#like it wouldn’t be anxiety if it was nice and rational and calm

[mazzystar24]

Am I the only one who low-key loved that they showed:

1. Lucy’s anxiety induced blabber and Tim’s 😳 in the background - because I feel like while ppl were being like “oh that rant was so annoying and over the top” but in reality that rant is literally so accurate as a stream of thought of anxiety and overthinking , not only that I think the fact that this rant was included is so telling of their relationship because as someone with anxiety I can confirm that those types of thoughts STAY inside thoughts unless we are super comfortable with the person because WE ARE AWARE HOW UNHINGED AND IRRATIONAL WE SOUND

2. The chenford fight- when you have two mentally ill people in a relationship spoiler alert they will sometimes say shit they don’t mean and will sometimes screw up AND THATS OKAY AND REALISTIC like any mentally ill person will tell you that when they are spiralling, almost always they will unintentionally take it out on the person closest to them or who is supporting them the most and that’s not because they actually want to it’s more so that their brain subconsciously knows that that’s a safe target that they can be a bit of a screw up with them and they won’t stop loving them, this is literally the most common example of displacement (trust me I’m a psych student🤓,jk jk fr tho this is an actual thing)

Like when I heard initially that chenford would have issues this season I was so worried the writers would pull that old cliche of making stupid out of character drama that made no sense and felt inorganic but THIS this is so good to see how anxiety can affect a relationship and eventually how they get over that obstacle and it came out in a way that felt very realistic and in character

[estrellami-1]

Writer prompt: i want this in everyone I like's writing so Steve having a panic attack/migraine (both at the same time are also fine) and he goes to where he knows he is safe Wayne Munson (Wayne found him the 1st time it happened & took care of him). So now when he feels it happening he goes to Wayne, who comforts him & takes care of him

Okay I was literally JUST talking to @i-less-than-three-you about this fic by @xiaq about how the world needs more Wayne and Steve interactions and then I remembered this ask exists and I got SO excited 😂

Anyways. I’m sorry it’s here so late but hopefully it suffices! ❤️

The first time Steve meets Wayne, really meets him, in any way that matters, he’s halfway into a panic attack.

Eddie isn’t answering his walkie. This in itself isn’t immediate cause for concern; he’s usually one of three places, so Steve takes it one step at a time, rationally.

He calls Gareth, because maybe the band had a practice today that he’d forgotten about.

Gareth says no, he hasn’t seen him since Sunday at Steve’s for Hellfire.

Okay. Take a deep breath. Let it out slowly. Feel the pressure release. Call the garage.

“Nah, boy, Munson ain’t been ‘ere for ‘bout two days,” the man drawls.

Steve takes a breath, politely thanks the man. Hangs up.

Considers his options. He could call Eddie’s trailer, but he knows himself, knows the anxiety coiling in his stomach, gripping at his lungs, and he knows talking to him won’t be enough; he needs to be able to see him, to touch him, to hear his heartbeat.

He drives to the Munson trailer. Wayne opens the door. “Steve,” he nods.

“Hi,” Steve says. “Um. Sorry. Is- is Eddie here?”

Wayne frowns. “Eddie? He hasn’t been here for three days.”

Air evades him. Gravity doubles, and he stumbles, reaching out to the doorframe for support. “Th-three days?”

“That’s right,” Wayne confirms, and Steve’s head fills with static, with wrong wrong wrong, with the need to find Eddie, to talk to him, to make sure he’s okay, because they think the Upside Down is gone, there aren’t any more gates that they know about, but never say never and Eddie’s been missing for three days-

“Steve,” Wayne says firmly. Steve distantly recognizes they’re both kneeling: Steve just outside the door, Wayne just inside it. “Take a breath, kid.”

Steve tries, but he can’t, it stutters and gets stuck halfway in and he has to fight to get it out again, finally does in one big explosive sob, and Wayne slowly extends his open hands, places them on Steve’s shoulders when he doesn’t flinch away. “Steve,” Wayne says again, still just as even, but how can he be calm when Eddie’s missing, except he doesn’t know about the Upside Down, does he, so he wouldn’t know to- “Take another breath,” Wayne continues. “In and out, nice and slow.”

His hands are rubbing on Steve’s shoulders, two points of white-hot contact where the rest of him is numb, and Steve follows his hands, breathes in when his hands stroke up, breathes out when his hands go back down. In, out. Up, down. “Good,” Wayne says after a few moments. “Can you hear me?”

Steve manages a shaky nod, still trying to time his breathing.

“M’kay then. First things first, Eddie’s okay, he left Monday to visit family in Kentucky. He’ll be back by Friday.”

Steve deflates, scrubbing his face as he sighs. “Sorry.”

“‘S alright,” Wayne murmurs. “Wanna tell me what that was about, son?”

Steve bites his lip. “Nothing. Just… Eddie didn’t answer his walkie. Then I called Gareth and the garage, and they hadn’t seen him-”

Wayne curses softly. “And I didn’t help with my answer,” he says grimly, then sighs and stands, offering Steve a hand up. “C’mon in,” he says. “I’ll get you somethin’ to drink, and we can call the idiot and yell at him.”

Steve huffs out a breath of a laugh, accepts Wayne’s hand. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

Wayne waves him off, directs him to the couch. “Tea first,” he says. “I swear by it after somethin’ like that.���

Steve nods. Tries to not panic again, grabs a blanket to fidget with. Stills when he hears Wayne’s voice as he putters around in the kitchen. “I swear, I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve told that boy to tell people where he’s goin’,” Wayne gripes. “But does he listen? No. God knows why. ‘M pretty sure it’s punishment for everythin’ I got up to as a kid that my parents had to deal with.” He sighs, eventually brings a mug over to Steve. Wraps both his hands around the warm ceramic. “Slow sips,” he says. “Take your time.”

Steve dutifully takes a sip. “Sorry again,” he murmurs, looking down at the blanket in his lap. “I’m sure you’ve got things to do.”

“Right now, my priority’s makin’ sure you’re okay,” Wayne answers.

Steve takes another sip, swallows the responses on his tongue. “How’d you know what to do?”

He smirks self-deprecatingly. “‘M a vet, Steve,” he answers. “I’ve seen shit. I’ve seen how people deal with the shit I’ve seen. I had to learn, real quick, how to calm them down. And how to calm myself down.”

“Oh,” Steve whispers. “Um. You said Eddie’s visiting family?”

“Yeah, his momma’s brother’s out there. Got a wife and three kids, Eddie adores ‘em. Spent near a whole summer out there once, I swear he got back and I barely recognized him. And the accent, Lord Almighty, he says mine’s thick.”

Steve chuckles. “You said he’ll be back Friday?”

Wayne hums. “Should be. Might be Saturday, if he finally gets his shit together too late in the day to make the trip.”

Steve giggles. “So probably Saturday.”

“So probably Saturday,” Wayne agrees, checking his watch. “Eds should be back at the house by now, wanna see if we can’t reach him?”

Steve shifts. “If- if you don’t mind.”

Wayne makes a face like he’s offended Steve would think that, then waves him over to the phone. He dials and waits. “Hey, Diane.” A pause. “Yeah, that’d be great, thanks.”

Soon enough Eddie’s on the line, and Steve can hear him even though his ear isn’t the one pressed to the receiver. “Wayne! Holy shit, they’re all so big, ‘s like I’ve missed ten years ‘stead’a ten months, did’ja know Elsie’s got braces-”

“Eds,” Wayne says, stopping Eddie’s rant in its tracks.

“Yeah?”

“You didn’t tell your friends.”

Silence, then, “Shit.”

“Uh-huh. And you didn’t answer your walkie.”

“Oh, shit, shit, who- I don’t think I brought it, what- was it a code red, who called-”

“Eddie.”

“Yeah?”

“Steve’s here.”

“Fuck,” Eddie murmurs. “‘S he pissed?”

“No, but I am.”

“Panicked?”

“Bingo.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“Maybe this’ll finally teach you your lesson,” Wayne says before handing the phone to Steve.

“Eds?”

“Stevie.”

Steve sighs, presses his forehead to the wall. “I was worried, asshole.”

“I’m so sorry,” Eddie says quietly. He sounds it. “I- d’you want me to come home? I can, I mean it’ll take me a couple’a hours, like six, but I can.”

“Eddie, you love your family.”

“Well, yeah, but if you want me there-”

Steve sighs, feels a small smile stretching across his face. “No. But you can tell me about your family.”

Eddie does. Wayne stays by his side the entire time, a comforting presence. When Steve hangs up, he smiles at him. “Wanna stay over Friday? Wait for him?”

Steve bites his lip. “I don’t want to intrude.”

Wayne sighs, gestures him back over to the couch. “You love him,” he says. “And he loves you enough to drive six hours back here just because you want to see him. You’re gonna be in each other’s lives for a long, long time. Might as well get comfortable now.”

Steve gapes at him. “He- he loves me?”

Wayne tilts his head to the side. “You didn’t know?”

“No- I mean, I know he flirts with me, but he’s also just like that-”

Wayne laughs. “He absolutely is not,” he informs Steve. “He’ll plan his entire day around seeing you at work.”

Steve blinks. “He only comes in for a little bit!”

“Yet it’s only when you’re there,” Wayne says, then sighs. “Maybe I shouldn’t’ve interfered. I figured you two woulda gotten around to it sooner or later. Just also figured I could help it along. You’re welcome here Friday. Or any day.” He stares at Steve. “I’ve never been rich. But I’ve been lonely. It don’t matter how much money you got. It can’t hide the fact that you’re still alone.”

Steve stares back, then slowly nods. “Okay,” he whispers, slowly stands from the couch. “I, uh. Guess I’ll see you Friday.”

Wayne tsks. “You got work?”

“No?”

“Then come sit down and watch baseball with me. Lord knows Eddie never will.”

Steve smiles at that, sits back down on the couch. “Who’re you rooting for?”

Wayne hums. “Cubs. Always do, if they’re playing. You?”

“The Mets.”

Wayne stares at him. “Boy, what the hell you sayin’?”

Steve shrugs, smiles. “I like rooting for the underdogs. And hey, they won last time!”

“Yeah, against the fuckin’ Pirates,” Wayne all but spits, causing Steve to collapse in laughter.

They watch the rest of the game. And if Steve falls asleep midway through the second inning, and if Wayne covers him with a blanket, well.

That’ll stay between them.

[supergigabigboybabechad]

She/they, bisexual, asexual, 19 (I tried to make it less formal sorry if it looks formal still. 💜)

I have blueish-gray eyes with red hair that's in a side shave (like one side on my hair is shaved). I am chubby, I have tons of freckles except on my face. I like wearing emo style clothes or comfy clothes like hoodies and sweats. I hate dresses and shorts, I don't like showing off skin. (If you need I picture I can send you one in dm or I can send a picrew).

Likes: anything with drawing/painting, games including board games.

Dislikes: uhhh spiders, driving (I refuse to get a driver's license it's a huge fear of mine.) I'm not scared of being in a car just driving it.

Isfp-t or my kin itto and scaramouche, I am a cancer. People say I have rbf (resting bitch face). Though I am really nice to people, unless they mess with the people I care about then I couldn't care less about them. I try to be helpful when I can. When I am around people I know, I can be loud and talkative (the loud part isn't on purpose it's just when I'm happy or excited). I tend to put people a lot before myself. I don't really like talking about my personal issues to anyone and can be known as the therapy friend. It's the opposite though when I'm around people I don't know, I'll be quiet and not wanting to interact. I have adhd, depression and anxiety (wonderful I know). When I do get upset I don't talk and won't interact until I have calmed down. I do cuss a lot though I'm more careful when I'm around kids/people I don't know. If I have a fight with someone I prefer to sit and talk it out and hate it when they walk away from me when I'm just trying to talk to them.

Hii!! Im sorry this took so long I wanted to make sure you’d definitely love it and I couldn’t do much over weekdays but weekends are for double time! So here you go!❤️ (order is less to most compatible imo!🔥)

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul would REALLY appreciate you wanting to talk things out during a fight, as well as how easy you are to talk to!

Azul has insecurities himself, so it’s safe to say he’d get scared you’d leave him if you left your fight without resolving anything, with his nature in general, pretty sure he hates loose ends

Once you’ve talked things out while being civil and mature, he’d ask “So, could we call this situation resolved?”

The way his voice shakes a little you can tell he’s worried

Upon hearing no and that it was just a conversation to better understand each other, that now that you’ve resolved the issue you can both better work to avoid it next time, not only is he relieved but he’s smitten with how smart you are!

Azul is overworks himself too. Top ranking student with a successful business, theres definitely a lot on his mind…

Luckily you’d be there to support him, he wouldn’t want to appear weak to you so if you asked him what was wrong he’d respond with the usual “just tired”

Urge him to take the break he so desperately needs so he can just sit with you

His jacket’s not very comfortable so if you’d offer him your hoodie he’d bashfully accept and lean on you

He likes that you’re chubby! It kind of hits home for him with his past but the way you’re so beautiful dare he say your size adding to such beauty it soothes his past wounds

He would love to play board games with you!! He’d take you up at every challenge

He might let you win if he’s feeling especially benevolent but if you beat him on your own accord he’d keep challenging you till he won

If it’s largely a skill based game it would bother him so much that he’d devote hours to practice just to be able to win

Azul would understand your anxiety due to his own, he may not experience it the way you do but he sure knows how it feels

He’d drag you to the vip room where you could have time to think

If you’re willing to talk to him he’d walk you through your thoughts and help you rationalize what’s going on

He’d also get Jade or Floyd to bring you some food and refreshments, on the house of course, to make sure you’re in the right headspace

If you wanted to help him out while he works he’s really appreciate it! Being helpful to him, trying to decrease his workload, he feels cared for

That and any time with you relaxes him, suddenly paperwork feels less like a chore.

