife is concerned that I’m not adjusting well.”

The therapist offers a small smile again.

“Do you disagree with that assessment?”

Ushijima tilts his head slightly. He does disagree… he doesn’t? He’s not sure. He’s frustrated of course, who wouldn’t be, he had just been in the Olympics after all, but he’s fine. He’s strong.

He’s strong.

---

“We just wanted to thank you again.”

Wakatoshi glanced at the gifts the couple before them had brought,  a bouquet of flowers and stacks of cookies and pastries in boxes on the living room coffee table, before looking back at you. Your face remained polite and smiling but you were clearly uncomfortable from the way you were perched on the seat, nodding carefully as you listened to your visitors, your arms crossed over your midsection as you leaned forward in your chair.

He knew you wanted to be angry at them, well, her, the mother who looked at him pitifully initially then averted her eyes out of shame. But it wasn’t her fault but yet, it was her fault and still, it wasn’t. It was very complicated. No one was at fault. Her daughter was safe.

Everything was fine.

---

You’re back in your car again, ready to drive to pick up your husband from therapy. Things should get better from here on. 

Maybe he will no longer shut down like a brick wall when you suggest that now is a good time to start transitioning away from sports for the future. Maybe he’ll be less upset with small things like not being able to run as far, or lift as much or please you as much in the bedroom as he used to. 

They’re small things compared to losing his life.

---

“I would like to go back to playing but I’m told at every turn that it’s too dangerous, maybe even after a year of healing.”

The therapist nods, and scribbles something on a sheet of paper.

“How does that make you feel?”

The therapist notices even through Ushijima’s accented Polish that he’s naturally eloquent, but regardless he still lacks the words to appropriately talk about his feelings. 

His hands grip at his knees, the good and the bad one. The word ‘useless’ comes to mind but he can’t bring himself to say that to this stranger, even if these four walls come with the promise of understanding. 

For once, silence is uncomfortable for him, and the therapist is surprisingly good at staying quiet. They sit in silence for moments longer and surprisingly, Wakatoshi speaks up first.

“Weak,” he ekes out in a voice that is so small he barely recognizes it.

To that, the therapist leans just slightly forward, focusing his eyes on the man’s restricted range of motion and slightly hunched shoulders. It’s the posture of a man who’s normally stoic and confident, now made uncertain about the future.

“What’s wrong with weakness?” He says quickly, and Ushijima is somewhat stunned which then lends way to a small measure of anger.

Everything is wrong with being weak. Weakness was for other people. How could he protect himself, his livelihood, his team, you?

What is he if not strong?

---

“I love you.”

He says it less often than you do to him, but every time he does, he means every word. You shifted beneath him, weary from the lovemaking of just prior but still nevertheless craning your neck up to reach his lips. 

Your hands traveled down his shoulders and along the length of his bulky arms, playing with his biceps, drinking in the sight of his muscles flexing as he moved. He smiled and wrapped his arms tight around you, laying his head on your chest. 

“Aww, Toshi, you’ll crush me if you hold me so tight. You barely know your own strength,” you teased with a laugh, prompting him to loosen his grip ever so slightly, and lift up his head to show you the smallest of pouts.

“I love you more,” you added, giggling.

Pleased, he lay his head back down on the softness of your bosom, clinging to you more. He’d protect and take care of you forever.

---

You hold Ushijima’s hand tightly as you walked out of the building to your car, holding in your curiosity about the session the entire time. 

Would he go again?

He gives your hand a squeeze suddenly which surprises you, and when he turns to you, there’s a small upturn in the corner of his lips that approximates more of a smile than you’ve seen in recent weeks.

You’re elated enough that you immediately give him a hug, and maybe you’re a bit overzealous about it, but he stops and holds you close for just a moment.

“Thank you.”

There’s a lot in the thank you, and you shed a tear.

---

Strength is relative and inconstant, so our first task is to work on your definition of strength. 

But I would say, coming here in the first place is already evidence enough.

[kaijurakunsobs]

You will feel joy, one day

master list for this series

sorry for the wait y'all, I had to torture myself into listening to the same song to get the inspo I needed for this next chapter which is READYMADE - Ado (it has English subtitles btw)

Hope you guys enjoy this!

Summary: It's been clear from the start that you won't go down without putting up a fight, the tone in your voice and stand are nothing but infuriating for Heisenberg, just like his mere presence fills you with annoyance. The factory is enormous and whatever he's doing here could get you killed, but even in this kingdom of oil and rusted metal, there's a bit of kindness.

Right now, you would accept the title of naive, because you were when you thought this man would share his secrets with you, instead...he's giving you a fucking tour of the entire place, wildly pointing and all the doors and doing sharp turns, taking you up and down flights of stairs "I hope you don't get lost, darlin', we don't want you ending in the wrong place, right?" there's mockery in his voice as he speaks over his shoulder, halting to a stop and making you trip and crash against him.

"This is the boiler room, you might want to familiarize yourself with this place in particular" a snarky smile appearing on his lips

Peeking inside makes you go pale and sigh in frustration, it's a mess, you can see cables, crudely fixed with tape, more flammable materials, and so many oil spills on the ground, "I can also familiarize with the rest of the fabric because this dump could explode any day"

His smile falls and that expression of annoyance, that just seems to be for you, comes back in no time. Releasing a cloud of smoke he turns around and starts walking faster, slowly regaining his showman's voice and the exuberance of his movements renew with the occasional laugh, is enough to make you tune him out again, looking at whatever you find more interesting, nose scrunching up with whenever there's something that unsettles or makes you question this man's leadership and care for this place. If you do take the role of helping him, you know you're gonna exploited day and night.

He's not blind or stupid, he knows you are doing everything but listening to him, every time he looks over his shoulder to make sure you are following and paying him some god damn attention, he will always see you eyeing everything, dissecting the place, and doing a face that just speaks volumes of how unimpressed you are by his life's work, but it's not like he will tell you about his plans, it's too soon for that, what if you are just a little spy under Miranda's orders?

It rubs him the wrong way how adamant she was on you being under his orders, super-sized bitch didn't raised too much hell, which also puts him on edge, it just doesn't feel normal for him. In any other situation where Miranda has favored him over Dimitrescu, and it wasn't because "mother" gave her that heartfelt speech Karl being all alone on his iron tower, Moreau is the forgotten child of the bunch and has to beg for almost everything, Miranda is already pissed with Donna and her botanical gig, let alone, the way she uses her cadou to just make dolls move.

That left him in the position akin to a middle child, he's just there, occasionally remembered and rarely to give him treats or surprises. He's used to scavenging for materials, do the occasional grave robbing or take the corpses the other Lords leave behind.

So, why did she left you with him?

"Lastly but no less important! the living quarters"

You have been so lost in thought, you didn't noticed that his "fantastical tour" is over, and you are back to the front of the complex...shit, you didn't even paid attention to where everything is, you're gonna get so lost if you try to navigate this place on your own.

After entering the brute closes the door behind you and goes to the left office, you can hear him mumbling under his breath and things being moved around, you don't know how long he's going to be in there, so you turn your attention to the rest of the room.

From everything you have seen, this place is the cleanest one and it makes you think of the layout in your family's factory. It looks like he repurposed what used to be the waiting area, there's a kitchen in the right corner, a couple of sofas that had seen better days, a lot of blueprints have been left on the coffee table. To the left, it's the main office, a lot bigger and the tinted glass on the door has the name Heisenberg hand-painted on it, classy, you suppose that that's his room? you don't care, opting for getting close to the blueprints, his handwriting is atrocious and there are notes everywhere, how interesting, one of the workers used to say that was a sign of a brilliant mind.

"You are not allowed to go there, a'right?" hearing him so close makes you jump, when did he come back? from the tone of his voice, you might be right, it's either his bedroom "This one, however! this one is just for you" he says oh so sweetly when pointing at the smaller office to the right opening the door rather unceremoniously.

Now you get why the rest of this area is so clean and clutter-free, motherfucker pushed all the trash and old furniture in there, it's dusty and the air, somehow, is stale only in this place, you can see cobwebs "Since I'm being kind enough to let you sleep on this side and not in the cellars, I think is fair that you take care of the mess, don't you think?"

"Can't I just sleep in one of the couches?"

"Of course not, we don't want my precious mechanic to get sick, right?" condescending asshole, he even smiles at you, showing you his teeth in what you identify as an act of intimidation

"Of course we don't want that, my Lord! but, I do must say, you have been ill-mannered, showing me around your domain yet...you haven't told me your name when introductions were supposed to be made long ago" it's your turn to give him teeth flashing smile, his going a bit forced

"Well you see sweetheart, I would have done it earlier, but I came encountered a disrespectful brat that decked me in the face as soon as we met"

"Really now? Perhaps, this brat was done with being manhandled and reacted accordingly to how they felt" the sardonic smile on your face grows and you can see how much it pisses him off, and that shouldn't make you proud.

The man is looking, more like attempting, to look down on you, clicking his tongue loudly and in a dissatisfied manner, with complete derision, he gives you, the closest thing to a respectful bow "My name is Karl Heisenberg and I'm one of the four Lords working under Miranda's orders"

In response, you give him a curtsy and use your best sarcastic tone, just for him "It's such an honor to meet you, my lord. I must say I'm no noble but I do HOPE you may remember the name of this pheasant girl, Y/N, L/N Y/N"

He doesn't appreciate the way you talk to him or how you don't even try to hide how little you respect or fear him, but he needs you alive to accelerate and optimize the factory's production, under other circumstances? he would have thrown you down to let the Sturm have some fun, but he won't, at least for now.

"So, Miss Y/N...let me give you a...welcoming gift" he's harsh when trusting a bundle of crumpled clothes and old boots into your arms, pushing you back hard enough that you almost lose your balance "I don't expect you to always wear my hand-me-downs, this is a momentary arrangement"

"Oh my! so generous of you, to clothe this poor village girl with your own garments, I am so thankful for this, however, if I may ask for a tiny favor...can I know where your bathroom is? I don't what to soil this fine fabric with my dirty body"

You don't like the way he smiles at you, with one hand he grabs your shoulder and with the other he opens the door, pushing you towards what used to be the employee's showers, there's mold and broken mirrors, a lot of the shower heads are gone and the only one that seems to be functioning is leaking.

"Serve yourself, princess, just know this...there's only cold water, the hot water stopped working years ago and I haven't felt like repairing it, I hope you enjoy your shower!"

And with that, he leaves you, finally alone but unnerved on how easily he could come back and just stare at you like a creep. But you need a shower, there's grime and dirt caked to your body and it's starting to get disgusting and itchy. So you swallow your pride and leave the borrowed clothes over the small wall separating the showers from the rest of the place and brace yourself to what might be the worst moment of the day so far.

Later you are cursing him as loud as you can, he didn't lie when he said that only the cold water worked, but you would say it was freezing, his clothes are uncomfortably big on you, and smell of faint sweat and like these were left tucked away for a long time, the boots are the best part, these have been broken in nicely and they fit you...who are you kidding? the damn things are falling apart and you feel like a clown with how big they are.

That has left you with the shining crown of the shit show that's been this whole day! the trash in your new room, you had to box so many useless papers, look everywhere to find one measly broom, and use the remains of the gown you came in with to keep your hair out of your face and as a bandana to cover your nose and mouth.

From all the old furniture in the room, the only useful stuff is the old desk, a sofa that somehow survived without being eating by termites but might be infested with cockroaches, and a lamp. It's not much, but it's something.

All this moving around now has brought a new problem.

You are starving.

You can't remember when Miranda took you, let alone when was your last meal or if you were fed during your time in the cell. But Heisenberg's fridge is empty, there's only a handful of onions and those have roots and sprouts coming out already. There's nothing substantial in the cupboards or anywhere for that matter.

You doubt there might anything to eat in this place, but, you better give it a try, better die trying than going to sleep with a grumbling stomach, right? But, you didn't learn jackshit from him and you can't remember anything from the directions Heisenberg gave you.

Fuck it.

Slowly you creep out of the small apartment and peek outside, looking around assures you that the coast is clear. This could be a great learning experience! no matter how much of a dick this man is, there's something of value in his words and maybe, just maybe, you should pay more attention when he talks...MAYBE.

The place is a labyrinth of stairs, broken walls turned into hallways and sealed doors, you do have half a mind to remember which doors and areas he pointed as "out of bounds" for you, which is a surprise, seeing how massive the place is.

Under the stench of grease and smoke, you notice, the tasty scent of stew...close, very close, your poor stomach twisting painfully and mouth rapidly filling with saliva, you start following the heavenly aroma until you reach an old cargo lift, a large man sits there and for a moment that makes you stop in your tracks.

The man is surrounded by bags and crates filled with stuff from fruits to what you guess are various pieces of machinery and other objects hard to identify in the low light "Aaaaah...a new customer perhaps? You must be Lord Heisenberg's new assistant, are you not?"

He smiles with true kindness and something similar to pity, meaty hands adorned with gold rings beacon you close "Come come, miss...?"

"Uuuuuuuh...I'm Y/N, nice to meet you..."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance miss Y/N, you may call me The Duke"

There's something infectious in him that makes you relax your shoulders and walk closer to him "So...what do you do here Duke?"

"What? well, I'm nothing but a humble merchant, occasionally I set up shop here in the factory, especially when I have a delivery or things that may spark Lord Heisenberg's interest, and now that you are here, I will make a note to bring stuff you could use too"

"I...I would appreciate the gesture, thanks" the small sincere smile in your face drops when your stomach decides to grumble loud enough to be heard by the Duke, the man laughing at the sound, making your embarrassment worst.

"Would like to accompany me with dinner, dear? I have made plenty and this could be a small...celebratory feast for you"

"Celebratory? no offense, but...there's nothing to celebrate"

"Aren't you alive and able to walk?" he's so careful when serving some stew in a bowl, making sure not to spill a drop "I think that surviving whatever happened to you, is worth celebrating"

The bowl is warm in your hands and the smell is just divine, you take a seat on the floor waiting for the Duke to serve his bowl and then you dig in, sighing in appreciation when the rich taste of the broth fills your mouth, the softness of the meat and the carrots. You can see the Duke smile with pride when you compliment his cooking, enjoying each spoonful to the fullest.

"It's getting quite late Y/N and Lord Heisenberg is one to rise early, I suggest you go to bed or you end up feeling too tired tomorrow"

"Yeah...thanks for the meal Duke, I really appreciate it"

"Don't mention it and remember, the Duke's Emporium is here to satisfy all your shopping needs!"

You bid the man farewell and do the trek back to your room, taking time to memorize the way to the lift and the living quarters, the man might be a merchant but you want to get to know more about him, he seems nice, he's been the nicest one so far.

The living area feels cold and so terribly empty, there's no sign of Heisenberg anywhere, which you are thankful for. Only after entering your room and laying on your "bed", waiting a bit to hear any sound that might belong to the Lord, when only the sounds of the factory echo back to you do you dare to cry.

It starts slowly, your eyes fixated on the ceiling, then the flood gates open and you start to sob and scream, tears running down the side of your face to get lost in your hair leaving wet patches in their wake. But your crying evolves into fear, panic, raged breathing, and asking hands, all the weight of what happened today swallows you whole.

You don't know where to start, the way you growled at Heisenberg in the church, HOW he was able to move heavy metal without touching it? and all those corpses suspended ton hooks...the howls and things banging against the doors, the cruelty in how Heisenberg tossed you around and screamed in your face. How do you even managed to put and kept that brave face on when you were so scared is beyond you, you did it and that's enough.

The rapid and irregular movement of your chest does nothing but make your side hurt, the pain shoots up and down your body, making you curl on your side to alleviate the pressure if only a bit.

You want to die...but not like this, not terrified for your existence, not at the hands of a volatile man that can crush you with his hammer any day.

You want to live, but to live with your life depending on how well you perform your role? that's not a life at all.

Exhaustion and fatigue eventually take you away into a dreamless sleep, your last thought is...what's going to happen tomorrow?

You don't know, but as the Duke said, you survived whatever Miranda did to you and you will survive this too, no matter what, you will live.

[tomdiddlyumptious]

Tom Holland x zendaya cousin reader where she’s an actress and model /activist she meets Tom on set and reader and z talk about people forcing them to be in competition with each other and people saying z is better because she’s lighter ( colorism) and reader thinks Tom likes white blondes but nope (spoiler ) z Tom and reader start hanging out besides being on set Tom and reader get close they go out to a party and reader and Tom hookup smut (like rough👀)

OOP-

Warnings: SMUT- It wasn’t soft ik that, zaddy kink just for a bit, speaking Spanish on accident because I know how to speak it, and uh crippled walking? Overstimulation, squirt and shit (DONT TAKE THE SHIT LITTERALLY) and language of course ✨

Summary: REEEEEEEEEE-

A/n: god my life is so tragic, and yes I love pink guy 🤺GET BACK🤺 GET BACK I SAY 🤺 this isn’t in bold or anything because I was working on this for toooo long honestly it was requested a while ago, sorry about that!

T.H| I Seen all your exes, I know what you like

You walked after zendaya into the set, your hair into a ponytail, edges laid, you recently got yourself a nose peircing (I just wanted to) you dressed in a large oversized white sweater and some black sweat pants, normal black air forces, you were tired because school was kicking your ass, like forereal.

“Hey Tom!” Zendaya smiled, walking faster to him and hugging him tightly. “Hey z” he smiles back, squeezing her a bit. “This is my uh, cousin, y/n” Zendaya smiled at you and you yawned again, covering your mouth but waving at him, which he gave a tight lipped smile and let out a “hey, how are you” “tired. Bored. Emotionally numb. Mixed feelings, over caked up-“ “haha, I think he gets it” Zendaya cut you off with a wide smile. “Are you playing in the movie?” Tom asked, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think so” you shrugged. “She’s the real life MJ, don’t mind her, but we are gonna like go now, bye-Tom!” She pulled your arm until you found her trailer.

“What’s up with you!” Zendaya asked as she put her hands on her hips, watching you sit down on her bed. “I HATE SCHOOOOOOL” you complained, throwing your head on her bed as you tried not to cry. “You aren’t crying right now, y/n please don’t” Zendaya rolled her eyes.

“They expect me to know this shit! I barely even know what 2+2 is!” You lifted your head as tears left your eyes, crying. “Y/n, what’s 2+2?” She asked. “Fourrrr” you whined, still crying. “It’s social distance, like cheat or something!” Zendaya said as she mentally started to cackle watching your cry, you sucked your tears up in an instant, acting like you were perfectly fine and took out your laptop...only to cry again.

“I HATE SCHOOOOOOOOLLLL, WHY OUT OF EVERYONE I HAVE TO DO ITTTTTT!” you slapped the computer, zendaya couldn’t take it, she laughed at you. “AND YOUR LAUGHINGGG, IM IN AN EMOTIONAL CRISIS RIGHT KNOW” she started cackling, gasping for air as tears ran down your face. “BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA” “ZENDAYAAAAAA-“ your voice cracked, coughing on your spit as she just kept laughing, she was on the floor now, holding her stomach.

As you let out a broken scream the door opened, revealing Tom worried, but his face turns confused. “Do I want to know?” He gently asked. “Get outttttt” you whined pointing at the door. Tom smiled and nodded his head, closing the door. You wiped your tears away, sniffling like a child as zendaya just watched, a grin plastered in her face. “Shut up zendaya- I’m hurt” you said petty, crossing your arms as she let out a ‘pffft’ and continued to laugh.

