#it's hard to bring that kind of stuff up but letting it fester is so much worse in the long run

[libraryofgage]

The Prince and the Metalhead (2)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One Queen Clarisse Renaldi One | Two (you're here!)

I know I just posted part one but I've got Thoughts for this AU that include: Steve's first birthday in Genovia and then his 16th, his conversation with his grandmother about attending public school in America for his senior year, and then we get into him attending Hawkins High and meeting Eddie!

So, yeah, plans lmao

Anyway, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

------

"You'll have a rotating course schedule. Mondays and Wednesdays will focus on math and social studies. Tuesdays and Thursdays will be science and literature. Friday will be Royalty lessons and the history of Genovia. We can also include an elective, if you'd like."

Steve blinks, staring at Sue for a moment before glancing at Jonathan and Robin. Jonathan is looking through a book of photography and Robin is idly scratching behind Dart’s ears. "Will we all have the same elective?" Steve asks.

"Not unless Jonathan and Robin want to join you," Sue says, looking at Steve expectantly. She's got a pen at the ready to write down what he says, and it suddenly feels like a lot of pressure.

Is there a wrong answer here? Is there an answer that gets him sent back to his parents? He looks down, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes blood. Before he can lose himself in his thoughts, a cold and wet nose presses against his hand. Steve blinks, smiling at Dart and picking her up to hold close. "What kind of electives are there?" he asks.

Sue hums softly, flipping to another page on her clipboard. "Possible electives include art, music, theatrical performance, physical education, equestrian studies, botany, and foreign languages, to name a few."

"I'll be taking photography lessons," Jonathan says, looking up at Steve and gesturing to his book.

Robin nods and leans back on her palms. "I'll be doing the physical stuff. Like learning how to fight and practicing ballet to improve my balance," she says, leveling a look at Steve that dares him to say anything about the ballet.

Steve wouldn't, though. He doesn't want to make Robin angry enough to ditch him. He looks down at Dart, thinking for a moment before asking, "Can I take more than one?"

"Of course, but you're limited to three for now," Sue says.

What would be the most helpful? Foreign languages, probably, since he'll definitely have to speak with ambassadors from other countries at some point. He should also learn something that can be shown off, a skill that he could pull out at functions to make his grandmother proud or distract guests.

"What language should I learn?" he asks.

Sue thinks for a moment, tapping her pen against her chin. "Mandarin. It's a business language, and we have close relations with a few representatives from China and Hong Kong. If you'd like to learn a Romantic language first, though, Spanish is good."

"I'll learn Mandarin," Steve decides, nodding once to himself. "And music. I want to learn to play...hmm...the piano."

With a nod, Sue writes his electives down. "Let me know if you'd like to add an elective later, Your Highness. In my opinion, though, your current courses will keep you properly challenged for now."

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

Sue wasn't kidding about his academics being challenging. Steve struggles in math, muddles his way through science, drags himself through literature, and is ready to drop when he hits social studies. He'd ask the tutors to spend more time on topics, but Robin and Jonathan seem to have no problem keeping up, and Steve can't bring himself to disrupt their pace.

His Mandarin lessons are going just slightly better if only because the tutor seems to recognize that slower is better for him. After almost a month, he's starting to understand intonation and vocal variation better, and he can recognize a few characters on sight.

Piano lessons are also going well. His tutor there doesn't burden him with theory; she introduces the keys, shows him how to read sheet music, and then lets him choose songs to learn. Steve feels the most at ease when he's squinting at sheet music and slowly pressing piano keys into something recognizable.

The lessons he really looks forward to, however, are the ones for his Royalty Education. He gets to see his grandmother then, and she spends the whole day with him. Even better, something about this stuff just clicks. He's good at fixing his posture and memorizing silverware placement. He bows just right on his first try and his grandmother compliments his wave.

By the end of the lesson, she'll be smiling, her pride obvious, and take him for a walk in the gardens or to eat cookies in the kitchen.

"Royalty requires maintenance," Clarisse says, standing in front of Steve with relaxed shoulders. "You maintain your demeanor, your image, your knowledge of foreign dignitaries, your understanding of the people’s needs, and your humility. But you must also maintain your pride and your boundaries."

"That sounds like a lot," Steve says, idly tugging at the hem of his shirt.

"It can be overwhelming, but it becomes second nature in time," Clarisse explains, smiling reassuringly. "When you're royalty, you are constantly watched. Many eyes are kind or curious, but others are malicious, and you want to do everything you can to disappoint the malicious ones."

"How?"

"By acting like the Crown Prince you are."

"What kind of prince am I?" Steve asks, finally voicing the question that's been lingering since these lessons started. What kind of prince does his grandmother want? What kind of prince would best serve the people? What kind of prince will be so loved by all that nobody could even think of thinking about getting rid of him?

Clarisse hums, thinking for a moment. "I suppose a good one," she says, her slight smile telling Steve that she's only lightly teasing. "My hope is that you'll be kind and competent. You will make Genovia prosperous without compromising tradition. You won't allow politics to stand in the way of doing what's right by the people of Genovia. But this is a tiring job, so I hope you'll learn how to balance your duties with relaxation."

It's a lot, but Steve can do it. He can be that kind of prince, especially for the country and grandmother that's offered everything he's ever wanted and more. He nods once. "Okay," he says, "What do I need to learn, then?"

Clarisse smiles fondly at him. "Let's start by reviewing Genovian history. Only by knowing the past can you face the future."

With that, she places a book on Steve's desk and doesn't wait for him to open it before telling him about Genovia's founding.

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

Steve has weekends off from classes, which leaves him with more free time than he knows what to do with when he doesn't have to clean a house or make his own meals. So, he's bored, and telling Robin that he was bored was a huge mistake after she suggested riding bikes around the garden only to learn Steve didn't know how.

She'd insisted that he should learn, insisted that Clarisse be the one who teaches him, and insisted on hearing no objections.

And now he's here, standing in front of Clarisse's desk and staring down at his feet as she finishes writing something on the paper in front of her. Joe is standing just to her right, hands behind his back.

"Okay," Clarisse says, gently placing her pen on the desk before looking at Steve with an encouraging smile. "What did you want to ask me, Steve?"

Steve bites the inside of his cheek, takes a deep breath, and looks up. "Well, um, Robin wants to ride bikes, but I don't know how," he says.

"Well, that's easily fixed," Clarisse says, reaching for a phone at the corner of her desk. "I'm sure a member of staff is free to teach you."

Before she can pick up the phone, Steve finds himself blurting out, "Well, I...I was hoping...you could teach me."

Clarisse freezes, blinking twice with confusion before looking at Steve. "You want me to teach you?" she asks. When Steve nods once, she sighs softly. "A queen does not ride bikes. Besides, I have too much work to complete. Perhaps I could accompany you for a walk this evening to make up for it."

Despite himself, despite bracing for rejection, it still hurts. In the three months he's been in Genovia, Clarisse has agreed to just about every request he's made. Every held breath as he waits for cruel words has been released with unprecedented relief when none came. Even when he broke something---a priceless vase, according to Jonathan---his grandmother had simply surveyed the damage, thanked him for being honest, and asked him to avoid kicking soccer balls in the presence of priceless vases in the future.

Perhaps Steve has gotten too comfortable. He shouldn't be pushing like this. If he wants his grandmother's affection, he should know when to hold himself back.

So, despite the unfamiliar urge to ask again in case Clarisse might change her mind, Steve nods once. "I look forward to walking with you, Grandmother," he says, his voice quiet. He glances up, waiting long enough to see Clarisse's smile before turning on his heel and leaving the office as quickly as he can.

Clarisse watches him go, her head slightly tilted as the door closes silently behind Steve. She nods once, glad that Steve is sensible enough to understand things like work and propriety, and picks up her pen once more.

"If I may speak freely, Your Majesty?" Joe asks.

"At this point, Joe, you may as well assume the answer is yes."

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, and please pardon my French, my experience has been that assuming makes an ass out of you and me."

It takes a moment for Clarisse to understand the joke. When she does, she can't help her amused smile. "Fair enough," she says, "Go ahead, Joe."

"Do you remember what I said about being Steve's grandmother?"

"Yes, of course."

"Perhaps now is one of those moments where being a grandmother is more important than being a queen. His Highness does not ask for much, and he is not the kind to ask more than once, even if he really wants something. I imagine it took a significant amount of courage to ask you to teach him in the first place."

"Are you suggesting that I...I risk making a fool of myself for all to see?" Clarisse asks.

"I am suggesting you spend time with your grandson, who asks very little of you because he does not believe he can ask for anything."

Clarisse is silent a moment, letting Joe's words process and settle in her brain. Finally, she sighs and gestures to the papers on her desk. "I have work to complete," she says.

"Your Majesty, editing these proposals was on your schedule two weeks from now. You are ahead of your work. A break would not be unreasonable or unwarranted."

Well, when he puts it like that.

Clarisse sighs, leans back in her chair, and looks up at Joe. He's still staring at the door, giving no indication that he feels her eyes on him, but she knows he does. "Have a groundskeeper retrieve bikes and safety gear and meet us in the garden," she says, standing from her chair and bracing herself to look like an utter fool.

Her apprehension fades away fifteen minutes later. It can't hold last when she sees Steve's surprised and delighted expression at her presence. As she helps him put on knee and elbow pads, shows him how to pull the helmet's strap tight, and holds the bike steady as he sits on it, Clarisse decides a little foolishness is perfectly fine (necessary, even) if it will keep the smile on Steve's face.

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

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added to future parts!)

@y4r3luv, @potato-of-the-lord,

[inchidentally]

U wanna analyse this? The words kinda made me sad: https://www.planetf1.com/news/peter-windsor-oscar-piastri-negative-impact-lando-norris

oh babe that one's easy bc not only did Lando have his best season yet by a long shot, he has many many times publicly credited it to Oscar pushing him and giving him the kind of competition that he's needed. as in he's said it so many times it would take me hours to screenshot all of them. Andrea and Zak have said it too, and actually the article itself even admits it. at the very last race Lando said how much Oscar has brought and that Lando himself has learned from him.

so big shock, "planetf1" faked a headline for clicks lol.

just to get ahead of the inevitable doom and gloom that sports media posts for engagement, let me pass on what I learned while in hockey fandom:

if the headline is dramatic, it's fake and don't give it clicks and ad rev. if it's not something like "grosjean leaps through fireball" which is easily verifiable then trust me, they won't be able to back it up in the article. remember when Lando did the landolog of him and Oscar karting in Italy and how much fun they had? at the beginning, he joked that Oscar had been a "little snake" for getting there early and practicing. he literally laughed while he said it. but sure enough, headlines on sites w names like F1dotcomBizFunHorny4U had "McLaren's Norris calls teammate Piastri a snake".

negative stories get engagement and melodrama gets even more. they'll worry about fixing it to not get sued way down in the article under the tenth video ad.

if the article was cribbed/didn't get a direct interview with a named source with an actual role within a team then it's either fake or stretched beyond reality for engagement.

even quotations can get chopped to hell and misplaced to fake a story - like people seeing Pierre explain his lack of relationship with Esteban by saying that other drivers might not be close friends either and to not make assumptions. despite quotes from those other drivers that they do in fact like their teammate (Carlos actually said this about him and Charles to Esteban and Pierre on the fanstage at Vegas). if people want to go hogwild with a quote to fit their negative personal narrative then they will. sites that exist solely for ad revenue and sponsorships will do everything to draw those fans in.

if DTS ever lands on the truth it's because that storyline wasn't worth the time in post twisting it into lies. so the fact that Oscar and Lando haven't had melodrama between them and keep saying how well they work together and like each other could mean that we get some unedited actual decent content! but since the 2023 season was so boring it might mean that the editors decide to do a hatchet job and bring in the usual talking heads to fabricate a drama between them. it ultimately doesn't matter bc DTS is only good for f1blr so that we can pull stuff for memes and gifs etc. when Lando recorded his viewing of some of the seasons he spent most of it laughing.

also this isn't the 80s or 90s or even early 00s Formula 1. the drivers are expected to stay much more even keeled out of respect for their teams and even the Pierre/Esteban situation (jsyk I do know their childhood history) isn't like they're out for each other's throats. they have a solely professional relationship now and they'd both agree that being civil is much better than not having an F1 seat. drivers are also way too busy nowadays with their own sponsorships and work outside racing to sit and fester these crazy rivalries in bars and pubs - as well as the media duties for their team that are way more since Liberty Media took over.

every set of teammates will experience ups and downs and tensions but they also have every incentive to get over it and not fuck up their work environment. especially at McLaren where Andrea and Zak now take a hard line about the drivers cooperating at all times for the sake of the team, that's never going to spiral into the kind of drama that media want. Lando beating himself up this season is because he's 5 years in and dying for that win, it's his mentality and it clearly didn't stop him from snatching podiums and points anyway. does he envy Oscar's sprint win, of course!! but if he hated or even resented Oscar for that Sprint win then he wouldn't keep bringing it up on Oscar's behalf all the time. he would do like other resentful teammates have done and simply avoid talking about it at all.

tl;dr anon, for your own sake please customize your F1 media experience or it'll drive you crazy <3 and just to say, I don't look at anything but F1.com or AP news to get updates on anything and I don't pay attention to anything else.

[chthonicarcher]

you’ll be interested to know I hadn’t actually read your response to me on AO3 yet at the time of receiving this ask! I haven’t looked at my AO3 inbox at all since you left your original comment, in fact. if you felt bad about whatever you said, you could have just deleted it at any point... (but it doesn’t matter. the entire thread will be deleted soon regardless!)

continued... ->

okay, so first: I do sincerely apologize for replying to your initial comment in anger. because yes, it made me angry! I should have waited until later to reply, when I wasn’t so annoyed anymore. but I didn’t wait, and I do regret that. and, as a side note, I did *not* actually intend to sound condescending—but, as I’m sure you’ve realized, intentions sure don’t count for much here.

because you claim in your ask that you *intended* to “kindly” let me know about an error you noticed in my fic. but what you actually did, though, was rudely ignore the chapters you had read and PRESUMABLY enjoyed (who knows?? not me, because you didn’t say shit about that) and instead decided to point out what you perceived as a math error on my part (which, I’ll only say this once more, because it doesn’t actually matter: I was not, in fact, wrong about in the first place!) and called it a day. WOW, THANKS!

pictured here: KINDNESS!

do you understand why that kind of thing might make an author feel bad? I mean, really, do you? it’s like you walked into my house, sat down at my table and started eating this cake I had baked for you *without uttering one single word to me* the entire time, and then abruptly stood up and left while loudly talking about how *you* would have frosted the cake differently. come the fuck on, man. even just *thinking* about writing things again is hard enough for me right now. I mean *nice* comments don’t even hit the same when you’re feeling bad about your work! *this* shit feels demoralizing. like listen, I get that you probably weren’t trying to be a dick on purpose, but please just...try to have more awareness of how your words could affect people? I don’t think that’s too much to ask.

by the way, some advice for the future, if you’ll pardon the condescension: if you ever feel an urge to get pedantic in somebody’s comments section, in MY opinion you should either a.) be their trusted friend already or b.) be very sure they are receptive to those kinds of corrections. and ALSO, in addition to those things, you should probably say literally anything else in the body of your comment so you don’t come off like a total dick. you don’t have to write a whole novel or anything, as appreciated as those are—even something as brief and to the point as “this was great” is a perfectly acceptable comment.

SIGH. so okay. so.........I’m sorry, but I think it’s really fucking interesting that you ALSO left this comment on cabin fic, which *also* made me feel terrible? you’ve really got a knack for that, it seems. yeah...actually, I’m going to go ahead and request that you stop leaving comments on stuff I’ve written? usually it really is true that more comments = better! comments are so, SO appreciated by fic authors...I mean, they fuel us. they really are all that’s keeping us going sometimes. but...in both of these examples...I really think just saying nothing would’ve been better.

and...that brings us to the elephant in the room. again, I’m sorry—I just don’t know of a way to approach this without being a bit condescending?...but, listen. if you *are* in fact a minor...then I don’t just need you to stop commenting on my works, I need you to stop READING them. both of the fics we’re talking about here are rated Explicit. minors are not welcome.

alright, with that out of the way: at the time of this posting, I still haven’t read your second comment on AO3. if you’d like to delete it before that happens, please feel free. I’ll be deleting the entire thread pretty soon regardless. I don’t need it sitting there festering and making my WIP fic any harder for me to look at than it already is.

with all that said? thank you for apologizing. and, again, I’m sorry for the tone of my response, too.

— 𝒜𝓇𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓇

[petruchio]

My boyfriend is still friends with his ex and ngl it makes me really uncomfortable. What confused me initially is that my feelings of jealousy don't come from a place of distrust, I've done the work and have figured out where these feelings stem from and I don't think anything will happen and I do feel I am the priority. I've mentioned to him in the past that it makes me feel uncomfortable when he brings her up and he agreed he brings her up too much and stopped for the most part. What's really getting me this evening is he's flying home tomorrow and is going to see her for lunch. As I said, I feel secure and wholeheartedly believe nothing will happen, but it still makes me feel icky. And that icky feeling is an unpleasant one to have. I know the mature thing would be to communicate this to him, but I also don't want to be that girl that says I don't want you seeing this person.

oof. this is tough one. i totally hear you on not wanting to be “that girl” who says you can’t see your ex, but i also think your feeling of being a little weirded out is valid!! i don’t think anyone here is necessarily in the wrong — especially depending on how the relationship ended. it’s (in my opinion) totally valid to stay friends with an ex if there’s no bad blood. but that doesn’t mean that you, as the current partner, aren’t allowed to feel some type of way about it.

i guess what it comes down to is a few things: first of all, i think it’s a green flag that when you communicated a boundary (i don’t like it when you talk about her) he did respect it! because i feel like a lot of times, feelings like this come from a deeper place than what the surface level disagreement might be. usually it comes down to people not respecting boundaries, but in this case, you set one and he respected it and actually agreed to it which seems like a good thing (based on the information in your message!!)

so i think in the case of the lunch thing, it’s probably too late to say anything now (you said it’s happening tomorrow and he’s leaving) but maybe it’s worth having a conversation afterward? and you don’t necessarily have to have it be like “i never want you to see her again, you’re a bad person, etc etc” but i think you’ve already identified that the healthy, mature response would be to communicate. well… you’re right! so why not try just having that conversation? you could lead into it from a place of “hey, i trust you completely and i really appreciated it when you respected my request that you bring up your ex less. to be honest, i got a bit of a weird feeling when you guys went to lunch, and it’s not coming from a place of mistrust, but i just wanted to tell you i felt a bit weird about it” and then see what he says? because he might agree, like he agreed about the bringing her up thing, or he might say oh we were catching up on home stuff because we’re each others main home friends, or honestly something else that i have no way of guessing. but he won’t know how you feel unless you say something, and it would probably be better to get it out in the open between you to than letting it fester and build resentment.

and that’s not the same as banning him from seeing her outright! it’s just letting him know how you felt. you can even be as honest as you were in this message and say these same things: i don’t want to be the kind of person who bans you from seeing her, but i just wanted to communicate my feelings about it. and his reaction to that, i think, will be very telling as to how much he values you and cares about your level of comfort and trust in the relationship. and hopefully that will lead to a conversation that can help you guys come to a solution that works for all of you.

sending you lots of love and courage!! these conversations are hard. it’s always easier to bottle it up and not make waves. but i think in a situation like this, it’s worth saying something. it’s not about setting rules on the other person in the relationship, it’s just about getting those feelings out there and then deciding how to proceed together, in a way that feels healthy and safe and loving for both of you. i believe in you!!!!