Silver

Upon first meeting you silver wouldn’t be deterred by your rbf (he has one too). He’d speak to you in his overly formal way.

He wouldn’t mind you being quite or not talking much either, with his caring nature, he’d often come to you just to check in and make sure you’re okay

Silver is very much an acts of service lover. He’d take care of all the spiders for you! He wouldn’t kill them he’d carefully scoop them out and leave them far away from you.

He’d assure you everything is alright and taken care of. Then being knightly as he is, he’d ask if you need anything and bring you a glass of water.

Always going the extra mile to ensure your safety and well being he’d sit beside you, just in case you needed anything.

Speaking of, he’d always be there to comfort you when you’re struggling with your mental health

I cant say he’d know exactly what to do the first time he sees you having a panic attack.

He’ll try his best to comfort you but be hesitant knowing the fragility of the situation. What he will do though is research on how to better help you the next time, he’d speak to you exactly about it as well, not during your attack but he’d bring it up casually

While taking you out on a date in the forest, woodland creatures surround you both having in a relaxed state.

“The other day, how often does that happen?____ Mmh.. I see, I’m sorry, the next time, even if I’m not there, I want you to come to me. What can I do to help you?”

This applies to anxieties about your relationship with him as well.

If you’re anxious about anything in your relationship, it will hurt his heart to know you feel that way and he’s do anything to make sure you have no reasonable doubt in his love for you.

Silver would love your painting.

If you ever wanted inspiration to paint or draw anything outside he’d accompany you out into the forest

Creatures would come running to him wherever you are giving you a lovely scene to spark inspiration. He might fall asleep while your painting but with all the animals around him and the soft light hitting him you might end up with him on your canvas

He’d be flustered to find that he was the muse of your latest work (very flustered)

“Oh this.. No it’s nice the technique, you’re very skilled.. I just…” he wouldn’t be able to properly express how happy he is

Silver would also encourage you to talk about your personal problems. As your knight and lover, it’s his job to make sure you’re happy and safe

He’d know when you’re upset and ask you about it but he doesn’t want to push, he’d encourage you to tell him but if you’re uncomfortable he wouldn’t force it.

Instead, he’d show you acts of service, taking you out for a walk or just all together refusing to let you be alone

With Silver you’d never feel lonely and you’d always have someone there for you, and someone who will put you first the way you do for others

Leona Kingscholar

This seems like a very unlikely pairing i know, but I feel like you’d really compliment each other!

Can’t say your first impressions of him would be great.. he’d definitely be a bit very rude but generally, i don’t think he’d make any personal attacks, I don’t think he really does so in general he’s just kinda bitchy

You wouldn’t understand what he has against you and try to ask about it. He wouldn’t be receptive at first, if you really think about it, nobody’s really put effort into trying to understand him. You’ll receive push back when trying to understand him

Once he realizes you’re truly trying to have a conversation, he doesn’t know how to take it, he’s touched deep down though, he won’t show it of course but from then on he’s acted more…neutral towards you?

Putting others way before yourself?? He won’t have it, he doesn’t care if you’re nice to people that’s none of his business, but he won’t let you do anything to harm yourself

As lovers, he wouldn’t give you sweet words, but you can tell he speaks to you softer than anyone else, but when it comes to things like this, where you’re indulging in unhealthy habits, he’s much more stern

“Hey herbivore, there’s a difference between being helpful and being a pushover. Do you really want to be doing that?”

If you don’t give in and take care of yourself first, he’ll grab you for a nap

“We’ll I need your help too. I’m your boyfriend, shouldn’t I take priority, i need to be comfortable while I sleep….. Hah? What about them, I’ll tell them you’re busy”

He’d love your comfy clothes and soft body! It’s more comfortable for him when he holds you.

The way you’re protective of the people you care about? Be ready to be on the receiving end x2

If anyone even slightly mistreated you while he’s around, he’d demand things be made right and that you receive an earnest apology

He’ll drive you around too! Or he’ll have someone take you, he’s so reluctant to show how much he cares for you with his words but he’ll do things for you that you know he wouldn’t do for anyone else

If you want him to play a board game, he might make a comment on how childish it is but willingly join you

Unless it’s chess he’d willingly challenge you, if you express desire to play video games though he’ll blow you off about not having any, but the next time you see him he has a console with competitive games for you to play together, he claims it’s because beating you is fun any way so might as well expand his horizons

As for your anxiety? If he notices you’re anxious, he’ll say he wants to ditch and take you somewhere quiet

“Hey, what’s going on with you?” The lack of attitude in his voice gives away his genuine worry. If you don’t respond or say you don’t want to talk about it, he’ll sigh, sit you down beside him and just lean you against his chest where you can hear his heart beat.

Keeping his hand on your head so you can’t move away, whether he intended it or not the sound of his heart beat would soothe you.

His hearing is highly sensitive so he’ll know when you’re feeling better due to your breathing. “Do you wanna tell me know? Or do you wanna stay there?”

Leona would be what you’re missing, he’d stand up for you and make sure you’re first. But at the same time you’d be what he’s missing too, no one has taken the time to truly listen to him, what he thinks or what he feels, with you he feels heard.

Idia Shroud

With how introverted you’d both be at first, you probably got close through board game club

Idia gets more talkative when he’s in a competitive mood which would likely lead you both to opening up while playing

His competitive spirit might bring out something in you too leading to your board game matches to become a more frequent thing (you’re more normal about games than Azul)

I have no proof other than pure gut instinct but I feel this VERY STEONGLY HE WOULD LOVE YOUR FRECKLES HE WOULD LOVE THEM SO MUCH I KNOW HE WOULD

Later into the relationship, he’d hold your face and kiss them as a greeting, afterwards he’d pull back and admire them while lightly brushing over them with his thumb(HE WOULD TRUST)

He loves your style! But he REALLY LOVES your hoodies, if you accidentally forget one in his room, he wont give it back, even when asked about it he’ll claim to have never seen it

He’d get really embarrassed if you asked to wear his racket though, no mater how close you are he’d want so badly to say yes but just wouldn’t be able to get the words out

You wouldn’t have to worry about driving! Idia would just whip you up a car that you don’t have to drive

Spiders though? You’d have to fight about who has to kill them…

Idia has a bad habit of saying the wrong thing, he doesn’t mean any harm but he doesn’t get much social interaction so the things he says can come off in the wrong way, that’s why he appreciates how understanding you are!

If you were to talk to him about it he’d rephrase what he said to better fit what he meant

If you yelled at him he’d cry so the way you approach him in such a mature and understanding way is so comforting, any worries he had about confrontation with you are gone

He understands your anxiety, very much so

He’d walk you through a whole exercise if your experiencing anxiety with him, then he’d give you a piece of candy(he always has some on him) and tell you to focus on enjoying the sweetness of it while walking you through a breathing excercise

He has hella video games too! He’d bring you over to play them, he’s playing to win too, I hope you’re in the mood for some friendly trash talk

Before he knows it, he finds himself comfortable with you, comfortable enough to be himself letting him feel safe with you im sure he hopes you feel the same way about him

——————————————P.S. Your style sounds so cool and ur hair style too! (Also I love freckles!!)

[hiorintruther]

hi hello~ can i mayhaps ask for more thoughts about hiorin?

i read ur headcanons and now theyre stuck in my head lol

u dont have to if u dont want to ofc!! have a nice day!

Ooooo sweet summer child, little do you know that you’ve opened the floodgates now! (This is very disorganised and off the cuff my apologies)

———

Okay, so Rin and Hiori interact for this 1 panel in the U-20 match and it’s one of their very few interactions ever, but that ONE panel was basically the only time in the whole game that Rin wasn’t insulting people to high hell and threatening to kill them. Hiori just helped him stand up and was like “are you okay?” and Rin was like “yeah I’m fine (I’m not fine)”. And from that sliver of an interaction, the ship was born!

Later on realising that they both have similar interests and their personalities would probably gel well together if they actually had the opportunity to hang out, it only added much needed fuel to my very small fire. Hiori feels like a calm too Rin’s rage, whereas Rin is the more emotional of the two, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. Hiori is quite perceptive as well, so I think he’d clock on to when Rin is unhappy. I also think Hiori would appreciate having someone around who isn’t very invasive of his privacy and is able to fill time with solo activities.

Where I can see potential conflict (and angst) arising is that Rin might want more verbal affirmation that he’s appreciated and loved by Hiori, whereas Hiori tends to show his love through actions. On the flip-side, Rin isn’t the best at compliments himself so Hiori might get annoyed that Rin is making fun of him or talking down on him in a condescending way when Rin doesn’t really mean to. I reckon if they could get over this hurdle though, their relationship would very much be defined by what happens in the silence. The little acts of love and affection. Hiori having a second controller at his desk at all times even though he prefers to play solo. Rin cooking proper meals for them both. Their sides of the couch having their favourite cushions and blankets.

On the note of that, I like the idea that 99% of the time, when they’re watching movies together they sit on opposite sides of the couch. That’s just the way they do things. But then, there’s that 1% of the time. Maybe Rin had a bad day and is feeling upset. Maybe Hiori is extra cold. Then, they can cuddle on the middle of the couch. It isn’t something they discuss or plan, they just know to do it. They don’t really talk while cuddling nor do they acknowledge the act in any way. It’s another one of their ‘silent shows of affection’.

Oh, but one thing that isn’t silent is Hiori’s laugh. Oh god, his laugh makes Rin melt. Hiori doesn’t laugh often but when he does, oh boy. And if Rin makes him laugh? It’s the one time Rin doesn’t feel like he’s being laughed at. It feels like Hiori is genuinely happy. Of course, Rin tries his best to hide his blushing face behind a facade of cool collectedness, brushing off the laugh with a cold remark, but Hiori knows what’s really going on.

I do think Hiori wouldn’t know exactly what to do if Rin was very upset specifically about his self worth issues and comparing himself to his brother. However, Hiori will try his damnedest to help. My best guess is that he’d be there with hugs and gentle touches and would probably just try to run though things objectively with Rin. He’d be rational about everything Rin says (if Rin is ever willing to open up at all) and would put everything into perspective. If things were getting more emotional for Rin (I’m taking potentially tears, which would be very rare because he’s mister “I nEvEr CrY”), Hiori would cup his cheeks and look into his eyes — the same eyes Rin hates about himself — and talk calmly, bringing Rin back down from the heights of anxiety and stress.

I don’t want this to turn into a “Hiori is Rin’s therapist and personal carer” moment because Rin definitely does his fair share for Hiori too. Hiori doesn’t have a healthy schedule most days. He sleeps at 4am, spends more time cooped up in his room than a NEET in wintertime and has the diet of a 12 year old kid who was told they were allowed to pick their own meals. Since Rin is pretty finicky about schedules and personal health, he’d probably be there reminding Hiori to sleep at midnight and go out for walks every now and again. Rin is also tidier than Hiori, so things stay more in order when he’s around.

I like the idea that Hiori talks about Rin a lot to Nanase specifically, and specifically in DMs. It’s more comfortable for him to gush over text than in person or over call. The way he talks about Rin to Nanase is kinda snarky but also sometimes unusually sappy. Rin is never reading these DMs, obviously. When they first got together, the amount of freaking out Hiori did had Nanase rolling.

On this note, Rin and Hiori never really officially confessed to each other. Not in a conventional way, at least. As with most things, their eventual slip from platonic to romantic relationship was very silent and largely defined by action. They’d sit closer together. They’d eat together more often. Their hands would brush against one another while on walks. The feelings were obviously brewing but by the time either of them brought it up, they’d already basically been dating for months. It was very much a “hey, are we dating?” “Uh, I don’t know? Do you want us to?” “Uh, sure?”. Their behaviour never changed after the fact.

———

Well then, I hope you liked these. I’m surprising myself at how many ideas I have for these two considering they interacted so little. Maybe I should write a fic about these two at this point? I’m very busy but idk I might be able to squeeze out a one-shot.

[unexpectedstormy]

Chapter 1: For the Want of a Breath - A Sky Asthma fic

Here it is, folks, the Sky Asthma fic I’ve been hinting at for a few weeks. It started off as a Whumptober Day 5 fic but quickly grew too large and became its own fic. I have a bunch of chapters written and will be posting them over the next few weeks.

(( @skyloftian-nutcase  and @squigglywindy I know you guys expressed  interested in this one.))

Read it here or on AO3: For the Want of a Breath

*** Chapter 1: Secret Weakness ***

Sky hoped it wouldn’t come to this.

He sat on his bedroll at the edge of the camp, back facing the other heroes, some still asleep, others pretending to be, and a few were absent completely. It was early morning, just before the sun rose, and the world was bathed in a pale purplish light. The chilly air wrapped its tendrils around Sky, seeping through the gaps in the blanket draping over his shoulders.

He stared at the bottle in his hand, filled only one-third with blue potion. It was normally enough to last him about five days, but with the way things had progressed—how long could he make it last? How long did he need it to last? Normally, when he got this low, he’d start rationing it out, one dose every other day until he could get back to Skyloft; but his symptoms, they’d been building over the last week or so, although he hadn’t noticed it until yesterday afternoon. And now he was to the point where it felt like there was an invisible remlit sitting on his chest—

“You’re up early,” Warriors voice addressed him in hushed tones so as not to wake the others. Sky dropped the bottle in the gap between his crossed legs and he twisted around to look up at Wars with deliberately half-lidded eyes and a sleepy yawn. Clean-shaven, freshly dressed, and carrying his bathing items, Wars had apparently returned from washing up at the lake’s edge.