It was about 2 days later, you felt better with jacobs help, he can really do math.

You sat in the chair sighing as you looked at your phone. “Fucking Enews, I’m gonna kill them one day” zendaya groaned, plopping herself in the chair next to you. “What happened?” You asked, the only ones in the room, it was like a hangout spot or something, hard to explain use your imagination

“They like to put us against each other and it’s toxic” zendaya hands you the phone, showing you on tone left and her on the right and “zendaya vs y/n” you only cringe at it “they want people to vote?” You asked and she nodded, you voted for yourself and handed her back the phone. “Forget you” she rolled her eyes, “nope if anything I’m winning” you shrug laughing at her while she tries to snatch your phone.

“It’s only fair!” She said, grabbing your phone and somehow knowing your code, standing up and running with your phone “JUST DONT TYPE IN X!” You yell, chasing her. “Oh I’m typing in x” she whispered, now joining where everyone else was, it was to fast to tell who but you seen Tom, you ran past him and his screen showed a model, blond but you couldn’t see anything else. Your mind was racing as you went full on devil an crybaby running, once you chased her she threw herself on the couch, sighing and laying your phone on her stomach.

“Fuck you” you whispered and she laughed, you grabbed your phone and saw “you voted for me!” You gasped. “What! No I didn’t!” She said, immediately sitting up and raising her eyebrows at you, you showed her your phone, laughing in her face as you tried to do the dougie. “Oh so you wanna get competitive?” She asked, crossing her arms. “I mean I’m in the lead” you shrugged. “Whoever loses has to buy lunch!” Zendaya said, standing up and running past you back to where everyone else was, you followed her while she said “VOTE ZENDAYA!” you shouted your own name and told people to vote you and they didn’t understand until they all got a notification.

Everyone voted and you sat next to Tom, begging him to tell you who he chose. “No y/n I won’t tell you” he smiled. “Pleaseeee!” You clasped your hands together giving him the best puppy eyes you could, he glared at you and showed you his phone. “I give up” on the screen it showed “you haven’t even voted yet!” You said, about to tap your name until he pulled his phone back. “Nope”

The rally went on for hours, it went from zendaya to you, to you to zendaya, zendaya was in the lead by point two percent. “THOMAS VOTE!” Laura shouted. “Alright alright!” He said, he heasitantly tapped a name, he chose it on purpose of course and it was nice for him to be the last person to vote.

Everyone’s phoned dinged by Enews. “ILL TELL EVERYONE!” Samuel shouted, everyone sat in seats watched him, phones turned off. This was absolutely giant for you and zendaya, this was a playful competition so don’t worry about putting each other down.

“The person who won is.....” he added suspense on everyone, aching for the answer already. He sighed and cleared his throat, then swallowed.

....

.....

Almost there!

.......it’s

Oop-

“The winner is y/n!” Everyone who voted for you cheered while everyone who voted for zendaya booed. You and zendaya both laughed together, giving each other a hug. “You owe me pizza” she only shrugged and agreed. “Wait...who did Tom vote?” Jacob asked, everyone now eyeing him, his eyes went wide. “You’ll never know” he only said. “Tell us! The game is over!” “Tell us!” Was chanted as his face started to turn a bit red. “ALRIGHT! I VOTED-“

who did he vote? Idk

Oof

This is a long ass story

Not anywhere near finished yet so stick with me here

I LOVE YOU KRITI

“Y/N” everyone cheered and congratulated you, zendaya asking if you wanted to go get the pizza now, you agreed and asked anyone else if they wanted to go, Jacob and Tom said yeah and you all went, you ordered a noarmal pizza and bought zendaya one to, you really didn’t want to take her money, Tom scrolled through the comments of the Enews post and saw how many people actually didn’t like you which is absolute bullshit, comments about your skin and how you act, his blood was slightly boiling, it isn’t right because they don’t even know you, who gives them the right to talk shit about you?

As the days passed you and Thomas hung out a lot, went to dinner a couple times whiteout anyone else, then had lunch, went shopping, you guys just did a lot of shit together which was cute, you guys got matching socks, shirts, jeans, hair clips and hats, calling your selves idiots and thing number one and number two, you, Tom, daya, haz, and Harry went mountain climbing and that was the worst thing you’ve ever done in your life, you held toms hand so tight, wore a parachute just in case you see a bear and need to jump off, you were just all over the place.

“Do you wanna go to a party with me?” Tom asked in his dressing room, watching you eat your Cheerios with extra sugar as you raise a single eyebrow at him “depends “ you shrugged, setting down the bowl as you laid on his bed. “I think it’s like a house party, one of my friends asked to come, I don’t know” he shrugged and sat down at the end of the bed looking at you. “Then alright yeah, I have nothing else to do tonight” he smiles and lays down infront of you and you put your hand on his waist listening to his small breathes.

It was the day of the party and you weren’t so big on it. You dressed in some baggy jeans and a long sleeeve with a slicked back ponytail and some vans, your hair in a slicked in a ponytail and some long eyelashes with lip gloss, you said you’d meet him there because it took you hours If someone was waiting on you, strange but also very true.

You sighed and rolled your eyes with your hands on the steering wheels, trying to find a parking space but it was packed. “Why does this man have so many freinds? ISNT this only a house party?” You muttered, finally finding a parking spot, pretty close. Tom had called you and told you he was waiting at the door when you had just parked, he knew what your car looked like so when he found it he smiled and it made him slightly over excited.

“Hey babe” he smiled and you returned with “hey love” you both exchanged with tight hugs and he took your hand and pulled you in, the first thing that met your nose was sweat and achol. You silently cringed as Tom tried to contain his laughs, pulling you to the kitchen and to the counter, you could barely jump so he helped you up. “Hungry?” He asked. “Any waffles?!” You said and he chuckled, walking over to the fridge and opening the freezer as his smile got brighter, he took the package and threw it at you, which you catches and bit your lip.

The music boomed through the walls, he got you both a beer and ended up burning the waffles “Y/N!” “IM SORRY!” He quickly shut it, going over to the sink and opening the window, the breeze string so he sighed in relief and walked over to you giving you a strong high-five making you hiss “sorry!” He adorably said with made you smile at him, you both made your way upstairs, grabbing a couple beer bottles on the way.

“So” he said, looking at his bottle. “So?” You asked looking at him confused. “How’ve ya been?” He asked, achol in both of your systems as you shrugged. “Happy with you here” “that’s cute y/n” he laughed, setting down the bottle and looking at you. “So are you like not bored?” “We can like watch something?” “Like what?” “The backyardagains?” He looked at you confused, “a child’s show?” “Hey it’s more interesting then alone or whatever you like to watch” “why don’t we like watch porn hub or something?” “That’s wierder then what I said, but I mean..-“ “backyardagains it is” he put his lips in a tight manner, he tried to find the remote on the night stand but it was on your side, luckily there was on demand so you didn’t have to pay for anything.

you both watched the show, him smiling at laughing at you as you mocked the words. “You must had watched this a million times to know what their saying” he chuckled. “Hey don’t judge me, beer?” You asked grabbing one, when he said yeah you added another and handed it to him. You guys got closer, his hand on your waist while you head was on your chest, which shifted to his hand on your ass when you were all the way on top of him, platonically, but when you both looked at each other he pulled in and kissed you roughly, you batted your eyes at him and sat up, setting your beer aside as he did the same, he took his hand and put it on your neck, tugging you down to kiss him.

You slowly rocking your hips on his member feeling it grow as he let out distant groans, his hand stayed comfterbly on your neck, not squeezing to tight but just right. “Do you wanna?” He asked against your lips and you only nodded. “Say it” he said, rubbing his nose against yours. “I want to” “you want to what baby girl?” “I want to have sex with you” “you can be naughtier than that” he bit your bottom lip, pulling it back with him and letting it go, making eye contact with you.

“I want you to fuck me tommy” you kept your hips moving as he let out a hoarse chuckle “that’s my good girl” he squeezed your throat and you whimpered, he released your neck and made his way down your stomach to the button of your pants, his other hand made its way to your cheek, taking it slow and taking everything in as his small lips were against your plump ones, he undid your pants and they were looser then before, so he climbed down and found-

“Lace?” He whispered against your lips, “thong? Naughty girl” your stomach reeked with butterflies as a pool was comfterbly inbeteeen your legs, he pulled the material back and let it go your back arching as you let out a “shit”. You could feel his hard on against you as you were eager to take off your clothes and just give it all to him. He finally came to where you wanted him, he swirled your pearl before digging in your wetness and pumping it “Tommy” you whimpered, bucking your hips into his hand. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you” he licked your bottom lip before having it enter your mouth, you basically fucked his hand as he lowered down, finding you sweet spot instantly which only instensed the pleasure. You put your head in his shoulder as you pulled down the rest of your pants, lifting each leg to get them off.

He took his hand out of you which made you whine but he shushed you and made you sit up, looking at the white thong and how it squeezed your skin, he lifted the long sleeve, up and over you head to find you not wearing a bra. “Fucking hell y/n, your so perfect” he smiled, taking a boob in his hand while you lifted your hips to work on his pants,he bucked his hips up slightly so you could pull them down, and it stood, you bit your lip and you looked down and seen the outline of his thick member, seeing a small spot of precum leaking through his underwear. “You gonna stare?” He chuckled, you let out a sorry and pulled down the boxers revealing his member, it sprung up to his lower stomach and you bit your lip, he was above average by like two inches but he was also so...large.

“It’s pretty Tommy” you complement which leaves him smiling. “I’ll be prettier once it’s in you” he knew you were just pooling by his words, you both didn’t want to waste anytime so he pulled the thong to the side, sliding his finger through your heat leaving your hips stuttering slightly, “you ready?” You nodded at him and let out a yeah, he took his member and pumped himself a few times before entering you with a groan.

“Fuck y/n your so tight” you softly came down on him, you being on top and holding onto the head board for support as you lifted your hips and ripped them again “mmmm” you moaned, your head tilting back as he watched comfterbly, seeing you in control. You went faster the bed making noise as whimpers left your lips, his hand came up to your waist and held tight, biting his lip as he watched your boobs bounce infront of his face (ew sex 🤢 don’t know her)

He groaned and let out a fuck, moaning at his name as he sat up, looking up at your face and how your beautiful moans leave your lips. “You like that y/n, you like riding me?” He asked, slightly breathing heavy, he messed with the hem on your thong before taking both of his hands to rip it off. “Mhm, you owe me a thong” he sucked hickeys on the pad of your skin, or where ever he could. You rolled your hips, tired of bouncing as your breath was heavy, making eye contact with his darken, lust filled eyes, he didn’t heasitate to kiss your lips, shoving his tongue in your mouth and fighting for dominance, which of course he won, his hands came down to open your legs, fucking himself into you as you whined. “Fuck baby” he groaned when your hands were on his shoulders, clawing them as he hisses in pain but also in pleasure, his hands are tight on your legs which felt so good to you, hearing the clapping noises as you bucked your hips.

“Tommy you feel so good” you moaned, “yeah? My cock wrapped around your tight little pussy, so warm and wet for who?” “For you” your head tilted back, opening your legs more as you begged for more, which he gave to you, he flipped you both over making him on top, he went as fast as he could, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you choked on your moans “t-Tommy!” “You like that baby?” He asked. “Like it when I fuck into your tight pussy, where you can barely speak, when I bust you fucking open?” “Please please please”

“Please what? Be a good girl and take daddies dick yeah?” When you bucked your hips he laid a slap on your ass, your back arching as you cried and open your legs as open as possible, your chest pressed up against his, he used the head board to pound harder into you, groaning as each thrust, yours moans where high pitched “I’m gonna-“ you swallowed. “Cum? Hold it for me, I’ll tell you when you get it to cum” “your in so deep I don’t know-“ “just try’n hold it” he felt his climax building up. “Please tom can I cum?” You let out a rough high pitched moan, really putting your throat in it, he smiled and moaned at your face, then looked down and seen the way he pounded into you so freely, his cock glistening with your wetness, he took his hand and rubbing your clit messy. “To much Tommy!” You basically screamed.

“Take it for me” your back came off the mattress as your face scrunched, you cum blasting right out of you. “joder joder joder joder, papi me haces correr tan fuerte, dios me haces sentir tan bien! joder papi si, papi si papi si papi si!” You cried, which instantly made him cum right after you. “Fuckkkk” he rode it out, his hand still on your clit, your chest stuttered as your hand went to his wrist latching onto it as he keep swirling around your clit, eager to make you cum again. You were so dazed you couldn’t think straight the pleasure over powering you as you were sure you just peed yourself, “Thomas!” You shrieked

He pulled out. “I could do that all day” he muttered, rolling over to the other side as you both panted, he looked over at you and noticed how you weren’t speaking, “what’s up?” You looked over at him and replied with “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk” he laughed and the door soon opened. “Party is fücking over” his friend said, looking at both of you while your bodies were fully naked, he didn’t care he just wanted you both out, the theme song of the backyardagains playing as he shut the door which left you both laughing, he secretly kept the ripped thong and put it in his pocket of his jeans.

“You spoke Spanish to me, y/n” he laughed as you shook your head no. “Stop that’s so embarasinggg!” You groan and cover your ears. “You called me daddy, I don’t know the rest” “I probably did speak Spanish to you, but I didn’t call you daddy, I couldn’t have” “oh no you called me daddy alright, it was fucking gorgeous, I couldn’t help but cum” “shut up!” You both were walking down the street... well you crippled as he held your hand drinking a slurpii that you got form 711. “How will zendaya feel?” He asked you and you shrugged. “I will tell her soon” “and how you spoke fluent Spanish to me? I bet no one has ever fucked you that good huh?” “THOMAS!”

[defectivehero]

Hellooo, love your writing 💕 I was wondering if you could write something about a villain taking care of a depressed hero (or it can be the other way around!)?

hey thanks!!  i’m gonna do it the other way around- i hope you don’t mind!

tw: depression, suicidal thoughts, swearing, all that jazz ;(

Alex hadn’t been outside in a whole week.  An ordinary person would be a bit concerned, perhaps putting it down as a sudden illness or a death in the family.  But, no.  Alex wasn’t sick.  Alex wasn't grieving over the loss of a family member.

He looked up what he was feeling on Google, and got a wide variety of results.  Suggestions for how to handle heartbreak, getting over the loss of a loved one, a survey about depression... Alex stopped reading after that.

He had been sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the wall, when a loud buzzing sound made him look down at his phone.  He rolled his eyes when he saw who was calling him.  Cameron.  Ugh.

Alex and Cameron had a quite complicated relationship, that was for sure.  They were mortal enemies, or, at least, they were supposed to be.  Alex was a villain, and Cameron was a hero.  So why was Cameron calling him?

The phone continued ringing, and Alex clenched his teeth in annoyance.  He pressed the ‘decline call’ button, then threw his phone onto the coffee table in front of the couch.   The phone landed with a slam, nearly cracking the glass.  He probably broke his phone, and yet, he couldn’t even find the energy to care. Tears streamed down his face, glistening against his tanned skin.

Everything felt like a chore- eating, brushing his teeth... Even getting out of bed was a challenge.  More often than not, Alex would spend the day laying under his covers, holding back tears.  It was quite a crushing feeling, to be completely honest.  He had never felt so weak.  It had gotten to the point where he hadn’t done any sort of villain work in weeks.   It’s not like you were going to succeed anyways, a small voice in the back of his head said.    His laptop was sitting on his nightstand, untouched from when he last set it down a month ago.  He couldn’t help but think of that laptop as some sort of barrier- a constant reminder of his failure to truly accomplish anything.  It was just barely within reach, so close and yet so far. Every time he thought of reaching out for it, he just couldn’t.  His body wouldn’t let him.  His mind wouldn't let him.

He heard a strange rapping-like noise, and glanced at the front door.  There didn't seem to be anyone there.  He looked down at his hands.  What was he doing?  Why was he here?  Another rapping noise.  He ignored it, shaking his head.  Probably just the rain.  

A couple seconds later, his front door burst open, and a cold draft flew through the house.  “C-Cameron?” Alex whispered, shock evident in his voice.  “Did you break in-”

“I just used your key,” Cameron grinned, holding up the key that Alex kept hidden on the front porch.  The blond ran a hand through his wet hair, wiping his shoes against the carpet in the entryway before walking in.  Alex followed the man’s gaze, his heart dropping to his stomach.  

His apartment looked like shit.  There were clothes everywhere- draped over the couch, piled on the floor... A pile of dirty dishes was balanced precariously in the stainless steel sink.  There were papers scattered all over the table.  

“Wait, it’s not-”

The hero looked at him, then scanned the room.  Alex felt a pit of shame setting in the bottom of his stomach.  Was Cameron here to gloat?  Was that what he wanted?  After all, they were always trying to one-up each other.  Alex felt his eyes burning, and rubbed at them roughly, willing for the tears to stop streaming down his face.

“Go away,” Alex muttered.  Cameron completely ignored him, continuing to amble around the room.  Alex sighed, sitting back down on the couch and putting his head in his hands. He had never felt so embarrassed.  

Alex wasn’t sure how long he sat there, closing his eyes and willing his mortification to go away.  It could’ve been minutes, it could’ve been hours...

A tap on his shoulder made him jolt, whipping his head up and subsequently nearly head-butting Cameron.  “S-sorry,” he muttered, getting up dizzily. He stumbled a bit, and Cameron reached his hand out to steady him.   Once he steadied himself, he looked at the room around him and gasped.

The entire room was clean.  All the dishes were gone, the clothes neatly folded in the corner, and all the other clutter was nowhere to be found.  Alex felt a warm feeling spread to his chest.  “I... Thank you,” Alex whispered, bringing a hand to his face in shock.  

“No problem,” the blond smiled sweetly.  “Now, how about some dinner?”

Alex found himself sitting down at his dining table an hour later, a steaming bowl of pasta in front of him.  He glanced up at Cameron, who was sitting across from him.  The blond nodded, and started eating.  Alex had a bite, skeptical about Cameron’s cooking skills.  But, he was pleasantly surprised.  The pasta was quite good.

“So..” Cameron started hesitantly, waving his fork around.  Alex glared at him.  “You know what I’m going to ask,” he continued.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” “You need to,” the blond argued, shaking his head in exasperation.  “I’m the perfect person to talk to.” 

Alex snorted, rolling his eyes.  “And why is that, may I ask?” he quipped.

“I’m a therapist, duh.”

“Oh.”

“I’m fairly decent, as I’ve been told,” Cameron mentioned nonchalantly, poking his fork into his pasta.  Alex sighed, grabbing his water glass chugging it.

“If you tell me, I won’t bother you about it again,” Cameron offered, raising his hands in mock surrender.  Alex sighed.  He really wouldn’t be able to get out of this, would he?

“Alright, fine,” he groaned, averting his eyes.  “Let’s get this over with.”

“Okay, so tell me,” Cameron started, putting his folded hands under his chin in contemplation, “when did all this start?”

“A couple weeks ago,” Alex replied, thinking back.  

Cameron nodded, “How have you been feeling, exactly?” Alex sighed.  Exactly how did he get himself into this situation?   Oh right, his mortal enemy/friend broke into his apartment, went on a cleaning spree, and then somehow managed to cook dinner with the zero ingredients in his pantry.

“Fine.” Cameron gave him a death glare, and he felt himself start to sweat.  “Alright, alright.  I just feel empty, I guess,” Alex sighed.  “I don’t know, I just don’t feel like myself. I’m really tired, and I can’t find the motivation to do anything?” he met Cameron’s eyes.