[mirage-coordinator]

communication breakdown is always a frustrating thing to deal with innit

[editorandchief]

Daddy Issues | Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw | Part II

Summary: Part One

Warning: None

Request: Yes! I’m so happy you guys liked it.

Taglist 🏷: @thescarletknight2014 @another-tblr-fangirl @khaylin27 @flareish @sexualparkour @secretsicanthideanymore @clockworkballerina @callsigndiamond @emilyniamh3679-blog @shanimallina87 @adaydreamaway08 @reader8679 @pinksweetssheep @kkrenae @lucky-lexie99 @sarahjoestewy-blog @happyfern2 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @wannabewolf @justanothermagicalsara @tomhollandfan2 @thea9900-blog @xoxabs88xox @ebonyhogan24 @speedypeter @spicycrab69 @icecreamgal1 @muushwrites @katiebby04 @lonelywitchv2 @kdoll-7

Y/N stood in the back patio of The Hard Deck watching the moon's reflection ripple off the water soaking the sand, the muffled sound of music and laugher grew louder before being cut off again notifying her that someone had joined her outside.

"I have got to say lieutenant I never pegged you as someone who couldn't take criticism." Maverick's voice filled the silence causing Y/N to whip around. 

"Sir?" She asked confused.

"The training exercise." He reminded holding out a bottle of beer towards her. 

"Oh no sir." Y/N denied with a slight laugh. "Trust me I've taken criticisms all my life."

the two stood there in a comfortable silence for a while listening to the sound of the waves and crickets. Y/N couldn't help but think that this moment could have been one of many shared between them if her mother hadn't stolen that chance from them, she wondered if it would feel as special as it did right now if it was the fiftieth time instead of the first...She liked to think it would.

"If you don't mind I'd like to ask you a somewhat personal question." Maverick once again breaking the silence, continuing after receiving a nod. "You and Rooster...."

"Me and Rooster...." Y/N repeated laughed. "More like you and Rooster." She replied referring to the stand off they had during training that almost lead to both their deaths. 

"Yeah. it's just I saw you guys in there the other night and it seemed like there was something there." He explained. "Look I know it isn't my business but Rooster means a lot to me and I just want to make sure that when I put this team together they are gonna be able to work as a team."

He cares about Rooster? There was obviously some kind of history there, which made Y/N wonder how they could both care for someone yet they never crossed paths. Normally she wouldn't have answered but she convinced herself that Maverick was right, if they were going to work as a team they couldn't let things like this fester, though maybe she just wanted him to know her better, no matter how bad of a light it would paint her in she wanted to him to know who she was. 

"Rooster and I were....Involved a few years back, stationed in the same place, and I hurt him...no matter how much I want to pretend I didn't." She revealed being met with a confused look. "We were pretty serious and one day I put a request...and I left him...he didn't know until I was already gone." 

"Ouch."

"Yeah I'm not proud of it." Y/N hung her head when she remembers her actions. "I was too caught up in the past to let myself be happy with what I had in the present." 

"Trust me kid I know exactly what you mean." Maverick sympathized. "Sometime ghosts from the past catch up faster than you think."

"More like I was trying to catch up with them."

"Well now I'm intrigued..." Maverick joked looked expectedly at her wanting to know more. 

"When my mother found out she was pregnant with me...she decided not to tell my father and she left. When I was fourteen I found some of his stuff and I've been looking for him ever since." She told the story trying her hardest to hold back tears realizing this was probably the closest she would ever bring herself to telling him the truth. "I found a picture of him and my mom, I carry it everywhere. When I was with Rooster it was like nothing else mattered I would go days, weeks without thinking about him, but one day...I saw that picture again and something in me just snapped back. I remembered the reason I had done all of this."

"All this?"

"He's Naval Aviator Pilot, he was the reason I first wanted to join. When my mom found out I joined up she disowned me, hasn't spoken to me since, I had already come too far, lost too much to give up...so I left." As Y/N told the story her eyes practically begged Maverick to put the pieces together. He was a Naval Pilot, does he not remember her mother? they seemed so in love but looks can be deceiving. "Not I think about how much I've lost because I refuse to give up on a guy who could potentially want nothing to do with me."

"Hey I've known you for less than 72 hours and I know that, that guy would be an idiot to not want to know you."

"Do you have any children, sir?" 

"No," Maverick answered. Y/N didn't know if she should be relieved or disappointed, she had always wanted siblings. "Rooster is the closest thing I've ever had to a son."

"Did you ever wanted them?" She asked gripping the the railing of the patio as she waited anxiously for his answer.

Before he had the chance the sound of music and loud chatter broke through. "Well Darwin. If I didn't know any better I'd say you were brown nosing." Hangman said strutting outside with the rest of the Top Gun class following. 

"Good thing you know better." 

"Darwin and I were just bonding over being some of the few Top Gun student to shoot down a instructor." Maverick lied causing Y/N to throw her head back in laughter. 

"That's not how I hear it sir." She smiled when his eyes widened in shock. 

"And how did you hear it Darwin?" Maverick asked as the rest of the team looked on expectedly.

"You didn't get the shot until you were 3,000 ft. below the 10,000 ft. hard deck, a technical loss." Y/N stated matter of factly. 

"And where did you hear that?"

"Ice- I mean Commander Kazansky, sir" She answered. "He likes to reminisce."

"I'm sure he liked to say he and his RIO were the only ones to succeed."

"Actually sir, Commander Kazansky says you won." She corrected. "He said out in the sky there is no hard deck and kill is a kill." 

"You know the commander well?" Phoenix asked. 

"Just in passing." Y/N admits. "He'd tell a few stories give a few tips."

"Well lets hope you remember them well cause your gonna need all the help you can get for tomorrow." Maverick said raising his glass as a chores of groans sounded around the group.

*-*-*

"Time is is your greatest enemy, Phase one of the mission will be a low level ingress attacking in two plan teams. You'll fly along this narrow canyon to your target, radar guided Surface Air Missiles defend the area, these SAMs are lethal. But they were designed to protect the skies above not the canyon below. 

"That's because the enemy know no one is insane enough to try and fly below them." Rooster chimed in. 

"That's exactly what I'm gonna train you to do." Maverick replied. "One the day your altitude will be one hundred feet...maximum, you exceed the altitude radar will spot you and your dead. Your air speed will be 660 knouts...minimum. Time to target two and a half minutes, that because fifth generation fighter wait at an air base nearby and a  head to head with these in your f-18s...your dead. Which is why you need to get in and get out before they even have a chance at spotting you, this makes time your greatest adversary."   

*-*-*

"Darwin we are one minute and twenty from target." Halo informed. 

"Good have that laser re-" She started to reply only to be cut off.

"Oh shit." 

"Omaha what the fuck is going on." She asked fighting the urge to turn and look out of fear of running off course.

"I almost hit a wall." Omaha answered. "We're back on course, we need some time to catch up."

"We don't have time, increase your speed and fall back in line." Y/N replied trying to focus on making the turns. 

"We're thirty seconds ahead of schedule." Halo informed.

"And I want to stay that way. Increase your speed." 

"I can't navigate at this speed." 

"Approaching target." Y/N announced ignoring her wingman. "Dagger two behind, I'd have to drop blind." 

*-*-*

"Why are you dead?" 

"I'm not."

"But your wingman is." He corrected. "You left them behind to face bandits. why?"

"The goal was to make it to the target."

"which is pointless unless you can guarantee a direct hit, which is a hell of a lot harder without you wingman." He said. "Who you left behind to be thirty seconds ahead of schedule?" Maverick asked hands on his hips. Y/N opened her mouth to answer  only to be cut off. "Don't tell me...tell it to their families."

*-*-*

"So Kazansky, I hear you like to tell war stories." Maverick joked with his blonde friend. Letting a smile take over his face 'Iceman' started typing.

"I take it you met Darwin." He stated. "What do you think."

"She...nice" Maverick said as if looking for any good word to describe the young pilot before Iceman gave him a look. "Okay, she's confident if not a bit arrogant, she a good pilot and god does she know it but she needs to learn that it take more than just being the best."

"Remind you of anyone?" Ice replied back causing the two to share a small laugh. 

"Yeah you." Maverick answered. "I know I was the same, almost exactly."

"She reminded me a lot of you when I first met her." Ice stated. "I think you two have a lot more in common than you realize." 

Walking down the tarmac admiral Kazansky noticed a piece of paper lying face down on the ground, bending down to pick it up he was surprised to see a picture of Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell and a woman who look slightly familiar.

Looking up he sees a young woman walking around the tarmac looking franticly around until her eyes landed on him, more specify the object in his hands. Cautiously she approached the man.

"Yes?" He asked looking at her intensely.

"Excuse me sir but that belongs to me." She replied trying her best not to reach out and take it from his hands. 

"Does it?" He asked attempting to probe without outright asking.

"Yes, sir." She answered. "It's my parents." She stated as if she herself was unsure of what to call the people in the photo. 

"Are you close." He asked holding the picture out to her. "To your parents, I mean." Ice and Maverick spoke in a regular basis and never once had he mentioned having a child, which is something that would have come up. So either this girl was mistaken or Maverick himself didn't know about her, seeing as he wasn't the kind of guy to run away from responsibility.

Taking a deep breath Y/N stared down at the photo for a while before giving what Ice could see as an obviously forced smile.

"No, but this is all have." 

"What do they call you?" 

"Darwin, sir." She replied looking confused as to why he would even care. 

"Darwin, Your top of your class is I recall correctly." He noted remembering one of the admirals talking about the cocky pilot that buzzed a tower a week prior. The smirk that involuntary spread across her face did little to deter Iceman's assumption on who her father was.

"Yes sir, I am." 

"You remind me a lot of a pilot I flew with when I was a lieutenant...Maverick." 

"I believe I've heard the callsign before, I'd love to put a face to the name." 

"I'm sure you have, it's surprising there are no pictures around, he was peacock." Ice joked. "He had a thing for buzzing towers as well." 

Y/N looked like a child being scolded as she fought not to smile remembering the event that errand her a hefty scolding as well as 350 push ups on this very tarmac.

"She buzzed the tower you know." Ice informed causing Maverick to display the same smirk her had seen on Y/N when they first met. He wished he could tell Maverick the truth, wished he had told them both when he figured it out himself, but something told him that he shouldn't. "Has a habit of getting herself in trouble, almost made it hard to get her into Top Gun." 

"Guess she is a lot like me huh." Maverick agreed. Ice wondered how Maverick couldn't see it, but then again maybe if he hadn't seen the picture he wouldn't have either. "She left her wingman behind...twice." 

"She can be a bit of a lone wolf sometimes, but I know when the time comes you can depend on her." 

"I guess we'll see." Maverick replied before he looked up with huge grin on his face. "Did you know about her and Bradley?" He asked as the two started laughing at the complicated love life of their friends child. 

Ice walked Maverick to the front door after their gossiping about the two pilots and if they would work it out or not. Opening the door Maverick was a bit shocked to see Y/N walking up, while Tom expected her to have come sooner. 

"Captain Mitchell." Y/N greeted yet her gaze stated locked on the fleet commander. She had put together that there was no way that Ice didn't know and that the Maverick that everyone was talking about was Pete Mitchell, the article she read never included callsigns so this whole time listened to Iceman let her stories about her father.

"Darwin." Maverick greeted back sending a small smile to her and Tom before exiting the home.  

Opening the door wider, Ice gestured for Y/N to come inside. Walking in she waited as he closed the door and turned to look at her.

"Was it the whole time?"

He nodded. 

"Were you ever going to tell me?" 

Pulling out his phone Ice began to type out a response. 

"No."

"Why?" 

"I thought it was for the best." He replied. "Are you upset?"

"I wish that I could say I wasn't, but I am." She admitted never having the ability to lie to him about her emotions, he was one of the first person to know about her feeling for Rooster even before Rooster himself. "I understand that this is something I need to do on my own, I just wish- I don't know."

"Are you going to tell him?" 

"I don't know..."

*-*-*

"Darwin." Rooster called out to her as she walked towards the classroom. Rolling her eyes Y/N knew that he would try to corner her eventually. 

"Yes, Bradley." She asked turning around to face him. 

"Bradley." He repeated raising his brow. "Am I in trouble?"

"Not if you aren't looking for it." She replied crossing her arms over her chest. "Is there something you needed or can I go get ready for the exercise."

"I just wanna understand." 

"Understand what exactly." 

"You know what." 

"I don't have time for this." Y/N scoffed turning away wanting to focus on the mission instead of playing whatever game this was.

"You never do, do you?" He asked walking in front of her to block her path. "when ever thing don't go your way you just walk away. It must be so easy for you." 

"Oh my god Bradley, we have more important thing to worry about." She scolded as he glares down at her. "How do you ever expect to fly this mission if you keep living in the past."

"I'm living in the past?" He asked. "That's rich coming from you. You molded your whole life around a photo that was taken before you were born, of a guy who doesn't know your alive, spent your whole career being this 'lone wolf' so when anyone dares to get close you become emotionally unavailable, your incapable of considering anyone but yourself  which is probably why you abandoned you wingman in the last two exercise missions."

"Wow Rooster if this pilot thing doesn't work out you should become a shrink." Y/N replied sarcastically acting as is his words didn't effect her.

"Please it doesn't take a shrink to realize you have major daddy issues."

Y/N flinched as if his words had just slapped her in the face. "Wow, dad critique from you Rooster....That's rich." She sneered before turning on her heels and walking away.

After a short time Rooster followed behind Y/N into the classroom neither noticed Maverick witness the whole thing.

A/N: ask and you shall be tagged 🏷, if your were already asked to be tagged I’ll tag you for the rest of this series.

Part Three

[saintshigaraki]

the sun has not yet fallen

pairing: bakugou katsuki x gn!reader

word count: 2.2k 

excerpt: You look back towards the setting sun just once. You don’t really know why. Perhaps to find some bravery in the beauty of it, to steal yourself a few extra seconds of this limbo you’ve found yourself in. Where everything is hazy and beautiful and hurts so bad you can hardly breathe.

a/n: me: i hate angst

       also me: writes this fic

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, sometimes love requires work 

in case you want to read it on ao3!

Katsuki is in a bad mood. He was uncharacteristically quiet when he walked through the door which is more often than not a sign he was trying his damndest to hold back saying something just a bit too cruel. And you appreciate the effort, truly you do. 

On any other day, you would’ve let him be to work through his shit alone. He usually does that by cooking up something far too elaborate for a weekday night, and then after decompressing for a bit, he tends to slink back into whichever room you’re in and lay his head on your lap so you can work your fingers through his hair. 

You’ve found over the last two years that that is what tends to work best. Giving him space and letting him come to you.  

But today you’re feeling just as raw as he does. You can’t remember the last time you spent quality time together. You can’t remember the last time he didn’t go to bed so exhausted he was out before his head hit the pillow. You can’t remember the last time you didn’t feel this heavy cloud hanging over your head. You can’t remember a moment where there wasn't a timer counting down and down and down while you do nothing but wait for it to hit zero. You’re not quite sure what will happen when your time is up.

It’s selfish, probably, to want to be with him right now when you know he’s so weary, but you won’t even bother him, is what you tell yourself. You just want to be around him for an hour (or two) you want to stand so close to him you can smell the ever clinging scent of caramel and help him with dinner and think of brighter days. Better days. 

(You want things to go back to the way they were before. You want to cling to him, just for a short while, stuff your face into the crook of his neck while he tells you everything’s okay. That you guys are okay.

But that’s for another day. It has to be.

How many times have you told yourself that?)

You follow him as he stomps towards the kitchen. 

He aggressively grabs the ingredients for whatever he’s making and slams them on the counter, grumbling under his breath the whole time. You stand in the doorway worrying your hands, feeling awkward, and hating that you feel awkward in your own kitchen with your own boyfriend. 

It makes that awful nagging voice in your head grow just a bit louder. 

You approach him slowly while he sets up a pot filled with water and turns on the stove. He’s still grumbling to himself by the time you place your hand softly on his forearm. 

He jerks away immediately and narrows his eyes. You viciously stamp down exactly how awful that makes you feel. How small and unloved. 

“What do you want?” he says bluntly (and a little cruelly but a part of you says just ignore it, maybe if you close your eyes and cover your ears you can pretend that everything is fine, that you guys are fine) . 

That was part of his charm when you two first started dating. You loved that he was blunt, that he got to the point, there was really no guessing what Katsuki was thinking because he’d simply tell you and if it were any other day perhaps his words wouldn’t have bothered you as much as they did now. 

And it’s partly your fault, or maybe even mostly. Because you let it get this bad. You could have told him something was bothering you, that lately, you’ve been feeling a little insecure in this relationship. Katsuki was blunt but very rarely if ever cruel with you or your feelings. He would’ve understood, probably. 

But anytime you thought about broaching the subject with him, he always looked so, so tired. Bone tired. And you thought maybe it was selfish, to want him to comfort you over something this dumb. Over something as frivolous as this. He just needs time. 

(How much time, you wonder. How much more can you take? you ask yourself.)

“Are you fucking braindead or something,” he snaps, dragging you out of your spiraling. 

“I was just wondering if I could help. It’d be nice to cook dinner together.” We use to do it all the time, you almost say. Now you can’t even remember the last time you did. 

“You’re a shit cook,” he says. 

It’s true, and on another day, a brighter day maybe, you would’ve laughed. Or at least smiled. Because it was true. You are an awful cook, a shit one, as he so eloquently put it, especially compared to him. But that never mattered to Katsuki before. 

He always let you cook with him, always wanted you to cook with him, even if the majority of the time you ended up sitting on the counter swinging your legs and watching him do all the work. 

To be fair, afterward, you always cleaned the dishes. It was a lovely, simplistic give and take, one you wish you had again so, so dearly. 

“Yeah, I am,” you agree. You try to smile, but it feels forced. You’re tired, you realize, bone tired. 

You don’t say anything else and he turns away. You know that’s technically a dismissal but you elect to ignore and start unwrapping the vegetables. 

Just as you reach for a knife he grabs your wrist. 

“What the fuck is up with you right now?” he grounds out. 

“I just want to spend some time with you.” 

Your voice sounds frail, even to your own ears. 

And before he even opens his mouth you know what he’s about to say is going to bring all this to a head. And from the look on his face and the awful, gnawing in your gut, you know you’re not going to like it. You know that more likely than not, it’s going to break your heart. 

(A part of you can’t help but wonder if maybe your heart has already been broken. That it’s made up of haphazardly glued together pieces. Perhaps that’s why you feel so fragile. Perhaps the damage is done and you’ve just been waiting for Katsu to bring down the axe. To scatter the pieces. To finish the fucking job.)

“God,” he spits out. And it’s like a dam has been broken and every hateful thing he’s ever thought about you can’t help but come pouring out.  