Despite his projected sleepy countenance, Sky’s heart raced with guilt and anxiety. What could he say in reply that wouldn’t be suspicious? He hummed and blinked slowly while his mind raced with potential responses, settling on one after a few seconds.

“Had a nightmare,” he murmured. Truth was, sure, he’d woken up gasping for breath, but it wasn’t from a nightmare. It was from his asthma. Sitting up for a few minutes had already calmed his breathing and settled the desperate suffocating feeling in his chest, but he knew, he wouldn’t be able to lay down and sleep again.

“What was it about? If you don’t mind me asking?” Wars asked, kneeling down to put his stuff away in his bag.

“Uhh... I can’t remember much now,” Sky said looking away as if distracted and he made something up on the fly. “Giant flying centipedes I think?”

“Ooh,” Warriors grimaced. “I can imagine that’d be disturbing. All of those legs on your skin—” He shivered and closed his bag. Sky listened closely as Wars stood up, carefully picked his way through the rest of the sleeping heroes, and thumped down on a log by the fire. The way the grunted quietly as he sat made Sky wonder if his legs or back were hurting him again. Still facing away, and slightly afraid to look, Sky wondered how visible the front of him was to Wars and if he could pick up the bottle again or if it needed to stay hidden between his legs.

“Well, if you’re up… do you want some tea?” Warriors asked.

“Hmm. That would be nice.” Sky answered and yawned, for effect. He dared to steal a longing glance at the potion hidden away underneath the fabric of his pantlegs and the blanket he now hugged tighter around himself. There was a sound of a ladle in the pot and moments later, Warriors stood beside him holding out the tin mug of tea.

“Be careful. It’s hot.”

“I will,” Sky said. As Warriors turned back and returned to his seat, Sky took the opportunity to surreptitiously pour a little of the potion into his mug and restowed it back in its secret pocket in his bag as quickly as he could. He hoped the heat of the tea wouldn’t break down the medicine’s potency.

Sky turned so that he was facing Warriors and the rest of the camp, and out of habit, started a mental headcount. He and Warriors were the only ones in camp who were upright. Hyrule slept soundly curled up against Legend’s side, who lay on his back reading a book. Wind stirred, venturing to raise his head with rosy cheeks and red eyes and looked at Sky and Wars before dropping his head back down and burying his face in Wolfie’s fur. That left… Four, Wild, Time, and Twilight not present.

“Where are the others?” Sky asked. He inhaled deeply and quietly as he could to offset the building stale-air feeling in his lungs.

“The Old Man’s getting dressed, Twilight went for a patrol or something, Four said he needed some alone time and wandered off that way, and Wild’s… well…” Warriors looked sidelong at the lake down the hill from their camp. “While I was down there, I found all of his clothes on a rock on the shoreline. I heard some splashing coming from somewhere, so I can only assume that he’s swimming. Maybe catching fish. So be careful if you go down to the lake. There’s no telling what you’ll see.”

Heh. Business as usual then. The early birds were awake and the sleepyheads still down for the count. Except for himself of course. Sky hoped no one would question too hard when they saw him up before half the Chain. But even if they did, his excuse would hold. No one in their crew was exempt from having nightmares, not even Sky.

Sky sipped the tea. The intensity of the sudden acidity and bitterness exploded on his tongue. He quickly pulled away the mug from his lips and squinted at the dark brew. Why was this so strong? Who made the tea? He took another sip, and it was just as strong as the first, with the slightest hint of blue potion. If he hadn’t poured the potion in there, he would have dumped half of the tea out and added water to weaken it, but that wasn’t an option now. He was just going to have to suffer through the tea and hope it wouldn’t upset his stomach. Sky took another sip and tried not to grimace.

He should have known this was coming.

It had been a few months since he’d had an asthma flare up, and he was well overdue for another. He thought back to all the signs he’d ignored over the previous week or two: the inexplicable urge to yawn more than usual, even if he wasn’t tired, the need to inhale deeply and sigh without an obvious cause, that feeling in his chest at the bottom of a breath that there wasn’t quite enough air there, getting unusually out of breath when climbing slopes… He’d dismissed these early symptoms rationalizing that he was just tired from that battle yesterday, or it was because they were at a lower altitude than he was used to or it was just allergies or a minor cold.

But it wasn’t, was it?

Sky hated his asthma. It was his embarrassing weakness. He was a hero! He defeated Demise! And yet, he sometimes had trouble with the most basic task of being alive: breathing!

He’d mostly kept it on the down-low from his fellow heroes. He usually tried to hide it when he took his medicine in the morning, but now and then he’d been caught. He’d mention offhand how it helped him breath better at lower elevations but he never went into detail. One time, Legend had pried and Sky admitted to having asthma, but the only thing that came from it was that Legend made him promise to speak up if it got bad, and he also told Time. But other than that, no one knew.

It was better that way.

Better to keep his weakness a secret, better that he didn’t slow the others down, better that they didn’t have to pick up the slack for him or cover for him. And as long as Sky did everything right—taking his medicine and avoiding his triggers—his asthma wouldn’t be a problem.

Probably.

The Goddess had so far been mindful and considerate of Sky’s little… liability. In the past, when he’d run low or run out of blue potion, she would supply a portal that would take them back to Skyloft, allowing Sky to restock. Once, after he’d completely run out, she’d even sent a portal just for him. At the time, he was separate from the others, scouting out a ruined village, when the portal appeared. Passing through it, he found himself at home. He was graciously given an hour or two to restock his supplies and meet up with Zelda, before another portal appeared to return him to where he’d left from.

It had been quite a while since they’d been back to Skyloft and Sky was itching to return. Any day now, he expected a portal would appear and take all of them—or even just him—back to Skyloft. He just had to bear with it and trust Hylia. She’d always taken care of her Chosen One in the past, and he knew she would take care of him in the future too.

That being said… he couldn’t help but worry. Just a little bit.

“You’re looking… pensive,” Warriors ventured. “Rupee for your thoughts?” Sky looked up from his mug.

“Oh what? You’re talking to me?” Sky stammered. “Oh, uh, I uh—” Sky stumbled over his words, but he was saved by their elder reentering the camp.

“Rise and shine, boys,” Time said.

“Noooooo!” Wind groaned. “I want sleeeeeep.” Wolfie nuzzled his hair and licked his face. Wind hid his face with his blanket and whined again. Wolfie made a little noise, pawed at the blanket and then nipped the edge and pulled it out of Wind’s hands.

“Wolfieeeeee!!!” Wind tried to pull the blanket back but Wolfie crawled forward on top of Wind and started licking his face. Wind giggled and pushed away Wolfie’s snout. “Fine! I’m awake! Go bother someone else!” Wolfie stopped licking and huffed a puff of air in Wind’s face before he stepped off and ambled over to Hyrule and Legend.

“Hey guys! I got fish!” Wild said cheerfully as he approached the camp. He carried a spear impaled with nine fish as he trotted up the slope, stark naked. Sky and several other Links looked up only to immediately avert their eyes with giggles or groans.

“Oh, geez!” Warriors exclaimed. “Wild! You forgot something!”

“Ahh!” Wild squealed, looking down. “Sorry! Be back soon!” He scurried away back down the slope.

Sky looked away with a grin he tried to suppress. He was hit with a pang a happiness and he relished the moment—him and all of his brothers all together and all safe and happy on this lovely morning on this grand adventure they were on…

He’d hate to lose it.

[perfectbananaglitter]

The Talk part 3/3

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/perfectbananaglitter/701297777559355392/the-talk-part1?source=share

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/perfectbananaglitter/703470832957210624/the-talk-part2?source=share

“-I’m sorry, they did what? Do you want me to beat someone up?”

I was expecting this reaction when I decided to tell my sisters about the bet. What I wasn’t expecting, however, was Jade threatening my teammates with her 50 kg on a good day.

I gaze at my sisters, who seem to be in a silent conversation.

Jade turns to Bailey, “Sidney and Karim will help me, right? They wouldn’t miss the chance to mess with the hockey guys. How dare they? That’s so insensitive of them. Who do they think they are? They’re supposed to have your back!” Delilah drops her hand on her thigh, trying to calm her down even a little.

“I just felt so betrayed, not even mad. It didn’t cross my mind they could do something like that. I wasn’t expecting to be welcomed with open arms like we’re heroes. I was worried they would be homophobic assholes. But I didn’t think they would have held a bet on a potential relationship months ago. They didn't even bet to know if we were together or not; No! That was a given. They bet on whether we were going to expose our relationship. Nobody doubts that at one point we’ll sleep together. The question was when, where, and how we’ll say something.

“I mean, it was insensitive of them. They shouldn’t have, and you and Jensen have every right to be mad at them and feel betrayed. But at least, now you can be all mushy with your boyfriend. You need to look at the bright side. You’ll be able to cuddle up on the bus. No more having to twist your shoulder at a weird angle to hold his hand while he’s sitting behind you. And the team won’t think you’re going to tear each other's heads off every five minutes.” Bailey tries to reassure me. She has always been the rational one.

“No, they’ll have to worry about them jumping each other every chance they get…” Jade says with a smirk.

Both my sisters make disgusted faces at the idea of their baby brother having a sex life. And I get it; I don’t want to know what any of my sisters are doing with their partners. I shake my head, trying to get rid of those terrifying images that are unfortunately forming in my mind.

I’m so lost in my fight against those ideas that I don’t realize Cauler is joining us until he’s sitting next to me, his hand on my knee, his voice whispering a hello in my ear.

I freeze for a moment, not expecting him to be here. I turn to face him, my sisters' words still ringing in my head. Cauler looks at me with concern, noticing my hesitation. "Is everything okay?" he asks, his hand still on my knee. “Nobody can see us.” I take a deep breath and nod, trying to push away the anxiety of being in public. "Yeah, everything's fine," I say, hoping to sound convincing. I smile at him and intertwine our fingers.

Cauler looks at me for a moment longer, trying to analyze my face. I can see his brain going miles an hour, trying to know if I’m lying to him. But he nods and squeezes my hand before turning to my sisters and Jade and saying hello to them.

As I watch him asking Jade questions about her latest art project, I can't help but feel grateful for Jaysen’s presence. He always knows when something's wrong and tries his best to make me feel better. I take a deep breath, trying to forget about the bet and our teammates for a while. Maybe a good meal and some company will help me clear my head. For once, I feel hungry and like I could eat the whole menu, so when the waitress arrives to take our orders, I don’t stop myself from ordering everything my heart desires.

But when Bailey asks him how he’s feeling after the bet, the previously light and nice atmosphere switches to something heavy and uncomfortable.

“Hum… I’m… Okay, I guess. It wasn’t nice of them. Terzo was really upset. I get why he was, though. They really betrayed his trust, and he doesn’t give it easily.”

My sisters share a look.

“His trust? Do you mean ‘our’ trust?”

“Hum… I guess?”

“Jaysen, darling, you do realize you were betrayed too? You don’t have to be used, but you’re allowed to. You gave the team your trust, and they broke it too. My brother is a little shit with too many feelings he doesn’t know how to deal with. So he’s a bit overdramatic. But you’re also a victim here. And I need you to tell me you realize that.”

He’s frowning, his eyebrows drawn together. His eyes are fixed on his plate, but I can’t tell he’s not really seeing it.

“Oh.”

Oh. He didn’t. He was so upset on my behalf that he couldn’t be on his own.

His face turns sad as reality hits him. I can only watch emotions crossing his features. I squeeze his hand, trying to bring him an ounce of comfort. But it’s all I can do. Knowing my boyfriend, he needs to process this new information on his own. So for the rest of the meal, he just picks at his food, smiling only when someone talks directly to him. And even then, he often asks them to repeat. He’s so lost in his own head, I can’t help but ache for him, knowing very well what he’s going through.

As we leave my sisters to walk to my room, I can sense the weight of the situation on Cauler's shoulders. Still in his own head, I guide Jaysen to the dorm where we will be able to talk if it’s what he needs. I know he's trying to process everything that's happened, and I want to be there for him. But at the same time, I'm not sure how to help him.

The walk is short. I close the bedroom door as he sits on my bed. "Hey," I say, breaking the silence between us. "I know this is all really overwhelming for you right now, but I want you to know that I'm here for you. We'll get through this together." I sit next to him, draping my arm around his waist.

Cauler looks at me, and I can see the pain and confusion in his eyes. "I just can't believe they would do something like that," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. He drops his head on my shoulder, resting his forehead, hugging me."I thought we were all friends, you know? And now I feel like I can't trust anyone. And I can’t believe I didn’t realise that. How oblivious am I ?"

"I know," I raise my hand to the back of his neck, embracing him.

Cauler, sigh and we continue sitting in silence. I can feel his sadness and frustration, and I wish there was something I could do to make it all go away. But I know that healing takes time, and all I can do is be there for him, no matter what. My therapist would be proud of me.

"I'm sorry," Cauler says, breaking the silence. "I know I'm a mess”

"Don't apologize," I say, putting my arm around his shoulder. "You have every right to feel the way you do. And I'm here for you, no matter what. And if anyone of us is a mess, we both know it’s me"

This answer does make him laugh at least a little, easing a bit of tension from this situation.

After a few minutes, Cauler lifts his head and looks at me. "Do you think we'll be able to trust them again?" he asks, his voice laced with uncertainty.