Cameron stared at him for a second, studying his face.  “Have you been struggling to sleep lately? Struggling to find pleasure in activities that you normally enjoy to do? Poor appetite? Feelings of hopelessness?”

Alex dropped his fork with a clang, jaw falling open.  How did Cameron know?  He had been experiencing all of those things!  He nodded briefly, not able to find the words he wanted to say.

“Any thoughts of wanting to harm yourself, or thinking you would be better off dead?” Cameron asked, and Alex felt his eyes begin to burn again.  He blinked rapidly.  He really didn’t want to cry in front of Cameron.

“Yeah,” Alex whispered, clenching his fists in his lap.  His lip quivered, and he felt incredibly embarrassed.  He looked over at Cameron, who had a dejected expression on his face.  That only made him feel worse.  He was an expert at fucking things up, wasn’t he?

“Alex, you have depression,” Cameron mentioned, clear voice cutting through the air.  

“No, I don’t,” Alex immediately replied, adrenaline coursing through him. “No way,”

“’Lex, there’s nothing to be ashamed of,”

“Of course not!” Alex exclaimed, breathing hard.  “Of course you wouldn’t care!  Perfect Cameron, such the perfect hero!” he hissed, hands trembling.  “Taking pity on those below him, how kind of him,”

“Are you done yet?” Cameron asked, completely unfazed by his sudden outburst.  

Alex blushed, remembering himself. “Yeah, I am,” he confessed, looking down at his feet in embarrassment.  He was still in shock.  There was a name for what he was feeling?  He wasn’t sick, broken...?

“I think you should start seeing a therapist,” Cameron declared, breaking the silence.  Alex was, admittedly, not opposed to the idea.  He’d try almost anything, at this point.

“Here,” Cameron said, shoving the piece of paper into his hand.  “I wrote down the name for our offices.  Call the number here, it should bring you to our receptionist. They’ll set an appointment up for you,” he continued.  

“Now, I’ll make sure to get you a different therapist,” the blonde mentioned offhandedly, “because I can’t be yours- I’m probably the reason you’re going to therapy anyways,” 

 Alex whipped his head up.  What?  “No, you’re not,” Alex denied adamantly.  For whatever reason, he felt the need to reassure Cameron that it wasn’t his fault.  Why?  He had no idea.  Cameron raised his eyebrows, looking at Alex as if he hadn’t expected him to say anything.  An awkward silence befell the room.

Cameron looked away, leaning back into his chair and looking at the ceiling.  Alex watched him close his eyes, as if in deep thought.  He took a sharp breath, watching the blond’s Adam’s apple bob up and down.  Cameron’s thin, defined collarbones peeked out from the collar of his shirt.  Alex bit his lip unconsciously.

“What’s wrong?” Cameron asked, blinking his eyes open.  Alex swore he saw the hero’s eyes flit down to his lips for a brief second, but when he looked at the blond again, he was looking at the ground.  

Alex shook his head.  “Oh, uh, nothing,” he huffed.

“Hm, okay,” the hero replied, clearly not buying his excuse.  “Anyways, I better get going,” he said, grimacing as if he didn’t want to leave.  Alex raised an eyebrow at that.  Wouldn’t he be happy to leave?  He doubted anyone would want to spend time with him in this state.  He dragged his shoes along the floor, hands tightening on arms of the chair he was sitting in.

Cameron put a hand on his shoulder, pressing his lips together in a hesitant smile.  “Call me if you need me, okay?” he said.  Alex nodded, meeting his eyes.  Cameron nodded at that, thoughtful gray eyes scanning his face as if in search of something.  Alex felt his cheeks darken, as Cameron’s face was only inches from his.  The blond had a conflicted expression on his face, as if he was debating whether he should do something or not.  Eventually, Alex felt Cameron’s arms wrap around him, pulling him into a hug.  The pair stayed there for a bit, clutching onto each other. 

Alex pulled away.  “You better get going, Cameron.  It’s late,” he whispered, secretly wishing he could stay.

“Alright,” the blond replied.  “Good night, Alex,” he mumbled, walking towards the door.

“Good night.”

Alex watched him leave, smiling to himself.  He looked down at the piece of paper in his hand. Maybe he really would be okay.

[megalony]

Two out of three

This is a King! Harry Styles imagine which might have a follow up, I’m unsure yet. There is a lot of angst and some fluff in this part, I hope you all like it, feedback is always appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh

Masterlist

Summary: Harry and (Y/n) are in labour expecting twins and people are counting on them having a boy so their is an heir to the throne. But things don’t go smoothly for the royal couple. (Set around early 1900s).

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"We're supposed to have another month of this, yet." (Y/n) spoke quietly like she was afraid to break the calming atmosphere around them but the slow and tense way that she spoke gave away that she wasn't best pleased. They were supposed to have another month of preparing before they should have to think about labour and even though (Y/n) did want this to be over and done with soon, she didn't want it to be now.

She tried to force herself to smile but her lips only tightened to form into a wince when she tried to sit up straighter against the sea of pillows engulfing her and a twinge of pain tightened like a knot at the base of her spine. Pushing through the uncomfortable feeling, (Y/n) sat herself up straighter with a little help from Harry before she sank back into the feather pillow behind her that felt heavenly against her sore spine. A small push of air left (Y/n)'s lips when she let her spine and her back muscles relax but once she was relaxed on the bed her back felt much better.

"Better?" Harry smiled cautiously as he tried to move a few of the pillows so they were better surrounding (Y/n). More recently it seemed that every day Harry came back into their shared room, he would find another pillow on the bed or another blanket cocooned around (Y/n) like she was creating a burrow or a nest. He knew the pillows eased the pain in her back and made it more comfortable for her to sleep but at the same time, it was getting to the point where Harry couldn't move or sleep for pillows.

But if (Y/n) was indeed going into labour now like she suspected then the nest of pillows wouldn't be needed for much longer.

"Hm, I'll be better when this is over."

(Y/n) smoothed her hands over her stomach that now meant she couldn't see her feet or her legs when she laid down like this. Having another baby was a blessing to (Y/n) and Harry but (Y/n) had hoped she would get a bit closer to her due date before labour happened. It somehow felt safer if she reached her due date since they were having twins, it could ensure they were both okay and healthy and ready rather than being early.

"Don't pretend you don't like being pregnant." Harry coiled his arm to his chest when (Y/n) playfully hit him with a scowl on her face.

She knew he was partially joking but he wasn't being very sympathetic like she wanted him to be. They both knew that (Y/n) liked being pregnant because people didn't bother her half as much, no one pestered her in case she turned around and snapped at them which she pretended to blame on the hormones. No one said anything when she sat in on a meeting with Harry or when she wandered into the kitchen for a rather unusual snack or food concoction. And since reaching the seven month mark of the pregnancy (Y/n) had been confined to their room and on bed rest which meant no one bothered her or hassled her or got on her nerves.

Even though people did tend to fuss when she was pregnant and constantly ask if she was okay, it was better than being put down or treated like she was a little girl who didn't belong or know what she was doing. And there was something about the way that Harry looked at her when she was pregnant that made her stomach flutter with butterflies.

"Yes, but I also like seeing my feet and walking without being weighed down, Harry. Labour isn't very fun, either."

At the mere thought of what was going to happen in a few hours, (Y/n) grimaced and turned her head until she could bury her face in Harry's chest.

The first time around it was worrisome for them both because of why Harry was the King. Before him, it had been a Queen who was the Monarch but her childbirth had been so traumatic and harsh that the baby passed away and the Queen died four days later from a haemorrhage. Harry was King because the Queen's childbirth hadn't been successful so it made Harry scared beyond belief when he thought about (Y/n) having a baby. He loved his wife more than anything in the world and he couldn't continue if something happened to her.

(Y/n) knew the risks, there were so many women who were dying during childbirth or soon after from problems and infections and she did not want to be one of those women. It caused her to lie awake in the dead of night on many occasions fretting that when labour rolled around it would be the last thing she did or endured before she died.

But when they had Emily, even though it had gone on for just over two days and had been more than stressful, it had been okay. Only a few things had gone wrong but Emily had been born perfectly fine and healthy and (Y/n) recovered quickly. She didn't get an infection or suffer mass bleeding or suddenly pass away and they allowed Harry to be in the room when Emily was born when normally the man was supposed to wait outside. But him being the King meant it was hard for people to deny him anything.

"You, will be perfectly fine, my love." Harry pressed his lips to the top of her head in an attempt to calm her down but he could still sense the worry circulating through her head. Even when he turned on his side to face her and leaned to kiss her or smoothed his hand over her stomach, he could feel her concerns.

It was the first birth that was supposed to be the most worrisome and (Y/n) had got through Emily's birth like smooth sailing, but this time it was twins and that doubled the risk.

"I've heard things, Harry... it's supposed to be harder with twins, I could start bleeding with the second one or not be able to do it or the doctor might have to intervene and I don't want-" (Y/n) had heard things that made her skin crawl and she knew what labour was like, she'd lost all her energy before Emily was even born, by the time she had the first twin she might not have the strength to give birth to the second. Or the second one could get stuck, (Y/n) knew that had happened for one poor woman and (Y/n) did not want a doctor tampering with her to try and get the baby out.

She knew what doctors were like and they would be worse with her because this was an heir to the throne. They would care more about the baby than (Y/n).

"Sshh, you're overthinking and scaring yourself. You were brilliant having Emily and you're so strong, you'll be fine with these two, I know you will and I'll be there, I won't leave you."

"What if they're both girls?" (Y/n) had to ask, she had to know what Harry thought because it was a question that had been rattling around in her head for much longer than it should.

Times were progressing, Queens could be on the throne just like Queen Alexandra before Harry, but it wasn't the same because heirs to the throne were supposed to be boys. If Emily had been a boy then the members of the court and council would have left (Y/n) alone and that would be it, (Y/n) would have been praised to high heaven and adored because she had a boy. No one would expect her to want or have another baby if Emily had been a boy because she would have given Harry and heir to his throne.

Many women through history in the royal line had stopped after having a son.

But Emily was a beautiful little girl and if (Y/n) and Harry had a boy then the crown would not be placed on Emily's head. They were expected to have a boy and if at least one twin was not a boy then (Y/n) would be expected to have another baby and another until she had a boy.

Harry wouldn't expect her to. If he had his way he would have an army of little girls surrounding him, he wanted as many kids as possible and he didn't care about having an heir. If (Y/n) wanted no more kids after these twins he would be perfectly fine with how their family was but (Y/n) would feel inadequate. She was the source of the royal line, she was supposed to ensure a King could follow after Harry.

"Then I'll have four lovely ladies to spoil-"

"Harry I mean it." (Y/n) bit her lower lip to stop herself from crying, especially when Harry cupped her face with his hands and smoothed his thumbs over her cheeks. "I- I want so many children with you, b-but if they're both girls and labour is hard or makes me sick or I die then you won't have an heir."

(Y/n) wanted children, she wanted so many and not just because people expected her to bear children, she wanted them because she loved Harry with everything she had and she loved being a mother. But if this labour proved very difficult and it scarred (Y/n) in any way or made her ill having another baby might not be able to happen or she might be too afraid. If God forbid, this labour killed her and she had two girls, Harry would be left with three daughters and no son to take the throne.

"Don't say that I won't hear of it! You're too strong and stubborn to die we both know that and I won't let anything happen to you. But if we have two beautiful daughters and you want to stop there then that will forever be fine with me. I don't expect a boy, I would love Emily to take the throne after me because she's a smart little cookie. Don't you listen to what anyone else says because girls are much better than boys."

When they were in the last month of Emily's pregnancy people started to talk, things had to be put into place and it had to be discussed about what would happen if (Y/n) passed during labour and if the baby didn't make it either. It needed to be talked about so things could be set in place but Harry had lost his temper.

Every single member of staff and council in the palace had been under strict instructions not to worry (Y/n) with that talk and no one was to dare bring it up with Harry because he wouldn't have it. He wouldn't talk about the event of his wife or unborn child's death because it scared him and he knew if he lost (Y/n) he wouldn't want to continue living without her.

To hear (Y/n) saying she was afraid of dying made Harry want to sob or be sick because she didn't have to worry. He knew she was too strong to die, she had proved that when they had Emily.

If they didn't have a boy Harry would be content leaving his throne to Emily because even though she was only three she was a smart little girl already and she would grow up ready to be Queen.

When Harry leaned his temple against hers, (Y/n) closed her eyes and basked in the heat and love he was giving and it felt like he was trying to convey his thoughts from his mind into hers to try and calm her down. One of his hands stayed resting on her cheek whilst his other hand moved back down under her gown to caress her stomach. He massaged his fingers into her skin, trying to help ease the tension in her stomach when another twinge of pain shot through her that he could feel.

As long as his wife and twins were healthy Harry couldn't care less about anything else, their health and happiness meant more than if a King or Queen would follow his succession to the throne.

"No- come away Miss Emily!" The voice of Claire, Emily's governess, suddenly cut through the air in a hissed whisper that was a warning to the child to listen to her but everyone knew she wouldn't, she only listened to her parents.

It had been expected that as soon as Emily was born, she would be given to a nanny and then to a governess who would effectively bring her up and teach her. For royals, the parents were more role models than actually parents, they weren't supposed to get involved and change the nappies or dress their children or wake up during the night and feed them and get them back to sleep. But both (Y/n) and Harry had decided from the off that they were going to raise Emily.

Claire was only there to teach Emily and watch over her when her parents were simply too busy.

"Want my papa!" Emily's high pitched voice was more of a crying whine than a small giggle like it usually was and it made Harry pick his head up and lean up on his arm so he could look towards the door.

"I'm so sorry your Majesty, Miss Emily has a small fever and isn't feeling very well."

"My papa!" Emily let out such a wail for Harry that broke his heart and made (Y/n) shudder at her desperate tone. It was like everyone was always trying to separate Emily from her parents or act like they were too busy when they weren't. If someone was wrong they wanted Emily to come and find them.

Harry turned his head to look down at (Y/n) who nodded her head to his silent question that asked if she was well enough for Emily to stay with them for a while. But the pains weren't bad, they were only just starting meaning any proper contractions were a few hours away, (Y/n) was fine to have Emily lying with them for a while.

"It's not a problem Claire, she's fine. Come here baby girl." Harry sat himself up and gave a small nod to the governess before he reached his arms down to pick Emily up when she toddled round to his side of the bed. Harry sat her on his lap and smiled gently at his girl before he pressed his hand to her forehead, noticing she did have a bit of a fever. "You can leave her with us now, Claire."

Harry didn't bother to look over at the governess when she curtsied before exiting the room, leaving the family in peace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The lamps in the room were turned down until the flickering flames were only burning with the smallest flame possible, cascading the large room into a bask of burnt orange and vermilion light that felt like Harry was standing inside the sun itself. But rather than the light keeping his mind active and awake, the glistening colour made his mind soothe until he wanted to sleep rather than stay awake.

His bare feet padded against the carpet that should be worn down from how his feet had been constantly up and down on the same patch of floor in front of the windows which had the drapes pulled shut to keep the outside world away.

The girl in his arms was growing heavier by the second when she no longer held the control over her body which was limp in Harry's arms that were desperate to put her down after holding her for forty minutes straight.

Emily had woken up only an hour and a half after it took (Y/n) and Harry two hours to settle her down to sleep with them and she felt no better than when she came in to see them. So Harry took it upon himself to cradle Emily in his arms and pace the room with her to try and lull her back to sleep. When she cried or whimpered in his ear he started to hum and sing to her which really seemed to do the trick but now that she was asleep, he didn't want to set her down in case she woke up again.

Her head was resting neatly on Harry's shoulder with her small arms slung around his neck and her knees curled up against his stomach.

When a rather worrisome moan escaped (Y/n)'s lips, Harry stopped his pacing and turned around on the spot so he could cast his eyes over to the bed where (Y/n) was. It was close to midnight now and over the last hour (Y/n) had started to become restless. One moment Harry had helped her off the bed and onto the floor so she could kneel with her arms on the bed, the next moment she had been pacing up and down with him and more recently she decided to sit back down on the bed again.

(Y/n) had moved again since the last time Harry looked over at her, she was now kneeling in the middle of the bed slightly hunched over with her chin pressing into her chest.

"I- I think we should c... call the doctor." (Y/n) breathed through her words that were paused and stretched out when a pain caught her off guard.

Harry looked between (Y/n) and Emily for a few seconds before he quietly hummed in understanding. He watched (Y/n) as he slowly approached the bedroom door, a pained expression on his face when (Y/n) pressed one hand to her stomach before she leaned over and pressed her head into the bed, arching her back out to try and alleviate the pain she was feeling.

Opening the door, Harry padded down the hall until he found a maid passing by.

"Could you send for the doctor please, the Queen's going into labour?" Harry managed a small smile towards the maid as he tried to keep himself calm. He watched the way her eyes seemed to widen despite her obvious tiredness and she curtsied and nodded instantly.

There was something about the servants that always unsettled Harry because they always seemed to think he was a monster or a generally angry person when he was the very opposite. They talked and walked around him like he was going to snap at any moment and were always surprised when he used the manners he was taught or smiled or said please and thank you. He wasn't a monster.

"Of course, your Majesty. Would you like me to take Miss Emily to the nursery?"

Harry looked down to Emily who he almost forgot was still asleep in his arms, he'd simply forgotten about the way his arms were deadlocked in position or how she was clinging to him like a monkey clinging to a branch. He wanted to take her back himself and settle her to make sure she didn't wake up, but then again that would mean leaving (Y/n) on her own and he didn't really want to do that either.

"Yes, thank you but please make sure Claire stays with her I want her watched until her fever goes down."

He pressed a small kiss to Emily's temple before he slowly eased her down into the maid's waiting arms and unhooked her arms from around his neck. Even though she was calm and now asleep, Harry wanted Claire or anyone available to sit up and keep check on her so her fever didn't get worse because if it did they would have to send for another doctor to monitor her. Harry couldn't be sat with (Y/n) with half his attention panicking over whether Emily was okay and being looked after, he needed his full attention to be with (Y/n) tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Almost there my love." Harry's lips were soothing against (Y/n)'s burning skin but his words didn't help like he was desperate for them to. All he had to offer was himself and his words, he had no ability to take away the tremendous agony (Y/n) was going through and he couldn't make this process go any quicker but he was doing anything he could to try and help.

"N-no I'm not."

Harry could feel (Y/n)'s words vibrating throughout her body that tensed dramatically and her jaw locked as she spoke and spat the words in anger. They might be nearly there to meeting their first baby but the second one wasn't even close to being born yet and (Y/n) didn't have the energy to keep this up. She knew it, she knew from the first moment the doctor told her she was expecting twins that it wasn't going to go in her favour. (Y/n) had a sixth sense that when labour rolled around she would use up all of her energy on the first baby or something would go wrong or she just wouldn't be well enough to keep pushing through and she was right.

The pain was so bad that she couldn't feel anything below her torso, her body was overheating to the point the windows had to be opened and cold rags were smothering her skin to stop her from combusting and she felt horribly sick to her stomach.

The only good thing about this was that this labour was going much faster because her body knew what it was meant to do now.

Leaning herself forward off of the pile of pillows behind her, (Y/n) pulled on Harry's hand until he got her message and shuffled forward with her, wrapping his free arm around her waist with his chest against her back in case she needed him to hold her up. He pressed his lips to her exposed shoulder where her gown had slipped down her arm and he began to brush his fingers up and down the side of her stomach like his fingers were brushes painting delicately over a canvas.