“You’re so fucking needy, you can’t do a fucking thing by yourself. It’s like all you ever do is breathe down my fucking neck and tell me everything I’m not doing for you.” Distantly, you wonder if that’s true. It might be. Maybe it’s that ugly selfishness you’ve never really been able to hide. You thought you’d done a better job of tucking it away. You were wrong, it seems. 

“So I can’t spend every single fucking second of every single day with you, sue me. I’ve got my own shit to deal with, my own problems, or have you forgotten that I have a life outside of you?”

No, you think. I haven’t. Or maybe you have. You’re not really focusing so hard on his words. You tune them out as much as you can. You’re staring at his face, taking in all the details. The deep red of his eyes, the pale blond of his hair, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the slope of his neck, the little scars peppering his face. You used to sit on his lap and kiss each and every one, no matter how faint. 

You’re so weird, he’d say as you did it, but the tightness of his arms around you always spoke a different story. 

You’re going to miss that, you think. Holding him. Loving him. 

It takes you a while to realize he’s still yelling. It’s all hateful and cruel and so sharp. Like he’s taken a knife to your skin to flay you open, exposing every crack, every vein, every shattered piece of heart that makes you. You let it wash over you, like a particularly violent ocean wave.  

“Sometimes,” he says, his voice finally quieting to a bearable level, “I wonder why I’m still with you.” 

The breath you let out is shaky. No matter how ready you thought you were, there’s simply no amount of time that prepares you to hear those words from him. From the person you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with. From the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. 

The silence between you two is deafening. And heavy. So heavy it feels as though your chest will cave in from the pressure. 

“Yeah,” you say at last, though you have to force the words around the burning iron poker in your throat. And then you laugh, you can’t help it. It’s all so fucked. You hate that it’s come to this bitter monstrous ugliness. 

When had this all started to fester, to rot? you wonder. Is this really all that’s left?

“I can’t help but wonder the same thing.” It comes out more bitter than you'd like. A small jab to try to even out the gaping wound he’s torn open in you. 

But it’s also true. 

You can’t see his reaction through the tears clouding your vision. You don’t really want to anyway. What’s done is done. What’s said is said. 

You grab your phone and keys and walk through the front door, closing it softly behind you. 

He doesn’t say a word.

You think if there was any part of your heart left unbroken, his silence has shattered it to oblivion. 

+

You walk for an hour or two. Until the sun has dipped almost completely below the horizon and it’s surrounded by hazy blood-red waves. 

It’s a good place to think. To set your jumbled thoughts in order. 

It takes a special kind of selflessness to love a hero, you realize. A type you don’t possess, not even nearly. You’ve always been just a little selfish when it came to love. But there’s no room for that when with people like Bakugou Katsuki. 

And that’s okay, you tell yourself. 

It’s a lie. It’s not okay. And the hollow aching in your chest that beats in time with your heart agrees. 

You look down at your phone. 

33 missed calls from Katsu 

You look back towards the setting sun just once. You don’t really know why. Perhaps to find some bravery in the beauty of it, to steal yourself a few extra seconds of this limbo you’ve found yourself in. Where everything is hazy and beautiful and hurts so bad you can hardly breathe. 

It’s not long before you’re biting the inside of your cheek, turning on your heels, and heading home. 

+

You don’t even have your keys fully out of your pocket before the door swings open, with Katuski on the other side looking a bit worse for wear, though you doubt you’re one to talk. 

His eyes are bloodshot and his nose is a bit pink. He’s been crying. You can’t remember the last time you saw him cry. 

(That’s a lie, you realize. You had gotten in the crosshairs of a particularly brutal villain versus hero showdown. The resulting injuries you suffered were severe. You’d apparently been a bit touch and go for a while. When you opened your eyes for the first time after everything, Katsu was right there, looking like hadn’t slept, showered, or eaten for days. Later you found out it’s because he hadn’t left your bedside since you returned from surgery. 

Katsu, you’d croaked out weakly, stretching out a shaking hand toward his face. 

He broke down into sobs so violent they wracked his whole body. It took him over an hour to calm down.)

You got about half a foot through the door before he threw himself at you. Wrapping his arms around you so tight it bordered on painful. He sinks down to the floor. You sink with him. 

He’s sobbing into your shoulder repeating a mantra of, I’m so sorry and I didn’t mean it. Please, please. I didn’t mean it. 

You think about that old saying. What a person says in anger is how they really feel. You don’t necessarily believe that. You yourself have said things out of anger that you in no way meant, that were purely thrown to hurt the person on the other end. 

You want to believe he didn’t mean it, more than anything you do. Because you love him. Because you really do think that Katsu is it for you. That he’s always been it for you. 

You pull away about as far as he’ll let you. 

“Do you love me, Katsuki?” 

The words hang in the air. You feel raw. Like you’re the one who has taken a knife to your own skin and flayed it all open for him. 

You don’t quite know vulnerability until you ask someone if they love you. It’s a different sort of weakness. 

“Yes,” he responds. His voice rough from his tears. “More than anything.”

You watch one last tear fall from his eye.

You hold his face in your hands and wipe it away. Softly. Gently. Lovingly. 

+

You guys are not okay and now that you’ve accepted that you think there’s a chance that one day, you will be. 

[erwinsvow]

𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞.

summary: he wasn't always alone. in fact, there was a time when levi had you.

warnings: angst, fluff, mentions/description of injury and patching up, levi needs sleep

author's note: been in the works for a while because i couldn't figure out what i wanted to do, but this takes place after levi & zeke's conversation and there will be an angsty part two, i hope everyone likes it! it doesn't really make much sense but bear with me :)

listening to: don't let me go

“I bet you’re not popular with the ladies. Don’t act like you know about someone’s feelings.”

He pauses, feeling his heart skip a beat.

“I know. And I was… popular enough.”

He lets his mind take him back, back a time before everything in the world was so messed up. When he knew what his responsibilities were, and when there were clear orders to follow. He can’t seem to recall when everything went straight to shit. It feels like it’s been a long time coming.

He knew he was screwed years ago, when he was trying to stitch up the deep gash on his shoulder by himself, sitting in his quarters with a bowl of warm water and bloody bandages. You had been helping the others, a traumatized recruit with a concussion and broken leg, courtesy of the fifteen meter that had overwhelmed him.

There were a few others too, especially a familiar face that seemingly always needed your assistance after a mission. He wondered just how many times the boy—because that’s all he is, a boy, and that’s all you are, a girl—could get away with the same old ruse.

Regardless, he wouldn’t be visiting you tonight. Never mind that the cut he’s trying to nurse by himself is nearly impossible to properly reach, and that he feels dizzy from consistent bleeding and lack of energy in his body. The alcohol he ingested to calm his nerves doesn’t really do anything, either, since there isn’t nearly enough of the stuff in his room to actually have an impact.

He’s going to crash soon, he knows, and even though sleep always evades him, he just wanted to get this wrapped up and lay down without making a bloody mess everywhere. He releases a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding. The very thought of you is enough to tense up every muscle in his body, and the idea of you being alone with that idiotic, improper recruit makes his fist tighten around the needle. Sewing himself up tonight is a lost cause. He finally decides a bandage, no matter how bloody it might become, will have to do.

He stands up, slowly because he doesn’t want to pass out from a head rush, when there’s a knock on the door. He groans a little too loudly at the sound of it. He doesn’t feel like talking to anyone tonight, especially in this condition, wearing a torn scrap of a shirt and blood trapped underneath his nails.

“Who is it?” he calls out harshly, wondering if maybe they’ll just leave if he sounds scary. The other scouts knew he didn’t like to be bothered, and wouldn’t have come unless there was an emergency. If it was Hange she would have barged in already, and he would have recognized Erwin’s heavy footsteps from down the hall. No, he knows who it is. He just wishes that he’s wrong.

“It- It’s me. Petra said you were hurt earlier and that it looked bad. I just wanted to make sure it was okay…” Your soft, hesitant voice trails off, and he knows how much courage it took for you to knock on his door.

What he doesn’t know is that there was no way you were falling asleep tonight without making sure Levi was okay, no matter how angry he would get at you for bothering him at night.

You’re bracing for that reaction when the door opens, but when your wide eyes meet his tired grey ones, you feel yourself melt and all the words in your head disappear. There’s only one fragment of a thought left, the fact that Levi’s bleeding, and a lot, at that. You don’t even wait for his permission to step inside, suddenly energized by anger and mumbling to yourself as you set down your supplies and rummage through them.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” he questions quietly. He tries to line his voice with steel like he always does, but the facade is fading with every passing minute.

“I have to clean out your wound, captain, before something festers. If you had told me about this, say, right when we got back, it would have been fine by now, but now I have to rush because you’re too proud to ask for help-” You still and silence yourself.

It was out of line to enter without permission, but this is something else all together. Caring too much is one thing, you know, but insubordination is not tolerated, especially not by Levi.

You pick up a clean needle and thin silk thread that you need to patch up the wound, while searching for the jar of boiled water you need to clean it out first. Alcohol would work too, and you can smell it in the air, but you can’t find the words to ask for it.

Levi’s hands are unusually still, you know because you always notice them, and it’s a stark contrast to the way you’re shaking right now. It’s strange, because you stitched up a handful of others earlier today, and you were completely fine. Even Gunther, who you had always thought was handsome and could make you blush with an off-hand smile, never incited this kind of reaction from you.

You’re silently praying that Levi doesn’t comment on the tremor, but since you’re about to dig a sharp point into his shoulder to tie the skin back together, it would be idiotic if he didn’t say something. You turn to look at him, but it feels like he’s not even there.

His head is hanging down, propped up by the single functional arm, as the other one continues to bleed. You know it’s painful and that he should be saying something, something that makes you stutter and stumble over your words like he always makes you, but he’s just silent.

“Well, get on with it then. If that’s really why you came here this late.” His voice makes you tremble even harder.

There’s so much you try hard at. You try to be the best soldier you can be, even though both you and your superiors know you weren’t meant for this. Sometimes you can fool your fellow soldiers, and the handful of people you can call your friends, and with a few years under your belt, it seems like it’s getting easier to live this life. But you know deep down that it’s not. The one person who always sees right through it is Levi, though.

It’s part of the reason why you’re such a damn mess around him, because there’s no reason to present a false veneer if he knows the truth. You’re not a real soldier, not a real fighter, and you’re more useful as a medic stitching people up than anything else.

And yet, it’s always him who saves you. Him, who makes sure that any threat in between you and the scout you’re trying to rescue from the brink of death is eliminated. Him, that keeps one eye on the target and one eye on your back just in case. And every time, every goddamn time you need to be rescued, he rescues you.

But now, with his head hanging low and any semblance of not knowing why he always saves you gone, it feels your chance to repay him has finally arrived. The shaking stops when you go to sit down near him. Maybe it’s the sudden rush of energy in your body, but you find yourself unbuttoning his shirt to remove whatever remains of the cloth.

His body tenses further, but he doesn’t stop you, and he doesn’t say anything. You’re as gentle and careful as you can be, and once you’re successful, you drop the mangled shirt on the floor. Taking the water, you pour it over the wound as Levi releases a soft hiss at the feeling, for which you’re apologizing before you can even realize the words have left your mouth. He doesn’t say anything, but his shoulder relaxing encourages you to keep going.

You take your time, trying to clean off all the blood you can. You think he’ll protest when you pick up his hands, and wash those too, but he doesn’t. It’s not until you run your own hand over his softly, squeezing the top of it because you don’t have any words to express the thoughts going through your mind, that he finally speaks up.

“Thank you.”

It’s so quiet, you could swear that you had imagined it. He doesn’t look up to meet your eyes like you wish he would, but a smile forces its way onto your face regardless. You focus on the hard part now; stitching up your captain and making sure your work doesn’t leave him with any scars. You focus on your technique, fingers working nimbly and mind focused on this, and for a short time, it doesn’t feel like you’re with your captain, your superior. It just feels like being there with Levi.

All the while, his brain is working overtime to figure out why you’re like this. Why you’re treating him so carefully and gently, when you have no reason to. He doesn’t pick favorites, and even if he did, you wouldn’t be anywhere near that list. You’re not the fastest, you’re not the most lethal, and in fact, he could count on one hand your titan kills and assists. You help people. You save people. But most of the time, you’re just recovering a half-dead soldier so that their body can be buried at home and not forced to remain out there, alone. You’re just there so that parents can have a grave to mourn at, instead of an empty tomb.

He doesn’t treat you better than anyone else, and most of the time assigns you more cleaning duties than the others. You always take it and never complain, something else that he always wonders about. He had come to the conclusion it was because he’s saved your life countless times, and the fact that he isn’t going to let up soon. So you take everything he gives you with a polite smile. And for some goddamn reason, he can’t get that smile out of his head, no matter how hard he tries. You don’t even know how you make him feel; like he’s special and that he deserves these attentions.

A particularly painful turn of the needle makes him flinch, and brings him back to reality. You’re apologizing again, murmuring how you’re almost done, but he doesn’t want you to leave yet. He lets his mind flicker over how you’re always apologizing, and how much he just wants to tell you that you don’t have to, not for anything. Not for having to come and save you, not for stitching him up, not for trying to fix him.

You let out a sharp breath once you finish, getting back up to fetch a dressing, but his hand grabs yours before you can get too far. Levi looks up, grey eyes full of an emotion you can’t exactly pinpoint, one you have never seen before from him.

“Will you stay a little longer?” And just like that, everything in the world seems to fall into place.

“Of course. Let me just wrap it up, first. I’ll stay as long as you want.” You’re surprised at yourself for finding the words so quickly, because your heart has never pounded so fast in your life. You fumble around, trying to find the right thing, hands shaking again, and you can’t seem to get them to stop.

You go back to Levi, wrapping the cloth around his shoulder and securing it around his arm, suddenly hyper aware of the feel of his skin. It’s softer than you had imagined it would be. Both of you sit in the silence for a while, your hand finding a place over his and rubbing soft circles on his knuckles with your thumb.

You want to say something, anything, but there aren’t any words that seem right. His fingers deftly work their way around yours, and you honestly wonder if he can hear your heartbeat or the blood rushing to your cheeks. It’s past midnight now, and you have a feeling dawn will be approaching before long.

“You should really sleep now. It won’t get better until you rest a little.” You’re speaking because his actions gave you a little bit of confidence, but he interprets it wrong almost immediately.

“Of course. You’d like to go now?”

“N-no! No, I just thought that, that you would be tired now. I can go if you want, I-”

“I don’t get much sleep anyways.” He doesn’t even mean to sound so dejected, but it comes out before he can stop himself. He’s spent too, too many nights laying awake, sleep ever-evading him, wondering how it might be to sleep besides you. Would he get some rest? Would he be able to close his eyes and not open them an hour later with a pounding chest? He can’t remember the last time he was able to fall asleep, and stay asleep. You don’t make any movement to get away, and he notices your hand twitch and wonders why.

You have to fight yourself internally to keep your hand down, and not wrap your arms around your captain as you process his words. Your heart feels strangely heavy at the thought of Levi laying awake, all alone, exhausted but unable to succumb to the ease of rest. He’s on guard, all the time, every minute of every day, and half the time he’s expending his energy on saving you.

You’re not confident, like some of the others. You never have been. But in this moment, you feel something rushing into your body and coursing through your veins, something close to confidence but slightly different. The feeling makes you release Levi’s hand and shed your sweater, and crawl into his bed. It’s almost exactly as you expected, and not nearly as soft or warm as your own. But you think about Levi sleeping soundly beside you, him peaceful and content, and it doesn’t matter how comfortable his bed is. You just want him to fall asleep.

He looks at you with a mix of emotions, surprise being mixed in with them. He hadn’t been expecting that, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate it.

You’re sitting under the covers now, waiting expectedly for something. A part of you fears that this wasn’t what he meant, or wanted, but your racing heart calms down a little at the sight of him coming in to get settled beside you. He releases a sigh when his shoulder hits the mattress, at ease finally, and so exhausted that every muscle in his body is about to give out.

He sleeps on his back, you note, before shifting your gaze to the ceiling quickly. You certainly don’t want him to notice that you’re staring, or that you keep fingering the soft sheets between your fingers to remind yourself this is real and really happening.

“Stop fidgeting.” His voice is quiet, and even, and stills you instantly. You finally lift your head to look at him, letting out a breath at how he looks. Eyes closed, almost peaceful, laying on his back with his hand resting right near you.

You’re not sure if it’s the confidence from earlier, or something new entirely, but you adjust the sheets to cover him more, pulling them and letting them rest on his chest. He doesn’t open his eyes, but you notice the way he jerks a little at the motion.

“Sorry, Levi,” you whisper, trying to remain as quiet as possible. You lay your hand on top of his, intertwining your fingers and letting your own eyes close. You can hear his every breath, the scent of his skin taking over and clouding your mind as every sense slowly focused on one thing; him. “Let’s sleep now.”

[eulangelo]

last anon again. thank u for engaging in good faith! i see and understand ur perspective. i guess my only worry is that, in progressive spaces at least (and its a sentiment ive seen trans women and transfems communicate as well), letting an attitude of all men are inherently predators and whatever fester will hurt trans women as well, since even if people aren't outwardly transmisogynistic and do genuinely try their best to accept trans women as women, attitudes ingrained into us by our upbringing are hard to let go of. people can still act differently towards trans women because of their agab, and trans women do notice this. in addition, i think this kind of thinking can lead to the logic that trans women aren't predatory only because of their gender, not because bioessentialism is stupid. as such, if someone manages to make people stop believing in the womanhood of trans women, they will turn on them much more easily. i think we also had a gap in understanding between the two of us. when i talk about this attitude i don't mean people being warry of random men they don't know, but the bioessentialist idea that people who are commonly conceived of as men (those who are amab) are INHERENTLY more dangerous than people commonly conceived of as women (those who are afab). its something that's very easy to weaponise against trans women and transfemmes, and i believe that maintaining an attitude like that in progressive spaces leaves room for bad actors to capitalise on it. feel free not to publish this or not engage, im going off anon in case you'd like to continue this discussion in private and also for the sake of transparency (a third anon would be kind of weird at this point and not conducive to a nuanced conversation)

i do agree with you on this, although i think that if someone has such a radical and extremist view of all men and is not making a generalization then i also think there's lots of chances that person might end up being a transmisogynist, because being wary of men/disliking men etc and even joking abt "men are trash" is ok imo, but when it gets to the point where someone believes theres intrinsic innate differences between men and women (biologically or neurologically) or brings up "female/male socialization" that is a red flag, and i do think that this kind of behaviour must be called out.

but i still dont condone it when people generalize about gender essentialism or terf retoric by making it something that hurts men, cis or trans, because it's wrong. and with the insurgence of transmisogyny in tme trans circles, with so many transmascs coming up with terms like transandrophobia/transmisandry, seeing them say stuff like "we're oppressed because we're trans people who menstruate" "we have the right to be wary of women", them accusing the trans women who call them out of being terfs etc. i really dont trust anyone whos tme and brags about how we should all be more accepting of men, lest we become terf-adjacent.

[spencers-renaissance]

I fear I will be ripped open and found unsightly

Summary: After Spencer fails his firearm recertification, the FBI believes some hand-to-hand combat and self-defence training is in order, and who better to administer it than the BAU's very own, Derek Morgan? Everything goes swimmingly until Derek decides to simulate an attack from above, and Spencer's thrust into the throes of a horrific flashback.