"With time, I do think so," I say, being honest with him. "They’re our friends, they’ve done something stupid and insensitive. But they didn’t mean to hurt us. And they regret it, so much. Have you talked to Zero?"

"No, I haven’t seen any of the guys, not yet.”

"You should, when you’re ready and not a second before.” I drop a kiss on his head. “I talk with Dori, it was hard, but I think it was the best thing to do.”

He nods but doesn’t move. I pull him so we can lie down together. We stay there bathing each other. We’re alone, and that’s exactly what we need. Some alone time to process what happened. And if I get to cuddle my hot as fuck boyfriend, that’s not so bad.

[pies-writes-and-more]

allergic to you

Word Count: 3, 713

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x High School Age!Fem!Reader

Warnings: some swear words I guess, but as per usual, it’s just fluff from me. 

A/N: Guess who’s finally joined another fandom lol hello Haikyuu fandom! Pls be kind, it’s my first time writing for this fandom but I am in love with Karasuno boys, it’s problematic. Anyways, please let me know if you liked it! Sorry if I didn’t quite capture him the way other writers do haha. Also, Y/N = Your (Last) Name, just cause typing Y/L/N is exhausting lol my b

(Not my gif, credits to the original creator!)

Yamaguchi was trying his very hardest not to laugh, his hands clasped together in front of his lips to stifle his giggles as the tall blond boy he had known for years just looked at him desperately.

“It’s not funny,” Tsukishima’s lips formed into a frown (almost a pout), looking away from his friend nervously. His fingers played with some chopsticks, poking at his uneaten lunch.

Yamaguchi had never see Tsukishima Kei nervous. Volleyball games? Totally calm. Math class? Easy. Exam season? Piece of cake.

But put Tsukishima near a girl? No, scratch that. Not just any girl. Put Tsukishima near Y/N? It was all over for him. Suddenly, this 190cm tall boy wanted to shrink small enough to run away and not be noticed.

“It’s a little funny, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi insisted, finally letting out just a tiny chuckle that he just couldn’t hold back. “I think you’re overreacting. Just a bit.”

Tsukishima’s eyes turned back to the other boy, staring at him as if analyzing him, “How could I be overreacting? I’m telling you, I’m allergic!”

Yamaguchi was really trying his best to be supportive, knowing that talking about things was already hard for Tsukishima, especially when involving a particularly cute girl. “You think... you’re allergic... to Y/N,” Yamaguchi retorted slowly, repeating how Tsukishima started this convo with.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Tsukishima scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Obviously it’s some product she uses or something,” his nose scrunched up slightly as he tried to think of what it could possibly be. “Like that hand lotion she uses. The one that smells like vanilla and brown sugar,” Tsukishima proclaimed, nodding to himself like he had solved the mystery.

The green haired boy was still trying his best to be supportive. He nodded slowly, giving a forced smile to his best friend as he slowly spiralled into insanity. He had never seen Tsukishima this desperate for answers before. “Hasn’t she let you use some of that hand lotion?” He wondered aloud, remembering very specifically how red Tsukishima’s ears got when she rubbed a bit into a rash he had gotten on his hand.

“Gotta take good care of your hands if you play volleyball, Tsukishima-san!” Y/N had beamed, her fingers massaging the cream in.

Tsukishima had practically fainted that day, though he’d never admit it.

The blond’s frown tightened, holding his hand to his chin in thought, “Right. So not the hand lotion then.”

“Maybe she got a new perfume?” Yamaguchi offered, nibbling on some of his lunch while Tsukishima thought it out.

“No, she’s still using the same one,” He mumbled, and Yamaguchi smirked to himself, knowing that Tsukishima would’ve never admitted before that he knew little details like this about her. 

“Well. what kinds of symptoms do you have? Maybe that’ll narrow it down,” Yamaguchi suggested, leaning his head back on the wall behind them. It wasn’t unusual for Tsukishima to want to eat some place quiet, but today had been the first day that he had practically dragged Yamaguchi to this small secluded spot behind the school. The two of them sat against a wall to eat, though Tsukishima’s lunch had been completely forgotten.

“I just-” Tsukishima hesitated, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance as he tried to word how his body felt every time she was around. “I always feel so lightheaded. And my heartbeat’s always irregular too. Sometimes it feels like I can’t breathe properly.” His hand slid into his jacket pocket, pulling out his phone and tilting the screen towards Yamaguchi to show him a medical diagnostic page on the web. “Some people say these are symptoms of allergies. Or an anxiety attack. But I’m leaning more towards allergies.”

Yamaguchi squinted at the text, “You... Googled it?” He asked, a playful smile on his lips, glancing up at Tsukishima, amused.

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” Tsukishima scoffed, scrolling through the page. “I don’t know what else it could be. It’s not with anyone else. It can’t be the classroom either, cause when she’s not around, I don’t feel anything.”

“Hm. So what’re you going to do about it?” Yamaguchi asked, going along with this ‘allergic’ idea as much as he could. He knew Tsukishima was very rational and even if he suggested what he figured was happening, Tsukishima would never listen.

“D-Do?” Tsukishima blinked. He hadn’t thought about what the next step was.

“Well I assume you don’t want to keep feeling that like right? You could always ask the teacher to move you, I suppose. Then ask her not to attend any of our games. Avoiding her for the rest of your life seems like the best choice doesn’t it?” Yamaguchi asked innocently, closing up his lunch box and taking a sip from his juice.

Tsukishima stayed quiet, eyebrows still furrowed and the frown on his face tightening. He knew that made sense - one of the girls in their class was allergic to nuts and she always had to be careful what she ate, and he had even heard of some people not eating or drinking milk products because of allergies. The logical part of his brain agreed with Yamaguchi, perhaps staying away from Y/N was the only answer.

“Then... maybe it’s not an allergy,” Tsukishima mumbled quietly. He hated going back on his word but he couldn’t deny that he loathed the idea of not seeing Y/N’s smile ever again. Or seeing her sit with someone else. “Maybe it’s just something I have to get used to.”

“You know, Tsukishima,” Yamaguchi started again, looking off to the scenery that was in front of them. His voice was light and airy as he tried to coax his friend to the idea, “What you’re going through sounds a lot like-”

Tsukishima could hear it in his voice, he knew the next word forming from Yamaguchi’s lips before it even entered the air. He slammed his lunch box closed and stood up abruptly, turning away from the other boy’s eyes. “Lunch is over,” he grumbled, as if that was the reason he stood up so dramatically.

Yamaguchi smirked and packed up his things, shaking his head slowly when Tsukishima wasn’t looking. He wasn’t at all surprised that Tsukishima was having a hard time accepting his feelings.

The word hung in the very serious boy’s mind for the rest of the day. He tried not to focus so much on Y/N as he sat next to her for the rest of their classes, tried to not inhale too much or look in her general direction, in fear that his “allergy” would act up again.

He was almost positive it wasn’t... that. He would know for sure if it was, wouldn’t he? His nose scrunched slightly as he thought about the music he had listened to before, ones that had just a good melody and beat and he definitely didn’t listen to because of the lyrics since they were about... that thing.

Didn’t some people talk about their heart feeling like it was going to fall out of their chest? That they found it hard to breathe? That it was like all life stopped when they saw that person? And that despite all this, they never wanted to be without them?

Tsukishima had to get to the bottom of this. He was either experiencing some sort of allergic reaction to her or he was experiencing feelings. He thought about ignoring them, pretending like they didn’t exist so that maybe everything would go back to normal one day. But how long would that take? Wouldn’t it just be easier to rip off the bandaid and find out now?

At the end of class, Tsukishima zoomed his way out of class, not waiting for Yamaguchi like usual.

“Is he alright, Yamaguchi-san?” Y/N asked, surprised that the two best friends weren’t walking out together like they had every other day. Some days, they would even walk out with Y/N on their way to practice. But apparently, not today.

“He’s got a lot on his mind,” Yamaguchi explained, waving it away with a smile. Perhaps today he would be walking home by himself. And that was fine by him.

Y/N packed up her things and waved goodbye to her other classmates, heading out the door and slipping in her headphones. Her mind drifted to all the things she had to do when she got home, whether or not there were leftovers to heat up today or if she should cook something up.

“You take so long,” a drawl voice interrupted the very beginning of her first song. She blinked in surprise, looking to her right where Tsukishima was leaning against a tree.

Y/N pulled out one earbud, tilting her head as she watched him. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him do this casual, I-don’t-care-about-anything lean, with his headphones around his neck and his hands shoved in his pockets. But there was something different about him this time. Why was he avoiding her eyes? Why was he not giving her an annoyingly carefree smile? Why were his ears turning pink?

“Were you... waiting for me, Tsukishima-san?” Y/N asked slowly. He didn’t move for a moment, as if still calculating something in that big brain of his. He pushed off of the tree after sighing, walking over to her slowly.

“Obviously,” was all he said, glaring down at her as if she should’ve known this.

“You rushed out of class so quick, I thought you were already going home,” Y/N responded, still a bit confused. “Don’t you and Yamaguchi normally walk home together?”

Why did she have to question so much? Why couldn’t she just realize what he was trying to do? Tsukishima huffed and grabbed her hand, dropping a nice cool juice box in it. His eyes darted away from her next inquisitive look, but glanced back almost immediately because he wanted to see her eyes widen just a little at her favourite juice box.

“W-What is this?” Y/N asked, holding it in her hands. Part of her wanted to examine it to make sure he hadn’t somehow tricked her into holding something that wasn’t actually juice. She looked up at him suspiciously - Tsukishima knew her favourite juice?

“You didn’t have one with you today. I figured you forgot your wallet again today,” Tsukishima mumbled, shoving his hands in his jacket again.

“O-Oh. I did, thank you. Um,” Y/N hesitated. Was Tsukishima trying... to be nice? “Why... why did you buy it for me?”

“I just said why,” Tsukishima scoffed, flicking her head gently. He scolded himself internally, feeling guilty as soon as she showed the surprise on her face. She’s asking why you thought to be nice, Kei, stop being snarky, he told himself harshly. “Sorry,” he muttered quickly, feeling almost immediately bad for flicking her.

Y/N just laughed though, giggles spilling from her lips as she looked up at him, “Are you feeling okay, Tsukishima-san? You’re turning red,” she teased gently and he looked away from her quickly, hating how quickly his face heated up.

He took a breath, trying to mimic how calm he was on the court. He turned back to look at her with a cocky smile and confidence gaze, though he was sure she could tell he was nervous, “I’m fine, Y/N-san. But I need to tell you something. And I’m only going to say it once so listen up.”

Y/N watched him intently, noting the fake confidence he was trying to put on. She nodded as he looked at her for any sign to keep going.

His lips opened for a moment and Y/N could’ve sworn there was a moment of panic in his eyes when nothing came out. “I’m going to walk you home today,” Tsukishima stated finally, each word thudding into the air. He felt his confidence falter as the wrong words left his mouth, shifting his bag on his shoulder and starting to walk ahead.

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed, feeling her confusion only rise. Did he really build up that whole thing... just to walk her home?

“Hurry up or I’ll leave you here,” Tsukishima called behind his shoulder, still walking ahead. He was internally punching himself, groaning and uttering insults at his own stupid self. Couldn’t even say it. Couldn’t just say Y/N I like you and I think I’m either allergic to you or I’m utterly in love with you but I’ve been told I suck at explaining how I feel and that I never say the right things at the right time so please just reject me so I can move away from these exhausting feelings.

“Want some?” Y/N’s gentle voice was suddenly beside him, and Tsukishima felt his stomach doing that flipping motion again. He glanced down at her and saw her holding up the juice box at him. “Seems only fair, since you bought it,” she explained, the glimmer in her eyes making him feel way too warm inside.

“Sure,” he mumbled after a moment. She smiled just a little bit wider, holding up the juice to him, expecting him to just snatch it away and drink. But no, Tsukishima being a little bitch and deciding that if he couldn’t admit anything with words, he could try with actions, leaned down slightly, and latched his lips onto the straw. His hand wrapped around hers over the juice box, holding it still as he took a sip.

Y/N felt like she was suddenly bright red, her heart possibly having exploded right then and there. His eyes looked up to meet hers as he sipped, smirking a bit as he noticed the panicked and flushed look in her eyes.

Maybe the feeling is... mutual?

“Mm,” he hummed, pulling away after keeping her gaze for a second. “I guess I can see why you like it.”

Y/N had shivers running up and down her spine, feeling like Tsukishima had looked into her very soul and knew about her year-long crush on him.

The two of them started walking a bit slower after that, and to the external eye, you’d probably just see two classmates walking home together. But look a little closer, and you’d see both of them having internal conflicts. They managed to walk through the small roads filled with shops and make it about halfway to Y/N’s house in complete silence. 

“Y/N-san,” Tsukishima finally ended it, the agonizing silence, in which he had been racking his brain trying to think of how to start a conversation. He stopped in his tracks as he spoke the one word, the two of them now on a quieter dirt path. There was no one to interrupt them, no one to save Tsukishima from embarrassment, no Yamaguchi to fill the awkward silence.

“Hm?” Y/N looked back at him, noticing him just standing there. “Are you alright, Tsukishima-san?”

“There’s something I need to say,” he started, his hands in his pockets clenched into fists.

“O-Oh okay.”

“I’ve been... feeling sick around you.” Baka, he scolded himself for what felt like the millionth time. That definitely wasn’t the way he had wanted to say it. “I-I mean, not like sick sick but like allergy sick,” he tried to recover, but scoffed at himself since that wasn’t all that much better.