Harry let go of (Y/n)'s hand so he could crack his knuckles and stretch his fingers before he held her hand with a bit better grip since they were both sweating. He'd taken the liberty of removing all of his rings beside his wedding ring after learning last time that his rings had cut into both their hands and created slash marks without either of them feeling anything.

Such a shriek left (Y/n)'s lips that made Harry shake, especially when (Y/n) seemed to tense completely until he thought she'd become locked in place. But the moment her muscles loosened and she turned to jelly against Harry, he felt her chest releasing such a relieved yet exhausted sigh and he looked over at the doctor sitting on the end of the bed with a baby in his arms.

"What did I tell you? You've done it love, it won't be much longer now."

"Are t-they okay?"

(Y/n) couldn't seem to stop her body from shaking like she had electric currents rattling through her body and it hurt, it felt like she was falling through the sky with no clear landing in sight. She couldn't hear the baby crying but she couldn't focus her vision on the doctor long enough to see if their baby was moving or in shock or just too calm to bother with crying out.

Harry reacted quicker than (Y/n), the moment he heard a familiar gagging sound he let go of her hand to grab the bowl resting beside the bed and held it in front of her just as she threw up. He gently pulled her hair away from her face before rubbing his hand soothingly up and down her back but when his bright eyes darted down to look at the doctor, he was met with a grave face and a simple but grave shake of the head.

They'd lost a child.

A choked moan escaped (Y/n)'s lips that caught both men's attention before she threw her head back onto Harry's shoulder, her muscles tensing when she felt another contraction building up.

Out the corner of her eye, (Y/n) saw a maid taking the baby from the doctor before she scuttled out and into the adjoining study, presumably to clean up and weigh the baby. (Y/n) let the child drift from her mind like they had the room so she could try and focus her energy on the next baby.

Before the head was even born (Y/n) let out a horrid, bubbling sob before she pulled away from Harry and let herself sink back into the pillows. Everything hurt, everything ached and everything felt numb. (Y/n) wished her life was a tape that could be cut down to size so she could cut out the labour and just attach the before and after birth together. She wanted to jump straight from the first contraction to being laid in bed cradling her babies in her arms. But life didn't work that way and mother nature was cruel.

The round of screams and humiliated sobs that left (Y/n)'s lips were defeated and lifeless because she had no energy to put into her screams that could convey how she felt or do her pain any justice.

(Y/n) couldn't believe how exhausted yet thrilled she felt when the baby seemed to come into the world so effortlessly once their head was born. It was as if (Y/n) had blacked out for a while and was now awake and their baby was here. She could hear the rather loud scream that their baby let out the moment they were in the doctor's arms and it made (Y/n) smile.

Their baby had a very powerful set of lungs, that was good.

"Done... I'm done, it's over." (Y/n) closed her eyes and held her breath, swallowing the lump in her throat to prevent herself from feeling or being sick again as the bed seemed to envelope her in a congratulating hug that she sank into until she thought she had slipped into the next floor below.

When she found the will to do so, (Y/n) opened her eyes that immediately searched for Harry who was peering down at her. With what little energy she had left, (Y/n) reached her shaking hand up to cradle Harry's face when she saw him sobbing silently.

"A girl, your Majesty." The doctor moved his arms to let (Y/n) see her wailing baby before the same maid who took their first baby wrapped up their little girl with a very weak smile.

"M-my baby, w-where's m..my baby?" It was clear (Y/n) felt weak and she looked very pale and rather sick in Harry's opinion but it was only as to be expected after what she'd just gone through. As much as Harry wanted to lie to (Y/n) so she could rest and not feel her heart breaking, he couldn't help the small sob he let out at her confusion and he watched the exact moment her heart snapped in two and her lips curled in distaste.

(Y/n) couldn't question it. She couldn't ask why or how or tell Harry he was wrong, all she could do was scream like she had eaten glass which was now puncturing into her stomach and organs and was splitting her apart from the inside out.

Despite the agonising howl of pain that left (Y/n)'s lips, Harry leaned down until he could bury his face into the crook of her neck. He kissed her flush skin repeatedly to try and stop her screams but he knew nothing he could say or do was going to make this okay.

"Sshh, shh my love..." Harry felt (Y/n)'s trembling fingers tangling into his curls as she wailed and he cooed in her ear, not knowing how else to calm her down.

"W... what was it?" (Y/n) hiccuped through her few words which made Harry's head lift from her neck so he could look at the doctor. It didn't cross his mind to ask whether or not they'd had another girl or a boy, he only thought to dwell on the fact that whatever gender their baby was, they were not alive.

"A boy, your majesty." The doctor's voice was solemn and calm showing this kind of news was one he had had to deliver more than once, but never to the King and Queen.

(Y/n)'s chest shuddered and bounced up and down rapidly before a very low whine almost like a baby's wail for attention cut from her lips. She'd done what they'd asked, she'd had a boy and now she'd lost him. What were people going to say when they heard all the Queen could do was produce girls? How would they react when they found out she'd lost an heir to the throne but managed to have another girl?

(Y/n) smothered her face with her hands and screamed into her palms but Harry quickly reached down and removed her hands, he didn't want her smothering herself like that or hurting herself unintentionally. He would rather witness her screams than have her trying to hide them.

"Your Majesty, could we sit you up so I can examine you please? The afterbirth hasn't passed yet." The doctor's rather kind yet solemn tone grated on (Y/n)'s nerves when she knew it shouldn't. She wanted him to be rude to her, she wanted him to be annoyed and indifferent rather than kind because it was how people were going to treat her. He may as well be the same and be disappointed that she could give Harry another girl yet cost him a son at the same time.

She barely felt Harry and the doctor taking an arm each and gently ease her up so she was sitting up more or less straight against the pillows that clawed at her and pulled her back into a comforting yet broken embrace.

When Harry heard his name whimpered from (Y/n)'s chapped lips he felt another flood of tears leaving his eyes. He wanted to hold her like he normally did, he wanted to lay down at her side and wrap his arms around her waist with his front resting on top of her own. He wanted his face smothered into her neck and her breaths fanning through his curls. But he couldn't hold her like that yet.

Desperate to have (Y/n) in his arms properly, Harry gently moved (Y/n) as slowly and carefully as he could manage until he could worm his way behind her with her laid between his legs. He slipped his arms under her own and wrapped them around her, feeling a tiny bit calmer when (Y/n) moved her hands to tightly grip his own, sliding her fingers between the groves of his hands. He dipped his head down until he could kiss her cheek and keep his head pressing against her own, holding her tightly like she wanted because he had no need to fear her breaking in his hold for she was already broken.

For a few seconds whilst the doctor busied himself examining her and feeling her stomach, (Y/n) thought she was going to blackout or even die. She welcomed the darkness, she wanted it to smother her mind and take her away for a few hours until she could wake up and have this all be some kind of sordid nightmare she would forget in a heartbeat. But sleep nor death ever overtook her, she was left limp in Harry's arms.

"Is there a problem?" Harry prayed to God that there wasn't, they couldn't take any complications or errors or problems right now.

"Your Majesty..." The doctor waited patiently for (Y/n) to open her eyes and focus on him and he rubbed his hand over her knee to try and comfort her as well as ground her and keep her concentration that he desperately needed right now. "There is another baby, I've given you an injection to start more contractions so I need you to push again."

It was Harry's turn to have his lips curl up in distaste and his eyes darken like the night sky. They couldn't have another, (Y/n) couldn't have another. She was broken and exhausted and one more push away from slipping into a state close to death. Another baby could kill her, Harry knew they had been tempting fate by having twins, with the state (Y/n) was in she didn't look like she would survive another baby.

"I can't." (Y/n)'s voice was a whisper before she closed her eyes and turned her head to bury her face into Harry. She felt like going to sleep. She wanted to tell this doctor to have a word with God and take the third baby away, magic it into in-existence, into the dark realm where nothing existed because she couldn't give birth again. (Y/n) had nothing left, she was broken on the inside and out, her other two babies had taken everything she had.

When a dull, throbbing contraction slowly but steadily built up (Y/n) ignored it which somehow felt so easy when before a contraction was too hard to miss or push from her mind. She realised now that she hadn't felt the doctor give her the injection he spoke about, nor was she feeling much pain or even the baby moving.

"Sir, the longer we wait the worse she will become. She must push now."

Harry wiped his eyes with the back of his shaking hand before he turned his head to look at (Y/n) who stared up at him through half-lidded eyes.

"Love, this baby needs you... you have to try or else we stay stuck here like this and it will hurt so much more. Please... please, try for me." If (Y/n) didn't try her body was only going to feel more broken and confused and something could happen to the baby or to (Y/n). Harry couldn't lose (Y/n) now and as bad as it seemed, the baby wasn't as important to him right now. He needed (Y/n) and he needed to look after her but no one could do anything if she didn't try.

(Y/n) couldn't scream. All she could do was whimper and moan quietly and hope that what she was doing was pushing because she couldn't tell anymore, she could only work out that her mind was short circuiting and wanted to switch off completely.

A small, almost non-existent smile formed on (Y/n)'s face when she felt Harry humming in her ear and very lightly swaying them both side to side but it was to calm himself down as much as her. (Y/n) wasn't holding his hands very tightly at all and Harry was holding her up, she had no energy left it was very clear. But when Harry looked down he could see a river of blood surrounding his and (Y/n)'s legs.

When the head was born, Harry watched the doctor move his blood-covered gloved hands to inject something into (Y/n)'s stomach that he could only hope was to help with the bleeding.

"Just a little more, my love."

(Y/n) couldn't tell if the doctor was intervening and trying to help but she didn't care as long as the baby was out of her and she could go to sleep. Her shoulders slumped and her forehead fell against Harry's chin when she felt the weight lift from her stomach and the pain suddenly evaporated like steam from a hot bath.

"You have another boy." (Y/n) felt a single tear escape her eye and slowly trickle down the ridge of her nose and fall down her cheek before jumping free from her chin at those few words.

Had she killed this heir too?

"Open your eyes... (Y/n) open your eyes." Harry shook his arms a bit too violently for his own liking but he had to so (Y/n) wouldn't go to sleep. He couldn't have her falling asleep on him in case she never woke up. The urgency in his voice made the tears fall faster but it worked and caused (Y/n) to lift her head a little and open her eyes. And Harry watched her marvel at the baby the doctor was holding up for her to see.

Without speaking or thinking or even breathing, (Y/n) curled her fingers to her palms and moved her hands to indicate that she wanted her baby. Their first baby had died and been snatched away from them, their girl was lively but she wasn't here, someone else had her and was tending to her. (Y/n) wanted one of her babies to cradle and reassure herself this was real.

Harry locked eyes with the doctor and nodded with a look that told him not to refuse (Y/n)'s small request. They hadn't been asked if they wanted to hold their daughter and it was assumed they didn't want their first boy- who Harry was going to make sure he held very soon. They had to hold one of their babies now to keep them both sane.

He was tiny.

The little boy was much smaller than what Emily had been or their next girl who looked very healthy and was wailing showing that she was strong. This boy was pale grey-skinned rather than pink, his lips were tainted blue rather than red and he looked sickly. He wasn't breathing perfectly either but he was here, he was alive and for now he would be okay.

His fragile body was laid on (Y/n)'s chest and he curled up until he was almost invisible. (Y/n) moved her weak arms until one hand was on his back and the other was cradling the back of his head and she felt Harry's arms overlapping her own so he could hold them both closer to him like he wanted them all to merge into one. Harry knew they were both unwell, his wife and his youngest were going to need a lot of love and care to get them on the road to recovery.

But as he watched (Y/n)'s fingers skimming over their boy's head, he saw her lips curving into a tired, lost smile.

"We'll be okay, little one."

[wixelt]

Season β AU #002 - Welcome to β

So when we last left off on the Season β AU, the Hermits had been kidnapped by shadow doubles of themselves & dropped into an unknowable reality made up of an infinite blue jungle under an empty, Void-like sky. So, what’s next from there in the weird dream I had?

Well, from here, things get a little less ordered, but i’ll set it up as best I can.

- All the Hermits wake alone, with no-one else nearby, something i’m certain my unawake mind drew from @hermitcraftheadcanons’ Scattered AU (check it out if you haven’t, it’s great). I can tell from this that my dream originally intended this to be an alt version of Season 7 - though it isn’t now - as one of the “arriving alone” bits was Scar turning up in the jungle, as he does at the start of S7 (was in full wizard gear in my dream, to boot :P ). I want to play with the most recent info on S7, though, so post-S7 it is instead.

- There’s a few things various Hermits find odd or outright alarming beyond just what they can see after doing the normal “player” thing of crafting some basic tools to survive to take their mind off the panic. X discovers his admin powers are completely gone. They’re not even inaccessible, they’re just... not there. Anyone else who has command access notices this quite quickly too, & nobody misses the complete lack of access to communications.

- And all of the Hermits, beyond this, find that mining & crafting is broken somehow. Mumbo swings his fist to punch a tree, & cries out in pain, the wood far harder than even his practiced hands were ready for. It’s nothing more than a sting, & he’s fine once he’s gotten used to it, but it came as a shock, & rather than getting a log block for his troubles, he watches the section of tree, on his final punch, explode into a million useless splinters of wood, only a few large enough to put in his inventory. After a while, the Hermits begin to find that, with enough of these fragments, they can build a rudimentary sword (False manages this faster than most others), or a pick, or some planks, but it makes everything far more of a slog, as if the world is fundamentally dragging them down.

- In the months to follow - in the part of this that reminds me of Sky Factory - they will find that stone has the same problem, but worse. Stone drops... nothing. Absolutely nothing. Same with anything else underground, which would be bad for ore mining... if there were any ores to mine. Instead, through much trial & error, the Hermits find that crafting enough layers, combinations & types of wood & dirt together (in my dream I saw someone crafting thousands of Rubies together to get something - so I guess Rubies also exist here) - like those mods that have compressed blocks - gets you stone, & magnitudes more effort beyond that to get iron, gold, redstone, etc. Magnitudes further still to get even a single, tiny fragment of diamond, & then there’s netherite, & the other top tier, heavy duty materials & tools Minecraft has.

- By a year into this hell, the Hermits collectively have maybe enough diamond for less than half a set of armor between them, & no netherite to speak of. It hasn’t exactly been their main focus, though.

- With that initial panic out of the way, maybe it’s time to introduce you to where the Hermits are. This is Season β. That isn’t it’s actual name, if it even has one, but as far as the Hermits’ season system works, it’ll suit it well enough. It’s a sort of underlying junk/echo reality (in the part of the dream that was probably drawn from the Backrooms creepy-pasta) that runs beneath the entire Minecraft multiverse. All the echoes of worlds, all the little bits of lost history or forgotten places that never should have been or that simply slipped through the cracks... this is what β is. The place where all these various never weres have coalesced into an infinite, broken place where the usual rules of the Minecraft realms don’t consistently apply... and the Hermits are stuck here.

- β isn’t entirely this infinite, headache inducing blue jungle. This is just one layer of the dark infinity. There’s at least 11 layers, though I imagine there’s actually infinite or functionally infinite amounts. In my dream, I remember there was mentioned a 6th Layer, a 10th Layer, and I think an 11th Layer. I recall that one layer, I think the 10th Layer, was gradually “eating” away at another layer despite them being supposedly infinite, probably the 11th, in my dream, so in order to have the Hermits not immediately have to deal with that metaphysical clusterfrick, i’m stating now that the “Jungle” is the 6th Layer. How the Hermits are meant to get from layer to layer, or if they’d even want to, is undetermined.

- This endless hell is, well, just that: hell. And nothing shows that more than when a Hermit dies for the first time. It’s False who’s the unfortunate one. Being one of the most resourceful of the group, she manages to craft a stone sword within the first few weeks, sets up some basic shelter, & even manages to reunite with a couple of the other Hermits after days of trekking for miles & miles at a time, herself Ren & Stress managing to build a perimeter to keep out the mobs, which have thankfully been both keeping to their normal behaviors despite a few anomalies & been spawning in lesser numbers due to the jungle biome & copious amounts of leaves.

- So when a creeper unfortunately gets the drop of her in the midst of an unexpected mob horde - glowing with red lightning, of all things - and all the Hermits see her death message, it comes as a shock. Thankfully, she had a bed, so she dashes back to where Ren & Stress are waiting... & blinks in surprise as their eyes widen in shock & horror. Unnerved, False catches her reflection in a nearby pool of water... & flinches in fear as she sees the empty socket where her right eye used to be, as if it simply vanished. She can still mostly see fine, somehow, but her right eye’s “vision” is strange and hazy, with occasional flickering, & she swears she keeps seeing something moving in the corner of her eye, despite Ren & Stress assuring her there’s nothing there. And that’s not even getting into the strange, single black tally line that she later finds has appeared on her left shoulder like some sort of tattoo...

- This, unfortunately, isn’t the extent or even the specific outcome that awaits someone each time they die. It has the potential to get quite... odd. False got off quite lightly the first time losing an “eye”, all things considered.

- It is over a year before Grian - who was left behind from the party due to illness - sees any of his friends again. Through a means I haven’t yet decided on, he finds some manner of reaching β, albeit one-way & by accident, while searching for everyone with assistance from others. What he finds, though still his friends & relieved to see him, isn’t as pristine as he remembers. Time in β has not been kind.

- And I've decided it is Grian who gets left behind, rather than Jevin. I had this thought that maybe my dream “labelled” it as Grian but meant Jevin because in one part of the dream Grian appears “slimy” & face paint seems to melt right off him due to that (was an odd moment even with context). But given what β can do to people, apparently, i’m willing to lock the one left behind in as Grian.

Cutting it off again. Still a few things I haven’t gotten into, I think, but this is already a long post. :P

[buckysmischief]

running in the dark - 1

Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1,291

Warning(s): language, angst from the start but ends on a good note

AN: It you haven’t seen x men first class and/ or don’t know who Alex Summers is & need a face for the character, just google Lucas Till. & if anyone wants to be tagged, there’s 23 spots.

to the permanent tags - if you don’t want to be on the list anymore for any reason at all, message me and let me know. ill be making a post about it in a few days (maybe) but just figured id mention it now lol

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Your attention wasn’t fully on Alex and he could tell, “Where’s your head at?”

“You,” you lied, “and this game.”

“You hate baseball, Yn. Don’t lie.” Alex Summers was a blonde hair blue eyes masterpiece who was sculpted by the gods, too bad their temper wore off on him.

In the hopes of avoiding a public argument, you thought telling the truth would be the safest bet, “My anxiety is just really high, Wanda and Pietro kinda dropped a bomb on me before I left the house and I haven’t processed it. Remember my old neighbor that I was close to, but we fell out of touch? He’s coming back apparently.” For a moment you thought he had dropped it, but no, he’s been wanting to start a fight since you made him late to the game.

“So you’re telling me that you’re thinking of another guy and the irrelevance of his life to yours in the middle of a date that I paid for?” He always knew how to play the victim, and any other night you would have fallen for it, but not tonight. So you ignored him. “Well I’m gonna go, have fun finding a way home.”

You didn’t have to find one, Wanda was always on standby for situations like this - which was reason number four she didn’t like him. The fact that it happened more than once wasn’t information you wanted to share, but after a long session with your therapist you knew that it wouldn’t do well to keep that information to yourself. If Bucky was here it would have been him, which was something else she wanted to talk about but your time would always run out around that point.