Tags: hurt/comfort, past abuse, platonic cuddling, angst with a happy ending, friendship or pre-slash, crying, panic attacks, flashbacks, episode: s01e06 LDSK, protectiveness TW: !!Discussions of Underage Rape/Non-Con including Molestation and Incestuous Sexual Abuse!!

Pairing: Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid (Platonic or Pre-Slash)

Word Count: 4.3k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

It’s a dreary day in late October when he fails his recertification test. Later, he’ll look back on this moment with a strange mixture of thankfulness and stone-cold dread, but in the moment all he can feel is the burning of his cheeks and the festering humiliation sat heavy in his chest.

Hotch is kind about it, because Hotch is kind about everything.

“Do you know what happened, Reid?” he asks with a complete absence of judgement, and it’s clear from everything about his body language and tone that he isn’t angry and he isn’t being critical, but Spencer feels his defences rising regardless.

He shakes his head and shrinks back in his seat, avoiding Hotch’s eyes.

“Did anyone do anything to make you feel uncomfortable?”

His eyes snap up to meet Hotch’s and he shifts to sit a bit more upright as he shakes his head with more vehemence this time. Sure, he didn’t particularly like the evaluator, but only because he seemed unimpressed with Spencer from the moment he laid eyes on him, acting as though evaluating someone who was doomed to fail was a waste of time.

Spencer can’t exactly blame him.

Hotch sighs. “Listen, Spencer,” he says gently, “I know you can handle yourself in the field and I know you can handle a gun just fine, but you know how many requirements were overlooked for you to join the unit in the first place, and you also know that your position in the BAU has been controversial with a few of the higher-ups. So, here’s the plan. I’m going to be your evaluator for your next recertification in two weeks, and in the meantime, I want you to do some hand-to-hand training with Derek to improve and consolidate your field and self-defence skills.”

Realistically, he knows that this is the best he could’ve hoped for, and he knows how hard Hotch and Gideon fight his corner when he’s questioned by everyone from witnesses to local PDs to the director of the bureau himself.

That does not mean he has to be happy about this.

He acquiesces because he has to. “Okay,” he says quietly, hoping he doesn’t sound as defeated as he feels.

“Reid,” Hotch says, redirecting his attention from the spot on the carpet he’s staring at. He waits for Spencer to look at him before smiling slightly and looking at him with a raw kind of earnest he knows is privileged to witness. “You know I’m proud of you, right?”

It’s Spencer’s turn to smile, brightening up from his miserable disposition slightly. “I do.”

⭑⭑⭑

“Hey, pretty boy,” Derek says cheerfully, slamming his locker closed just as Spencer enters the FBI gym. “I was beginning to think you weren’t gonna show.”

Spencer sighs, opening the locker next to Derek’s and putting his messenger bag inside before opening the grocery bag he’d brought his gym clothes in. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he says drily as he pulls out his clothes and heads towards one of the two private changing cubicles.

He hears Derek chuckle to himself before he calls back to him as he opens the door to the gym. “I’m gonna set up, you come through when you’re ready.”

Spencer procrastinates for as long as he can, making sure his shoes are tied perfectly and the bows are even sizes, folding all his work clothes as neatly as possible and placing them carefully back into the grocery bag, but before long, there’s nothing more he can do and he has to face the music. He inhales deeply, steeling himself for the next hour, before putting his bag in his locker (closing it with much less force than Derek did earlier) and walking into the gym.

It’s a fairly big hall that’s usually used for academy recruits, large scale demonstrations, and the various sports teams that have cropped up in different divisions of the FBI. Spencer knows that Derek currently plays basketball for the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime team, the department that the BAU is part of.

Right now, though, Derek has them set up in a tucked-away corner, both hard and soft mats laid out on the ground surrounded by various equipment Spencer couldn’t hope to identify correctly.

“You took your time,” Derek says when Spencer approaches him, eyebrows raised and an obvious note of amusement in his voice. “But now you’re here, let’s get started.”

They begin with a short conditioning exercise that Derek says is supposed to ‘get the blood pumping’ but in actuality has Spencer panting like a dog and soaked with sweat within minutes. Maybe those higher-ups have something of a point. He knew he was unfit, but this is just embarrassing.

“Okay, now with the warm-up out of the way—”

“That was a warm-up?”

Derek doubles over with his laughter and Spencer can’t help but join in, despite how out of breath and red in the face he might be.

“It’s supposed to be, Spence, but maybe I over-estimated things a little,” he concedes once their giggles have died out. “Alright, alright, let’s move on to some basic self-defence moves. I know you probably already know most of these, but this is supposed to be a refresher, yeah? And to remind you that you can hold your own in the field, whether you pass your recertification or not.”

Spencer winces. “I don’t know, Derek, I mean I did fail every single physical aspect of the academy examination.”

“See, that’s what I mean, pretty boy,” Derek says, standing up from the mat and helping Spencer up, too. “You’re in your own head, and when you’re out in the field, you have enough enemies without making your own mind one as well. You know this stuff, Spence, I’m just here to remind you of that.”

“Alright,” he nods, holding in his sigh. He doesn’t mean to be negative, he just can’t help the way he’s feeling. The last week has been rough.

“Okay, so let’s go through front-facing attacks first,” Derek says. “What’s the first move you can do to protect yourself in that situation?”

“Elbow shield,” Spencer replies, holding out his arm and blocking Derek from coming any closer with his forearm acting as a barrier that Derek presses his chest against.

“Exactly, and what can you do to inflict damage in that position?”

Spencer responds by sliding his forearm up to Derek’s neck and applying light pressure, not wanting to actually hurt him.

“You got it. Okay, now what if I manage to grab you and pull you closer, what’s your move?”

He keeps his forearm locked to keep Derek from advancing too close, but this time he grabs his bicep with both hands and uses his core to bring him closer before he raises his shin and mimes kicking him in the groin.

“See, you know this stuff,” Derek says brightly. “The only note I have is to just remember to keep your thumbs in line with the rest of your fingers, not wrapping under my arm.”

“Oh yeah, that makes sense. The thumb is easily broken, although the most common injury associated with a broken thumb is actually damage to the larger bone of your hand, the metacarpal.”

Derek chuckles. “Exactly.”

Funnily enough, Spencer actually finds himself having fun as they walk through some other basic defensive movements as well as the best way to use tactical punches to overpower or debilitate an unsub or attacker. They frequently burst into peals of laughter, as can be expected when two close individuals find themselves having to do semi-serious work together, and before he knows it, forty-five minutes have flown by.

“Okay, I want to end with some more up close and personal attacks and the best way to stave them off, alright?” Derek says as he puts away the boxing gloves and pads.

Immediately, Spencer feels a small glimmer of nerves and anticipation for how this might make him feel, but he brushes it off. He knows he’s safe with Derek, and the whole point of the exercise is to defend himself. Nothing’s going to happen.

“Let’s start with an attacker coming at you from behind,” Derek decides, coming up behind him. “I’m going to cover your mouth, and you’re going to use your skills and knowledge to remove me, alright?”

Spencer nods, hoping Derek doesn’t read the hesitancy in it, and he supposes that he doesn’t because soon enough a large palm is tightly covering the lower half of his face.

For a brief moment, he isn’t a twenty-five-year-old agent training with one of his closest friends in the gym in the basement of the FBI Headquarters, but a scared and lonely ten-year-old in his childhood bedroom, trying to fight the persistent, evil man on top of him, wondering why his dad would do this to him—

He snaps himself out of it by opening his eyes and forcing himself to take in the surroundings, and before long instinct takes over and he’s gripping at Derek’s wrist and using his core and bodyweight to bend forward and free himself from the restrictive hold.

“Good job, Reid!” Derek says encouragingly, and there’s no evidence on his face when he turns around that he noticed any sort of hesitation or deliberation, so he suspects that his flashback really was only for a second, no matter how everlasting and all-consuming it felt in the moment.

He manages a shaky smile, and invites his next method of torture. “What’s next?”

“Okay, what if I was to grab your t-shirt and immediately start punching you?” Derek asks, immediately miming doing exactly like that.

Fighting the instinct to go into protective mode, he instead turns around elbow first and uses his other hand to mime punching Derek while his knee goes up to attack his groin.

“Perfect! That’s the spirit, kid. No unsub’s ever gonna get the best of you.”

Spencer blushes a little at the praise, ducking his head so he doesn’t have to meet his eye, but inside he’s beyond pleased, both with the encouragement from Derek and his own self-confidence he can feel flooding back. Maybe he really does have a handle on the more physical side of things. Maybe he isn’t just good for his brain.

“Alright, let’s finish off with some on the ground stuff, okay?” Derek says, sitting down on the mat and inviting Spencer to join him with a pat on the space beside him.

He hesitates a little, and this time Derek notices, his face softening.

“Listen, I know this one is a bit more uncomfortable than the others, but we’re almost done, right? Let’s just get a few moves consolidated and then you can go and have a shower and head home to relax.”

Spencer nods finally and joins him, laying on his back as Derek instructs. The vulnerability of the position has him feeling deeply uncomfortable, no matter how many times he tells himself that he’s safe with Derek, but he forces himself to lie still. If nothing else, he doesn’t want to reveal this very personal and private detail of his childhood to his best friend. He just needs to keep reminding himself that he’s safe.

“Right, let’s practice the pinned wrist escape, okay?”

Before he knows what’s happening, before he can process the words and prepare him for what’s about to happen, Derek’s straddling him and resting his full weight over his hips and his wrists are wrapped in a tight grip, pinned to the mat above his head.

It’s so sudden and the sensations so overwhelming that he can’t help the immediate fear response that’s triggered, because he’s not in the FBI gym with Derek anymore, he’s somewhere else entirely.

“No, please,” he begs, voice strangled by a sudden, all-consuming dry sob that heaves his chest, “please don’t, I’m sorry. I’ll be good, please, dad, don’t—”

His sobs suddenly overtake his words and he’s left crying pathetically on the floor, too trapped in the memory to notice that the pressure’s been removed from his hips and he’s free to move his arms, too consumed by the physical and emotional anguish that came with the abuse to hear Derek’s desperate, heart-broken pleas from beside him, begging him to come back to himself.

“Spencer!”

A voice finally manages to break through the fog of panic, and he slowly regains consciousness, the white hot glaze of fear and crippling memory fading incrementally until he can see the high beams of the gym ceiling, until he can hear Derek’s gentle, soothing words beside him.

“It’s alright, pretty boy, I’m here, you’re safe,” Derek tells him gently, although Spencer can hear the urgency in his voice, even in his scared and overwhelmed state.

He covers his face with his hands as his desperate, heaving sobs transform into wet, humiliated cries.

“Hey, hey, Spence,” Derek murmurs beside him, “is it alright if I touch you?”

He considers shaking his head, but really, he wants some comfort right now, no matter how much he’ll hate himself for embarrassing himself further later. He’s glad he does though because Derek very carefully and very slowly lifts him up until he’s wrapped up in a comforting hug, his face buried in a strong chest. He’s not sure he’s ever felt safer than in this exact moment.

“You’re alright, pretty boy, I got you.”

Spencer continues to cry, the overwhelm of having a flashback that intense still wracking his body, but eventually, he starts to calm down, the tension slowly bleeding from his muscles as he collapses, boneless against Derek’s body.

“Here, why don’t you have this granola bar and some water,” Derek suggests gently when his tears have dried up, reaching over to the edge of the mat where he was clearly hiding some post-exercise rewards.

Spencer accepts them tiredly, not moving from his position slumped against Derek’s chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Derek asks him once he’s sipped his way through half the bottle and the granola bar is gone.

As much as he’d like to get things off his chest, as much as he trusts Derek, he just— can’t. So he shakes his head and pulls himself into a sitting upright position, although he still doesn’t meet Derek’s eyes.

“Okay,” Derek says softly. “I’m gonna drive you home. Come on.”

Spencer numbly walks through the locker room and the halls of the FBI with Derek guiding him until they reach his car, and the motion of climbing in brings a little bit more awareness back to him.

“Thanks,” he whispers as Derek starts the engine and drives them out of the parking garage.

“Don’t be ridiculous, pretty boy. No thanks needed.”

They don’t speak on the journey home, and Spencer contents himself with looking out the window at the passing scenery until they enter the city and trees transform into tower blocks. His mind drifts, but he’s just grateful that it doesn’t keep circling back to the flashback, having somewhat successfully resealed those memories like he always does, pushing them down and smothering them with as much good as he can collect in people and memories and things.

The silence between them prevails until Derek steps into his apartment behind him, closing the front door and helping Spencer out of his jacket before hanging his own coat up on a hook and steering Spencer towards the sofa. “You are going to sit here,” he orders, picking up one of Penelope’s hand-knitted blankets from its position neatly folded over the arm of the sofa, “while I get some tea and something to eat. Fancy anything in particular?”

Spencer remembers the satsumas and macaroons Penelope brought over the other day and tells Derek as such, following the other man with his eyes until he disappears into the kitchen and he’s left alone with his hazy thoughts for a couple of minutes.

They pass in a blur, though, and before he can blink, Derek is pressing a mug of warm chamomile tea into his hands and placing a small plate of a satsuma and a couple of macaroons on the coffee table.

The weight of Derek sitting down on the sofa next to him, and the grounding feeling of his palm wrapped around his ankle, has his hazy mind clearing until he’s in a much more present and aware headspace, enough so that Derek clearly notices it.

“You feeling a bit more like yourself?”

Spencer nods, and offers a small smile, trying to ignore the curls of humiliation and self-loathing working their way up his throat. Thoughts he hasn’t had in years are bursting at the seams Spencer had sewn tightly around them, brought up by physical memory alone, and he’s trying to hold them back, but somewhere in the back of his head, there’s his dad again, whispering dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty, di—

“Hey, Spence,” he hears, and he snaps his head up, his dad’s voice shutting up and making room for Derek’s — Derek’s soft and gentle reassurances, his promises that he’s here and he’s safe and everything will be okay. “You got a bit lost in your head again there, kid. You alright?”

Spencer sighs tiredly, and a tear runs down his face unbidden. He’s not crying exactly, just— leaking. Leaking in the way a tap that hasn’t been turned on for years does when it finally experiences a much overdue release of pressure. Leaking in the way Spencer Reid does when he has a flashback to the sexual abuse he experienced as a child for the first time in two and a half years.

“Spencer,” Derek says, and something in his voice catches his attention, something serious, something earnest. He looks over at him. “Spencer, I know what you’re going through.”

His cheeks pale and he can hear the blood rushing in his ears because those words, that means— surely not, right? How could Derek— how could he—

“It happened to me, too.”

And there’s the confirmation. There are the five words that have him breaking down again, tears splashing into hot chamomile tea and onto cold, cold hands, sobs wracking his sore and tired shoulders. No one should have to go through what he did, no one. Especially not— God, especially not—

“Hey, Spencer, listen to me,” Derek says urgently scooting closer on the sofa until he can lift Spencer’s chin up with his hands and raise his head until their eyes are locked on one another and he can bear witness to the pain and the openness and the concern swimming in his dark brown irises. “I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re here, aren’t we? We’re safe. Don’t cry, pretty boy, everything’s gonna be just fine, I promise.”

He pauses to give Spencer a little time to catch his breath, but after a couple of minutes he speaks up again. “Would you like me to tell you about it?”

Spencer knows it will break his heart to hear. He doesn’t want to listen to a story in which Derek Morgan was the victim and not the hero, not his hero, but part of him knows that he needs to hear it; needs to know that he wasn’t and isn’t alone. And he can’t help but wonder whether maybe Derek needs to say it. Whether he also needs to tell someone what happened and have them empathise completely, have them say “I understand, I know what you’re going through” and have them mean it.

So he nods.

“His name was Carl Buford,” Derek says, resting the hand not clutching Spencer’s ankle on his knee, “and he was my football coach. A hero of the community. After my dad died, I got in a little trouble on the streets, right, and as a result, I got a record. Eventually, that record was expunged, and I learned that Buford had done it. I was confused, obviously, but he told me I had potential, that I was special, that I was going places and he was gonna help me get there.

“And so we started spending more time together. At first, it was just one-on-one football training and some run of the mill mentoring, and I finally felt like I had a real father figure again, someone who I could look up to and talk to and trust. Until one day when he took me up to his cabin. He gave me Helgeson wine to intoxicate me, and then convinced me to go skinny-dipping in a lake with him but when we came back to the cabin, he started— he started rubbing up against me. It eventually spiralled into… molestation and rape. He used to say "You better man up, boy, look up to the sky" when I would cry out for him to stop, or later — when some shameful part of me had accepted it — when I would wince in pain or he could sense I didn’t want to be there.

“And that went on for years until I guess I outgrew his preference and he— I mean— I guess, I guess he must have moved on.”

Spencer wants to be sick, and he’s pretty sure Derek feels the same, so all he can do is lean forward and wrap Derek in the tightest hug he can manage while they cry together.

“Did you ever tell anyone?” Spencer asks after a little time has passed.

Derek nods. “When it started affecting my football career in college, I started seeing a therapist, and I’ve really gotten to a place now where I’ve come to terms with it. As much as I’m ever going to be able to anyway. Half of that therapy was me grieving for the childhood I lost, expressing the anger I felt towards Buford in a healthy way, and then accepting that there isn’t anything I can do to undo the pain except work my ass off at the BAU putting guys like him behind bars since I lost my chance with him.”

Spencer nods. “I’m sorry he isn’t in prison.”

Derek shrugs his shoulders a little, pulling out of the hug. “I keep tabs on him. If I ever so much as catch a whiff of him hurting one of the boys at the centre I’ll be on him in no time. Just… waiting for the evidence, I guess.”

Spencer takes the hand resting on top of his knee and squeezes it, a show of solidarity his tongue can’t manage.

They sit in silence for long, comfortable minutes before Spencer finally feels like sharing. He knows that Derek isn’t expecting anything: if he never wanted to explain, he knows Derek would understand completely, but something about knowing he’ll understand like no one else can, that he can share and feel safe in doing so has his own story rolling off his tongue like it never has before.

“It was my dad,” Spencer says quietly, a confession he’s always been too ashamed to make. “The first time it happened was the night of my sixth birthday. He said that the day was his own celebration, because he’d waited so long and he was finally going to get his prize. He raped me. It wasn’t like that every time, sometimes he’d stop at… touching or— or fellatio, sometimes he’d come into my room and stand over me, getting off on how scared I was anticipating the act that never came.

“He left when I was ten, not far away from my eleventh birthday, and a big part of me always wondered whether the main reason he left was that I wasn’t in his preferential age group anymore. But when I was thirteen, I bumped into him in a hotel in California of all places, and even though I was bigger and stronger and nowhere near as vulnerable, he still got the best of me, he still weaseled his way into my room and took advantage of me again. After that time I carried pepper spray everywhere I went until the FBI issued me a gun. I swore I’d never let it happen again.”

Derek looks desperately sad when he finally meets his eyes again, and before he knows it he’s being wrapped in another hug, and they’re both in pieces again. However painful these memories are, though, the release of them is more cathartic than anything Spencer’s ever experienced; crying together with another survivor over everything they lost, the people that stole their childhoods and abused them for years on end, their younger, scared selves, desperate for someone to save them.