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed in response, trying to think about his reactions lately. He had definitely been more flushed lately, but she always thought that was annoyance. He’d been quieter and more distant, but it was Tsukishima after all. He looked over to her desperately, hoping to see that she was understanding what he was trying to say. She wasn’t. 

Tsukishima was starting to get frustrated. He knew he wasn’t the greatest at communicating but how hard was it to see how much he liked her? Yamaguchi saw it, hell, even his upperclassmen teased him about it when they first saw Tsukishima and Y/N walking out of class together one day. So why did other people who didn’t need to know it, why did they understand but she didn’t? Why was she so dense? 

You’re not saying anything, his mind reminded him as he scowled to himself.

“It has to be that,” Tsukishima finally continued quietly, his eyes now staring at his feet. He was practically trying to convince himself now. It had to be that there was a health related issue with him being around her. It had to be that, because if it wasn’t, it meant that Tsukishima had to tell her how he felt. And that meant that he was probably going to end up hurt. Why a girl like Y/N hung around a guy like him anyways was beyond him. 

“Why?” Y/N frowned, still terribly lost in the cosmos of this odd confession. “Why would it have to be that?”

“Because if it isn’t that, then it means that I’ve fallen completely head over heels for you.”

Tsukishima wasn’t sure how he had managed to say the words. But there it was. His fists tightened even more, his fingernails digging into his palm so hard it was starting to hurt. 

His eyes closed tightly, turning his head away from her. He didn’t want to look. He didn’t want to see laughter or disgust in her eyes. Maybe he could take it back now. Maybe he could-

Tsukishima jumped at the feeling of a poke on his chest, his eyes opening in surprise when he found Y/N standing much closer than she was earlier. “Are you teasing me?” She asked defensively, squinting her eyes up at him.

“T-Teasing?” Tsukishima stammered. He watched her eyes, noting how visibly upset she looked and he could feel his frustration rising. He had finally said what he had wanted to say this whole time... and she wasn’t even reacting the way she was supposed to. How stupid did she have to be? And why did she have to look so damn cute while doing it?

“Yamaguchi-san told you, didn’t he? I knew that poophead couldn’t keep his mouth shut,” she grumbled, crossing her arms against her chest. “He swore he wouldn’t tell you, but I should’ve known. You guys are best friends and all.”

“Told me... told me what?”

“That I’ve liked you practically since we met,” Y/N huffed, putting her hands on her hips. “Listen, Tsukishima-san, if you don’t like me back, you don’t have to tease me like this. I’m perfectly fine being rejected,” she told him with a pout on her lips (she was definitely not fine being rejected, and was planning on crying at home after this). “Don’t act like you didn’t know.”

Tsukishima‘s eyes widened, staring at her like she had grown a second head. “You... You like me?” He gulped. His allergies must be getting worse, his heart was thumping so hard against his chest, he couldn’t think straight.

Y/N and him shared a confused look for a moment, neither one of them sure who was teasing whom at this point. “Didn’t... didn’t you know? That’s why you’re being nice to me?” She asked him, poking his chest again. “Why else would you be walking me home and buying me juice?”

“Why would...” Tsukishima’s lips curled into a smile and suddenly he burst out into laughter, tilting his head back in amusement. 

“Why are you laughing?” Y/N whined, punching his arm lightly with a huff. “This isn’t a time to be laughing at me!”

Tsukishima straightened up with his signature cocky smile, shaking his head as he fixed his glasses on his face. Then, his hand moved to hit the top of her head.

“OW! Tsukishima-san!”

“You idiot. Why would I be standing here confessing to you if I was just going to make fun of you?” Tsukishima scoffed, smirking at her. “If I didn’t like you back and I found out you liked me, don’t you think I would’ve made it clear by now that you never stood a chance?”

Y/N thought about this for a moment, remembering that one time a girl in a different class had confessed to him after attending one of his matches.

“I think you’re incredible, Tsukishima-san! A-And I just.... well I just...”

“Are you trying to confess to me?” Tsukishima didn’t even bother looking up from his study book, finishing an equation before even glancing at her. “You should just give up now. I’m not interested.”

The girl had teared up so much, even Y/N had felt bad (even though she was secretly happy that Tsukishima hadn’t accepted the confession). Yamaguchi had yelled at Tsukishima about being gentle that day.

“Why would I be nice to someone stupid enough to think I’d like them? I didn’t give her any hints that I did, I don’t even know her,” Tsukishima grumbled.

Y/N had internalized those words, deciding she wouldn’t confess her feelings to Tsukishima ever. If she did, and Tsukishima rejected her, he probably wouldn’t want to be around her as friends ever again.

“So...” Y/N thought to herself for a moment, trying to reexamine what had happened today. “What was with the juice box then?” She asked him. 

“I thought...” Tsukishima frowned a little, looking up at the sky in thought. “I thought when you confess you were supposed to... give a gift or something.”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle at his thought process and Tsukishima glared at her slightly. “You’re laughing at me now?”

She shook her head quickly, trying to stifle her giggles, “I just... I think it’s sweet,” she beamed, holding onto her little juice box even though it was empty now.

Tsukishima watched her carefully before smiling a little, patting her head gently, “Alright then, let’s get you home. I’ll bring another juice box for you for our date.”

“D-Date?” Y/N repeated shyly, following him as he started to walk again.

“You thought I’d just confess to you and not ask you out? Idiot,” Tsukishima smirked, feeling such an intense relief on his shoulders. His heart was still beating furiously and his stomach felt like it was going to come up his throat, but... it wasn’t as frustrating of a feeling now. 

After he dropped her off at her house with the promise of walking her to school tomorrow morning, Tsukishima couldn’t help but allow himself to smile widely the whole way home. 

If this is what an allergy felt like, he never wanted it to stop.

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

Okay like I mentioned up there in the Author’s Notes, this is my first time writing for Haikyuu so lmk what you thought :) I’ve written some stuff for OHSHC and I think it’s pretty obviously that tall jerks with glasses are my type lol 

Anyways! Enjoy!

[after-witch]

Sweet Escape [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: Sweet Escape [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: Escape isn’t easy. Nor is it very long-lasting. When Overhaul’s men drag you back into captivity, you brace yourself and wait for what your captor will do with you. 

Word Count: 7,592

Notes: yandere, kidnapped, humiliation, degradation, mentions of eating disorder behavior, improper use of household cleaning products, Overhaul is a mean man 90% of this fic is just Overhaul being an asshole to you

There are going to be bruises on your shoulders. Fingerprint shaped bruises from the men holding you steady, afraid that you'll try to sprint off--maybe afraid that you'll try to spring at their boss, disobedient, unruly possession that you are.

You know that Overhaul won't like it when he eventually sees those black-and-blue fingerprints marring your skin--he might kill them for it, or worse. They're digging in too hard, but you don't warn them to ease up lest they find themselves on the wrong end of Overhaul's hands; they brought you back to this place, after all, and they deserve nothing but your hot, raw contempt.

You could run. You could slip out of their grip, if you put your mind to it. Your clothes are wet and the medical table that you're sitting on is slippery from the rainwater that's dripped out from your soaked clothes. But Chisaki Kai--no, Overhaul, you remind yourself, for the energy he’s exuding now is very much that of a foreboding boss--is standing in front of you, and you'd never make it to the doorway.

"Leave us," Overhaul says, not bothering to move as the men gripping your shoulders release their painful hold and swiftly leave the room. He tears off a sanitizing wipe from the ever-present canister on his desk and wipes down the doorknobs that they touched, before locking the door. An unnecessary precaution, given your nerves, given your state, given your realization that your escape attempt was a massive fluke that would never be allowed to happen again.

You numbly watch as he gathers up supplies from around the makeshift clinic he'd created in the small suite of rooms he allowed you to exist in. The canister of disinfectant. Medical-grade soaps. Sponges. A bucket. Needles, needles, needles... you remember the feel of the syringe you'd stolen in your hand and distract yourself from the fear of what he's going to do to you by retracing the steps of the past day.

**

You got farther than you thought you would--really, you did. At every stage of your plan, you expected Chisaki to suddenly reveal that he knew every step you'd taken so far. That he'd catalogued every act of false obedience to lure him into relaxing the rules, that he saw you swipe the syringe of tranquilizer from the clinic when he'd left for a moment to grab a fresh pair of clothes for you, that he knew you asked to sit with him at his desk only to sneak a glance at his calendar, so you could sweetly plead for an afternoon in the garden when he would be busy, when he would surely ask a highly trusted subordinate to watch over you.

A highly trusted subordinate who knew all about your weeks of good, sweet behavior and who was none the wiser when you'd jabbed him with the syringe, plunging the medicine, the same kind your captor once used to 'calm you down' when you were having fits, right into the man’s thigh. 

You didn't hesitate: you'd dipped your hands into the man's pockets, pulled out his wallet and ran. You barely remember anything until you were in the forest--you vaguely remember using the key card to open the gates surrounding the base, you remember the fear that at any moment you would hear an alarm sound; but from there, everything was a blur as you sped into the forest wearing only the soft day shoes you'd been given to go outside.

You made it through the forest, though not without bumps and cuts and sore feet and a dimly throbbing ankle that was thankfully only turned. You ran until you reached a small town, one you'd never been in before. You buried your first instinct deep, deep, deep: do not contact the authorities. Who knows what connections Overhaul had, especially in a town so close to where he operated? So instead you waltzed into a little corner shop and made a beeline for the bathroom--where you promptly vomited out your breakfast as all of the anxiety and fear and adrenaline caught up with you in an instant.

You remember staring into the bathroom mirror afterwards, your face cold with splashed water. It was then, staring into your pale and anxious face, a face you hadn’t been allowed to see in a mirror for ages, that you felt freedom slamming back into you. You could do what you wanted, now. You were going to get your life back. You could make your own schedule and have your own hobbies back and eat what you wanted and--your stomach had gurgled, as if on cue. You had to get something to eat. But how would you pay?

The wallet you'd pilfered felt heavy in your pocket, and you opened it without a second thought. No cash. But a credit card. It would do, until you were able to get some cash of your own. You wandered back into the shop and even now, you can still feel how struck you were by how cozy, how nice, how different it felt. Just a small general store with big open windows and soft music in the background, and an old woman behind the register who immediately asked you if you needed any help finding this or that.

You smiled--a real smile, how nice that felt--and shook your head and loaded up a basket. A first-aid kit, a large water bottle, a toothbrush and toothpaste... then came the snacks. Candy. Chips. Soda. Things you hadn't tasted in so long. You even grabbed a pointless fashion magazine. The old woman had glanced at the name on the card and you offered a sheepish smile, a fake one that made you feel a pang of guilt for lying to her: "My boyfriend sent me to do the shopping. He's no good at this stuff." She'd smiled and nodded, oh I understand dear, before packing up your order.

You stepped out into the sunshine--you can't pretend like you remember how it feels, right now, shivering from the damp rain on this table--and took a deep breath of fresh air. It smelled crisp and sweet and clean. Not the sterile cleanliness of your captor's clinic, but truly pure--real. There was a slight tinge to the air, and you spotted grey clouds on the horizon. Not an omen, no: just another sign that you were outside, you were in nature, you were free. The smell was the promise of thunder, of electricity, of cool rain.

It also smelled like... well, lunch. Or more precisely, you smelled the vague scents of the little pizza shop a few shops down.

And here is where you made, looking back, your biggest mistake. You should have headed to a bus station. Or called for a taxi. You should have gotten the hell out of there right that second. But your mind flashed back to Overhaul's little calendar, the words printed neatly in the little square for today: he would be away until the evening, which meant you (surely, surely) had a few more hours before he came back and discovered your escape.

He’d ordered no one to bother you and your now-unconscious guard in the garden, so if no one saw you run out, then an alarm certainly wouldn’t raised for a while. You had time, didn't you? Time to grab a meal? You could always get it to go, and you could even ask an employee inside about buses or taxes. Yes, it was fine--you would get a few slices to go and hop on a bus and leave forever. More than that, it was practical. You needed energy, and the junk in your bag--while undoubtedly delicious--wasn't going to be enough to sustain you for long.

The door to the pizza place dinged when you entered, and you almost teared up at the normality of it. It was a buffet style place, with rows of pizzas under yellow-cast lights and rows of red booths and people lifting slices onto their plates with shared tongs. Unusual for a small town, but maybe it was a remnant from a more bustling time, when American-style pizza places were all the rage. For a moment, your thoughts had turned back to your captivity: Overhaul would have never set foot into a place like this--nor would he have let you. Germs, germs, everywhere. And you loved it.

You paid with the card, but there was no need for excuses this time--the young man behind the register didn't even check for a name or signature, much less ask for identification. You asked about a to-go box and he'd shrugged, mumbled out an apology--they didn't do that here. You have to eat inside.

For a moment, the rational part of your mind screamed: get the hell out of here, then! But your stomach growled, and hunger beckoned, and damn if that row of glistening pizza slices didn't make you want to eat. And eat.  And… eat. You shoved repressed thoughts deep down, your heart hammering all the while, and took a tentative step towards the buffet. Thunder rumbled as you debated. You could be out of here in... 30 minutes? Enough time to eat--to binge, your mind whispered, you can now--and maybe get it out after? Yes, it would be fine. (It would not. Future you, the one sitting on the table and watching in increasing anxiety as Overhaul finishes up his tasks, wishes she could tell you.)

You should have seen the start of the rain, sudden and relentless, as a bad sign. Instead you ignored it and filled up a large cup with diet soda that spilled a little when you forgot to let go of the button. You ate without thinking, not even really enjoying the taste of the first greasy pizza slices you’d had in ages.