The drive to the house from the stadium was short and quiet, but the moment the smell of the ocean began to fill your senses you felt yourself becoming more grounded. Living at the beach was the one condition you had when Wanda suggested you get a place together, which is why she had four houses picked out before she even asked you.

You just wanted to go sit on the roof and watch the waves crash into the sand, but if Pietro’s car parked in the driveway meant anything it was that the three of you were in for one hell of a night.

“Hey there, doll.” Correction, the four of you. “Long time no see.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Anger was never an emotion you felt for Bucky before he left, but over time it became the only one you could remember.

Bucky knew you wouldn’t be exactly thrilled to see him, not after cutting all communication, but he didn’t expect that. He expected awkward silence, shifty eye contact, even you going off on him. If he knew you were this mad, pretending not to know him mad, he would have gone about this totally different. “Let’s walk the beach, the moon’s just bright enough to light the way.”

“No.” You wanted to run to him and give him a hug that would make up for the eight years of silence, but when you looked at the man who was standing in your living room… he was a stranger. This Bucky’s hair was shorter and he stood taller, you could spot a few tattoos on his arms and another creeping up the side of his neck, he even had facial hair. If so much had changed on the outside, you weren’t ready to find out how much had changed on the inside, not yet. “You’re a stranger, could be a murder for all I know. Or worse, someone who just up and leaves. Already had that happen once tonight, wouldn’t wanna risk it a second time.”

You ignored everyone and walked up to your room and had every intention of going to bed, but the voices coming from downstairs were too distracting - especially since you couldn’t make out what they were saying. It didn’t help that you longed to have your toes in the sand ever since Bucky mentioned that walk. The last thing you were going to do was show your face downstairs though, so your bedroom window was the only way out.

Once you were safely on solid ground and you could taste the salt in the air it was like you could breathe again. In the last six hours your entire world had turned upside down, again. It always seemed like one thing after another but the last six alone have been a complete joke. Sure, lashing out probably wasn’t the best move but what else were you supposed to do? Pretend everything was okay? Not a chance.

“You know, after all these years it’s comforting to know this is still your happy place.” You didn’t hear him coming, but you figured he’d show up eventually.

“So you’re not a stranger.” he started to smile, figuring you were finally over it and ready to talk, but that wasn’t the case. “You’re a stalker.”

“Can you just drop the attitude for five minutes and look at me? You can be mad at me all you want after that. If you can’t give me five minutes then I’ll leave, but when you’re ready I’ll be at Pietro’s.” He stood behind you for a few more minutes, neither of you speaking a word, before deciding to walk away. Your feet were moving before your brain could even register what was happening, and when Bucky turned around with arms wide open because he knew no matter what you’d never let him walk away from you, you ran even faster.

The two of you just sat in silence for a while, but eventually Bucky’s curiosity got the better of him, “So, who is Alex?”

“Alex Summers, he was a grade ahead of us.”

“You’re dating that asshole?”

“How surprised are you really?” Truth be told, he wasn’t. Of course he hoped that at some point over the years you would stop dating losers and find someone who treated you right, for many years he hoped that guy would be him, but sadly he knew neither of those things would happen.

“You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, Yn, that’s it.” He meant it. Even if that person was someone else, he meant it. Bucky had tried moving on from you by dating a couple different women but they could never compare to you, especially Natasha. She was so jealous of his friendship with you, even the idea of you, that she had somehow manipulated her way into alienating you from his life. It was something he couldn’t undo, but something he was determined to make right.

“So what about you?” wanting to change the subject as quickly as possible, you asked the first thing that came to mind, “How was the Army?”

“It was fine. Got to travel a bit but I mostly stayed in Texas. How have things been here?”

“They’ve been great.” The lie came out easy, it always did. “Do you wanna head back in? I’m starving.”

He pulled you up from your spot in the sand and as he was carrying you back to the house you realized you weren’t mad at him anymore. You had a glimpse of hope that maybe this was the first step in things finally going back to normal since he left.

“So,” he spoke softly, “we’re good?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, we were never not good.” acting as if you didn’t treat him as a stranger only hours ago.

“I was hoping you grew out of being a brat.” Everyone knew that would never happen.

“Me? A brat? Sergeant Barnes, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

perm tags (49/50): @sociallyeneptbarnes @hopesbarnes @stuckonjbbarnes @superavengerpotterstar @estillion14 @sleepingspacedragon @geeksareunique @imsoft-barnes @piper-koko-barnes-rogers @murdermornings @distractedgemini @screaming-fridge @readeity @whatinthyworld @my-drowning-in-time @valkyriesryde @buggy-blogs​ @hey-its-grey @pinknerdpanda @brokenthelovely @theannoyingnightmarecollector @death-unbecomes-you @rhymesmenagerie @teasgyu @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @https-bucky @also-fangirlinsweden @goalexis123 @missmeganrachel @sunflowersandcherry @miraclesoflove @matsumama @reann-loves-sebstan @thinkoutsidethebex @thefridgeismybestie @niall2017 @maddope @imagine-all-the-imagines @thummbelina @m3ga1nsp1r3d @romaniansweetheart @thebadassbitchqueen @king-sebb @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @bonkyboinkybucky @slaytherinthoughts @kingkassam @anti-the-glitch-bitch @poppunkdork

series tags (2/25): @rebekahdawkins​ @writerwrites​

[catboymingi]

bittersweet

navi/masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: angst, fluff; best friends to strangers to enemies to lovers

word count: 7.7k

warnings: self harm, mental illness, suicidal thoughts (though no behaviour described in detail at all), addiction (alcoholism to be precise), language

a/n: this one’s heavy... also this is heavily based on personal experience so don’t come jumping at me for inaccuracies thank u - also the links during the story take you to the same song as the first link, but they have the swedish og lyrics on hover (sorry mobile users)

när jag var liten kändes alltid som att det var du och jag mot skiten / så jag ville att vi skulle göra allt tillsammans / men jag märkte tydligt att du ville nånting annat / behandlade mig sämst / vi var bara ungar - when i was small it always felt like it was you and me against the world / so i wanted us to do everything together / but i noticed clearly that you wanted something else / treated me worst / we were just kids

you had no idea what happened. you’d been so close with mingi ever since you moved, him being the first friend you’d made in the new school, and eight-year-old you really appreciated him. he fought off the bullies for you, he was always there, but suddenly he wasn’t. you were in high school, and everything had been as always, until it wasn’t. until he started avoiding you like you had a deadly and contagious disease, like you’d killed his parents. he hated you and you had no idea why, had no idea why your best friend suddenly decided that some random people he’d barely ever talked to before were a better company than you, who’d been with him through thick and thin for the past decade. saying that you were heartbroken was an understatement.

it took you so long to get back on track after the day mingi had started avoiding you, hating you, but eventually, you managed to do it. you banned all thoughts of him from your head, deleted all messages, pictures, and other traces of him you had on your phone and got rid of all physical memories, too. your parents knew you weren’t okay, and they were so relieved when you asked them if you could set something on fire in the backyard, because it finally seemed like you were getting closer to healing. it had been months, and they’d been worried for your life, but they had no idea how to get your now ex-best friend to reach out to you. they couldn’t call him up and just tell him that he needed to talk to you before you killed yourself, even though they wished they could.

by the time you started university you were almost back to normal, the only outward signs of what you’d gone through being the scars covering your arms and your refusal to drink alcohol, at all. you got obsessed with your major, studying to become a therapist so that you could maybe, hopefully help people feel understood and okay when they were in a similar situation to the one you’d been in. this passion made you the best of your year, acing all exams because every free minute was spent on revising the materials and taking on extra projects and doing all you could to keep yourself busy.

but you weren’t okay, not actually. the worry was still there, the fear, and it was the reason why you hadn’t made a single friend even when the fourth semester of university was almost over already. it was after a particularly hard exam (that of course you’d aced again) that you, for the first time since your other half had left, agreed to go out with someone, a random dude from your course that you’d consequently ignored up to that point who invited you to some maths major’s party.

“it’s gonna be fun, and we deserve some fun after that fucking hell of an exam” was how he had convinced you, and you decided that it couldn’t hurt.

what you didn’t know then yet, however, was that he’d ditch you the second you’d taken off your jacket at the party that same evening, saying that if he’d known that you were a nutcase he’d never have asked you out.

“you’re hot but that’s just not what i wanna put up with.” and that from a psychology major. great.

the evening got worse when you found out whose party this was. you didn’t even know that mingi went to the same uni as you, and he’d obviously moved out of his parents’ house by now, so the address didn’t ring a bell, either. it was first when you saw him that you realised. and everything came crashing down on you again, all the things you’d convinced yourself you were over. and even though you’d promised yourself you’d never touch alcohol again, not even cough medicine including it, you broke that promise now, going straight for the hard liquor. that seemed to impress the horny idiots around you, how you downed it without even flinching, and because you didn’t care about what you should and shouldn’t do right now you let the first one to make a move touch you up and down, making out with you (which had effectively stolen your first kiss from you, but what did it even matter anymore?) and whispering to your ear just how hot you were. you didn’t care for him, but you knew that the one you cared for couldn’t give fewer shits about you. you were tired of being alone, of being hurt, of being lonely, and you just wanted to forget. so you let this dude whose name you didn’t know and didn’t care to know make out with you on the kitchen counter, because by now there was no way your situation could get any worse anymore, anyway.

your lack of interest seemingly didn’t stay hidden to him, though, so at some point he left you with a displeased grunt. it was obvious he’d expected a little more excitement from you, and now he was looking for the next drunk girl he could get to fuck him. you didn’t care. you got some more alcohol, pushing every thought of your parents as far away as you could, because you knew they’d be so disappointed. they’d always cared, but it hadn’t changed anything for you. the one you needed to care didn’t even notice how you were slipping. you’d be surprised if he’d even known that you got hospitalised after graduation.

but now you were here, in his house, and you hated it, hated him, hated yourself. you wanted to get out, to disappear before he’d ever even notice you’d been there in the first place, so you stole a bottle of whatever was closest to you and left the house.

it was embarrassing that you weren’t even drunk yet. you had no idea how much you’d drunk, but you barely felt tipsy. so when the one you wanted to leave you alone the most came outside after you, you had to deal with the emotions that that caused in you entirely sober.

“the fuck do you want?” you hadn’t expected yourself to be able to be angry at him when you’d get to talk to him again. you’d expected yourself to cry, to break down and beg for him to come back, but maybe at least that the alcohol saved you from.

“i want to check up on you. since when do you drink?”

you hated him. you fucking hated him more than anything else you’d ever hated, except for maybe yourself, and you hated that he thought he had the right to check up on you now when he was the reason you were even in this state at all.

“let’s see. i think you last talked to me on the fifteenth of january, two years ago? so it’s gotta be the sixteenth.” maybe it wasn’t fair to confront him with the effects of what he did like this, but it hadn’t been fair of him to leave you hanging like this either. he deserved this, deserved to know what the fuck he’d done to you. that he’d destroyed the happy, passionate, excited you that you’d been, replacing her with a bitter, suicidal bitch with trust issues through the roof.

“why?” he seemed confused, and you wanted to spit in his face. you wanted to punch him. you wanted anything but to have to talk to him.

“take a wild fucking guess.” and with those words you turned on your heel, leaving him with his emotions as you left with the bottle of alcohol that wouldn’t make it to the next morning.

you were slipping again. picked up all the bad habits you’d had, barely getting sleep because you still had to study, were still obsessed with getting the best grades, but now also had unhealthy habits to feed, so there wasn’t a lot of time left for sleep. it didn’t matter, though - why sleep if you’d only have nightmares either way?

luckily you didn’t see mingi again after that night. that was, until he’d somehow figured out your major, your classes, your schedule, and was waiting for you in front of your classroom after your last class for the day. you tried to bolt, but he grabbed your wrist instinctively to keep you from running away. when you yelped out in pain, though, he let go as if he’d just burned himself. until now he hadn’t even noticed what you looked like. but now that he did, it broke his heart.

“what do you want now? want to fuck me up again? because i can do that by myself now, thank you very much.” your voice shot daggers at him, and he looked like a hit puppy. what made this worse was that he knew you were right.

“please talk to me. i brought vodka.” he didn’t intend to give it to you, but you didn’t have to know that. and his weak bribing worked, which only made him feel even more awful. just how fucking hurt did you have to be to talk to him, the guy you very obviously hated, just because he offered you free booze?

“come.” and you did, followed him to a park near uni you knew was notorious for getting fucked or wasted, and you intended to keep up this reputation as you sat down next to him.

“alcohol.” it wasn’t even a question, you just demanded the bottle, but he wasn’t about to comply.

“first you talk to me.”

the angry glare you gave him could have killed him had you kept it up for longer than a couple seconds, but you sighed in frustration and looked away.

“fine then, talk. but this vodka better be damn good.”

he didn’t know how to start, though. ran his hands through his hair and shifted constantly and looked everywhere but at you. but then, finally, he got his shit together.

“what happened to you?” his eyes were fixed on your arms, the arms whose skin was a lot smoother and healthier the last time he’d seen it, and his voice was soft, almost as if he cared. maybe it was because of that that your reply held less sharpness than the past ones had.

“what do you think?” and his heart broke. he didn’t want it to be him, he didn’t want this to be because of him, he didn’t want to be at fault for so much pain and suffering.

“it’s me.” and when you nodded he wished someone’d beat him up, hard and good, just so he’d feel at least some pain as a payback for all the pain he’d caused you.

your voice was surprisingly soft when you continued, and you didn’t even know why yourself.

“it’s nothing big. i just… slipped, i guess. had a really hard time. i don’t even know what happened to make you hate me like that, and that got to me. like, we didn’t argue or anything, so it wasn’t like i had a reason to stop caring about you. it just felt like without you nothing mattered.”

you sounded calm, collected, but voicing it like this brought back all the hurt, and you just really wanted the alcohol now. you grabbed around him in order to retrieve the bottle from his bag, but he caged you in a hug, effectively making you unable to move.

“it’s a big deal. fuck, y/n, look at you. how is this not a big deal? you can’t even talk to me without getting wasted.”

and even though he was right you hated how it sounded like that was your fault, not his. you hated how it sounded like you were weak for this when he had no idea what the fuck you’d been through these past two years. it made you angry.

“and you’re better? straight up ignoring me for however long it took me to get the hint like some pussy instead of talking to me? we used to be best friends, for fuck’s sake!” you tried to hide your heartbrokenness behind this anger, and once more the person who used to always be there to hold you when you needed it let go of you as if you’d burned him. not even now could he man up.

“you know what? fuck this. fuck your vodka and fuck you. don’t fucking talk to me again. as i said, i’m fucking my life up enough without you there to aid in the process.” and you tried to get up, but he grabbed you by your waist, not wanting to hurt you but refusing to let you go in this state when he hadn’t even gotten to talk to you yet. it was selfish, he knew it was, but he wanted to explain himself. he didn’t know if it’d help you, but he needed the closure. he needed you to know why he’d acted like that and then decide if you still wanted to hate him.

“i’m not letting go”, he said as you struggled in his grip, “not until you’ve listened.”

“i don’t fucking want to hear it!” now you were yelling, and it was only because everyone else in this park was too busy or too knocked out to fully comprehend what was happening that he wasn’t getting his ass beat by a stranger coming to your aid.

“you’re going to listen. you know i’m stronger.” this was an asshole move. it was a massive asshole move, using his strength against you to keep you trapped with him. but your state had him throw out any ethical concerns he otherwise would’ve had, instead pulling you into his lap and holding you tightly.

“then fucking talk and get this over with.” your body had gone slack in his arms, because you knew struggling against him wasn’t going to work. your voice still held the same sharpness to it though. you really hated him.

“you act like i didn’t have a reason”, he started quietly, covering your mouth with his hand when you tried to interrupt him. “but i did. the fuck do you think i felt when you kept being better at everything than me? everything was easy for you, you just went with your feeling, and i was doing awful but i kept trying even though it was hard as shit and you didn’t even notice. you went out to meet people and have a good time while i was sitting home alone trying to keep up. you didn’t even care. i told you i couldn’t join and every single time you just said ‘okay, another time then!’. you didn’t notice how much i missed you. and i got sick and tired of being the only one that’s missing their best friend.”

you listened to what he said and couldn’t believe he was serious right now. he completely broke you because you didn’t spend enough time with him?

“what the fuck, mingi. what the fuck. you wrecked me because you were sulky about me not being around 24/7? let go of me right now or i’m going to break your nose, you know i will.” he knew you would, so he did as you told him to, but not without trying to defend himself.

“it wasn’t that, it was that you never even tried to make follow-up plans! you kept going out with other friends, friends that didn’t have to spend all their nights home studying. you just replaced me.”

“and you didn’t think to fucking talk to me about it? i missed you like crazy, you fucking asshole, but i went out with others because i knew you had to study and because i didn’t want to keep you from that. because i dared to care more about your success than about what i wanted. and then you just dumped me, one day to the next, without an explanation, because you thought i didn’t care? does breaking off all other social contacts look like not caring to you? do hospitalisations look like not caring to you? does this”, you motioned to yourself, “look like not caring to you? i knew you were a coward, but back then i thought it was cute. now i just think it’s pathetic.” you all but spat those last words at his face, and he knew you were right. he knew all that now, but back then he’d been so scared of losing you that he forced himself to lose you. fucking idiotic.

“you act like it didn’t hurt me, too.”

“you sure didn’t act like it when you started fucking around with some people you’d never even talked to right after you decided ignoring me was the way to go!” you were crying now, crying and screaming at him, and you despised yourself for the vulnerability you were showing.

“give me the vodka, mingi.” but he didn’t. and when you tried to grab it he took the bag from you, leaving you staring into the air.

“give me the fucking vodka or i’m gonna leave right now and get my own. and then you’re never gonna see me again.”

but instead of handing you the bottle he all but jumped up, wrapping his arms around you tightly and sounding so incredibly desperate that you felt your anger vanish at his next words.

“please don’t- please don’t do that. please don’t kill yourself. hate me, break my nose, whatever, but please don’t go like that. i can’t handle it. i’m nothing without you.”

and it was now that he started crying, tears soaking the fabric on your shoulder, shaking as if there was an earthquake inside of him that would make him fall to shambles any second. you hadn’t even realised that you might have implied what he obviously thought you meant - what you meant was that this time you’d be the one to ignore him, pretending he didn’t even exist. but his reaction to potentially losing you in a whole new way made you think that maybe, he cared.

“i’m not going to kill myself over you, butthead.” and while your words held a similar level of sharpness to them as they had before, your voice was much softer, calmer - you patted his hands that were linked together in front of your stomach to keep you from leaving, trying to comfort him for whatever reason. he didn’t deserve it, and you were still so angry at him, but he’d been your best friend, your other half, and you still didn’t like to see him suffer like this, even though the part in you that wanted him to feel all the pain you’d felt wouldn’t agree.

“i don’t want to lose you again”, he whimpered against your shoulder. “i never want to lose you again.”

“so what’s your plan? i’m never gonna forget what you did, mingi, i’m never gonna forget how as soon as i start getting happy you come back, crashing into my life as if nothing had happened. i’m never going to let anyone hold me back again.”

“i’m not going to hold you back”, he pleadingly spoke into your skin, “i’m not going to message you, i’m not going to ask to meet up, i’m not going to wait in front of your class, nothing. i’ll only be there when you ask me to.”