It hurts Spencer’s heart, but he also doesn’t think he’s ever felt safer than right in this moment.

“Is this the first time you’ve talked about this, Spence?” Derek asks eventually, with his cheek resting on the top of Spencer’s head.

“Yes,” he admits, another tear dripping onto the hands curled anxiously in his lap.

Derek pulls away and looks him in the eye, cupping his face gently and brushing a tear away with his thumb. “I’m proud of you.”

As broken and unseemly and ripped open and torn apart as he feels right now, as exposed as this entire ordeal has made him feel, for the first time, he thinks he agrees with Derek.

His trust was destroyed by the person supposed to protect him, and he’s carried the trauma of being sexually abused as a young child around with him for the last two decades, and still, he’s here. He’s brave enough to share himself with Derek, and he’s strong enough to cry and grieve and ache for the scared six-year-old boy he wishes he could go back in time and save.

Right now, in the early evening light of the flat and the safe and supportive arms of his best friend, he’s proud of himself, too. And that feels really damn good to finally say.

Please practice self-care after reading this, especially if you are also a survivor. RAINN Rape Crisis UK International Help for Survivors

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @temily @enbyspencer @reidology @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @tobias-hankel @hotchscotchh @oliverbrnch @physics-magic @sbeno22 @im-autistic @thataveragenerd @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @cmily @notevanbuckley @thebipolarbisexualnerd (taglist form)

[belliesandburps]

Our Favorites Handling Bellyaches - Part 2

I received plenty of asks about other characters responding to bellyaches, and so, here are another eight based off the characters requested!

Shoto Todoroki (My Hero Academia):  Todoroki is canonically pretty gluttonous, just not ravenous.  So he won’t rapidly stuff his face like Bakugou or Kirishima, but he’ll steadily eat a lot and keep going with that neutral look on his soft face.  I imagine, for the most part, he doesn’t get stomach aches because he doesn’t overdo it often nor does he really change up his eating habits too much.  But from time to time, he’ll try new things which won’t always agree with him or eat just a wee bit too much.  If something he ate isn’t agreeing with him, he’ll be very subtle but blunt about it.  He’ll have this mild yet notable look of strain on his face while using his cold hand to rub his belly.  The cold side always helps to ease his stomach, which was what his mom used to do whenever lil Shoto got a tummyache as a kid.  This might cause a few gas bubbles to gurgle up his throat, but he tends to muffle those in his mouth.  Now, if he overate, he’s kind of winded.  Todoroki will head to his room and huff breathlessly as he tugs his shirt up and exposes his taut, rounded belly, feeling up just how drum-tight it is beneath his hands.  He’ll use both hands to massage his stomach in that instance; hot and cold, and try to use those abilities to ease his gut while he massages the overstuffed cramps away.  When he’s especially full, his burps get much deeper and louder.  If he muffles them, they rumble quite loudly in his cheeks, or if he really needs to get it out, he’ll throw his head back and expel a DEEP belch, which always leaves him huffing with relief after and muttering a small ‘excuse me.’  He tries not to bother Midoriya, but he absolutely loves it when Midoriya rubs his belly.  Midoriya’s touch is always deeply comforting for him and not only eases his stuffed stomach but also makes him feel safe and secure.  Plus, he finds a little amusement in how flustered Midoriya always gets rubbing his tum.

Tamaki Amajiki (My Hero Academia):  Given the way his ability works and the sheer anxiety he feels, Tamaki is incredibly prone to tummyaches.  Canonically, just thinking about something will make his stomach hurt.  Anxiety-induced tummyaches leave Tamaki whimpering and shivering fearfully as he crumbles to the ground cradling his gurgling gut, and whining that he wants to go home.  It’s...kind of the cutest freakin’ thing ever.  But given how his quirk relies on food, Tamaki will very often try new and exotic meals or eat things that don’t agree with one another, which gives him a really gnarly stomachache.  When that happens, Tamaki’s stomach is pressing out noticeably and rock-hard to the touch.  He’ll groan with a notably nauseous look on his face and find himself stifling a series of wet, gurgling belches, some of which he can’t hold in.  He gets very embarrassed about burping in public, but in these circumstances, he’s too nauseous to get anxious and nervous.  Instead, he’s resisting the urge to throw up, and desperately rubbing his belly to settle it down.  Fatgum or Mirio always suggest he drink some ginger ale to settle his tum down.  Problem is, ginger ale makes Tamaki burp REALLY loudly, and even if he’s nauseous, if he ends up letting out a HUGE burp out in public?  He may literally die from embarrassment.  Tamaki’s also a really hungry lad too, so he tends to overstuff himself from time to time.  If he does, he can sport a pretty sizable belly which he won’t admit feels REALLY satisfying, but less so if he overdid it and is suffering some seriously painful grumbles.  When Tamaki is full to the brim, he’ll whimper at the realization that his belly is very visibly bloated and everyone can see it.  He gets even more embarrassed when anyone wants to touch it or even rub it, making him whimper about wanting to crawl in his room and never leave.  But when he’s packed to the brim, he’ll use the powers he gained from whatever meat he consumed to more rigorously rub his belly, especially octopus tentacles.  Doing so works wonders for settling his stomach, but also makes him incredibly burpy.  He’ll try his best to stifle them but many will roll out of his mouth and be both throaty and surprisingly big.  Tamaki generally is a pretty burpy lad, simply because of how his stomach works to intensely process everything he eats for power.  And it’s part of why he dreads eating out with anyone.  But Kirishima and Fatgum are always amused or trying to top him, while Mirio just laughs and tells him he’s got skills.

Dabi (My Hero Academia):  Dabi’s canonically got a weak stomach.  He actually felt sick dealing with Spinner’s driving and complained about having a pretty bad stomachache.  Like Natsu, I think Dabi gets motion sick very easily.  He admits he doesn’t do well in cars, so I think the bumpier the ride the worse off he gets.  If the league is in a van together, Dabi will be in the corner, doing his best not to groan miserably while his stomach churns deeply and unpleasantly from how turbulent it’s getting.  He’ll be muffling really wet belches behind his fist, groaning after each one and mumbling that he feels like shit.  Sometimes, he’ll burp so hard that his stomach lurches and he has to clamp his mouth shut to keep from throwing up on the spot.  A good few times, the league has had to pull over so Dabi could rush out and puke off to the side of the road.  If he throws up, Dabi gets really pissed out and starts shouting at Spinner for being such an awful driver or getting mad at Shigaraki for not having Kurogiri transport them to where they need to be.  He hates showing weakness around the other villains, which is why he shows a lot of anger instead if he feels queasy.  As such, if Dabi overeats or drinks too much and gets full to the point where he feels sick, he’s less annoyed and just groggy.  He’ll slump back on his couch and unbutton his pants to give his belly some breathing room and really knead into his tight, bloated gut with both hands to try and settle it down.  When he’s full, he tends to have really deep burps, which he freely and shamelessly lets out.  Sometimes, he’ll slap the side of his bulging belly as hard as he can to let out the biggest burp he possibly can in an effort to bring whatever relief he can manage.  Dabi knows how to burp on cue, so he’ll often gulp down air and belch it back up to try and ease a lot of the pressure festering in his gut.  He also loves having his belly rubbed for any reason, so running your hands across his taut, distended middle will always help settle it down and leave him humming softly to your touch.  If he’s relaxed enough though, that can also get him ‘riled up’ for NSFW shenanigans.

Idia Shroud (Twisted Wonderland):  Idia is both canonically gluttonous and canonically works himself into getting some pretty gnarly tummyaches all the time.  The mere thought of having to be around people twists his poor tummy into knots that can make him sick.  When he works himself up, poor Idia will whimper and cradle his stomach while it gurgles in discomfort.  He’ll actually tear up a little bit and whine about needing to hide out back in his room, unless Ortho drags him back into place.  The little robot will offer to rub his big brother’s tummy to make it feel better or suggest they get something from Sam’s shop to help settle Idia’s stomach.  Idia will be a whimpering, whining mess either way.  He also tends to give himself really bad hiccups when he’s anxious and nauseous.  He gives these loud, adorably high-pitched hiccups that leave him whimpering and covering his mouth, tearfully worried that someone’s gonna get really annoyed with him for being so loud.  When he’s overstuffed because he ate way too much without even realizing it (as he tends to), Idia will groan and sit down on his bed, massaging his bulging belly and feeling it gurgle and churn heavily beneath his hand.  Idia’s natural warmth processes what he eats faster than most people, which gives his tummy a much softer, sloshier feel to it when he’s stuffed to the brim.  So when he rubs, he’ll actually knead into his temporary belly fat, crooning at how good it feels.  But being stuffed also makes him pretty burpy, especially when he’s just binged on a bunch of sweets, junk food or soda.  Any time he ever eats, he’s in his room. So, if he’s alone and he ends up letting out a huge burp, Idia will cover his mouth but actually giggle with amusement.  But if the Prefect is in there with him rubbing his belly when Idia burps, he’ll whimper and apologize profusely.  If he knows the Prefect likes ‘em, he’ll still whimper because he’s embarrassed about the way the surface of his soft, plush belly ripples when he burps really loudly.  The Prefect will insist that they like that too, and Idia be flustered because he’s not used to people being attracted to him, so he’ll try and hide behind his sleeves adorably or bite on his oversized sleeve anxiously. 

Venom (Spider-Man):  Venom is a ravenous eating machine, so there’s very, very, VERY little that can upset that perpetually hungry belly of his.  But one thing we canonically know doesn’t sit well in Venom’s stomach is other symbiotes OR extra spicy stuff.  So if Venom gobbles up another symbiote, he’ll store it in his belly trying to absorb it, but the thing will savagely thrash around inside of his belly, seeping out to the surface.  Doing so will make Venom very gassy, and he’ll end up burping uncontrollably while fighting to keep the rogue symbiote back down.  Sometimes, Venom will burp so hard that the symbiote will partially spew out of his slimy maw, only for Venom to grossly slurp it back up before it can escape.  If he has to hold it in long enough, it will make him very nauseous, to the point where his burps grow wetter and he ends up looking miserable and whining at Eddie to do something, which Eddie will just exasperatedly tell him this is entirely his fault.  When it comes to overeating, Venom literally can’t eat too much food to make himself sick.  Sooooo, the only overeating he does is if he ever tries to eat more than one person at once, or tries to eat a REALLY big enforcer.  So, if Venom has two dirtbags squirming and thrashing in his belly or just a really really REALLY big guy, Venom will be immobilized.  He’ll be sitting on his thick rump, groaning with his slimy tongue hanging out of his maw while his massive boulder of a belly thrashes around violently.  And the end result will leave Venom groaning and belching hard enough to shake the ground itself.  And if you think Venom has it bad now?  Wait til Eddie has to sleeve it off and wakes up to the mother of all bellyaches in the morning.  Venom is usually good about burping up the bones of his digested prey before letting Eddie take over, but Eddie will still be unbearably bloated and feel utterly nauseous when he awakes to this huge, taut belly that almost makes him look pregnant.  When that happens, Venom’s tendrils will slither out and rub Eddie’s aching belly all over to try and settle it down with Venom assuring him that they’re okay.  Eddie’s only response will be a record-shattering belch and a miserably groggy groan while Venom cackles and says he’s not too shabby for a human.

Rin Matsuoka (Free!):  This shark-toothed lad has an appetite to spare, and also gets stomachaches a lot from not being careful about when he swims after eating.  The latter has seen him throwing up from time to time.  But when he gets cramps from swimming too fast, his stomach feels harder and gurgles a very thick, acidic-sounding gurgle.  When that happens, Rin becomes a nauseous mess, groaning and muffling really wet-sounding burps, some of which he’ll just let out carelessly, too sick to care.  Haruka and or Makoto (dealers choice) usually try to help by rubbing his aching stomach sensually.  Sometimes, this helps quell the ache in his gut, sometimes, it’s too great to prevent him from spewing.  But he’ll always moan and lean into their touch, desperate to have his belly rubbed, even if it’s in vein, because it still feels amazing.  If Rin ate too much, his belly will be surging out and resting heavily against his pelvis, churning intensely and leaving Rin practically weighed down by his own gut.  Rin has a serious stomach capacity and he can be pretty shameless.  So when he’s overstuffed, Rin tends to burp a lot.  He’ll knead his bulging belly and push out some huge, rumbling belches that force their way up his throats for a good few seconds straight and end with him moaning with relief.  He’ll actually have a lot of pressure stored up from overeating.  So after one really good burp, a good few throaty ones will follow back to back after the biggest one, and usually end with a really long one to punctuate his fullness.  When that happens, Rin just smacks his lips and gives his belly a resounding slap of satisfaction, just feeling relieved at getting the pressure out, and no shame whatsoever.  He’s also a giant tease, so if he sees his partner blushing, he’ll flash them a wink and ask them if they enjoyed the show.

Shiki Granbell (Edens Zero):  The precious friend-loving boi is wild to his core and extremely excitable.  And since he’s a gravity-defying powerhouse, he doesn’t get motion sick at all.  He DOES, however, make the mistake of eating too much and flipping upside down.  When that happens, poor Shiki’s tummy will be giving him all manner of grief.  It will feel rock hard and visibly bloated, and Shiki will be a mess, whimpering and burping in his fist while whining about how much his belly hurts.  When he does, he’s practically begging Rebecca to rub his tummy.  Soon as she does, he’ll turn into a freakin’ puppy, the way he smiles and rests against Rebecca’s sides.  That look of happy contentment on his face is all the reason Rebecca needs to gently massage his aching belly, no matter how many times she warns Shiki to stop and think before using his powers after eating.  He’s also a very hungry lad, and as such, has overstuffed himself time and time again.  This usually leaves his belly big and rounded, sitting heavily on his lap and sloshing heartily from how hyperactive his digestive system is.  When he’s stuffed, he tends to get really big, rumbling burps that leave him huffing after they end, but he’ll still whine about his belly hurting.  Rebecca will remind him that it’s his own fault for eating so much, but all he has to do is whimper pitifully to unwittingly win her over to start rubbing his belly.  Like before, he’s very docile and contented when her hands are on his stomach.  But if he’s stuffed, Shiki tends to burp really loudly to relieve the pressure in his rounded stomach, which always leaves Rebecca staring blankly and asking Shiki to excuse himself.  He’ll just shrug and complain that he can’t help it.  And then he’ll usually punctuate it by thumping his chest and letting out a HUGE burp that leaves him sighing with relief.  But when he sees Rebecca’s eye start to twitch, theeeen he’ll sheepishly mutter a small “s’cuse me... ^^;”

Inuyasha (Inuyasha):  Inuyasha’s a bit of a shameless, greedy pig.  So he tends to overeat often or eat things he shouldn’t.  In the latter’s case, Inuyasha’s stomach will be very noisy, churning up a storm and leaving him grimacing with discomfort.  He’ll complain about his gut hurting, really kneading into his stomach, then telling Kagome to rub his belly...before faceplanting when she barks at him to “SIT!” for making demands.  After that, he’ll growl but groan at how much worse his stomach feels from the sudden smash he was forced to do because of his beads.  Then he’ll groggily yet begrudgingly ask “very nicely” if Kagome can rub his belly.  When she does, despite his crass attitude, he’ll pant happily, letting his tongue hang out at how good it feels having his hard, churning stomach tended to by Kagome.  If he overeats to the point where he gives himself a gnarly bellyache, he’ll be stuffed with a huge, medicine ball of a belly, one that’s forced his robes open while it weighs heavily on his lap.  In cases like that where Inuyasha is full to the brim, he’ll knead his giant belly with his palms and claws and work up some of the largest belches he can manage.  Kagome will get annoyed and tell him to stop being so gross, but Inuyasha will complain he can’t help it, he’s too full and needs to ease the pressure somehow.  He’ll really knead and press into his belly too, making his fingers sink into his soft, currently sloshy gut to force up some huge, throaty belches.  In fact, if Kagome complains that Inuyasha’s being gross, he’ll make it a point to make himself burp louder and more frequently just to troll her, especially since he knows if she uses the curse against him when he’s that bloated, he may be sick and even she doesn’t want that.......she’ll totally get back at him after he finishes digesting his heavy meal though...

And that’s your lot!  If you guys have any more characters you wanna see write ups for, hit up my ask box!  :)

[bokutoslittlebird]

Family Vacation

Bokuto x reader x Akaashi

Author’s Note : no incest, I promise ; the request included some slight BokuAka interaction, however I made it more than slightly ; the hot springs resort is loosely based on three different locations under the Kinosaki Onsen in northern Hyogo [Mikuniya Ryokan, Yutouya Ryokan, Nishimuraya Ryokan]. Each one offers different things, but they all have some common aspects that I liked: seafood served during winter months [November - March], traditional ryokan, and options for the hot springs [indoor, outdoor, and family] ; holy fuck is this wrong.. but holy hell is it erotic

Warnings: introduction of the Bokuto family, best friends to lovers au, playful teasing [about reader’s virginity], some mlm [Bokuto x Akaashi] interaction, fingering, face-sitting, handjob, blowjob, cum eating, spit exchanges and mentions, no penetrative sex, virgin!reader, virgin!Bokuto

“Oh, [Y/N]! I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Thank you for having me, Bokuto-san,”

“Oh, dear, call me Fuyumi! You’re practically family, anyways,” she smiles, eyes crinkling as she does. Her smile makes you smile, bowing in respect as if you haven’t known her for years.

The Bokuto family always spent their winter vacation before New Years at an Onsen in Hyogo. Yasurai-fukurou was well known for their hot springs throughout the year, but their meals included seafood in the winter. Kōtarō and Shinjiro both love seafood, especially crab, so it made sense the Bokuto family would come to this place specifically. Winter meant snow, and snow meant the garden view from the spring was gorgeous, having the silver lining the green foliage as the pebbles along the ground glistened with melted snow, cold and slippery. It was Kōtarō’s and Machiko’s favorite season, so it was an added bonus. The family had the money to spend, treating the members to a relaxing trip. Even Keiji, Kōtarō’s friend, joined them his first year at Fukurodani.

You didn’t usually attend, yet you always wanted to. Your family celebrated holidays differently, so you often found yourself swamped with family activities around December, only getting free to hang out by the time school started back up. Always wishing to go, you finally got your wish this year. With the stress from school this past semester, your family decided to let you choose what to do, so you declined spending the holidays with your family. Instead, you were free to spend that quality time with the Bokuto family. Fuyumi practically begged Kōtarō to invite you, knowing you’d be alone, so you didn’t have to worry about inviting yourself. There was one problem, however.

“[Y/N] should room with us!” Machiko points out. “She can’t board with boys!”

“What do you take us for? We’re her best friends,” Kōtarō waves off his sister. “I worry Amaya might try to wrestle her,”

“She could use the practice!” She pipes up, only to be shut back down. “I wouldn’t hurt her,”

“Why not let the girl choose herself? It is where she will stay, in the end,” Shinjiro said. Although he was right, you suddenly felt your heart tugging in two different directions. Machiko and Kōtarō gave you the puppy dog eyes, begging to choose them. A heavy sigh came from you as you weigh the options presented in front of you.

“I trust Keiji and Kōtarō, I’ll room with them,”

“No!” The two girls dramatically shout, falling to their knees. Fuyumi laughs, patting your back.