You were on your fifth slice when the restaurant doors dinged, but the sense of small town charm was overrun by the immediate realization that you were caught. You were fucked. The air thickened--were you the only one to notice?--as two men in slim suits entered the restaurant with an air of immediacy. You were spotted in a second, if that. You thought about running.

But then you thought about the bored teenager behind the register and the old man cutting up his wife's pizza slices because she had trouble chewing and the little girl stacking up pepperonis while her mom chatted on the phone and you resigned yourself. You didn’t want anyone else to get hurt…even if it meant giving in. You didn't struggle, couldn't struggle, and let them lead you swiftly outside where the torrent of rain soaked you immediately  as they pushed you down the block, where an unmarked car waited. You glanced up helplessly as the cloudy sky and rain streamed down your face before you were unceremoniously pushed into the backseat.

Overhaul was sitting inside, staring at you with an intensity you've never seen before.

**

Your backpack drops with a thump next to you and you flinch out of your memories.

"Let's see what you bought with that stolen card during your little adventure."  His voice is deceptively calm. He must be furious with you, you think. And you can't believe you didn't think about credit fraud alerts before you used the damn card.

The noise of the zipper is thunderous and you scoot yourself back on the exam table, pressing against the wall to put a little more room--even if it's only inches--between you and your captor. He begins to pull everything out of the bag, one by one, and seeing it all lined up makes it clear what type of lecture is coming.

A few bags of chips, a bottle of soda, bars of chocolate, all junk, junk, junk. All food he would never permit you to eat, and certainly not in such quantities.

"Disgusting," he murmurs, before tossing each item into a trash bin kept against the wall, one by one. You cringe at the sound of each bag, each bottle, hitting the bottom of the trash. You didn't even get to taste them. He stares at the trash, eyes narrowed, as if the food itself was worthy of his venom. "Full of unnecessary sugars and fats and oils. Eating so much of this will make you sick. We've talked about this."

You say nothing. You press your lips together. You won't give him the satisfaction of argument. You won't let him pretend like he has any right to lecture you on what you eat, and certainly not what you eat after you've escaped (however briefly) from his clutches.

"At least you didn't have time to ingest them during your ill-planned escape, hm?" He replaces his previous gloves--tainted with the thought of germs on the junk food bags, no doubt--and your stomach flips at the sound of the medical gloves he's snapped on in their place. "Which is more than I can say for the pizza." You never knew someone could say pizza with such a ridiculously nasty tone, but you've learned a lot of things during your captivity.

"You weren't content with this junk hoard," he says, gesturing towards the trash while keeping his eyes firmly on you. "You had to gorge yourself on greasy pizza from a dirty buffet, too? We are going to clean your mouth out, by the way.”

You hate the way he says gorge--you hate the way he says greasy--you hate the anxiety that comes with wondering what he’ll do to ‘clean’ your mouth. You hate him, you hate him, you hate him. The hate makes you answer defensively, despite your earlier resolution to stay quiet. You can't help yourself, in a lot of ways.

"I was hungry," you say, still feeling defiant.

"No one working on their fifth slice of pizza is hungry," he answers, simply. You feel diminished, but not enough to shut you up.

"So? It's not your business what I eat anyway.” A familiar tightness is springing to your throat. You don't want to cry in front of him ever again, so you clip the words out, fighting to retain control.

He presses a fist to his forehead in a sudden, rather surprising show of frustration. "Not my business? Not my business? It's my business to take care of you. Do you have any idea what could have happened to you out there?"

The fullness in your stomach, the cold rain soaking you, the remembrance of the wind and branches lashing at you as you ran hours before, all these freedoms have made you feel bold. Or maybe you're succumbing to the effects of an adrenaline crash and you just can't control your mouth.

"I could have been free. You can’t--you can't just keep me here. You can't just kidnap someone and decide you know what's best for them."

There's a long, steady pause as he stares at you. His expression--what you can see from his eyes--is blank, and you almost wonder if perhaps you've stumped him.

"I can," he says, lightly. Easily.

Fucker.

He sighs, and you get the distinct impression that you’re a nuisance, something to deal with, something he’s having to deal with instead of doing far more important things. "You’re showing a severe lack of appreciation for all the work I do to take care of you."

You don't know how to respond to that. "You kidnapped me.” It’s all you can think of--the bare truth.

He doesn't speak at first. Then he lifts something from the supply tray he's set up--a blue hospital gown, thin and short, and tosses it towards you. You catch it instinctively, feeling the thin, feather-light material in your fingers. He tosses a towel, next, and you hold it against your damp chest. He turns around.

"Change."

You don't want to. You don't want to. But you've never pressed your luck on what would happen if you refused to get dressed before, afraid that he might do it himself, and that fear overrides any thoughts of outright rebellion. For now. You slide off your wet clothes and push them towards the end of the table, then use the towel to dry off your skin. There are scratches and bruises, including a nasty looking one that's already turning green on your ankle. Your feet are swollen from running on the hard forest floor with your thin day shoes.

When you're finished, you clear your throat, and he turns back around. He tosses your wet clothes right into the trash--damn, you liked that shirt--and wipes off the table with a separate towel. You sit, legs dangling off the table, and wish he'd just get the punishment or examination or whatever it is he has planned over with. You can feel the coldness of the table through the medical gown, and its thinness makes you feel even more helpless. Weak. You want to retain that feeling of freedom that you had earlier in the day. Even choosing to return without a fight, choosing to avoid hurting the innocent people in that town, made you feel bold.

He stands in front of you until you force yourself to look up, to get it over with. He's swapped out his mask for a medical one.

"Have I ever hurt you?"

You hate this.

"No," you admit, voice tight. "Not physically," you add spitefully, because fuck him for trying to make himself sound like a decent person because he kidnapped you but didn't happen to hit you.

"Do I take care of you?" His tone is firm, commanding. It leaves no room for silences. Instead, it makes your stomach feel light, makes your heart feel like it wants to race.

"I can do that on my own," you counter.

"Can you?" He says, voice dripping in condescension.

"Yes," you spite, bile rising into your throat. "I can take care of myself."

He reaches back and grabs the little stool he keeps in this room, rolling it up to rest in front of the table and in front of you. He sits down and cups his hands together, resting them on his thigh. He leans forward. An easy gesture. Like he wants to have a conversation. But something about his movements sends out warning signals. Big, glaring, flashing warning lights that scream DANGER.

“You can take care of yourself.” It’s a statement, yet the way he says it is brutally mocking.

“I can,” you insist, your voice cracking just the slightest bit under his gaze.

"So, where would you live?" He watches you intently and it takes a moment for you to realize what he just asked you. He isn't offering you freedom, no. But maybe you can win an argument, just this once, and forcibly stop his delusions that he's "taking care of you."

"Anywhere," you say, but he looks unimpressed. "An apartment," you correct. "Like my old one. Doesn't have to be big." Your heart pangs with nostalgia for your old place, for your independence, for your life.

"Ah." Overhaul brings a gloved finger up to his chin and rests is there, nodding, as if he's seriously considering your words. "And how will you pay for rent at this apartment?"

You can't resist the snarky tone. "A job."

He rests both hands on his thighs. "Tell me, how much did you make at your last job, again? No--tell me, how long did you hold your last job?" You cross your arms defensively around your waist as he continues. "If I recall correctly, you were fired rather quickly from that one... and the one before."

You squeeze your waist, hoping for the tiniest bit of comfort from the gesture. "I... it wasn’t my fault.” You feel like you’re under a magnifying glass. “The first time. And the second, well, I was looking for something better, anyway."

He raises his eyebrows, curious. "Looking where? At the bottom of a bottle?"

Your entire body tenses.

"After all," he continues, voice almost taking on a syrupy sweet tone. "Your fridge was so well-stocked with them. Hmm. Do you think it's responsible to spend so much money on alcohol when you're behind on rent payments?"

"No," you say, voice tighter, "But--"

He doesn't give you a chance to finish. He stands, and you immediately squeeze your arms again. "And how much were you spending on other luxuries? Those clothes you kept carelessly shoved in your closet... they were a name brand, weren't they?"

Your throat is dry and your mouth is dry and you lick your lips. "There were sales," you insist.

"Ohh," he says, his voice lifting in mockery. "And I bet there were sales on the jewelry, the trinkets, the--" his eyes drift upwards, an implication of his disdain, "--figurines."

You lift your chin in defiance. "I'm allowed to buy things that I like."

He begins to pace. Not aimlessly, no, nothing with him is ever aimless. He paces until he stops in front of you, turning to face you for effect.

"What happens if you're late on three rent payments? Remind me of the policy that decrepit building you called an apartment complex had."

You squirm on the table. "I was only behind on two--"

"What happens?" His voice is firm. You can't avoid it.

There's a pause before you murmur, unwillingly. "You get evicted."

"So." He takes another step, and turns back towards you. "Do you think it's responsible to spend money you don't have on luxuries, when you're behind on rent?"

You want to run. Maybe you should have run at him earlier. Getting tossed into a solitary room after attacking him might be better than this interrogation.

"No," you admit. You swallow, dry and thick and a bit painful. "Okay. I'm not great with money. I bought things to make me happy because I was stressed out about---life. It's not that big a deal. I--I didn't get kicked out, anyway."

He sits again, but keeps himself upright, the air of faux casualness replaced with an air of command. "How did you catch up on your rent? Tell me."

You hate him. You stare at him, hoping he'll end this, but he simply stares at you until you blurt out the words. "You paid my landlord. Anonymously." You stare down at the floor, at the drops of water still there from earlier. "I didn't ask you to. I would have figured something out."

"I'm sure."

He stands, and you stare at the wall until you hear him roll the tray of supplies towards the table. Your body trembles of its own accord when he grabs your arm firmly and wraps a blood pressure cuff around the top. You sit in silence as the cuff gets tighter then mercifully deflates.

He tsks at the number, and jots it down on the pad resting on the table. For once, you're not tempted to peek.

"I need to take some blood," he says, and you stick out your arm in automatic, habitual compliance before your brain even realizes it. He grips your wrist firmly while he swipes your arm with an anti-bacterial agent.

"How much do you weigh?" He asks suddenly, voice nonchalant.

You stare at him, incredulous. He's never brought up weight before. He’s always been careful to avoid details about weight, nutrition--calories. The most he would do is point out that you need a well-rounded diet with the right vitamins and nutrients, and ignore your questions about sauces and cooking oils and grams, all attempts to find out something that could give you an ounce of control over what’s going into your body.

"I--I don't know.  You don't let me look at the scale when I step on it." He knows this. He knows that he's forbidden you from seeing the number, because he knows about your past, knows your tendency to get obsessive and strict and focus on food and weight and worth.

"Why don't I let you look at the scale?"

Your stomach feels like it's twisting.

"I don't know." The lie is bitter on your tongue.

The casual tone in his voice when he replies is far more biting than any cruel insult. "Yes, you do." 

His words are punctuated by the harsh medicinal smell of the next wipe. But you're in no mood to appreciate that he's still choosing to numb your skin despite your earlier transgressions.

The tears you felt building earlier begin to prick at the corner of your eyes. You don't want to cry, you don't want to cry, you don't want to cry.

“Why don’t I let you look at the scale?” He repeats, firmer, more insisting. He winds a band around your arm and taps at your veins.

Your arm looks fatter, like this. You swear it does. You look away to avoid your arm and the needle and his gaze.

“Because, um, I sometimes have problems with food. Or weight. Or whatever.”

“You have an eating disorder,” he tells you, all business as he plunges the needle into your skin; there’s only the ghost of a sting as he begins to slowly draw your blood. But you barely feel it, you can only feel the impact of his words, blunt and hateful.

"You were going to throw up in that germ-infested hovel. Eat until your stomach was distended, then head into a bathroom--which I'm sure the staff hadn't cleaned in ages--and stick your unwashed, greasy fingers down your throat until it all came back up. Am I correct?"

You can't tell if you feel woozy because of the needle or the way that your heart is racing at his words. Throw up. Greasy. Disgusting. You're disgusting.

"Stop it," you say, voice muddled with humiliation and anger.

He pulls the needle out, and quickly presses a bandage to your skin. He keeps a finger there, firm and pressing. He looks up at you, now, as he continues his onslaught.

"And then what? Let me make an educated guess. You were going to get on some filthy bus and open up all the junk you bought earlier? Perhaps," he muses, as he rips off a piece of tape to keep the gauze in place, "you could have asked the bus driver to stop at a public bathroom for a vomit break. And you'd probably make sure that whatever flea-ridden hotel you found along the way had a scale in the bathroom so you could keep track. And another one of your delightful," he practically spits the word out, "cycles would have started, hm?"

"Stop it," you repeat, voice breaking. "I wasn't--I wouldn't have--"

"You were going to," he says simply, interrupting. "Thankfully, we got there in time. Although I'm sure now you will endure a stomach ache after your reckless indulgence. A lesson, perhaps, though not the exact one I would inflict myself."

As if on cue, your stomach rolls and clenches. You’re keenly aware that you’re going to have digestive problems tonight, and the thought of being at his mercy while you’re dealing with them threatens to send you over the edge.  Could you get even more disgusting? The thought of how you look right now, stomach no doubt bulging, hair disheveled and damp, covered in ugly bruises and cuts--combined with the fear of spending the night on a toilet sends you over the edge.

You press your knuckles against your mouth and squeeze your eyes shut and try to force the sobs down. Your body begins to tremble, even more so as he lifts your leg. Without warning, he begins to unceremoniously scrub it down with a sponge dipped in disinfectant.