“and you think that’d help? having me do all the work again, having me beg for your attention again? you think that’s even remotely what i want?” you weren’t angry at him, because it seemed like he was saying this for you, but you were frustrated. he still didn’t seem to understand at all what you wanted from him, what you’d wanted from him ever since he started ignoring you. you wanted him to fight for you, not vice versa.

“then let me fight for you. let me do the work. i’ll do anything, just please give me another chance. one very last chance. and please… stop all this.” you didn’t need to see him to know what he meant.

“that’s not how it works. i can’t just stop like that when i started. and you’re not gonna be able to fix me, if you think that.”

“i know, of course not, but… please try. it’s summer break soon. maybe then you could… i don’t know what you could. do something. i want to be there for you.”

you didn’t want to give in to him. you didn’t want to believe him. you wanted to keep being angry, you wanted to keep hating him, you didn’t want to risk the same kind of heartbreak you’d felt the first time he left. but this was mingi. and even though you refused to admit it even to yourself, you still missed him like crazy.

“let go.” and he did, hesitantly, but he did as you told him to.

“look at me. look me in the eyes and tell me you know what that’s gonna mean. tell me that you’ll be there when i’m in rehab and can’t go places and i’m angry as shit and hate everything and everyone and mainly you because you made me go to that stupid place. tell me you’ll be there when i relapse, not just once but so many times, and that you won’t get angry. tell me that you fucking know what it means, that you know you won’t be a priority, that there’s gonna be days where i won’t want to hear from you at all. tell me that you know you’re gonna have to fight for me, and tell me that you will. and if you can’t tell me that, let me leave right now to spare both of us the pain because it’s just gonna be a waste of time otherwise.”

“i’ll be there. every single day, or like. whenever i’m allowed to, i don’t know how rehab works. and when i can’t be there i’ll call you and text you, even if you hate me. i’ll hold you until you don’t hate me anymore. even if i have to spend the entire day holding you that’s how it is. i don’t fucking care what i’ll have to do, i’ll do it all. i miss you.” with those last words he pulled you into his chest, holding you tightly as he whispered a silent ‘please’ into your hair. and you didn’t want to believe him, didn’t want to get your hopes up, but part of you was still so soft for him. so, even though your mind was screaming at you to tell him to fuck off, your heart won, your heart made you wrap your arms around him and hold on tight.

“if you fuck up i’m breaking your legs.”

“if i fuck up i’m breaking them myself.” he knew this was his last chance. he knew that if he messed up now he’d be losing you forever, and that was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.

his hands were rubbing up and down your back, as gentle as you remembered him to be, while you were standing there and hugging and trying to calm down. you’d missed him so incredibly much and you wished you could stay in that moment forever.

“how are you feeling?” he could feel you were shaking slightly in his arms, though he wasn’t sure why. it could be the cool air, it could be the emotions running through you, it could be something he didn’t even want to think about. but either way he knew you should probably leave.

“it’s all so fucking much. i’m still pissed at you, but i guess i’m also glad that you’re here. and i’m fucking horrified.”

your shaking was most definitely at least partly owed to your emotional state, because it got worse now, you grabbing his t-shirt and clinging on to it for dear life.

“what are you scared of?” he sounded so fucking soft and calm and you wanted to crawl into his shirt and hide there and never leave for the real world ever again. you wanted him to keep you safe and to protect you because life and the things that were coming for you were scarier than you wanted to admit.

“you. rehab. my parents are gonna be so fucking hurt when i have to go back. fuck, i want the vodka.” but to your surprise you didn’t move to get it, you didn’t try to leave mingi’s embrace.

“you’re staying the night at my place”, he informed you, and you looked up at him in surprise.

“this talk was long overdue, but to be honest even i could use some vodka right now. i don’t want to imagine how you’re feeling, but i know i’m not gonna leave you alone in that state. no won’t count.”

“you know you won’t be able to just make me stop like that?”, you asked, wanting to be sure he didn’t have some weird saviour complex that made him think that just because he was there all your problems would suddenly vanish. but he seemed to know, even though he wished that was how it worked.

“not forever, but tonight’s a good start. i just want to be with you right now.” and even though you really wanted to get drunk you wanted to spend the night with mingi more, something that surprised you, especially considering how you’d just told him he wouldn’t be able to make you stop.

“i’m not going back there yet though, so if anything we’ll go to my place”, was the compromise you offered, and he gladly accepted. he held your hand almost the entire way, refusing to not be touching you in some way now that he might get you back, and this was less awkward than having his arm around your shoulders, which he’d tried first.

your apartment was a mess, you knew it was, but instead of judging you the tall male just kicked whatever trash you’d left on the floor out of the way to make his way to your bed, where he intended to spend the rest of the day and the entire night. he wrapped his arms around you as soon as you’d settled next to him, pulling you close like he used to when you were younger.

“i’m so sorry for all this”, he whispered, “so so fucking sorry.” and even though you’d somewhat sorted what had happened in the past, this was the first time he actually apologised. you hadn��t known how much you needed to hear him apologise until he did, whining out slightly as you pressed yourself closer against him. you wanted him to keep talking, keep apologising, keep promising that he wasn’t going to leave. but he was quiet after that, so instead of his comforting words your thoughts filled the silence in your head.

“keep talking before i get up”, you told him, the choice of words making it sound like a threat but the pleading way you said it making it clear that you were all but begging him. and he complied, luckily he complied, because you wouldn’t be able to keep your thoughts away for much longer.

“i missed you every day. it wasn’t fun to sit at lunch without you, or be in class, or do anything, really. i know it’s my fault, but back then i expected you to fight more, and when you just stopped trying after a while i thought i was right, even though you tried to talk to me every day for like two weeks and every single time i just straight up acted like i didn’t even hear you. i have no idea what i expected you to do, actually. sing me a love song in front of my window?” he chuckled a little, though it sounded somewhat bitter.

“i think that’s what i was secretly hoping for, if i’m real. not a love song, maybe, but some kinda confession. but instead of opening my mouth myself i just hoped that you’d get the hint i never even dropped. guess i really am a coward, huh?” he was running a hand through your hair, gently scratching your scalp whenever he dragged his fingers down because back then you’d liked that and he hoped you still did.

“you’re an idiot”, you mumbled, though his somewhat-confession made you feel all weird inside. you’d liked him back then, too, but admittedly he hadn’t been the only coward. and before you’d ever had the chance to gather the courage to confess he’d cut you off.

“i know. i don’t think i’ve ever done anything more stupid than that. and now i’ve wasted my chance and have to live with the fact that i’ll die without ever having gotten to kiss you. it’s my own fault, though.” there was a hint of playful resignation in his tone, as if this confession was more to get it off his chest than it was for him to actually confess to you - as if it hadn’t even occurred to him that you might feel the same way.

“just do it now.”

he hadn’t expected that, surprise apparent when he asked: “can i?”, and you knew you should say no, you shouldn’t be doing this, you shouldn’t be in your bed with mingi so close and telling him to kiss you, but you’d missed him, and you were hurt and happy and desperate, and you just wanted to feel loved. and though this didn’t have to be love, this didn’t have to mean as much as you wanted it to, you could pretend. you wanted to pretend, so you didn’t say ‘no’ as you should, but ‘yes’ as you wanted.

and he did it, leaning in to press his lips against yours but not moving any more until you hadn’t pulled away even after a few seconds. then he actually kissed you, his one thumb stroking your cheek while the other was fondling with some strands of hair at the back of your head. and you knew your breath was gross, still reeking of the alcohol you’d drunk earlier that day, but mingi didn’t care. you were warm and soft against him and you were there and he’d take whatever he could get from you, even if it was vodka breath.

you didn’t want him to pull away, because you feared that once he did your world would come crashing down again and he’d tell you that now his curiosity was stilled and this should remain a one-time thing.

and you feared that you’d been right about this being a one-time thing, because he apologised as soon as he broke the kiss. but he didn’t apologise for what you thought he’d apologise for.

“i shouldn’t have done that. not like this. fuck, i just took advantage of this entire situation, i’m so sorry. fuck. feel free to break my nose.”

“don’t break my heart and i won’t break your bones. deal?” the big smile he gave you was so easy to see even though it was starting to get dark outside now, and you felt a small smile tug at the corners of your own mouth. he was here, and he’d kissed you, and maybe he’d do it again. maybe you’d finally be able to be okay again, actually okay, really okay.

“i promise.” he pulled your head into his chest, resuming to run his fingers through your hair and telling you sweet nothings.

“you’re so beautiful. so kind and so strong, such a fighter. i’m so glad i’m here right now, so grateful you let me, and i’m never going to leave again, ever. i’m here now, and you won’t have to be alone anymore. i’ll try to make it right, all the things i did wrong. i’m sorry. but i’m with you now.”

you were pretty certain he wasn’t even thinking much about what he was saying, just saying anything that was on his mind, as much for you as for himself. but even if it wasn’t for you that he was saying all this, it still helped you, comforted you, gave you some hope. one thing you had to clear up, though.

“we’re not a thing”, you murmured into his chest, though the way you were clinging to him betrayed your words, showed how much you wanted to be. “we’re not a thing because you don’t know anything. you can’t play a video game on easy and then enter the world championship and think you’ll win. i can’t talk to you for a single day and then think it’d work out.”

and mingi got it. he knew that this was a decision that had to be made logically, not based on what he wanted in that moment. but that didn’t mean he was just going to give up like this. he told you he’d fight for you, and he would.

“talk to me more, then. i told you i’m not going to leave.”

“you say that now.” there was sadness in your voice, resignation. “but it’s different when i’m shitfaced. when i’m crying my eyes out because recovery is hard and i don’t want to anymore. when i call you at 3 in the morning begging you to come over and check on me and make sure i’m not dying because i’m scared i went too deep this time. when i tell you i hate you even though you didn’t do shit just because i need someone to take my anger out on. none of this shit is pretty or romantic and the sooner you realise that, the better.”

“i’m going to be there.” he didn’t say more and you were glad about that, because even though you’d been the one to bring all this up you didn’t want to talk about it, you just wanted to be held and comforted and protected. and he did, he held you until you fell asleep, and was still holding you when you woke up the next morning.

//

it was weird to be back with mingi. it was familiar but completely different, and it was hard, as you’d told him it’d be. but he kept his promise, even though it hurt to see you struggle and in pain, he was there when you needed him and he was there when you didn’t. he was there to hold you when you called your parents to tell them you had to go back to rehab, and he was there to calm your nerves the day before you left, force-feeding you snacks to keep your mouth busy because by now he’d learned the signs of when you really craved alcohol and while he learned that the most he could usually do was to make sure you didn’t drink yourself into a coma that night he made sure you didn’t drink at all, because you were going to rehab the next day and he wanted you to have decent starting conditions and he knew you wanted that, too, and a hangover was the worst starting condition you could possibly have. he was there to kiss you that night, because even though you’d been the one to tell him to not try anything until he’d proven he meant it the snacks just didn’t do it and you needed something else in your mouth. he knew it was just your desperation that had made you beg him to please kiss you, but he did, he was there as he’d promised, even when it hurt like this. he was there to hold you when you cried into his chest after, promising you that it would be okay and that he would be right there the entire time and when you got back, too.

he was there the next day when you clung on to his hand with a force that could probably break his fingers sooner or later, horrified of entering the building in front of you. he was there to hold you in place when you tried to bolt as soon as they started the admission process, he was there to tell you that he was so proud of you and to promise you that it would be okay. he was there to call you that night, relieved that you were allowed to, and he was there to talk you through all your fears. he was there a week later, when you were first allowed to get visitors, with a rather big teddy bear wearing one of his shirts and a self-made card that read “one week sober!”, small celebratory drawings all over.

“i wanted to bring a cake, but they don’t do that with people that just started. you’ll get one at the one month mark though, pinky promise.” you linked your pinky with his for maybe two seconds before you threw yourself into his arms, clinging on to him as if your life depended on it.

“please take me home. please just take me home”, pleaded into his shoulder repeatedly, like a mantra, and he held you so tight.

“it’s worth it, my strong little angel, it’s okay. i promise.” he was rubbing up and down your back comfortingly, continuously saying how proud he was until you let go just enough to look into his face and see the warmth in his eyes.

“you’re going to stay right here until they kick you out”, you ordered, though what you were actually doing was begging him to please not leave you alone until he had to. you felt like the odd one out here, the only alcoholic still in their twenties, and their early twenties at that. the only other person roughly your age was a guy with an anxiety disorder that looked at you like you were the filth of the earth, and that didn’t exactly make you want to talk to him. you missed mingi, you missed seeing him, and having to watch the other patients be able to go out and meet people outside the therapy times when in your state you’d have to stay until the staff could be certain you weren’t going to relapse only made it worse.

“they’ll have to drag me out by the ears”, he reassured you, and finally you smiled, a genuine smile that made his heart hurt a little less.

“call this one mingi”, pointing to the teddy bear that had been discarded when you’d flung yourself into his arms, “and pretend he’s me. not as good as the real deal, but at least he’s wearing my t-shirt.”

“butthead.” but you looked at him with, as he hoped, the same feelings he had for you, which showed him that he’d chosen a good gift.

he brought you a small gift whenever he came by, and after bothering the nurses continuously (which resulted in them begging the staff in charge of your unit to please let him get his way) he was allowed to bring you food, though only in sealed packages which they checked closely for both the ingredients and even the slightest chance of him having managed to put alcohol in. it was somewhat of a hassle, but the way your expression brightened when he brought you your favourite cereal from when you were 12 and which you’d stopped eating by age 15 because it was ‘for children’ was definitely worth it. things still weren’t easy, especially with how cut off you felt from the outside world, and there had been several nights where you’d screamed at mingi on the phone about how much you hated him for having caused all this and then being cut off by the nurses because your phone time was over before you’d had a chance to tell him that you were sorry for screaming like this, but he never got upset with you for that. instead, he texted you an apology to see after dinner, along with telling you how proud he was. and he stayed, as he’d promised you.

your one month of sobriety was the day you were discharged, because you’d been doing surprisingly well and because you’d managed to convince your responsible treatment team that you’d do better if you didn’t feel so alone and cut off, if you had the chance to do things rather than sit in the hospital all day and overthink your situation. you had an outpatient treatment plan and when you’d told mingi about being dismissed he kindly but sternly told you that he’d kick your ass into next monday if you didn’t follow it. and now he was here, picking you up both from the facility and from the ground, twirling you around as soon as you were in his arms. you’d agreed that you’d spend the first few days at his place, so that’s where he brought you now.

the tall male carried the few things you had with you into his flat while you stood next to the car, taking a little while to get used to the thought of being a part of the outside world again. you were glad mingi was there, because while you were so happy to be out it was still scary to know that now it was up to you alone whether you relapsed or not.

you were delighted to see that he’d kept his promise about the one month mark-cake, because while it wasn’t exactly pretty you soon found out that it made up for that in taste, and also because it was so sweet and thoughtful. it seemed like he’d prepared a little party for you, with one of those silly ‘welcome home’ banners hanging in the living room and colourful plastic cups on the table, next to various kinds of juice and soda. you had no idea how, but he’d even managed to organise strawberry soda, something that you hadn’t seen in stores in ages.

“butthead.” you didn’t know how else to react to all this. it was so much, so unnecessarily much that you didn’t know whether to cry with happiness or to smack him because this probably took a lot of time and money. you decided that calling him butthead again would be a good compromise.

“angel”, he grinned at you, entirely unbothered by your (admittedly weak) insult. then his expression turned serious, walking over to stand right next to you with a few long steps before he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a hug.

“i’m so glad you’re back, you know that? i missed you like crazy.”

“i missed you too. don’t let go.”

he wasn’t planning on doing that anyway. he’d be so stupid if he did. and he’d be so stupid if he didn’t tell you how he felt.

“i love you. i love you i love you i love you. now break my nose for being a butthead.”

“be my butthead and i’ll consider leaving your bones intact.” you tried to play it cool, but your heart was beating so hard you feared it would jump out of your chest, and this time you could be 100% sure that it wasn’t withdrawals. it was just mingi, the boy who’d kept his promise to be there, the boy who’d helped you piece yourself back together in some way again. the boy who wanted to be with you even though the way you’d pieced yourself back together was so far from who he’d known before you shattered. it was mingi, the boy whom you loved back.

“so the b in bf stands for butthead? that’s what you’re saying?” he was teasing you, just a little, but it was okay because you could tell he was just nervous and scared that he might have misunderstood you and was trying to mask that through his joke.

“or maybe it stands for big beautiful boyfriend, you decide.”

“i’ll take the boyfriend! i’ll take the boyfriend. please let me be your boyfriend.” looking at you pleadingly, though also somewhat excited, and you knew you’d never let him go again.

“then you’re my big beautiful boyfriend. what am i?”��

you were expecting him to joke, but he didn’t. he was entirely serious when he said: “you’re my world.”

and this seriousness overwhelmed you just a little bit, so that you were left speechless. and he continued.

“you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen. you’re my strong little angel.”

“you’re not supposed to be so sweet, i don’t know how to handle it”, you whined out, but he just smiled down at you, taking in every detail of your face.

“get used to it.” you knew you wouldn’t ever get used to it, you knew you wouldn’t ever get enough of him telling you sweet things like that. maybe you’d get better at reacting over time, though. but since right now you were very much not good at reacting yet, you said something that maybe wasn’t the most appropriate reaction to his sweet-talking you.

“you know i still hate you though, right?” even though your voice gave away that you didn’t, far from.

“makes for a great enemies to lovers storyline”, he teased, smiling down at you with entire galaxies in his eyes.

“just kiss me, butthead.”

it didn’t take more than a few seconds before he did. he kissed you slowly, because you had all the time in the world, thumb tracing all your features while your hands were wrapped around his neck. and while your first kisses had been bitter with alcohol and desperation, this one was sweet with cake and love.

[maevemarethyu]

Unexpected (4/?)

(Not my GIF)

You weren’t expecting it. Neither of you were.

That didn’t mean you weren’t happy with how it ended.

Bucky Barnes x Reader Fic.

Warning: Cursing, Cheapshots, a bit of violence, Sad Boi Hour and Fluff

Updated 1/20/2021

It was time. The stage was set. After two days of non-stop correspondence with James, who insisted you call him Bucky, he was knocking on your door for the second time.

“Hey!” You greet, not giving him a chance to respond before you wrap your arms around his torso in a tight hug. It takes him a few moments to return the sentiment but, when he does, you can’t help but notice that James Barnes gives excellent hugs. “Sorry, I get all touchy when I’m nervous”

“S’alright.” He chuckles and you can hear it deep in his chest when you pull away. “I just picked up the papers from Matt.”

“I hope he didn’t give you any trouble. He’s always been protective of me but, this whole thing has him on edge. He’s a nice guy, I swear.” You lead him past the neatly stacked boxes of Patrick’s things and into the kitchen.

“I believe it. I woke up this morning and almost everyone was in a disguise and set on following me here.” The mental image of Steve Rogers and Wanda Maximoff dressed in dark shades and baseball caps makes you laugh harder than it should have. You had never met them but, Bucky talked about his team so much that you felt as if you knew them. Sam Wilson had even gone out of his way to steal James’ phone and personally apologize for the part he played in this whole ordeal.

You barely had time to thank him for the role he played in it before he and James were wrestling over the device. It reminded you too much of you and a certain bullet proof man that had somehow become like a brother to you. The thought of having to tell the Defenders what happened kept you up all last night but, it didn’t compare to having to tell Frank.