“Good choice, dear,” she compliments. You know why. Her daughters may be considered mature and adults, but they are both hectic and chaotic in their own way. At least with Kōtarō, he has Keiji with him. There’s no reason to mull over the decision, you know full well that Keiji and Kōtarō wouldn’t hurt you.

Once settled into each room, your bedding laid between the two of them, the trip to relax in the ryokan was in order. The two genders were separated, of course, so you sat in the spring with Machiko, Amaya, and Fuyumi. It wasn’t a bad thing, being with the three, but you knew Machiko and Amaya like to tease you.

“Gosh, [Y/N], you’re so innocent! You’ve never done anything?” Amaya’s face made it seem like she was much more malicious than on the surface. “Even I had a couple boyfriends that I had special adventures with before your age,”

“Excuse me? Amaya!” Fuyumi scolds her daughter. “You never told us this,”

“Why would I? You and dad never allowed me to have a boyfriend until I graduated. Kōtarō even had a girlfriend in his second year,” she pouts, puffy cheeks making her less malicious and much more adorable. Though unintentional, her words make your mood sour, Kōtarō’s slipping from her lips. Machiko notices this, however.

“Well, Kōtarō is a boy and I told your father to make sure he doesn’t do any of that dating stuff, but it seems like he did,”

“You know, I’m kind of tired. I’m really relaxed,” you mention, moving to exit the water. “I should lay down and take a nap,”

“Oh, are you sure? Dinner will be served soon,” Machiko holds out her hand, as if to stop you. You’re quick about getting out, rinsing yourself off before wrapping a robe around your naked body.

“I’m sure. Wake me when dinner’s ready,” you cheerfully smile, waving to them as you leave the setting. Your smile falls, an artificial thing as you continue to pad towards the room. Passing the window leading to the garden, you notice the cascading of the white snowflakes, shimmering in the light from the outdoor lamps. It’s peaceful, the way it floats down to the ground until it rapidly melts, joining the slush forming on the pathway. A sigh leaves you, heart aching from the words Amaya let spill.

It wasn’t her fault, you tell yourself that as you continue to the room. Amaya doesn’t know, but Machiko does. Machiko has always had the older sister intuition, knowing when her younger siblings had something to hide or something embarrassing. Whether it was from her years of travel around the world, or just a trait of hers, she could pinpoint things that made you want to crawl in a hole. What does Machiko know, exactly? Your big, fat crush on her little brother.

Kōtarō has been your crush as long as you’ve known him, aka since you guys were waddling around with chubby legs. Your family and his family live near each other, so it made sense for you two to play a lot as children. As the years passed, your admiration for him evolved into a crushing thing, yet your young mind wouldn’t allow such a horrid thing to be spoken. No, it festered until you broke down one day in high school and confessed to the dark of the night, the only witness of your confession was the moon. You confessed that you loved him, you were in love with him, nobody else could compare. It hurt even more now, knowing you were falling in love with him while he was loving someone else. Even Keiji probably loved Kōtarō, knowing how close they were. You wouldn’t put it past them to be in a relationship, either. Each thought accompanied a step you took, each one bringing tears to prickle your eyes as you finally shut the door to the room, and your problems.

With the dark encompassing the room, you found yourself easily situating yourself on the ground to cry, curling up in a ball as you did so. A pathetic scene, you knew it was, yet you couldn’t help yourself.

After you left the ryokan, Shinjiro happened to be talking to the boys in front of him, both of them flushed red from the warmth of the bath and the topic at hand.

“I knew something was off in the way your mother encouraged you to invite her! I never thought it’d be that, however,” his guffaw had Kōtarō sinking into the water, bubbles coming from his nose as he huffs. Keiji looks at him pitifully, but doesn’t do much of anything else.

“She doesn’t even like me like that. This trip was a mistake,” Kōtarō mumbles, his mouth going back under the water. Keiji sighs, looking into the water where his distorted hands lie. Before he can speak, Kōtarō beats him to it. “I have to go to the bathroom. I think I’ll leave early,”

“You sure it’s just that?” Shinjiro teases. “Or are you going to wait for your lovely friend?”

“Okay, maybe it’s a bit of both,” he huffs, cheeks puffed out. Keiji lets the words die on his tongue, letting Kōtarō leave the spring without any reason to look back.

Shinjiro sighs, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks into the water. “Maybe I went too far. I shouldn’t tease him about his crush, it seems like it’s important to him. I don’t think she sees him in that light, anyways,”

“She does, actually. I think she’s been in love with him for a while,” he confesses. Shinjiro’s eyebrows rise as the words sink in. However, he is quick to understand. No longer laughing and joking, his smile is more bitter and sad. A pity smile.

“And you’ve been in love with her, haven’t you?”

Keiji turns his head to the side, yet he nods. The red dusting his cheeks is no longer just the warmth of the water. Shinjiro moves closer to Keiji, putting his hand on the younger man’s back.

“Then tell her. You both need to confess, not let this fester and turn into something ugly. Don’t let this ruin your friendship with Kōtarō, either. It’s not worth it,”

“I know. I know, Bokuto-san,”

“When you gonna call me Shinjiro? Or even dad? You need to let loose, Keiji!” He laughs again, getting Keiji to crack a smile.

While Keiji ponders how he should go about this, Kōtarō trudges up to his room for the week, unaware you’ve also turned in early. His mood has taken a turn for the worse, hair deflating as he pouts. No matter what, he’s always found himself finding your validation to be the most important. Throughout the years, he’s reached out to both you and Keiji for validation, finding them both to be important to him. While he knows Keiji partially does it just to make him happy, which he is thankful for, he knows yours is genuine. Even when he forced himself to move on, knowing you didn’t see him in that light, he found it hard. You followed him into his dreams, gleeful chimes of your laughter as the future he aims for bloomed into an obtainable goal. Yet, he’d wake up to see the empty space beside him, a brutal reminder that his dreamt future would stay in his head, playing on loop until he could do something about it in the real world.

When his door comes into view, he sighs, relief flooding through him. As he gets closer, he hears a soft voice from inside. Leaning his ear against the shut door, he hears you — a squeak of his name, accompanying a soft mewl, most likely held back due to the thin walls. Even he understands what you’re doing, it’s not like he’s never thought of you that way, finding himself wishing you could relieve his stress in the best way possible. As to respect your privacy, and settle his nerves, he quietly creeps away, to his parent’s booked room. He decides to use the toilet in there, giving you a few moments to finish your own business.

Leaning against the door once more, he doesn’t hear your heavy breaths or your moans and mewls, so he slides open the door to see you under the covers, laptop shining in your face as a movie plays. “Hey, what’re you doing here?”

“Huh?” You jump, turning to see Kōtarō’s large frame at the entrance of the room. It’s scary, the way he seems to have popped up after you finished, or attempted, getting off on thinking of him. “Oh, Kō. It’s just you. No more hot springs for you?”

“Oh, no, I found it to be getting too hot,” he lies, rubbing his neck. The robe you’re wearing is the one you put on after exiting the spring, so his perverted little mind knows you’re completely naked underneath. Not only that, you’re probably nice and slick from thinking about him—

He stops himself, hearing your voice. “Did you hear me? I asked if you wanted to watch the movie with me,”

“Oh, sorry, off in my own world. Uh, sure, what is it?”

“Crown for Christmas. A sappy romance Christmas movie, from America. It’s very predictable, but it’s cute. My mom loves it, so I brought it to watch,”

“Oh, that’s interesting,” he hums, lying on his own bedding. He didn’t move closer to you, giving you some space, but he finds himself panicking when you move closer.

“Can’t see if you’re all the way over there, dummy,” you giggle, pressing play. He can’t find it in himself to focus, the movie being background noise to his thoughts. The hot springs help to add a special glow to your skin, making it seem smoother than before, and you smell so nice, not to mention he can feel his cock throbbing at your soft voice calling out his name. What would it be like if he used his own fingers, would you be able to hold back? Or would you come completely undone as you came on his fingers— even better, his cock? Just the thought has him groaning, head shoved into his pillow as you pause the movie, probably confused.

He looks up, seeing your dazed expression — yep, totally confused. He sighs and shrugs, apologizing. “Are you okay? You seem.. tense,”

“Tense?” That’s one way to describe it, he supposes. “I’m just.. dad was teasing me earlier. That’s why I left. I’m.. remembering what he said,”

“Oh, I get that. Amaya kept teasing me about girl stuff, so I left. Machiko tried to stop me, but I was already out of the water,” you admit. It’s not the full truth, but that’s okay.

“Girl stuff? Like what?” Kōtarō never shied from girly stuff, including the weird stuff that happened to girls like puberty and the menstrual cycle. You chalked it up to his older sisters being shameless, never making it seem gross. Even when you started your period in class, Kōtarō was there to help you, a knight in shining armor.

You wish they were less shameless.

“Oh, um, you know, the romantic stuff,”

“Like? Boyfriends?”

“Yeah, I’ve.. never had one. No experience on my end. Amaya was teasing me because she had a couple of boyfriends before my age, so it.. it didn’t hurt my feelings, but it made me feel some kind of way, you know?” Your attempted explanation was kind of butchered, trying to explain it without giving too much detail. Kōtarō wouldn’t judge you, of course not, it wasn’t something to judge you about.

He knows the feeling, being inexperienced.

“W-Well, if you want any experience before going into the dating scene, I could.. always help you,” he whispers. His words hang in the air, settling into both of your minds. He’s berating himself for using such a lame line to try and get in your pants, but you’re trying to find a way to say yes without seeming desperate. However, “I mean! I have experience, so I could help you! I’d say I’m pretty good at doing stuff. Oh! It could be like.. any advice or something.. hands on,” he whispers the last part again, his confidence melting like snow on a summer’s day when your face falls.

It isn’t you don’t want it, you just would prefer him to not word it like that. It reminds you of Amaya’s words and the pain in your chest, the churn in your stomach. “If you’re gonna be like that, maybe I should ask Keiji,” you huff, turning your body away from his. Focusing on forcing your stomach to stop twisting in knots, you don’t even notice when Kōtarō closes the laptop and presses himself against you. Well, not until you feel something pressing into your back. “Kō—”

“Don’t be like that. I’ve never actually gone all the way, I’ve been saving that for someone special. I can help, though, if you’d let me,” his breath fans over your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His arm snakes under you, pulling you into his stomach while he lays on his back.

“Kōtarō!”

“You’re stressed, gotta loosen up a bit. I’m helping,” he just says, making sure your legs are hooked over his. With the lack of clothing under the robe, your nether region is spread open towards the door, sending your adrenaline skyrocketing. Kōtarō is quick to ease that, his thick fingers spreading open your folds while his middle finger rubs against your sensitive clit. “You’re absolutely soaked, do I turn you on that much?” He’s grinning, you know he is. Gritting your teeth, you keep your mouth closed as you focus on the feeling of his fingers, now sliding up and down and collecting your slick.

Kōtarō doesn’t want to tease you for too long, slipping his middle finger into your cunt as you mewl, hand coming to cover your mouth. “What a reaction. I wonder..” he trails off, pulling his finger out, only to add in three fingers. You’re arching, legs tending against his as he fingers you, lips pressing themselves to your hair and ear. When his tongue flicks out against your ear, you squirm and he grunts, his left arm keeping you firm against him. “Sensitive, are you?”

He doesn’t get any vocal confirmation from you, but the way you’re clenching around his fingers tells him all he needs to know. He makes sure to keep his thumb bumping against your clit, adding pressure. You can feel the familiar feeling, the beginning of an orgasm as he pumps his fingers into you. With a squeal of his name, your nails dig into the meat of his arm, liquids spilling out of you and all over Kōtarō’s fingers. The squishing sound enters your ears, legs tensing as you mewl, his fingers rubbing themselves against you some more.

“You’re so wet.. I bet it’d be easy to slip my cock in there, wouldn’t it?” His voice is low, a rumble in his chest as your cunt clenches at the thought, your wildest fantasies so close to coming to fruition when someone clears their throat. You pop up, Kōtarō jolting and keeping you on his chest as he moves.

Keiji is looking at the both of you, a heavy blush adorning his cheeks. The room is dim, only the lights from outside the inn illuminating him. He’s right at the door, right in front of where Kōtarō was just fingering you. Kōtarō’s hand finally leaves from between your legs, glistening wetness shown in the lamplight. “If you want to give her experience, you need to go over everything involved in foreplay, Kōtarō. There’s more to prep,”

“M-More?” your voice is small, barely a whisper as you find more slick oozing from you, Keiji entering the room. He kneels down in front of you, still held against Kōtarō’s chest.

“Has he even kissed you, yet? Or did he go headfirst into fingering you?” When you shake your head, Kōtarō himself sucking in a breath, Keiji knows he was right. With the elegance he always exudes, Keiji tilts your chin up towards him. “Then, allow me,”

The kiss is gentle, yet not simple. His lips are firmly against yours, molding perfectly as he keeps your chin tilted. As he deepens the kiss, you find your hands grasping at his own robe, feeling yourself lighter than you were when you had entered the room. Keiji moves to pull away, a brisk kiss on your lips once more before swiping his tongue over your bottom lip, sending heat all over your body.

“Akaashi..” Kōtarō whines, his grip on you tightening. “This is supposed to be my time with her,”

“Well, you’re going too fast. Why not elongate the time spent together, hm?” His voice sends tingles down your spine, his hands removing you from Kōtarō’s grasp. “Lay back, Bokuto-san. You’ll get your turn,”

Your brain is going haywire as he speaks, undoing Kōtarō’s robe with unconscious grace. He’s not doing it on purpose, you know he isn’t, it’s just how he is. Once Kōtarō has been disrobed, you find more heat springing to your cheeks as his muscles ripple and flex. The lack of light prevents you from seeing everything, but you’ve always found yourself insatiable when thinking of his broad frame and what hides under his clothes.

“Give me your hand, [Y/N],” Keiji’s voice has you coming back down to earth, yet you find yourself once more shy with Kōtarō’s legs spread, his cock heavy and so large in Keiji’s hand. You comply, though, your much smaller hand joining Keiji’s around Kōtarō’s girth. It’s so much, the way it feels and the heat of the skin under your fingertips. A soft groan comes from Kōtarō as Keiji moves his hand, his other hand shuffling you between his legs.

“This is called a handjob, [Y/N],” Keiji says. You nod in understanding, realizing he’s teaching you. “Moving your hand up and down the shaft is the basic function of it, but you can also use your fingers to tease the slit, like so,” he demonstrates, swiping his thumb over the small slit, puffy and red where Kōtarō’s cum is dripping from. The simple act has Kōtarō throwing his head back, moaning as his hand covers his mouth. The walls are thin and if his family is back, they probably have a good idea of what’s going on.

“I see,” you hum, continuing to move your hand up and down the shaft. Keiji nods, seeing you’re understanding.

“Or tease his balls, like cupping them or massaging. Don’t squeeze them hard, though. It won’t feel very nice,” his hand moves to cup and tease Kōtarō’s balls, the man himself laying on his back as his face turns red, the ministrations getting to be too much. “There’s also a blowjob, but we can teach you that next time,”

“N-Next time??” You squeak, jumping a bit. Whether it was a one time thing or the beginning of a relationship didn’t cross your mind. His words, however, seem to please you more than imaginable.

“Of course, darling. We’re not done here, either. Why don’t you let Bokuto-san show you what other kinds of pleasure he can give you?” At Keiji’s words, Kōtarō pops up with a bright smile on his face.

“Sit on my face, baby,”

“Oh, woah, wow, uh..” you stop, unsure how to politely decline. His mouth and nose, down there? Not to mention your weight on his head? You were sure he’d regret his decision. “I don’t think”

“I’ll be fine. C’mon, I gotta show you what else my mouth can do besides dirty talk,” he winks, sending more heat to your cheeks, making you feel rather hot for a winter’s day, clad in only a robe. Keiji seems to read your mind, taking your robe from your shoulders, the belt falling undone easily from the previous activities. Once you’re down to your birthday suit, Keiji presses a kiss to your shoulder blade, a whisper to go that sends you crawling closer to Kōtarō’s face. He grins, eagerly taking your thigh and placing it on the other side, keeping your drenched cunt close to his face. He says something, but only a muffled noise comes out, his tongue swiping along your folds.

With your back to him, Keiji wishes he told you to face him and watch, yet he finds the scene of you erotic. He may have a bit more expertise than you and Kōtarō, it seems that’s all that’s needed. He smiles, gaze catching on the way Kōtarō’s fingers dig into the fat of your thigh, making indents. Completely forgotten, Keiji spits a glob onto Kōtarō’s cock, him jumping at the feeling. With a few more pumps of his hand, he flicks his tongue against the head.

Kōtarō’s moan has you mewling, the sound acting as a vibration as your fingers tug harshly on the silver and black strands. Though not as long as they were in high school, there’s enough to grasp and pull on. The wet sounds from behind you has your head turning, eyes falling on Keiji’s mouth wrapped around Kōtarō’s cock. It’s an erotic scene, his head moving up as more of the length is revealed, his blue eyes settling on your own as you feel a nip down below. So focused on Keiji, Kōtarō wants your attention all on him. Keiji chuckles, almost like a hum, that vibrates around the cock in his mouth that has Kōtarō moaning.

The tongue that flicks against your clit has you squirming, restrained mewls and moans leaving your lips as hands tug on his locks. Kōtarō licks and suckles on your clit occasionally, then moves down to prod and swipe over your entrance. The position makes it easy for him to breathe, but he moves down further. New position has you squealing, hands flying to your mouth as you squeeze your eyes shut to focus on the pleasure. Another moan from Kōtarō that sends shivers down your spine, heat to your core, accompanying the obscene noises of Keiji sucking Kōtarō off.

With Kōtarō’s nose bumping against your clit, his tongue’s only focus is on your pretty little cunt, sucking and swirling his tongue. The sensitivity from earlier makes quick work of you, hunching over as your thighs tighten around Kōtarō’s head, his strong hands keeping you from hurting him as you gush all over his face. A moan comes from him as he laps at your juices spilling over his face, his own orgasm coming as Keiji takes him down as far as he can. Globs of white cum spurt from the side of Keiji’s mouth, a gagging sound as he struggles to swallow it.

A hand on your shoulder has you leaning back, falling against Keiji’s chest with his cheeks puffy. Kōtarō manages to look up at the scene, gaze fuzzy as he watches Keiji kiss you once more, cum seeping from where his lips meet yours. When Keiji pulls away, his tongue is out, pushing the dripping cum into your mouth where the rest lies. It’s enough to have Kōtarō hard once more, a dark and heavy blush settling across his cheeks and nose.

The thick appendage pressing into your back once more has you gasping and jumping, some cum spilling out your mouth and down your chest. As it travels between the valley of your breasts and over the perk nipples, Keiji takes it upon himself to lap at the milky droplets. You gulp down the rest in your mouth, making a show of it by tilting your head up, throat contracting as you swallow it all. Kōtarō finds himself unable to look away from the scene.

“Ah, seems like someone’s still raring to go,” Keiji breaks the silence, eyes glancing back to look at Kōtarō’s cock, once more standing tall and proud. He then looks to you. “Shall I let you handle this one alone?”