It stings and your eyes feel like they might pop at the sudden pain. You hiss at the feeling of the liquid on your cuts and try to pull away, to no avail. Your legs feel like jelly in his grip.

“That hurts,” you whine. 

“It can’t be helped,” he tells you, holding your leg firmly as he scrubs the sore bottom of your feet. Any sensitivity you had there is overruled by the soreness and pain from running, from the stinging aches that remain in your cuts. “I have to clean every cut or you may get an infection.”

He sets your leg down and lifts up the other, and you cringe before he even begins to move. You can’t help but whimper as he scrubs your leg, and the helpless stings of pain only increase when he moves on to your arms.

“Please,” you say, feeling low, nearly flattened. “I can’t… I can’t take this.”

He pauses, and the seemingly genuine concern in his eyes (it’s not, you remind yourself, it’s not--you think of the shop and the pizza place and the old man cutting his wife’s food, that was concern, that was care) has you feeling sorry for yourself.

“The stinging will go away in a few minutes. You chose to run away, you can certainly deal with this minor consequence.” He retains his grip on your upper arm and he swipes the sponge across your shoulders, briefly pushing the fabric aside as he does so. He pauses when he sees the blooming fingerprints on your shoulders, but says nothing.  You wonder if those men will survive the night.

There’s a a cut, thin and long, dragging from your collarbone down across your chest. He dips unceremoniously below the gown, touching you in a spot he normally avoids. The feeling of him so close, touching you--not quite on your chest, but close enough--only intensifies your humiliation. You whimper again and try to pull away, but his grip offers no room to move.

“I can’t--” You don’t finish. Your throat is so tight and you hate it, you hate that you can never talk about anything with him, never argue with him without clamming up with tears and a thick throat.

You bring your hands up to your hair, tugging on it until it prickles. Your breath starts to come in short bursts, your chest having as you pull on your hair and will yourself to be anywhere but here. For a flashing moment, you wish you’d never tried to escape. If you didn’t, you’d be getting ready for bed right now. Things would be--not okay. Never okay. But you wouldn’t be here, on this table, cold and stinging and in pain and utterly despondent from having your failures shoved in your face. But then you remember that if he’d never kidnapped you, you wouldn’t have had to try to escape in the first place, and the wish fades.

He remains silent, and instead simply keeps a steady, firm grip on your upper arm until your breath slows, until you can control yourself. Your skin feels at once numb and prickling in anxiety and adrenaline and emotions coursing through you.

Overhaul gives your arm a squeeze that is, perhaps, meant to be reassuring. “Are you suitably recovered?

You nod. Your stomach feels sour. You want to ask if you’re done, if you can just go sleep or get sent (you dread the idea) to solitary confinement or whatever it is he has planned in the wake of your escape. Anything would be better than this room and this soft, thin gown and his bright blue surgical gloves and your failure hanging in the air.

He extends his arm out and you pause for a moment before you grasp it, holding tight as you get off the table and stand on wobbly legs. You’re loathe to touch him, but you’re even more loathe to fall flat on your face on the hard floor.

He speaks before you get a chance to ask if you can change out of the medical gown.

“Now, we’ll go to the bathroom.”

Your knees suddenly feel like they might drop out from under you. “The bathroom?”

He nods, and pulls himself away from your weak grip as he begins walking towards the door. You follow without thinking, pausing when he stops to slide his medical gloves into the trash before slipping on another pair.

“We’re not finished here,” he tells you, and you swear his voice is almost giddy as he turns his head to meet your questioning face. “I told you earlier, we’re going to clean your mouth out.”

He can’t mean--

You take a step back, and your knee buckles. He’s quick--he catches you before you fall, but doesn’t let go. His pulls you upright and pulls you along. Your legs have no choice to walk--walk or be dragged--and you struggle for words as he leads you out of the clinic. Before you know it, you’re back in your room (familiar, warm, the same as it ways this morning) and led swiftly into the attached bathroom.

He pulls you in far enough that he’s able to shut the door behind him, trapping you inside. As if you wouldn’t be trapped by his mere presence. For a moment you wonder if he was bluffing, trying to scare you into submission, but by the time you take another breath he’s running the sink water and tearing into a new box of bar soap.

Your voice catches as you finally speak up. “You--you can’t be serious.”

“What makes you think I’m not serious?” He doesn’t even face you as he speaks. Instead, he turns on the tap and fills a paper cup with water before setting it on the sink’s edge. Next comes the bar of white soap, which grows slick underneath the water. He turns off the tap and lets the excess water drip off, before turning to you, soap bar in hand.

“Open your mouth.”

Your lips press together automatically, and you shake your head. No, no, and no. This isn’t happening.

He sighs, and again the feeling that you’re annoying him creeps under your skin. Why does it bother you that you’re annoying him? It shouldn’t bother you at all, but somehow you feel a pang of regret at how much has changed in less than 24 hours. 

“If you don’t open your mouth willingly, I will open it for you.” He takes a step closer, but your legs feel heavy now, rooted to the spot. It isn’t like there’s anywhere you could run, anyway. “I don’t want to do that,” he continues, voice slightly softened. “Cooperate and open your mouth.”

What choice do you have? You could protest, you could argue, you could leap into the bathtub and make him fight for what he wants. You could keep your mouth shut tight and force him to find a solution. But he is stronger than you, in more ways than one, and he would get his way in the end.

So you make the only choice available to you. Your entire mouth shakes and seems to fight against you as you slowly open your lips in compliance. You feel stupid, standing here with your mouth hanging open.

You can’t reflect on the feeling for long, as he wastes no time in shoving the bar inside your open lips. You can’t help but whimper at the intrusion, but he doesn’t let up and begins methodically scrubbing at your tongue. At first, there’s no taste--then the built-up slick of clinical soap makes itself known, and you take advantage of the soap slipping out of your lips to press them together again, denying him entry.

“Open,” he orders, soft and firm.

And you do, heaving your shoulders in an unreleased whimper. What else can you do but listen? He continues to scrub, this time moving the bar into the side of your mouth to scrub at your teeth. The clammy, greasy feeling of soap coating your teeth makes you curl your wide open lips downward. You must look ridiculous, in all respects, lips gaping in an unpleasant frown as your captor mercilessly soaps the inside of your mouth.

“Do you not like the taste?” His eyes glance over at your frown, and the mockery in his tone is more than blatant. 

“Uhh-uhh,” you mumble, open-mouthed, shaking your head. The position you’re in--Overhaul scrubbing into your mouth, your shaking body, the dim feeling of your bruises and cuts from earlier--makes you feel so painfully exposed. So painfully helpless.

He hums and rests the soap against your tongue. Before you can attempt to move your tongue, lessen the feeling of the taste of the soap against it, he gives you a command.

“Bite down.”

Your teeth sink into the soft bar, keeping it in place, and your whimpers grow stronger at the humiliating order you’ve just obeyed. Could you sink any lower?

You watch him through tear-brimmed eyes as he moves to stand in front of you. You know what’s coming before he even speaks and when he does, it’s no surprise.

“Have I ever hurt you?”

Back to this, again.

You shake your head, mumble around the soap: “No.”

“Are you capable of being on your own?”

You hesitate, and he merely jumps to another question, one far more pointed.

“Have you held a single job for longer than a year?”

You want to protest, but any attempt at complicated speech is marred by the soap--the weight of it, the taste, and your need to keep it steady in your mouth.

“No,” you admit, hating the feel of the bar as your lips press against it with the effort of speech.

“Would you have been evicted if I didn’t pay off your debts?”

“Yes.” Tears sting at your eyes. You want to wipe them away but you’re afraid you’ll get soap in them, somehow.

“Are you responsible enough with money to hold a job, maintain an apartment, and buy yourself the necessities for life without someone else stepping in?”

The soap somehow tastes even more bitter. “No, I can’t.” Your tongue pushes up against the soap at this, and you resolve to keep it to one-word answers only.

“If we didn’t intercept your little outing, would you have attempted to throw up at that restaurant today?”

You shake your head, but it’s a lie, and you know it’s a lie--and he knows it’s a lie. So you nod, weakly. “Mm-hmm.”

“Have I been feeding you healthy meals? Have I been ensuring that you don’t engage in disgusting self-destructive behaviors?”

He has, but that’s not--your mind wants to argue, but you’re so tired and sick and your stomach hurts and the taste of the soap is too much. So you nod, instead.

He nods in response, and you pray that he’ll take the soap out and end this. Instead, he lifts your chin with a single finger, making you keep eye contact as he speaks.

“Do I take care of you?”

“Yes,” you cry out, your words garbled around the wet soap bar. He releases your chin and it’s these words, this final question, that make you break entirely. Your shoulders ache from bruises as you cry, hunching over slightly and watching as some drool-laden soap droplets fall on the floor. “Yes, yes, yes,” you repeat, mechanically, crying around the bitter soap that’s digging into your front teeth.

Satisfied, he takes hold of the bar and waits for you to release it, then tosses it with ease into the trash. You blubber and spit, only succeeding in releasing a trail of soapy drool down your chin. Your tears are hot and stinging as they roll down your cheeks. You open your mouth, you try to say something, but all that comes out is soft cries punctuated by your attempts to spit out the soapy film.  

“Look at you,” he murmurs, bringing a gloved hand up to your cheek and wiping at the tears. “My poor thing. You can’t even speak. You can’t even articulate yourself. How could you ever hope to make it on your own?” His words are soft and cruel and you merely cry harder, humiliated and helpless.

Your throat is sore. Your stomach hurts. You want your warm nightgown on. You want to be in bed. You wish your stomach didn’t hurt so much from eating junk. You wish you weren’t covered in cuts and bruises. You wish you’d just enjoyed the garden and went back inside. You wish you’d never done this at all. You’re so stupid. You’re so stupid.

And you finally say so, all of it, blubbering, bits of soapy drool dribbling out of your mouth as you cry and admit your faults out loud.

After your wrought-out apology dissolves into meaningless whimpers, Overhaul finally grabs the glass of water he set on the edge of the sink, and you gratefully swish the lukewarm liquid with earnest. You lean over the sink and spit, body trembling, then fill the cup again and repeat the gesture again and again to get rid of every bit of white soap stuck in your mouth. Even as you spit, you realize that the taste isn’t going to be completely gone anytime soon--it’s stuck in your mouth like a bad memory.

You jerk when his hands are suddenly on your back, rubber gloves sliding up and down the thin medical gown covering your cold, helpless body. But he merely keeps rubbing, gentle and soothing, while you swish and spit, and cry and cry.

His hands leave your back only to grab a washcloth from the built-in shelves across from the toilet. You watch as he wets the cloth and you stand silently, allowing him to wipe up the drool and soap from your chin, your neck, even a bit on your chest where it dribble-dropped downward.

When you’re all cleaned up, he fills up a cup with mouth wash and silently hands it to you. You gratefully swish it for as long as possible before spitting it into the sink. The soap taste is still there, but lessened somewhat by the overpowering mint of the mouthwash. He gestures to your toothbrush and you pick it up, and begin mechanically brushing your teeth, stopping when the 2-minute timer flashes on the bottom. You instinctively grab your floss without having to be told and make quick work of that, too.

He opens the door to the bathroom, but gestures for you to wait. You do, standing numbly, wishing that he let you have a mirror so you could see your own state. But he doesn’t, and you can’t, and so you wait until he returns with a bundle in his arms.

It’s your pajamas. A soft, pink nightgown--he didn’t pick the soft blue one, tonight, and you’re grateful to avoid any reminders of the medical gown you have on--with matching socks and underwear. You nod and accept the bundle meekly. He turns around and you make quick work of the medical gown, tossing it in the trash yourself before you get dressed for bed.

“M’done,” you mumble, though you quickly realize speaking makes the lingering soap taste stronger. You follow him silently out of the bathroom and into your bedroom, which is just as you left it that morning. The only thing different is you. Subdued, humiliated, helpless.

Overhaul pulls the cover on your bed and you sit down, numb and chastened. You pull your legs up and tuck them under the soft comforter. You’re forcing yourself into the routine you’ve been following for the past few weeks, but the secret thrill you once had of obeying with ulterior movies is no longer there. It’s been replaced by a heavy stillness, the knowledge that you failed in more ways than one. The occasional roll of your stomach reminds you that the night may not be over, bedtime routine be damned.

But you ignore it for now, and you lean your head back on your pillow as he pulls the comforter towards your shoulders, tucking you in. Rather than leave immediately, he sits next to you on the bed, looking down at you with an obsessive, possessive expression in his eyes.

You force down an instinctive flinch when he suddenly begins to stroke the top of your forehead, moving up to pet your hair softly. His gloves are gone. While not completely new, it’s rare--rare enough that the feeling of his bare fingers is still an unusual sensation.

You close your eyes. It usually makes him leave faster. Your heart begins to pound as you hear him stand, as you sense him leaning in, as you feel the ghost of his breath against your face.

“Sweet dreams. We’ll start fresh in the morning.”

What a silly thing to say, you think. Your dreams are never sweet anymore.

[giuliamarcovaldo]

You’re Okay, Luca

i wanted to read autistic!luca fics but i couldn’t find any. so what did i do? i wrote my own. this is my first time posting fanfic here! so enjoy this little autistic!luca story (with some luberto fluff and angst)

TW: mentions of violent stimming + meltdown

“I was about to have a meltdown and there was nothing I could do to stop it.”

Summary: Luca gets over stimulated at a fancy dinner party, and Alberto witnesses Luca having a meltdown for the first time.