“That would have been a sight.” A smirk grows on your face. “Is everything ready?”

Bucky nods. “Claire told me she was spending the day with her sister. Her sister’s in Louisiana right now.” You hum in response. Did Claire really think James was dumb enough to believe that?

“I told Patrick that I was taking Laysa to work with me today. Said I’d be home late.”

The stage was set. After two days of torture in the form of loving gazes and gentle kisses with your husband, the time had come; all you had to do was wait.

“Do you really think they’ll come here?”

Your plan hinged on it.

“If not, I’m tracking them down and shoving these papers down their throats. I can’t stomach another day pretending.” You huff and, as if he knew you were talking about him, your phone dinged.

A message from Patrick.

“Hey babe, you home?” You read aloud before scoffing and typing a reply. No, I told you I’m at work all day (sad face) I’ll be home around seven.

You send off the message and open your snack cabinet.

“So attentive.” Bucky drawls sarcastically. “Husband of the year.”

His voice was low and it sends an unwarranted shiver down your spine. If there was one thing you’d learnt about Bucky Barnes over the past few days was that he really didn’t know how attractive he was. It wasn’t just his looks either, it was his sense of humor, his chivalrous nature, the way he talked about his friends, the nicknames; he was a complete package.

You felt ashamed for thinking about him like that before you realized you didn’t have a reason not to… not anymore. You could look at other men with appreciative eyes for the first time in fifteen years. You’d never act upon anything but, the knowledge that you could was liberating to say the least.

“Do you like popcorn? I was thinking we could watch a movie while we wait.” You ramble on, microwaving the packet before he could answer. “Ever seen Heavyweights? It’s an older Disney movie about a weight loss camp that gets taken over by a health nut. I’m asking you to be polite but, we’re watching it. Laysa’s down for a nap, that girl can sleep for days.”

Another laugh then “Sure doll.”

He had learned quite few things about you himself. You were stubborn, almost as much as he was, you had a serious sweet tooth, you had an even wider range of music than Sam did, you had a soft spot for movies from the 90’s and 2000’s, and you were an amazing mom. The way you talked about Laysa made his chest warm.

Bucky always had a soft spot for kids but, he’d never cared so much about a kid he’s never even seen.

“Great! It’s already set up. All you have to do is press play.” You shoo him into the living room as you pour the popcorn into a bowl. For the perfect balance of sweet and salty, you also fish out a bag of M&M’s, pouring them into a separate bowl.

“Hey Buck! Do you want a drink?” You ask as if this was normal for the two of you. Nothing about this was normal but, you can’t help but feel as if this was the most natural thing in the world. James had already seen you at your absolute worst, you didn’t have to pretend around him and it was amazing.

He answers with a Water’s fine Sugar and your cheeks ache from the silly grin that takes over your face as you fill two glasses. Years of practice has you precariously yet perfectly balancing the dishes on your arms as you make your way into the living room.

Bucky jumps up from the couch to grab the bowls out of your hands, setting them on the table before taking a seat on the couch. You were thankful you had insisted on buying all the furniture in your home; the small L-shaped sectional was perfect for the times you had everyone over. You plop down onto it, directly across from James.

“The hell is skim milk?” He asks, face twisted into a frown when one of the characters mentions it.

“Milk with little to no fat. It’s pretty common nowadays.” You explain while grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“We definitely didn’t have that in my day.”

“Right, I always forget that you’re an old man.” The tease makes him perk up a bit and, with a wicked grin, he turns to face you on the sofa.

“You’re gonna want to take that back sweetheart.” He warns.

“What are you now? two-hundred and fifty something?”

You hadn’t spoken to anyone like this other than Matt and Foggy in years, it gave you a rush you hadn’t felt in a long time. The feeling of butterflies had become a distant memory but, they hit you full force when his blue eyes lock onto to yours. Not even the pillow that narrowly misses you is enough to dampen the feeling.

“I thought you were a sniper Sargent? You must’ve lost your touch in your old age.” The next pillow hits you square in the chest and a squeal escapes your mouth before you can stop it. Bastard.

“You were saying?” The smirk that grows on his face is almost too cocky but, still obnoxiously endearing.

You want to retaliate but, instead you stand up to grab the wayward pillow off of the floor. You had a feeling that if you started a war, it would end in something neither of you were ready for. With all the pillows back on the couch you allow yourself to be submersed in the movie, laughing at all the parts you’d seen a thousand times, silently thankful that James was as well.

As the hour gets later, the impending confrontation weighs on your mind heavily with your eyes straying to the door every couple of minutes in anticipation. Not even the bonfire party depicted on the screen was able to capture your full attention.

“That’s all he has?” James asks, nodding towards the boxes when he notices how distracted you are.

“Mhmm. I bought the house and all of the furniture myself. Apparently being a cop doesn’t pay all too well.” You mused whilst staring at the cardboard. Fifteen years of your relationship was packed away in between his shirts and pants: all the jewelry, save your wedding band, and all of your photos together had been tossed in with his things. You didn’t want any reminders of all the years you had wasted upon Patrick Voight.

“What do you do to afford a home in Manhattan? Is it a secret drug cartel? You can tell me, I won’t rat you out.” You knew he was trying to get you to laugh and it worked. The sound bubbling up from your chest and into the air before it dawns on you he didn’t know what you did for a living.

“I wish.” You sigh dramatically. “I’m-“ Your alarm going off cuts your sentence off, signifying that it was time to feed Laysa. “Actually, let me show you. Wait here!”

You abandon him in the living room while you open the nursery door. Laysa’s already awake and mewling up a storm as you bundle her in your arms. “Settle down beautiful.” You whisper. “I have someone I want you to meet.”

She quiets down long enough for you to walk back to the living room and see James nervously rubbing his palms on his pants, looking as if he were about to be sick. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was nervous.

“James- Sorry… Bucky meet Laysa.” You keep your voice low as to not startle her and you unwrap the blanket around her. He’s out of his seat and in front of you almost faster than you could blink. Once her face is uncovered, he gasps.

“Wha- I thought- What is she?” He stutters as he takes in her white fur spotted with black and arctic eyes just like his own. His mouth drops open in wonder when she squeaks.

“She’s a snow leopard cub. I’m a keeper at the Bronx Zoo as well as a zoologist and wildlife rehabilitator; her mother had twins but, Laysa got ill so she ignored her to focus on the healthier cub. It’s not all that uncommon in the wild and if this happened in their homeland of Siberia, Laysa wouldn’t have made it through the first night. She needed round the clock care and I already had the nursery set up from when I had to take in some macaws.” You explain, rubbing under the cub’s chin. “What did you think Laysa was?”

James’ cheeks redden at your question and you feel your own face heat up. He didn’t-

“I thought you had a baby.” He admits sheepishly before meeting your eyes. “This… isn’t what I was expecting.”

You can’t help but laugh as you grab his hand and place it on Laysa’s head. “If I had a child and found out Patrick was cheating on me, nothing on this planet would be able to save him.”

You meant it and you had the resources to follow through.

But, that wasn’t something James should know about just yet… or ever. Not when he looked so tender stroking the small cub.

“Can you hold her while I make her bottle?” Once again, you don’t wait for confirmation before handing her off to him and going to the kitchen to heat up her meal; enjoying the milk while you can. Soon enough she’s going to be on a raw meat diet and you were not looking forward to cutting up bloody deer and pig.

By the time you arrive back to the living room, James is sat on the couch, Layla settling onto his lap, both entranced by the television. You don’t think twice before snapping a picture to send to Sam later, sure that he’d love to poke fun at Barnes for going soft.

Though, soft isn’t a word you’d use to describe James Barnes. Quite the opposite actually. The man was a wall of rippling and glistening muscle. Muscle that had invaded what little sleep you had gotten since meeting him.

You didn’t mind it all too much as long as it kept Patrick off of your mind.

You take your seat opposite to the man, almost immediately being ambushed by a little ball of fur who had just seemed to notice the bottle in your hand. Laysa’s steps were stuttered and clumsy but, you saw them as progress, last week she could barely move.

“Look at you go!” You coo, scooping her up when she gets close and she eagerly takes the bottle. She really had done a complete three-sixty from when you first brought her home. You loved working with animals and you loved being able to watch them in their natural habitat from afar but, being able to hold and nurse them was incredible.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been to the zoo before.” James voices before taking a drink and you let out an exaggerated gasp.

“That just won’t do.” You tsk, readjusting the bottle. “You should come when I go back to full time. You can even bring Steve; we have senior discounts.”

He glares at you playfully before setting his glass down and settling back onto the couch; back leaning against the armrest and legs sprawled out on the cushions. He looked more relaxed than he had the entire time you’d known him and it brings a warm smile to your face.

Laysa finishes her bottle and is asleep almost instantly; instead of putting her back in the nursery, you wrap her in a blanket and set her on the couch next to you.

“Y’know I told everyone you had a kid. Stevie almost hunted down Patrick himself when he found out, Nat had to stop him. Then, when you talked about how sick she was, Nat had to stop me from hunting him down.” He confesses, eyes never leaving the little bundle next to you.

“Good to know family means a lot to you superheroes.” You laugh quietly, eyes drifting from the screen to the figure laying across from you.  “You’re going to have to wait in line behind Matt and Foggy though and that’s only if they get to him before Elle does.”

Yes, Elektra made it very clear that she’s first in line if Patrick tries something after today.

Barnes raises an eyebrow but says nothing as he grabs a handful of M&M’s, giving you an idea. You and Foggy used to do this during late night’s studying at Cambridge; after discovering Matt’s abilities you roped him into it too. Whenever any of you got too overwhelmed, it was tradition to have a movie night complete with the game.

“Hey, see if you can make one into my mouth. If you make it, you can either ask me a truth or to do a dare.” You prompt, mimicking his positioning by leaning against the back of the couch and bringing your feet up onto the cushions.  “If you miss, it’s my turn.”

“You have to answer?” He clarifies, already settling into a suitable position and you nod giddily. Patrick never played the game with you; said it was childish and not worth his time. You found yourself comparing Bucky to Patrick a lot in the past few days. “Who’s first?”

Just as the Apache relay in the movie begins, so does your competition with the Avenger on your couch as you open your mouth expectantly. You realize your mistake as the first M&M falls into your mouth with ease. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t smart to ask an Avenger grade sniper to play your candy truth or dare game.

James doesn’t even try to hide his cocky grin. “What’s the worst dare you’ve had to do because of this game?”

Oh he was going straight for the jugular. Sadly, you didn’t have to think too hard. Matt and Foggy were a little fucked in the brain if you were being honest.

The drop of chocolate melts on your tongue and you hum in satisfaction before answering. “It’s a toss up between having to streak across campus naked and having to down half a bottle of tequila. Consequently those were on the same night so yeah.”

His blue eyes widen in shock and you try to play it off as no big deal with a shrug. That was definitely your most memorable college experience and one you hadn’t even told Patrick about because you were sure he would have had a conniption.

“Naked?! You ran across a campus naked?”

“Mhm. Cambridge was never the same after Foggy, Matt, and I went.”

He mouths the word Cambridge in disbelief before a smirk takes its place. “I guess I have no choice but to believe you.”

“Actually, I think Foggy still has a video of it. He planned on playing it at my wedding but, Matt and I vetoed the idea.”

You shuddered to think what would have happened if your two hundred plus guests had to witness your blurry and naked form dashing through the dark with Matt and Foggy’s laughter in the background. You mother probably would have dropped dead right there.

“That’s a wedding I would have paid to be at.” He laughs. “I didn’t even have a proper one. Claire wanted a courthouse.”

“I almost wish I had a courthouse ceremony.” You admit whilst grabbing a handful of chocolate. “I ended up having people I didn’t even know watching what was supposed to be the best day of my life. All I can remember from that day was thanking Patrick’s twice removed great step aunt for her attendance and that my dress was the most hideous thing I’d ever laid eyes on.”

With a roll of your eyes, you motion for him to open his mouth and he does so with a smirk. Unfortunately for you, your aim wasn’t as good as James’ or Matt’s and the piece of candy ends up smacking him in the cheek before falling only to be caught mid-air by a metal fist.

Show off.

You stick your tongue out in a childish form of retaliation and an incredulous laugh falls from the man’s lips. Embarrassment heats your face and you open your mouth reluctantly, signaling the continuation of the game in order to prevent a snarky comment from Barnes.

Once again the candy lands in your mouth effortlessly and you groan. You hear him clear his throat and you brace yourself.

“What’s your favorite kind of food?”

The game takes off from there with Barnes managing to make every candy but one into your mouth and asking you questions that can only be considered mildly invasive where as you had more candy on the floor than you did in your hand, only making two or three of your shots.

“What’s your favorite memory from before the war?” You ask and it clearly catches him off guard. You almost feel bad before remembering the reason for the game. It was to get to know each other beyond what was currently happening.

He tells you his favorite memory about Steve spending their train money on hot dogs and it has you laughing so hard that tears come to your eyes.

“Y-You spent how much on a stuffed animal?” You choke on a laugh as you try to catch your breath and soon enough, he’s laughing along with you, both of you oblivious to the door unlocking.

A candy pelts your shoulder and you retaliate with two thrown in his general direction, neither of which hit.

“I thought you’d be good at this doll. This is your game.” The way he chuckles send a shiver straight down your spine and you brush off the feeling by throwing a pillow at him which he catches easily. Anything to get to hear him laugh like that again. James had a nice laugh that came from his stomach and reverberated around you like his embrace from earlier.

“Oh my God.”

Yours and James’ heads snap towards the door where the two people you dreaded seeing were stood, mouths open and eyes wide in shock. Patrick and Claire were here and you and James had been too caught up in each other to notice. The thought made a smug and downright cruel smirk grow on your face which only widens when James walks to your side of the couch and offers his hand to help you stand.

You and James were a united front and it appeared that he wanted them to know it.

Your eyes abandon his blue ones and look towards Patrick. He was seething, you could see it in his eyes but, you could also see the fear. After all, he had just been caught with the Winter Soldier’s wife and James could snap him in half with his vibranium arm tied behind his back.

Despite the victorious feeling in your chest, you seem to be at a loss for words. You want to yell. To scream in their faces that they were caught and they were about to lose the best things to ever happen to them. Instead you scoff.

“About damn time you got here.” You scowl, picking up the stack of papers on the coffee table and handing the top one to the man beside you. He takes it with a poorly whispered Thanks sweetheart and you know it’s because he wants to get under Patrick and Claire’s skin.

It works.

“Y/N, baby w-what is this?” Patrick stutters next to a teary Claire who looks nothing less than ashamed. They were caught and they both knew it but, Patrick never was one to go down without a fight.

“This.” You motion between the minimal space between you and James, anger rising in your chest. “Is my good friend Bucky. You’d never guess how we met. When was it again?”

There’s a bite to your words that makes Claire wince and you want to throttle her. She didn’t get to act scared and sorry now. She sure as hell wasn’t scared or sorry when she was destroying her marriage and hurting the man who had vowed to love her for the rest of their lives.

Your eyes flicker to Bucky’s blue ones and underneath the anger, you could still see the sadness that was currently weighing your own heart down. You could read him like a book and you were both on the same page.

He pretends to think for a moment before answering. “Three days ago. I believe I ran all the way here after finding out the guy who my wife was cheating on me with had a wife of his own. I’d say we bonded pretty quickly. Shared life experience will do that.”

His words cut like a knife and you love it. All you had seen was James Barnes the gentleman, this was new and exciting. Dare you say, attractive even.

“B-Buck-“ Claire sobs and you can’t stop the scoff the leaves your throat. “It d-didn’t mean anything. I swear. I love you m-more than anything.”

Her words set something off in the man next to you and he growls; the sound shaking your very core. You hand finds his arm on its own vocation and, as calmly as you can, make your way towards the shell-shocked pair. Ignoring Patrick in favor of leveling a glare at the woman who tore your marriage, your life apart. Maybe it was petty of you but, you honestly didn’t see what either man saw in Claire. You were thoroughly unimpressed.

“If you loved him, this would have never happened.” You seethe, inches away from her face. “I’ve known him for seventy-two hours and I can already see that he is a kind, caring, selfless man who deserves much better than you. You’re pathetic. A sniveling little girl who isn’t a fraction of the woman he deserves. You’re a rat. My husband is a rat. And if you know what’s good for you, you’d save your bullshit apologies and words for your fucking lawyer.”

A firm grip on your arm causes you to gasp and turn towards your soon-to-be ex-husband but, as soon as you register his hand on you, it’s wretched away by sleek metal.

“You don’t get to touch her.” James warns, flinging Patrick to the floor in a heap. Without a second glance to him, he turns to Claire and forces the papers into her hands. You let your stack fall onto the man on the ground.

“Your shits packed Patrick. Take it and get the hell out of my house.” You mock in your bitchiest voice before looping an arm through James’. “I was thinking Thai tonight. Sound good?”

Patrick mumbles something under his breath and you just know it’s something snide; you want to shrug it off but, something deep in your gut wants to fight with him. Scream. Yell. Curse.

“What was that?” You ask in a sickly-sweet voice, daring him to repeat his words for all of you to hear. You know he will. He always rises to the bait.

“I said you’re a raging bitch.” He shuffles to his feet with a glare directed at you. Bucky bristles beside you and mumble for him to let it go. To let you handle it.

“If me throwing your lying ass out onto the streets means I’m a raging bitch, then I guess I am. But, I’d rather be a raging bitch than a washed up, dishonorably discharged, peaked in high school, disrespectful to his mother, wannabe Avenger, who can’t match his own fucking clothes.” The insults spew out of your mouth like dragon’s breath and it burns him with how calm you sound. You knew raising your voice would give him the satisfaction he craved so you held out.

“Do you wanna know why Y/N? Do you want to know why all of this happened?” You open your mouth to say no but, he keeps talking. “When I got dusted. My last thought was damn, I’m dead and I wasted half my life on an ugly cow who thinks she’s hot shit because she went to college!”

His words were like a slap in the face but, you’d rather die than let it show so, you force a laugh out of your lungs.

“I didn’t just go to college. I got two fucking Doctorates.” You seethe, gripping onto James’ arm for some kind of ground.

“Oh and I’m sure your parents would be very proud of you if they didn’t abandon you on the side of the road like trash!”

Whatever you were going to say next gets caught in your throat. You never spoke of your parents and Patrick knew that. He knew it was a line he was never supposed to cross. You’d kept your insecurities close to your chest; not even telling Matt, Foggy, or-

“Get out.” Your voice cracks and, when he doesn’t move, you end up yelling. “Get the fuck out!”

“And I’m sure they’d love to hear about you shacking up with a HYDRA assassin. You’ve been surrounded by scum all your life, why should I be surprised.”

“Patrick-“ Claire gasps yet, no one pays her any mind. She was background noise to the firefight between you and your husband. You almost feel guilty- this wasn’t just about you and Patrick; Bucky was supposed to get his time to confront Claire as well but, for some stupid reason, you hadn’t been expecting this.

You hadn’t expected the man you love to open your stitched wounds by shoving a hot knife into them. Suddenly, you stand up straight and before you realize it, your phone is in your hand.

Your birth parents may have abandoned you, your adoptive parents may have passed away, but you still had family. You still had him and you were a fool for thinking you shouldn’t rely on him.

The ringing doesn’t last a full second before the call connects and a raspy voice shoots the fear of god into your soon-to-be ex-husband. A god named Frank Castle.