[haikyuuuuuhypeeeee]

Ch. Fourteen

⚠WARNING: Swearing

• ────── ✾ ────── •

Waking up is painful. Physically painful, at least. You’re not ready to deal with the emotional pain from yesterday, no thank you.

You finally peel your eyes open, a true struggle considering how they were crusted together. You take in your surroundings and form the first coherent thought of the day.

This isn’t my bedroom.

Your eyes seem to be crusted shut. You sit up and realize that no, this is not your apartment, this is Osamu’s apartment. This is his bed you’re currently sitting up from, his blankets wrapped around you.

You then form your second coherent thought of the day.

His detergent smells really nice.

That thought finishes in your head before it’s slammed aside by the rush of yesterday’s memories - group therapy with your friends and Osamu, Oikawa being a complete dick to Osamu, your argument with Oikawa which resulted in Oikawa blabbing of your love for Hajime, leaving the restaurant crying, realizing you lost your keys but they’re at Osamu’s apartment, walking to Osamu’s crying…

From there it’s a bit murkier as your memories intertwined with self-deprecating thoughts and a line of thinking you rarely walk down anymore.

Last night was a night.

You do somewhat remember Osamu comforting you. Letting you know that it was okay and he was there for you.

You glance around the studio apartment, wondering where he was. Oh god, did you force him out good lord you are -

Oh, no he’s sitting on his couch with a cup of coffee.

You’re filled with guilt when you realize you monopolized his bed and completely took over his apartment. Yeah, he maybe didn’t need to sleep last night (a concept you still don’t fully understand nor approve of) but you have fully overstayed your welcome.

Grabbing your phone from the side table you tap the screen, taking in the notifications on your screen.

Shit, I never messaged Makki or Mattsun.

Your gut feels like lead as you open the group chat with the two. That was a big fuck up on your end.

Fuck, I’m such a shitty friend.

You don’t waste anytime typing out a message.

“Tea?”

You look up from your phone and are greeted with Osamu’s sleepy gaze, a mug of tea held in his hand for you. You reach for the mug, nodding slowly.

“How’re yer feel in’ this morning?” He asks as you take a sip. You shrug in response

“I’m okay. I’m sorry I just fell apart like that on you.” You say. “I wasn’t having a great night, and my emotions just kind of bled all over the place. And I’m sorry that I fell asleep.”

“Yeah, that was actually pretty funny.” Osamu smiles. “Ya just kinda passed out on my shoulder. I had to lift ya to get ya onto the bed.”

You blink, absolutely mortified. “Oh wow, I am so sorry. That’s so embarrassing.”

“Nah, it was cute.” Osamu takes a casual sip from his mug, seemingly oblivious to the flirty line he just dropped. “But ya seemed pretty upset last night, and i wasn’t gonna let ya walk home like that.” The smile drops from his face and he looks at you with concern. “If ya wanna talk about it ya can, although I don’t want to push ya. It’d be pretty dumb of me to.

“I know I’ve been pretty skeptical about openin’ up and talkin’ ‘bout my feelings, but since meetin’ ya I’ve felt better. Lighter, I guess.” He shrugs. “Ya’ve made me realize how important it is to open up.”

You look down at your tea, a small smile tugging at your lips. Your heart warms at Osamu’s words, part of you preening that you were the one who has helped Osamu, but also you feel genuine relief that Osamu wants to open up more.

“Well, let me treat you to breakfast this morning - it’s the least I can do.” You finish your tea and give Osamu a small smile. “I can tell you about yesterday if you don’t mind listening.”

Osamu smiles in return. “Sure, let me grab my stuff.” He takes the mug from your hand and shuffles into the kitchen. You sit up, stretching your arms and grabbing your phone. A few more messages have come through from Mattsun and Makki.

Uhhhhh…….

You open up your chat with Oikawa, finding hundreds of messages from him. He hasn’t sent you anything since 5am. You quickly navigate back to the chat with your other friends.

Frantic knocks, one after another, beat against Osamu’s door.

No way.

Osamu gives you a look before walking to the front door. He checks the paper hole, then turns back and looks at you with faint amusement.

“It’s for ya.”

You stand from the bed, moving into the kitchen. Regretfully, you open the door.

A distressed-looking Oikawa is the surprise visitor. He looks absolutely beside himself - his eyes are bloodshot and swollen, snot is dripping out of his nose, and his hair is messy and lackluster.

Oh dear god.

He bursts into tears when he sees you, but surprisingly doesn’t throw himself at you. He must be learning some boundaries. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Y/N-chan! I was being stupid and petty and I didn’t mean to-”

“Ok, ok c’mon. You’re going to wake up Osamu’s neighbors.” You bring the snivelling, pathetic Oikawa inside, quickly closing the door behind him. You help him get his shoes off, glancing around the Osamu. You spot him at the sink, filling a glass with water. He brings it over, giving Oikawa a nod and silently passing the water to him.

“Thank you Osamu-kun.” Oikawa gratefully takes the water and downs it before handing the empty glass back to an amused Osamu. “I plan on giving you a full apology soon, I promise.”

Osamu huffs a laugh and goes back into the kitchen. He sets the glass in the sink as you lead Oikawa through and into the living room.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper to Osamu. “Do you want me to go?”

“Nah,” Osamu waves his hand. “I’ll get ready for breakfast in the bathroom, and give you guys some space.”

“Thank you, I’ll try to make this quick.”

“Take yer time.” Osamu smiles at you and moves to the bathroom. You turn back to Oikawa, who is watching you with regret painting all over his face.

“I’m sorry I told Makki and Mattsun that you love Hajime.” Oikawa blurts without any bite.

You think you see Osamu flinch out of the corner of your eye but when you look his way you see the bathroom door closing. You look back to Oikawa and sigh.

“Why did you say it then?”

Oikawa heaves a sigh and hangs his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to say to make you not hate me.”

“Oikawa, I don’t hate you.” You join him on the couch, leaning into his side. “Talk to me.”

Oikawa presses back to you and you feel his shoulders move up and down as he takes another deep breath. “I knew that uni classes and volleyball would be really really hard - but as long as we all had each other we would be fine. We smashed through high school together, so this was just another challenge.

“But when Iwa-chan died it changed everything. Obviously.” Oikawa takes a shaky breath. “But I still had you, Mattsun and Makki. I knew that we wouldn’t be the same without Iwa-chan, and classes and volleyball would be hard, but we would be friends.

“I don’t think I knew how hard everything would be. My classes suck, volleyball is a chore, and I miss Iwa-chan.” He sniffles. “I miss him so much. I feel like I don’t know who I am without him. But I had you guys, I always had my friends.

“But Mattsun and Makki are in their own world sometimes, and then you started hanging out with Osamu.” He looks at you, tears shining in his brown eyes. “I know it makes me sound like you can’t have other friends beside me, and I really don’t want to be selfish. But you were spending more time with Osamu and it hit me that you were all growing up and becoming different people.” A few tears track down his face and he sniffs. “I don’t want anything to change, I don’t want Iwa-chan to be dead, I don’t want to be a terrible person.”

Oikawa starts to cry and you don’t hesitate in pulling him into a side hug. He’s not really sobbing but you feel his pain deep in your heart. One of your hands comes up to card gently through his hair.

“I know I’ve been a piece of shit the last few months. And I can tell that you really like Osamu, even though you’ve always loved Iwa-chan. Whenever you talked about him you had this happy and bright look on your face. He makes you feel good, but you love Iwa-chan. You moving on meant change, and I hated that.” Oikawa sniffs. “But bringing Osamu to the group therapy session, which I always thought was our group’s thing, made me realize that you were changing. I was so angry, and your secret just slipped out.”

He takes a watery breath. “Isn’t it awful? I’ve been trying to drag you back down to my level, bring you back down to feel the pain that I feel, all because I’m scared. I’m a terrible, awful friend.”

“Oikawa, have you had time to go to your therapy appointments?” You ask gently.

He doesn’t answer right away, and when he gives the tiniest shake of his head you sigh.

“Honey,” you scold gently. “Why are you not going?”

“School and volleyball have taken up a lot of my time.” Oikawa mumbles, his sentence punctuated with another sniffle. “I’ve skipped so many appointments, and I’m too embarrassed to call.”

You sigh, inwardly shaking your head at your friend’s weak excuse. “I don’t want to tell you what to do, but maybe re-prioritize your responsibilities. Getting back on track with your therapy appointments should take top priority. You can talk through these feelings instead of letting them fester.”

Oikawa doesn’t answer right away, but when he does his voice is small. “But I’d probably have to quit volleyball, and that’s all I have left of Iwa-chan.” You see his hands ball into fists. “I don’t want to lose that.” His breath hitches. “I don’t know what to do.”

You let him cry on your shoulder, giving him the time to get all the tears out. You figure this is the most civil conversation you’ve had since Hajime died. The thought brings you relief but also makes you quite sad.

“You know you’re one of my best friends, right Oikawa?” You ask once he’s calmed down a bit. “You’re a diva and a trainwreck, but you’re my diva and my trainwreck.” He exhales lightly but you’re almost certain it’s in amusement. “No matter what, I’m always going to want the best for you, and I’m always gonna try my best to help you.

“But,” you feel him tense up when you continue. “You have to realize that your behavior the past few months has been really shitty. You’ve treated us all like punching bags - we get it, probably more than a lot of people could. But I’m not gonna let you treat me, or any of our friends, like it anymore.”

“I’ll be good.” Oikawa promises immediately. “I promise, I’ll do better for you and Makki and Mattsun. And me.”

“Good.” You give him a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry for yelling at you last night in the restaurant.”

“You don’t have to apologize at all.” He replies immediately. He yawns before speaking again. “Honestly, I’ve been a piece of shit for months now. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You murur. You both sit on the couch for a while longer as you try to come down from the conversation you just had. You feel like a heavy cloud that’s been floating around your head for months has cleared, and although you know Oikawa won’t magically change overnight you feel better knowing that you’ve had this hard conversation with him. Change starts with communication, and hopefully Oikawa understands now that he has the support to change.

You feel Oikawa leaning against you even further and you look at his face to see his eyes closed and mouth parted open.

“Oikawa, c’mon I don’t want you falling asleep.” You gently push him off you so you can stand and get Oikawa to stand also. His eyes are still closed and he puts nearly all of his body weight onto you.

He must not have slept all night, you think. It’s not uncommon for him to pull all nighters, a habit he picked up in high school watching game tape over and over until the sun came up. But he handles the lack of sleep gracelessly - you could prop him against a door jamb and he’d pass out no problem.

Together you move towards the front door. You’re not going to let him fall asleep here and inconvenience Osamu even more - you’ll take him back to your apartment and maybe try to catch lunch with Osamu. Now you owe him a few meals and unlimited coffee.

“Gotta apologize to Osamu-kun,” Oikawa mumbles when you lean him against the wall.

“Maybe when you’re going to fall asleep standing up, yeah?” You reply, bending down to shove his feet back in his shoes. You hear more mumblings in return but can’t make anything out of them.

As you’re getting your shoes on you hear the bathroom door open and out walks Osamu. He’s dressed and his face is composed into it’s usual blankness. Trusting that Oikawa won’t keel over, you walk over to where Osamu is reaching into his dresser for socks.

“I’m so sorry,” you say. “I have to reschedule breakfast, I have to make sure this idiot won’t sleepwalk into traffic.”

“S’alright. Didja work everything out?” Osamu asks in a measured tone.

“I think so.” Osamu’s not looking at you as he puts on his socks. Your gut twinges with guilt, realizing that he must be upset that you have to cancel breakfast. “But I think I’m gonna take him to my apartment and make sure he sleeps. Do you want to meet up for lunch or something?”

“Can’t.” His short answer makes you blink. “Meetin’ a group on campus for a class project.”

“Oh.” He’s still not meeting your gaze, and you detect a hint of gruffness in his tone. Maybe he’s upset that he has to meet with his group last minute? Or because you basically shoved him into his bathroom while you and Oikawa worked out your issues. “Dinner then? I owe you double now.”

“Probably not.” Osamu stands and gathers a few books and a notebook before shoving them into his backpack. His inability to look at you or hold a full conversation is confusing, but you don’t want to push him.

“Well let’s meet at the coffee shop tomorrow, usual time after morning classes. Sounds good?”

He hums distractedly. Your gut feels heavier and you swallow hard.

“Okay, well I’ll be off now.”

Osamu turns towards you but still doesn’t meet your eyes. “I’ll walk ya out.”

You both make the short walk to the front door. The tension in the room is heavy, unable to lighten even at the sight of Oikawa sleeping standing up. You maneuver your friend while Osamu opens the door for you. It’s a slight struggle walking out of the front door but you manage.

You look back before Osamu can close the door behind you. He’s holding the door knob and staring at the ground. “Let me know if you can do dinner tonight - if not I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You force as much cheeriness into your voice, despite the heavy weight in your chest. Finally Osamu looks at you, giving you a disinterested nod.

He closes the door as you turn to walk away. You look back quickly, catching a crestfallen look on Osamu’s face before the door fully closes.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: So when I originally thought about this story, I wanted to think about how different people deal with grief. And what I wanted to explore was 1.) is there a limit to how people will grieve? And 2.) can someone grieving push that limit? From the get-go Oikawa has seemingly pushed the limit of what some of you believed, and yet Y/N was still hesitant to call him out. And I loved hearing what everyone had to say about Oikawa - some were willing to give him a pass, and some were NOT happy with him. Now, just because someone is grieving, it does NOT give them a free pass to behave inappropriately or do serious harm to those around them. But I think it’s important to note that what may seem absolutely insane to one person is tolerable to another. And what it comes down to is how the person who is directly affected by another’s actions wants to address those actions (sorry if this is confusing.) Oikawa was treating Y/N and their friends like shit. In the story it was because Oikawa was not taking the necessary actions to keep himself mentally healthy. In Y/N’s eyes, if there is a desire to be better, and appropriate actions are taken to be better, then Oikawa deserves to be forgiven. I have absolutely LOVED reading everyone’s reactions and hearing their opinions on Oikawa’s slowly deteriorating behavior, thank you for sending them in! And just because how Y/N has reacted to Oikawa’s behavior it does not mean there is a right/wrong way! Everyone has different life experiences and different relationships that guide their decision-making! And that’s totally okay! (This obviously applies to non-threatening and morally & ethically right behavior.) And WOOF thank you for getting this far in the A/N’s, this was a LOT! Gold stars for everyone!! 🌟🌟🌟

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU: @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien @everytimeswift @bongofrito @babucrow @beidouluvr @kozuken-ma @imarriedachef

[fezcosbitch]

JJ MAYBANK IMAGINE:

PASSION AND WILD REGRET 2

After a few requests, here’s the second part to passion and wild regret

you can read part 1 here

if the link doesn't work please tell me! x

I hope you enjoy ❤️

You can request if you want x

Warnings: Angst, hella angst. Also the pogues (kie) are rude in this one like...RUDE. Reader is confrontational and not gonna lie, i’m here for it, like I wish I could do this. also if you like Kie... you about to not like Kie, shes a bit off the rails, mega jealous ex here.

All feedback’s welcome, as long as its not mean or rude 💙

So yeah, hopefully you enjoy❤️

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

It was 2:57 when i woke up the following morning, or evening, and i had absolutely no clue what to  do with myself. I had an immense headache, and a deep pain in my heart. How could they do that? say that? You had been there for them all, through everything. Yet somehow they decide to say all that about you. You were there for Kie when she was at her lowest point, you found her in the bathrooms with Sarah, yet when Sarah left, you stayed, and she never saw it. When John B felt like he would never fit in, and you were the only one (apart from JJ) who stuck by him. Or pope, who, for preparation for his college interview wanted someone to revise with so he wouldn’t be lonely for hours on end, and when everyone opted to surf and sun tan instead of help him, you were the one to stay behind and assist him in his studies, while you could’ve been outside in the summer, tanning and surfing. And  then JJ, the person who undoubtedly hurt you the most. You were there for him all the time. Throughout all the beatings his dad gave him. And all the angry times he almost threw his life away by getting arrested. You saved him from so much, and yet he repays you by saying you’re too much for him, and not worth him.

You couldn’t stand having these thoughts festering around in your mind, so decided that the best thing would be to confront the pogues, and ask why they thought what they did. You hopped in your car and drove over to the chateau, ready to either make or break all your supposed friendships.

Pulling up to the chateau, You saw all the pogues sitting around the porch, talking about something you couldn’t hear. After you’ve stepped out your car, you slam the door shut and lock it, as all the pogues heads turn to look at you. JJ immediately gets up and heads towards you, while the rest of the pogues stand up behind him.

“oh baby I-” JJ started, tears brimming in his eyes already just wanting to apologize over and over again. “don’t even JJ, don’t even start” you said , shaking your head at him “I-” he tried again desperate for you to hear what he wanted to say. “NO JJ, NO. You don’t get to speak over me ok? none of you do. I cant believe you guys i mean, how dare you. I’ve done nothing but stick by you! all of you! yet you repay me like this? wow, Thanks guys I really appreciate that yeah. Just, I can’t believe all of you.” You quickly let out, looking at all of them

“I DIDN’T AGREE WITH THEM BABY I SWEAR” JJ bursts out, desperate for you to forgive him. “what?” you question, immediately wanting to know if this is true. “ I-I-I don’t know what you heard but I never agreed to what they said,I would never, please baby believe me, I know you’ve done so much for me, you’re the best thing to ever happen to me, I argued fully with them all night, I never once agreed, please take me back.” JJ begged, now directly in front of you grasping onto your hands. “is this true?” you asked the rest of the pogues behind him, desperate to find out if it was true or not, desperately wanting someone on your side. All the pogues solemnly nodded, proving to you that JJ did in fact argue against his friends. You looked him dead in the eye “of course i’ll take you back idiot, i kind of stormed of halfway through, didn’t get to hear what you said” you told him smiling through your tears of joy due to knowing that JJ did in fact fight for you. you quickly take him in your arms and hold him tight, “I’m so sorry” you whispered, knowing it must of been hard for him to read the letter you left him. “It’s ok” he whispered back, lightly kissing your shoulder. In that moment you both knew you were never going to let go of each other again, and that if needed, you’d swim entire oceans to be together. 

In all of that chaos you had forgotten the pogues behind you, who you initially came here for. Breaking out of the hug between you and JJ, you turn to face them with all your pent up anger ready to be unleashed, and knowing JJ was safely with you, and prepared to go to the end of the earth with you, you felt ready to take on whatever your ‘friends’ say to you. 

“What about you guys then?” you started off. “What was that all about? all the ‘Y/ns not good enough for you’, and the ‘she’ll only bring you down’ what was all that?” you questioned looking around at all three of them “Its our honest thoughts” Kie spoke up, making you turn to look at her. “really?” you questioned, cocking one eyebrow. “yeah” she responded, crossing her arms. “boys?” you asked, wanting to see if they agreed. John B was the first to nod his head, almost instantly, and pope slowly after, agreeing with his statement. “wow... All my friends hate me.” you whistled, slowly coming to the full realization. JJ grasped your hand, to remind you that he was there for you. “We don’t hate you y/n... we just hate you and JJ being together” John B backed Kiara up, acting as if it was the most obvious thing ever. “why bro? why can’t you just be happy for us?” JJ questioned from behind you, genuinely curious “ because bro, Shes a bad influence. She doesn’t care bro, not about you, us, anyone man why can’t you see that? sure shes cool and stuff and shes a fun friend but that’s all she should ever be” John B ranted. “ What the fuck bro? All of you think that? wow. So everything I’ve ever done for you guys is washed away by some dumb mistakes right? I do some drugs and SHIT I’m the worst person in the world right? everything I’ve ever done forgotten because of some things I do when I’m drunk right?” you questioned all at once, trying to show them how stupid they were being. “Yes” Kiara responds. “Yes because we don’t know what else you’ll do. First it’s molly, next its what? METH?” Kiara stressed. “You’re unreliable, and God knows what you could get JJ into.” she finished. “wha- Kie why are you SO scared about what JJ could get into man? Like what?  I’d never hurt him, or do anything like that, I love him man, so what are you so worried about?” you ranted, confused by Kies emotions. Of course you understood her worry for her friends. but she didn’t say that about John B, or Pope, so why JJ? “BECAUSE YOU DON’T DESERVE HIM! YOU NEVER DID” Kie fully lets out. Ah, you understood now. “You jealous Kiara?” you questioned? “you want JJ yeah? want him to be with you, so now everything I do apparently is more of a reason for him to be with you yeah?” you finally said, having worked out why she was so angry. Kie and the rest of the pogues were silent at your discovery. “wait, what about you guys?” you questioned the two boys. “well uhh, Kie kinda told us you may have cheated on J”

your jaw dropped. 

“THE FUCK KIE? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?” you were shocked at the lies she was spilling. “ WELL YOU DON’T DESERVE HIM ANYWAY, THE MORE PEOPLE THAT SEE THAT MAYBE THE MORE HE’LL REALIZE IT, WHO CARES IF THERE’S A COUPLE OF LIES” all of you stood there shocked at what Kie just said. “ the fuck-” JJ started, shocked out of his mind that Kie would say something like that. “ I can’t even. Don’t talk to me Kiara, don’t even approach me until i say so, oh and sort out your major jealousy problem, it’s not cute honey” you said while getting in your car, waiting for JJ to enter in the passenger side. After J got in, you started the car and rolled down your window, “oh and I forgive you boys, i understand why you did it, so like don’t worry. Sort it out Kie, love” you sarcastically grinned and waved to her as you drove away.

“Jesus Christ” you said to JJ “you know I’d never cheat on you don’t you?” you questioned just to make sure. “no of course i know you wouldn’t, its just, the fuck was that with Kie like, what even?” JJ responded. “Honestly, I don’t even know. I forgive John B and Pope cause like, obviously, they were lied to and lead to believe all that but like. How can she be so jealous man?” you questioned, genuinely curious about how one person could be so jealous of another. “I don’t know baby, I don’t know” J responded while kissing your hand.

even though you were away from it all, one question played on your mind...why would she do that?

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

So yeah... Kie did that.

What were your thoughts? Please tell me ! 💙

Part 3 anyone? If so please tell me x

Sorry for the long wait x

And also sorry if it’s bad ❤️

But yeah that was that how do you feel about it?

All feedbacks welcome as long as it’s not rude or mean💙

But yeah, cya

People who wanted to be tagged :

@mrsmaybank18 (Wouldn’t let me tag you :( )

@captainwinterwriter @ifilwtmfc @hurricane-abigail

@thenextteen

[undead-merman]

Could you do yandere headcanons of harpy mammon and naga leviathan please . Thank you

This one was fun to do.

🦅Harpy Mammon🦅 and 🐍Naga Leviathan🐍 (Monster Edition) GN- Reader SFW

Mammon

Appearance

Mammon is the unquestioned King of his Murder and the only Albino Crow Harpy. He always stands out in his clan.

His feathers are a snow white unlike others of his kind. The bits of down feathers on the sides of his face, the long elegant wings, and even his tail feather don’t have a trace of color to them, they shine brightly in the morning sun, and glow ever so softly under the moon.

His legs from the knee down are avian like and tipped with golden talons. One foot is large enough to grasp a human head all the way around and strong enough to crush one easily. His hands are more human-like only with sharp talons for fingernails.

His wrists and shoulders hold some feathers as well, and a large chunk of his upper back is covered in plumage. It looks so soft and plush, but the softest feathers are the ones on his cheeks.

Avian Habits

His avian instincts are extremely strong and he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing unless he’s called out, though none of the other members of his crew say anything, worried that he’ll get angry at them.

If he’s flying and notices something shiny, he’ll probably forget what he was doing immediately and dive down to inspect it. He’ll coo at it like it was a baby while cuddling it in his arms and take it back to the house to his nest and find a nice place for it.

He’s very protective of his nest and room, he gets all bristled and puffed up if someone knocks on the door. If they just suddenly come in, Mammon will screech at them.

He has a very sensitive stomach and will never admit to having one, so he’ll secretly eat small rocks to help his digestion like other birds do.

Spending time with you

At first he wanted nothing to do with you, but now he never wants you to leave his side. He doesn’t want anyone else to spend time with you, he wants to be the only thing you look at.

If someone touches you he’ll spread his wings and tail feathers out and hold you behind his back while he yells at whoever touches you. Afterward he pouts and becomes needy/broody, wanting to be touching you or if he’s mad enough just sits on you while he calms down.

Eventually he’ll have slowly moved all your stuff into his room and has made a bunch of excuses for you to stay inside his room. He wants to be the first thing you see when you wake up and go to bed. If you try to sleep in your own room he’ll whine until you open the door, or even just break in and steal you back to his room and tuck you into his nest.

He will never admit it but he loves it when you give him head pats and you brush your thumb right between his eyes. It sends such a happy shiver up his spine and all his feathers fluff up, as his tail feathers wag briefly. He’ll deny up and down that he enjoyed it that much however.

He also enjoys the thrill of carrying you around while flying. He loves to laugh at you as you hang onto him. He loves to swing you around and throw you only to catch you again. If you’re scared of heights however he’ll do baby exposure until you trust him enough not to drop you or you don’t freak out as he flies.

Whenever he sees you by surprise his feathers puff up high and his tail feathers wag a bit, as he runs towards you no matter what he was doing beforehand.

His Dark Tenancies

In his mind, you’re already mates ever since you hurt your arm and seemed so small and fragile. After the event you were constantly tailed by him. He's right at your heels even when you don’t want him to be, you’d be able to feel his eyes on you at all times.

He LOVES your smell and he loves leaving you smelling like him too. He scents you often, nuzzling his nose and cheeks on the back of your neck and wrists and anywhere else he can.

You’ll have some freedom, he’ll allow you to wonder the House of Lamentation but should you for any reason make him feel like you and his brothers are getting to close or you prove your self ‘untrustworthy’ he’ll take you to an isolated mountain nest, the location only known by him and his Murder.

You’ll have your freedom there too, but it’s really hard to call freedom. If you wander too far you’ll freeze to death and even before you perish one if his cronies will take you back. Always watching and waiting to bring you home to their master.

If anyone came to try and ruin what you two have, he’d make sure they were beaten to within an inch of their life, promising to whoever it was that he’d kill them if they ever tried again; gathering black mail and pressuring them to give in and forget everything that happened between you all.

If they continued to threaten you two, Mammon would simply let his Murder tear them to pieces and leave them to fester and rot. or if he’s feeling particularly angry that day, he’ll crush their skulls with his claws.

Misc Stuff

He likes the rain, even more he loves thunderstorms. He likes to sing in the cover of rain and he has a beautiful voice though he’s extremely self conscious of it. If he trusts you enough he’ll sing to you but he gets too embarrassed to finish the song.

His songs can influence the listeners emotions, he can make you feel giggly, angry, or scared at any point.

He hates being called a ‘bird brain’ He always gets all hissy and throws a bit of a tantrum before giving them the silent treatment.

Leviathan

Appearance

Leviathan’s body is monstrously long and extremely lithe. His tail constantly curling into perfect loops. His navy blue scales are perfectly smooth and he has black and neon yellow raindrop patches.

He has large hands, larger than most humans, his fingers have transparent navy webbing. His fingers are tipped with long black claws with navy blue coloring. His claws secrete an oil which if entered into the bloodstream could instantly kill a whale, let alone a human. In order to safely touch you with his own hands, instead of his tail, he wears special gloves that prevent the oils from seeping through.

His fangs and indigo forked tongue are long and poke out of his mouth. If bitten he has a completely different venom which causes complete paralysis for a few hours and extreme fatigue afterwards.

He has fined ears which twist and flick with his emotions, they have yellow speckles which glow in the dark or if he’s mad or upset enough.

A Water Naga’s Daily Life

He is not a mermaid. He doesn’t have a tail fin, he doesn’t sing, and he doesn’t play with cute dolphins, he’s a scary monster and he hates it.

He’s nocturnal and bright lights hurt his eyes, if a bright light is suddenly flashed at him he’ll curl into himself in a corner while nursing his burning eyes.

He uses a heating pad, since heat lamps are a nuisance, to warm his cold blooded body, he’ll also listen to the weather forecast to go out on humid nights and lounge while playing on a handheld console to pass the time.

His skin gets really dry if he’s not in water, he gets particularly cranky when dehydrated don’t let him get too dry or he’ll turn into his true water monster form and destroy everything till he can get to water.

He has adaptable lungs so he can breathe in both air and water. He often just sleeps in the bathtub full of water. He enjoys mostly being in water but will breech to play games.

Spending Time with You

He only wants alone time with you, nothing else matters besides spending time alone with you. He prefers it to be inside, but it doesn’t matter what your doing be it baking, playing video games and watching anime it doesn’t matter to him.

Since there's no sun in the Devildom he doesn’t mind taking you out so long as it’s not too crowded and you can bring water bottles with him. He loves waiting in lines for events with you sitting on his tail helping to keep him from drying out.

He loves lounging with you. Be you swimming around his immense body or using him as a flotation device. He likes being in his element with you, it makes him feel so euphoric to see you swimming around with streaks of light beaming through the water on your face while your hair floats around you like a halo, you look so innocent and warm.

He always has his tail wrapped around one of your legs, he even does it unconsciously, he has a fascination with your legs he finds the appanages cute. Sometimes he’ll even wiggle your toes if he thinks you aren’t paying attention.

His tail quivers if you gently pat his head and praise him, he always covers his head and shrinks down but he loves every second of it. He also loves it when you scratch behind his ear, he lets out a soft whine of content.

His Dark Tendencies

He does NOT like anyone seeing you at all. He wants to be the only one you pay attention to or even think about. He’ll have a nice comfortable chain for you so you can’t leave the room. He’ll want to do everything for you, feed you, dress you up as his favorite characters, clean you, he sees you like a little doll to play with and dress up.

If you make him upset he’ll bite you and force you into a paralyzed state you can’t move, you can’t talk, you can only watch and listen to what is happening around you. He punishes you by just leaving you there unable to move, unable to eat or drink, he’ll only come back when he feels you’ve learned your lesson.

He loves to play with your hair, petting it with dangerously sharp claws. He loves how soft it is and the color is just so appealing to him he can’t help but admire it. While he may be self deprecating he at least knows he is capable of keeping you in your place.

He does not like competition or anyone ruining his time with you. As soon as it becomes a problem to him, he goes into a fit destroying whoever it was who made him angry, afterwards he clings onto you like his life depended on it.

He sleeps with his tail completely wrapped around you. That way he can be close to you and you don’t have a chance of slipping away from him as he sleeps. His tail is heavy against you and just a light squeeze from him could break you.

Misc Stuff

When he sheds he complains constantly of the itching. He applies lotion and will be so grateful if you help him apply it, but after shedding his skin is very sensitive and he hides in his tank with Henry until the sensitivity calms down.

Under black light his liquids glow insanely bright, and some scales shine bright.

He has super soft hands from washing them a lot cleaning off the oils, unfortunately you’re prohibited from touching them for safety reasons.

[gentrychild]

Suspected Traitor Izuku Ideas

Note: Sorry this ended up being super long! I just really love the idea and wanted to put in some ideas of what I think could happen. It was all too long to fit into a couple asks, and I figured you would prefer a submission than 7+ asks in a row. These are also just some fun ideas I was thinking of for the au I thought you might enjoy lol

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Izuku gets interrogated and at first goes along with the questions. He doesn’t realize why he is there at first, until they ask more and more questions showing they suspect him for something. After the second or third question about his relation to the LOV he pieces it together. They think he’s a villain.

And instead of having a confused smile or nervous laugh, his eyes widen and he whispers “you think I’m the traitor.” It wasn’t hard for him to figure it out, after all he spent so much time analyzing and trying to deduct things quickly from situations where he barely was given any information, and they practically threw the answer in his face. He was probably one of the few students who was fully aware that there was a traitor from looking at the previous attacks.

He starts to shut down after realizing this, and when people start yelling or slamming things out of anger (because no one was actually going to get physical, but that doesn’t mean the rest of the room was off limits) he unconsciously reverts back to his old habits from when he was quirkless.

This can include, but is not limited to:

- A smaller frame to protect vitals and give less room to be hit

- A quite and passive voice to try appeasing their anger

- Distracting himself from the emotional pain by focusing on the physical stuff. Mentally keeping track over where everyone is, what they are doing, and how much of a threat they are to him

- Looking for any and all possible exits, even the ones that would result in him being hurt on his way out, just in case things get worse (and he fears that they may hurt him worse than before. In a world full of quirks, it’s easy for someone worked up to forget how easily they can kill someone, and Izuku probably has experienced more than once a situation that became life or death because a middle schooler was too worked up to process how much damage they were about to do)

- Eyes downcast due to fearing that eye contact would seem like he’s defying them or trying to irritate them in purpose (thanks Bakugou for that one)

- Holding back sudden movements or flinching, when going to the point of possibly hurting himself on purpose to prevent him from acting out.

- Holding his breath every time someone moves, but forcing his body to relax/tense up in case they attack him. When your body tenses up, it can absorb him impact, but can also cause other things like knives or needles to hurt more when they cut/go through the skin. So when there is someone who has a weapon visible (probably a means of intimidation) he quickly figures out which way will hurt less and forces himself to go through with that because of the constant thought of ‘just in case’

- Forcing himself not to cry or break down. That’s what some bullies want, but sometimes it also makes them even more upset. It gives them fuel, and always ends bad for the victim.

The teachers and others accusing him of being the traitor takes these signs as him lying or trying to hide the truth, those who don’t think it’s because he’s lying see the 'experience with interrogations’ aka trauma reactions and think he was trained by the villains to act this way. No one thinks about the fact that some of the reactions are clearly not helpful with interrogations and that the villains would train him to do the opposite (ex: stay calm and keep eye contact. You don’t have anything to hide and looking away makes it seem like you do).

The only two people who know his past refuse to acknowledge or bring it up.

All might doesn’t because he can’t risk the consequences of OFA getting out, but also because he only has a vague idea because of when he was shoeless himself.

Bakugou refuses to acknowledge the signs and the relapsing to his habits from middle school.

No one else realizes the cause, and as a result they accidentally reopen the trauma that Izuku hadn’t healed from. No, he had taken it and stuffed it into a box to avoid acknowledging that he was hurt. So he never talked to anyone about it, and as a result it just festered in his mind. His intrusive thoughts from all the victim-blaming he went through never went away (because let’s be honest, gaslighting and victim-blaming are things he probably went through as a result of the bullying. He couldn’t help being quirkless, but the bullies will latch onto anything and everything they can. And because they wanted to prevent themselves from having anything marked, if they made him think it was his fault then they felt it lowered the chances of them being reported)

During the pause of interrogation when they are having Tsukachi enter and he’s about to come in, he almost send himself into a dissociative/depressive episode because of his thoughts. He forces it back when the doors click open, thinking 'no, it’s just like before. No matter how much it hurts, wait until you’re safe. You’re not safe here, they will use it against you, so you have to wait until you’re alone and safe to finally break down.’

As a result, none of the adults fully realize how broken he is after the trap/interrogation is over. But its only a glimpse that they see, and nothing more. Because Izuku’s learned that weakness = vulnerable = targeted and hurt.

And now that he knows almost all his friends- no, his classmates were involved he knows he can’t break down anywhere near them. He can’t go over and let them know how broken he is or he thinks they’ll turn against him even more.

Someone brings up the 'logical’ aespect of the interrogation and their suspicions before he leaves and Izuku’s thoughts use that and forces it against him. 'It was only logical. Everyone was convinced you were going to hurt them, that you were evil. Of course they had to do it.’ He repeats it like a mantra in his head. 'It’s only logical, they did what they had to, and it’s almost over. You’re almost done, it was just the logical thing to do.’

And why is it this that he repeats this, instead of being angry or upset?

The victim-blaming.

His own intrusive thoughts were fuelled by the victim-blaming, and because it was what hurt the most, it was also what he was most accustomed to.

But when he finally gets back to the dorms, to the 'safety’ of his room, he knows he can’t break down. Not yet. After all, if they went through all that trouble because they thought he was the traitor, who’s to say they didn’t do more? His resurfaced paranoia/anxiety from the trauma makes him search his room for hidden cameras and microphones, desperate for at least one safe-space.

He finds nothing, thank god, but then he keeps pushing back his breakdown in search of exits, ways to avoid the most dangerous people or most likely to turn on him, ways to get by unseen and to avoid any situations that would be like Middle school. He stays up making notes and maps of the school and how to best protect himself because 'You’re already used to this. Shouldn’t have expected anything different. Stupid, idiotic, Deku. You put off finding the saferoutes because you thought it would be better to try playing nice. Look where that got you, now you have to stay up and make up the months of ignoring the inevitable.’

He doesn’t sleep that night, and when it becomes time for class he still hadn’t given himself time to break down. So he returns, but doesn’t pretend to be friends with any of his classmates anymore. He uses the ways he maps, brings out old tactics, just with the hope of making it through the day without being hurt or breaking down.

Lunch comes, but he doesn’t eat. He goes to the roof, finds an elevated area with no cameras and where people are unlikely to see him and sits down. It takes a moment, just a mere second of sitting there alone before he breaks.

He cries and let’s his regret and anger wash over him. All the feelings he had been pushing back finally breaking free and coming loose. He doesn’t eat, he never got the time, and right as he is starting to realize how badly hurt he really is, the bell rings signalling he needed to get to class. So he forces himself up, pushed all his emotions away, and tries to clean himself up in the bathroom.

He ends up in a dissociative state the rest of the way back to class, and when the others ask why he’s acting different or 'weird’, he doesn’t respond. He barely registers anything the rest of the day and when teachers try calling on him, hoping for some kind of reaction, they get nothing. He doesn’t process that he’s being talked to and just sits there dissociating in a desperate attempt of forcing himself not to break down again.

When classes end, the others try talking to him but eventually give up. He slowly realizes after everyone left that he was alone and he picks up his stuff and walks to the dorms on autopilot. He gets to his room and shut the door, and finally let’s himself finish the breakdown from on the roof. This time, though, he finally lets himself cry over everything. The entire past of abuse and neglect from his peers and adult figures in his life (minus his mom), the suicide-baiting, the victim-blaming, the bullying, accusations and mistrust, all of it. And he finally fully, truly breaks.

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