“Yeah sis? E’vrything all right?” He grunts, probably in the middle of his daily workout. You had two choices; handle this like an adult or…

“Frankie?!” You sob dramatically with a truly wicked smile on your face. “H-He’s been cheating on me and-“

The phone cuts off as soon as the words leave your mouth and your eyes meet Patrick’s wide ones.

“You better start running baby.” You hiss. “Hope you have a good place to hide. I don’t think The Punisher is going to show the man who broke his baby sister’s heart much mercy.”

You hated the nickname but, it struck fear into the hearts of all who heard it. Beside you Bucky barks out a laugh.

Maybe not everyone.

Regardless, time is of the essence and Patrick knows it because he’s instantly scrambling. The way he trips over his own feet to take his meager possessions has you humming in satisfaction. Watching him panic makes you feel vindicated. He was going to pay for hurting you.

You knew the feeling was temporary, so you revel in it while you can.

“Leave your key. I want these papers signed and then I never want to see you again.” You order and the papers are signed and in your hand within minutes.

Without so much as a goodbye or sorry, he leaves. Abandoning you and the life you two had built together. Abandoning Claire to face you and James alone. A coward- through and through. How had you been so blind this whole time? This was who Patrick was- who he had been all your lives.

Fifteen years and he was able to just turn his back on it all. Leave like it didn’t matter.

Like you didn’t matter.

God, you wish it didn’t hurt as much as it did.

“The apartment’s yours.” Bucky voices after a moment of silence and a sharp laugh leaves your lips when Claire sobs. “I advise you apply for a transfer though. Natasha made it very clear what will happen if she sees you again.”

You watch as she reaches for him before her hand falters mid-air, consequently falling back to her side and tightening into a fist.

“You’re going to regret this.” She hisses even though tears are falling from her eyes. “You’re nothing without me.”

Your breath catches in your throat when Bucky stiffens next to you. This bitch…

“Without me all you are is a stupid, needy, little HYD-“

Your fist throbs instantly and it takes you a moment to realize what you had just done. Eyes wide, you stare at the red welt on Claire’s cheek, down to your fist, and up to James, who is looking back with eyes just as wide.

“Did you just punch me?!” She shrieks, both hands flying up to cover her cheek.

“Yeah.” You mumble after a beat of silence before clearing your throat. “I did and I want you out of my home before I give you a matching bruise on the other side as well.”

She sputters in disbelief before turning her eyes back to Bucky who, once he’s over his shock, just shrugs. “You heard her. We’re done here.”

With a stomp of her foot and a childish wail, she stalks out the door and you follow, slamming it after her.

Silence envelops the room and you’re acutely aware of Bucky’s eyes on you. Shuffling your feet, you garner the courage to look him in his eyes. 

“That went well.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: @luthien-t​ @vicmc624​

[dropintomanga]

11 Years of Manga Therapy

Today, this blog is 11 years old. And it all feels like the past year went by so suddenly despite a pandemic that’s shut off almost everything.

Given that everything was at such a standstill, a good number of my thoughts from the blog when it turned 10 still stand. I will talk about a few new things that came to my mind recently and over the past year.

COVID-19 sucks. I have a lot of compassion for those who are just trying to survive. I’m sick of this need to be productive for the sake of being productive during a time where life isn’t normal at all. A lot of people have no outside help for basic needs. I find myself to be very fortunate and I owe that to the support systems in my life. I wish they had what I have.

I don’t know how I found the need to blog for this long even when it’s okay to just stop. But after the little rant I wrote a couple of days ago, I find that social media is too transient for what I really want to say. It’s platforms like Tumblr/WordPress that provide outlets for more concise thoughts. I still love manga and there’s always fascinating titles/stories (like My Broken Mariko pictured above) that can mostly be told via manga waiting to be explored.

What else? I got a PlayStation 4 last year and finally saw for myself the renewed popularity of Japanese video games post-2016. The PS3 era disappointed me and got me away from gaming. I’m excited to see where Japanese games go from here after playing through various games since my console purchase.

Plus playing a bunch of Yakuza (I played through Yakuza 0, Judgment, and Yakuza: Like a Dragon) games got me into riichi mahjong. It all started from doing a mandatory mahjong side-quest in Judgment to unlock the chance to fight the game’s superboss that got me into it. I couldn’t get mahjong at first, but I had help from my parents who played mahjong their whole lives despite regional rule differences. I struggled at mahjong for a while until I decided to try it again in Yakuza: Like a Dragon after I finished the main story. I’ve been hooked ever since after taking the time to understand the rules and how to properly win. I now read riichi mahjong books and want to start playing more Mahjong Soul (a gacha-style mahjong game with cute anime characters). Once the pandemic is finally over, I think I’ll try going to a local riichi mahjong club near me and see what it’s like offline.

What I like about mahjong is that the game is a metaphor for life. My dad sent me a video of Julia Roberts talking about her love of mahjong. She said that mahjong is like sorting your life out of chaos. I find that to be strikingly true. A big part of learning mahjong is WWYD (What would you discard?) as you need to draw tiles to make a winning combination and throw away ones that won’t help you win. Yet while certain tiles will help you win, there are times where you need to throw out tiles that are considered to be safe in order to not lose big. In various points in life, there’s things you need to toss away in order to become better and/or safer. To be honest, we’re not always perfect at what to throw away. I feel the complexities of mahjong is good practice for me in understanding that not everything’s going to go our way even if we’ve done a lot of good for the world.

Finally, I’m starting to embrace myself as a non-binary thinker. I support important cultural movements and find them necessary. Yet I know there are always voices still being shut out despite good intentions and alternatives. It’s disrespectful to believe that everyone all happily agrees with one another when that’s not really the case. I don’t think we truly listen enough to each other and try to shout so much about how important this and that are without considering that some things are helpful for some people while some aren’t.

Empathy isn’t enough. You can understand someone’s suffering, but it doesn’t mean that you’re willing to sit with them through it. I think the person who’s suffering wants compassion more than just empathy. I want people to see there’s power in knowing uncomfortable truths in everything.

Of course, I’m not sure there’s room for someone like me up in a world of absolutes. It’s fine. I relish where I’m at and I now know that I’m not alone in my thinking. I’m also thinking about changing the name of this blog because truth be told, I’m not sure the name “Manga Therapy” is right anymore because I’m not a licensed mental health professional. I’m more on an peer/advocate level. I know some of you may disagree, but calling myself “therapy” feels like an insult to the mental health profession and does disservice to anyone with serious mental illness that doesn’t have the luxury to enjoy the privileges (i.e. reading manga as a way to process emotions) that most of us have.

That’s about it. Thanks for reading and following me this past year (or longer)! I just want you all to survive somehow this year. Nothing more.

[fromashescomephoenixes]

Sirius Black’s Day Off

author’s note: this is a collab of 80′s movies with the lovely @probably-peeves@thegrxywitch @flymyhp @quadrupledeckertaco @shaynawrites23 please go check out what they wrote for this!

word count: 2.6k~

summary: imagine ferris bueller’s day off.... but with sirius!

****

"Rise and shine beautiful!" Sirius sprang up, flinging my curtains open. The reddish gold morning sun greeted me. In my opinion, it seemed angry and pushy but many might call it 'gentle' and 'beautiful' I knew better.

"No," I grunted. I placed the pillow over my face to block out the sun, and Sirius's loud announcements. Who really knew what he was up to?

"That's the spirit, now I'm going to transfigure some nice yellow warts on your face and you have to cough occasionally. Okay?" Sirius continued bounding around the room before finally leaping onto my bed and planting a kiss across my cheek. I tried to shove him off, but my morning fog finally cleared enough to let me remember why I loved Sirius: it was an adventure every day with him.

"Fine,"I sat up rubbing my eyes, and gave Sirius a morning kiss. "Good morning," He leaped off of the bed, happy to have completed a succesful mission.

"Fantastic! So I'll transfigure us both to-"

"No," I said again, thinking a bit about this plan. Whatever it led to, we certainly would not be taken siriously if we both showed up to Madam Pomfrey with a bizarre illness at the same time. "We need to go in separately or she'll get suspicious."

Sirius nodded, considering.

"You're right!"

"I always am, love," I winked as I pulled on my comfiest trackies. "So are you going to take me to breakfast if you got me up this early?" With a cough, Sirius fell dramatically on to my bed.

"I can't, I'm sick!" he cried, practicing his fake illness.

"Breakfast in bed it is then!" I decided, as I summoned a house elf. Over jammy toast and Beatles tunes, Sirius explained his idea.

"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it." He began. Of course this was going to be a dramatic monologue. When wasn't it with Sirius? I brushed the toast crumbs from my lips as he spoke, excited to here the rest of the plan. "And so, today we are going...." He paused and appeared to be doing some difficult mental math.

"Actually, it would be quicker for me to say where we aren't going!"

"How are we doing this with classes though?" I frowned. Clearly Sirius had banked on me asking this question, and he began to preform various charms which were set to give me an extremely ill appearance in the first class of the day.

"I am excused from class due to a death in the family." He said much to happily, and I recalled that one of his pure-blood supremacist great-aunts had died recently.

"Sorry for your loss?" I said trying to hold back giggles at his jubilant behaviour.

"Don't be!" He shrugged, "Anyways, you'll be sick. And we'll call Remus out with some message from a teacher once I pick you up!"

"Remus is okay with this?" I was incredibly confused now. Typically Remus steered far away from anything which would cause him to miss classes due to his... unique.. schedule.

"Once he knows I'm sure he will be!"

"Famous last words my love, famous last words."

****

Midway through charms, I noticed a couple of strange glances coming my way. I paused my readings about The Art of Life in Inanimate Objects and looked around for anything that was causing these looks.

I quickly figured it out as I realised multicolored spots were popping up all over my arms, and I realised slight puffs of steam were currently exiting my ears. Godric Sirius. Madam Pomfrey was going to have some issues with that one.

"Professor Flitwick?" I raised my hand and waited a moment for him to notice.

"Yes Ms. y/n!" He responded in concern.

"I think I need to see Madam Pomfrey,"

"Yes, right away!" He agreed in his high pitched voice. I raced into the hall with my bag and bumped into Sirius straight away. He pulled me into the nearest secret passage way.

"Oh bloody merlin, my charms actually did work!" Sirius exclaimed, sounding extremely surprised at their success.

"How do we make them un-work?" I begged, uncomfortable at the site of pulsing pustules that were spotting my arms.

"I don't know y/n I think the multicolored look kind of suits you!" He smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"Fine." I crossed my arms. "But no kisses until I'm back to normal," I challenged smugly. A horrified look crossed Sirius's face, and he quickly got out his wand. After a few muttered spells, I was good as new.

"Thank you darling," I kissed his cheek softly before stepping into the corridor. He blushed and quickly followed me. Pulling out a piece of scrap parchment, aka the Marauder's map, we expertly dodged Filch on our way to  Remus's classroom.

"You go in," Sirius suggested, quickly forging a note if needed. Given it was the arithmancy teacher, I was sure it wouldn't matter. She was usually too focused on the topic to break away from it.

"Pardon me?" I knocked lightly on the door as I came in. "Professor Binns requested I borrow Remus for a while, he needs quite a lot of help with something." I carefully laid the foundation for a long absence to be suspected of Remus. He was currently eyeing me suspiciously, no doubt seeing right through my preformance. I threw him a wink and he simply rolled his eyes.

As we got into the hall he checked his suspicion.

"So, I'm guessing Professor Binns doesn't need my help?"

"Ah, you are smart!" I said in feigned surprise. Remus's lips twitched, nearly smiling.

"And where's Sirius?"

"Proving your smarts again!" I teased. "He's right round this corner, in the Hogsmeade secret passage." I whispered and tugged Remus into the hidden tunnel. That was where our adventure truly began. Huddled between the stoney walls of yet another secret passage.

"So!" Sirius clapped his hands together softly, before letting one hand fall down to hold mine. "Where do you guys want to go today?" I looked at him in amazement, as I had thought we'd be going to Hogsmeade at most.

"We're leaving Hogsmeade area?" I clarified. I glanced at Remus, and saw he shared my expression of shock. Sirius nodded with a glow of glee in his eyes.

"That we are!" He announced dramatically. I giggled while hushing him, sure that Filch would somehow here through the stone wall. Remus shrugged, unsure of where on earth he'd like to go.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, suddenly remembering one of the wizarding villages I'd heard about. "What about Pitlochry?" The small scottish town actually had a thriving wizarding community living right under it's very nose. It's actually where the famous wizard, Michael Scot, spent many years.

Remus's eyes lit up "Oh yes! Let's go there!" He agreed, eager to see what is said to be a beautiful town. Sirius was ecstatic, and jumped at the idea as well.

“Well?” Remus asked, trying to sound slightly bored with the lack of adventure he’d been forced to miss class for so far.

“Well what?” Sirius asked, glancing up from the Marauder's map he had been studying while we discussed where exactly to visit.

“Well how are we getting there dummy?” I grinned with a hint of mischief.

“Hey! You’re my girlfriend, you don’t get to call me dummy!” Sirius yelled indignantly.

“On the contrary darling, it’s one of my special privileges!” I smirked. “Like this!” I gave him a quick peck on the lips, and then raced raced down the passage with a smirk.

"We could apparate?" Remus suggested, but I shook my head slightly. Despite passing my test, I freaked out about trying it with anything farther than a couple of feet away.

"Perhaps use the Floo?" I thought out loud, hoping this would be the chosen idea.

"Or," Sirius began with a gleam in his eye, "We could use my motorbike." Sirius's cherry red motorbike had been bought last summer, and was currently stored in Hogsmeade. It was practically begging to be used. There was just one little snag:

"It's not like it flies or something," Remus shook his head with a small smile. "It would take ages to get to Pitlochry on it!" Sirius's smile grew all the wider. I could practically predict what he was about to say, but I wasn't sure I'd be able to believe it.

"Ah, but my friend, it does fly!" He exclaimed triumphantly. My eyes must have been boggling out of my head, because I simply could not believe it. For some reason it was perfectly logical that magic could give me pulsing polka dots all over my skin, but complete unbelievable that it could make a motorcycle fly.

****

"Wheeee!" I shouted gleefully as we soared through the clouds. Remus also looked like he was loving it, especially since he got the beautiful view out of the side car. He laughed along, as Sirius grinned proudly. As we began our descent, I wrapped my hands slightly tighter around Sirius's waist.

"Be careful!" I gasped as we pointed towards the ground. It was fairly terrifying to be staring straight down to the ground. I pressed my forehead against Sirius's back.

"Alright love?" He turned slightly, a note of concern in his voice.

"Yep," I squeaked while taking a few deep breaths. I was a Gryffindor. I was brave. I was completely fine with being a few thousand feet off of the ground.

****

After many impromptu loop de loops, we finally landed in Pitlochry. My feet sunk into the soft snow, and I felt more grateful than I’d ever admit to be back on the ground again.

“Where to first?” Sirius clapped his mittened hands together in anticipation.

“The museum!” Remus suggested straight away. I nodded, thinking it would be fascinating to learn more about Michael Scot.

The museum was filled with fascinating Latin texts, of which a few had been transcribed into modern English. I perused these before following Sirius into the next part of the museum.

Remus stayed outside once he caught a glimpse of the starry sky. I patted his back gently, attempting a comforting action, before I went in.

The room was a doom filled with a moving mural of the night sky. The only difference was that it had been painted here directly by Michael Scot during his time studying astrology.

“That’s you!” I pointed up to the star Sirius as I took the real Sirius’s hand. “I think I like you better as a star,” I joked, leaning on his shoulder.

“Well you get the best of both worlds here then, because I’m a star as well as me!” He responded, overestimating his rockstar career for a moment.

“You’re my star,” I smiled softly towards him, and we walked back to Remus. I caught Sirius redden slightly before grinning.

****

On our path back to the main wizarding village (hidden from the view of muggle Pitlochry), we came across a small scrimmage of community quidditch. After preforming a few warming charms, we stood and cheered for each of the teams.

"Here snitch-y snitch," Sirius started to call, as if attempting to make a dog come to him. I grinned and joined in,

"Who's a good snitch?" I shouted, and surprisingly, the snitch seemed to respond. It veered towards us and whizzed right over the head of a chaser into the hands of Sirius.

An astonished look filled his face, and both the teams swooped over to congratulate him. After a series of pats on the back and handshakes, we finally excused ourselves and continued our walk to the main village.

We spent the rest of the morning wandering through various shops filled with owls, and potions, and parchment until eventually all of our hands were a bit too similar to ice blocks.

****

“Shall we duck in here?” Remus nodded towards the busy restaurant.

“M’lady,” Sirius bowed and opened the door for me. I giggled and passed elegantly through the door frame.

I wrapped my hands around the warm mug of Butterbeer, and breathed in the sweet, ginger scent. The band was playing a recent Weird Sisters release, and I tapped my toe to the beat.

As the chill wore off, I relaxed into Sirius’s arm which he had wrapped around my shoulders.

“What’s next?” I asked eagerly.

“Going back to Hogwarts?” Remus begged in a tired voice.

“Oh come on! You’ve had a great time Moony!” Sirius slugged his arm, with friendly affection of course.

“I have,” Remus admitted with a sly grin. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not concerned about our grades!” I did see his point, it was NEWTs year. But a little break never hurt anyone!

“Please Moony, your grades are of the least concern. You probably have three O’s and an E or something,” Sirius waved his hand, brushing away Remus’s concerns. Remus looked down bashfully, telling me that Sirius had guessed nearly right.

“Plus Slughorn’s been a real dragon in potions lately,” I recalled the terribly involved animagus potion we had to create last class. Fortunately I was paired with Sirius, which made it ten times easier.

"Fine! Get outta here Abe!" Our cheerful banter was interrupted by the shouts of the lead guitarist of the band that had been playing during our lunch. It would seem that the lead singer had quit for some reason unknown to us. The two other band mates looked shattered, despite their previously amazing performance.

I nudged Sirius. Of all the people I could think of that might be able to help this situation, he was the best fit.

"You should go up there!" I encouraged him. I saw a rare flicker of doubt cross his eyes, but with a friendly smile from Remus and I, he seemed to gather his courage.

"Yeah," Remus nodded enthusiastically.

"I promise to remember you both when I'm famous," Sirius shot us both a winning grin before heading up to the stage. We watched him whisper to the abandoned band members for a moment, who eventually looked enthusiastic.

We heard the energized strumming of a few opening chords, and Remus and I began to tap our toes in time. The song seemed to ring a bill, but I wasn't entirely sure where I'd heard it.

"Well, shake it up, baby, now!" Sirius began to sing. I grinned, realising it was the exact song we had eaten our breakfast to. Pausing to listen for a line or two, I saw how the energy of the quiet pub room changed. Gradually, it came alive. Sirius's energy was contagious. He nodded up to him, and I ran up.

"You know you look so good," He winked, grabbing my hand and giving me a quick spin. As I spun around, I noticed Remus inviting another girl close to our age to dance. And I spied an elderly couple doing a small shuffle together. Something about this tune just brought people together!

After pulling out my finest dance moves alongside a singing Sirius, I collapsed back into my seat and chugged the rest of my butterbeer.

"Merlin," I grinned with a bubbly happiness towards Remus. He grinned eagerly back.

"Don't tell Sirius," He teased, "But I have actually had a fun time today." He admitted slyly.

"I'm glad," I nodded. "I have to hand it to Sirius that this was a pretty fantastic day off."