I want to say they’re 16-17 in this??

100% sfw because they are children

word count: 1580

also please don’t kill me if the Italian words are wrong i used google translate sksjsjaksk

(also note: i am autistic)

——————

Alberto knew I was autistic. I told him about a year ago, when we first became a thing.

“This doesn’t change anything, Luca. There’s nothing in this world that could make me stop loving you.” His words rang through my head as I felt the onset of a meltdown.

Giulia had invited Alberto and me to a gathering with some of her extended family in Genoa. They were all very nice, and Alberto even made friends with some of them (which was no surprise). That wasn’t the cause of my meltdown. It was the atmosphere. It was a bright, loud fancy dining hall, nearly at full capacity. I was wearing a suit and tie that Giulia’s cousin had let me borrow. The collar was scratching my skin in the worst possible way but I didn’t want to be rude so I sucked it up. That was my first mistake. Between the bright lights, loud conversations and music, jam-packed room, a plethora of smells from foods that I had never heard of, and the suit collar, I could feel it coming.

It was sensory overload at first. I tried stimming subtly. I wasn’t out as autistic to everyone yet and the thought of them judging me for stimming made my anxiety worse. But I had to do something. Squeezing my hands into fists under the table. Chewing the inside of my cheek. Running my fingers through my hair repeatedly. It wasn’t enough, but somehow too much at the same time.

I was getting more and more fidgety. It was becoming harder to mask. Would it be rude to just get up and leave without saying anything? Probably. I couldn’t move anyway. I was frozen in my seat. My facial expressions were almost completely gone at this point, along with my ability to speak. Alberto noticed that something was wrong.

“Luca, hey, are you alright?” I couldn’t get the words “no, I feel like I’m about to explode into a violently stimming disaster if I don’t get out of here right now but I can’t move and I feel helpless” out of my mouth so I just nodded and gave him a small, unconvincing smile. I didn’t want to burden Alberto while he was having such a good time. I knew it was ridiculous to think that Alberto would mind helping me calm down, but my brain wouldn’t quit telling me otherwise.

Silenzio, Bruno. Silenzio, Bruno. Silenzio, Bruno. It wasn’t working.

Alberto didn’t look convinced. He knew me too well. Ever since I told him I was autistic he tried his best to make sure I was as comfortable as possible in every situation. I loved him for that but I hated myself for it. It’s like I always need to be babysat and I hate it. I know that he loves me so why do I feel so guilty?

My intrusive thoughts running through my mind was the final straw. It was all too much. Alberto’s face looked more concerned as each moment passed. He was about to witness me having a meltdown for the first time since we met. I didn’t know if I was ready for that type of vulnerability but I didn’t really have a choice. I was about to have a meltdown and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

“Luca, we’re going to go some place quiet, okay?”

I shook my head no. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. It had gone from sensory overload, to shutdown, to a full-blown meltdown. I couldn’t hold back my stims anymore. I started hitting my head with my fists and pulling at my hair. Tears rolled down my face uncontrollably, exposing my green-blue scales.

Perfecto.

I didn’t know which was worse: violently and uncontrollably stimming in front of everyone, or unintentionally outing myself as a sea monster. They might have been tied. Most of the guests were too into their conversations to notice the autistic sea monster having a meltdown next to them but the few who did notice started to pass glances and whisper amongst themselves.

“Luca, Luca, you’re okay. I know you don’t like anyone touching you when you’re in sensory overload but I’m going to help you get out of here, okay?”

Alberto helped me get up from the table and escorted me out of the dining room, using his suit jacket to cover my face so no one would see my scales, but being careful to not let it touch my face. We made our way to a long hallway off of the lobby. Alberto sat me down on the ground and flipped the hallway light switch off. Light from the lobby trailed into the hallway but didn’t reach us at the end.

I was out of the environment but still at the height of my meltdown. Tears were still coming from my eyes. I continued to tug at my hair while I rocked back and forth. I couldn’t vocalize anything except for non verbal sounds. I felt so helpless, so defeated, so ashamed.

Alberto tried to redirect my violent stims, to no avail. I’m sure he felt helpless too. I wanted to stop but I couldn’t. And I felt bad that Alberto couldn’t help that.

Alberto sat a few feet away from me, probably resisting the urge to pull me into a hug.

“I’ll just sit with you, okay? You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay.” Alberto reassured me that he wasn’t leaving. My perception of time isn’t that great but it felt like at least 45 minutes before I started to come down. Still there, like he said he would be, Alberto let out a deep shaky breath. I hadn’t looked at him the entire time because I was too embarrassed that he had to see all of that. When I finally did glance up at him, I notice two trails of purple scales down his cheeks. Knowing he had cried hurt me even more.

“Are you feeling better?” I was still nonverbal and rocking back and forth but my violent stims had passed. I opened my left hand flat and tapped it with my right index finger.

“Oh! Right,” Alberto pulled a pen and pad from my jacket, which he had helped me remove from my body earlier in my meltdown. He slid them across the floor and anxiously waited for me to write my response.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

Alberto’s face changed as he read what I had written. His green eyes looked sadder when they met my gaze. I could feel my tears starting to well up again.

“No, no, Luca, mio amore, please don’t feel bad. I should have checked on you earlier than I did. I got a little lost with everything going on in there. I’m sorry that I didn’t check up on you sooner...” Alberto was very protective of me. I know that the thought of me suffering while he didn’t know was absolutely crushing him. But it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t mine. It wasn’t anybody’s. I was starting to think rationally again. I shouldn’t feel sorry for having meltdowns, for being autistic, for being myself. But I should have spoken up when I started to feel uncomfortable. That’s something I need to work on, and I know I can do it as long as Alberto is with me. And he always will be.

“Is it alright if I touch you?” I know Alberto was dying to physically comfort me. It was his love language. I nodded my head yes and gave him a warm smile. He crawled over to me and I opened my arms to embrace him. I listened to his steadying heartbeat while he whispered affirmations to me and gently rubbed my back. Warm tears started to fall down my face.

God, I love this boy so much.

“Bontà, there you two are! I’ve been looking everywhere! What happ-“ Giulia’s voice got closer as she made her way down the hallway.

“Oh no, Luca... mi dispiace... I didn’t know you were- when did- where-“ She crouches down next to the two of us. Giulia, also being autistic, could tell I was in post-meltdown. She slaps her palm to her forehead and curses herself.

“Of course! I should have been more aware about- why didn’t I- are you okay?”

“Giulia,” Alberto places his hand on her shoulder. “he’s alright. Nothing that happened is your fault. Or... mine for that matter. We’re alright.”

“Can I get you guys something? A glass of water?”

I nod my head yes.

“Water sounds good, grazie, little sis.” Alberto and Giulia exchange smiles, then she leaves down the hallway, her red curls bouncing behind her.

“Luca,” Alberto cups my cheek in his hand, wiping away my tears with his thumb.

“I love you, okay? I love you so, so much. Nothing is going to change that. Please, don’t ever feel like an inconvenience. It hurts to see you like that, and I know it hurts to experience it. Please, tell me next time, Okay?”

I didn’t even need to tell him that I felt like an inconvenience. He just knew. Like I said, he knows me too well. I nod my head, and pull him back into an embrace. Alberto combs his fingers through my hair, getting rid of the tangles that I made in it earlier.

I feel lighter. I feel safe to be myself. I feel more loved than ever.

——————

that’s it! my first fic! a lot of this is me projecting onto luca (sksakdjsjjsk) but i had a lot of fun writing it! feel free to leave comments and/or constructive criticism. likes and reblogs appreciated!! :)

[thefanficmonster]

Matured

Corpse Husband & Little Sister Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Sibling Fluff, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Corpse’s search for a roommate ends shortly after his little sister calls him, telling him she’s moving out of her high school dorm in the suburbs following her graduation to attend college in San Francisco.

Requested by @bugger2002  Hi darling! Thank you so much for this adorable request, I had such a fun time turning it into a fic! Sorry it has taken me so long to complete it but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

Alright, it’s been a month since Y/N announced she’d be moving in with me - no, she didn’t ask if she could nor if I’d want her to, she straight up casually informed me she’d be moving in with me since she’s starting college. I’m lucky she even thought to tell me, knowing her it wouldn’t have been so strange for her to just show up on my doorstep with a grin like “Alright, I live here now.” Having a six years younger sister who can act both younger and older than me - sometimes both at the same time - is a bit complex. Obviously, my protective and nurturing brotherly instinct kicks in whenever she complains to me about something, but seconds later she tells me she’s taken care of it already and I feel like a fool for overreacting even if it was only internal. She’s calm and rational when she needs to be and a reckless airhead whose only goal is to have fun when she wants to be.

And judging by her and her friends’ main methods of obtaining said fun I can see how much alike we are: playing drunk video games, drunk darts, drunk pool. You see, there’s a lot of drinking involved and that’s something I’m greatly unhappy with and have scolded her on countless times just to get a fake promise, probably with fingers crossed behind her back - that she’ll cut down the alcohol. Not to mention she’s not even old enough to drink so I’ve been very insistent on her cutting her bad habit. She’s tried calling me hypocritical at times but she can’t do so rightfully since I’m, you know, of drinking age. So she’s basically bound by law to follow my advice and orders.

At least now that she’ll be staying with me I’ll be able to keep a better eye on her. A rascal high school student will either mature-up in college or go even more downhill. I aim to make her fall in the first category, but I’m making no promises - she’s very unruly, just like me. Damn, never did I think my own traits would come hitting me in the back of the head like a boomerang but here we are.

Regardless of all the crap I’ve just spewed about her, she’s a wonderful girl. She’s always been my pillar of support and never gets tired of it. She never misses a call of mine and has never not replied to a message of mine, no matter how drunk she’s been. She’s never skipped a Saturday night Skype call, no matter how busy she’s been. She’s never let herself forget she has a brother who often times needs her by his side.

Once she even talked one of her friends who has a car and a driver’s license drive her all the way to my apartment complex when I was having a really bad anxiety attack and legit couldn’t talk on the phone. She went door to door to find which apartment I live in and stayed with me the whole weekend she was supposed to spend at a music festival or something. It’s not wonder she’ll be a med student - she’s always wanted to be a nurse and has practically been my personal nurse since she was twelve. She maybe wasn’t always physically present to help me, but she’s a great instruction giver for when I need her and she’s unable to come to my aid.

Well now, we’ll both be there to aid one another.

“BEEP BEEP FUCKER!“

I nearly flip off my chair at the distinct yelling coming from directly below my window. I’d recognize that voice anywhere, and it’d always bring a smile to my face without fail.

I rush to get up from my desk chair and open the window but when I do so, she’s no longer on the sidewalk. There’s only a car I recognize to be the one of the friend that drove her here during that nightmarish episode I explained earlier.

Before I can ever back away from the window, I hear my front door swing open and a yell echo from down the hall, “Corpse! How many times do I need to tell you to lock your door, damn it!”

“The same amount of times I’ve had to tell you to cut down on the al- WHOA!“ She doesn’t let me finish the sentence and jumps me the second I step out in the hallway.

“Missed you, stupid!“ She says, her legs wrapped around my waist as she ruffles my hair, “I’ll trim your hair later. Why have you let it get so long?“ She questions, furrowing her brows at me while running both her hands through my mess of a hair - she has a point, I’ve let it get out of control. While doing so, she seems to get an idea all of a sudden so she quickly climbs down, reminding me of the huge height difference we have now that her feet are on the floor. “I know you two have met before, but I think you need to re-meet...“ she says, turning to look at her friend who’s smiling timidly at her. She sends the flustered girl a wink before turning back to look at me, “Corpse, I’d like you to meet Abbey, my girlfriend“ she says proudly, skipping over to the blue haired girl and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Y/N pushes up on her tiptoes and places a kiss on her girlfriend’s cheek. It’s adorable to see her shorter than yet another person she clearly adores to annoy.

I smile at the two girls, holding back a chuckle as to not embarrass Abbey more, “Well then, nice to meet you Abbey. You should know you are one strong soul to be putting up with all that.“ I purposely don’t look at Y/N as I motion towards her, earning me a pissed off “Hey!“ as a response to my remark, “Stick around for dinner, don’t worry neither of us will be cooking.“ I point at myself and then at Y/N as if to reassure her she won’t be a victim of food poisoning.

“Actually...“ Abbey says, tilting her head to look my shortie sister in the eyes as if taunting her to say something.

She finally caves, raising her left hand as though she’s volunteering, “Ugh fine, I may or may not have taken a cooking course and may or may not know how to cook a decent meal. It’s whatever, really.”

To say I’m impressed would be an understatement. I’m impressed, shocked, surprised and flooded with joy that my sister has finally decided to start maturing. “Cooking course, huh? When did you decide living off of takeout isn’t a nice way to live?”

She rolls her eyes at me, “Oh no I still go full weeks with only takeout and cereal, I just needed a distraction because...well...” she trails off, her gaze dropping awkwardly as she fishes for words or perhaps already has them found but doesn’t want to spit them out.

Abbey huffs, taking Y/N’s hand and lifting it to show off her wrist where I catch sight of a batch of colorful handmade bracelets, “Because these aren’t gonna earn themselves.”

I raise an eyebrow, puzzled as to what exactly she’s referring to.

Y/N sighs, taking one of the bracelets, playing with it nervously, “I have one for every month I’ve spent without getting drunk - Abbey made them for me. I need a distraction to stay sober so...I took up cooking.“

I can’t remember a moment I haven’t felt proud of my sister. Y/N’s always been on top of her shit, drunk or sober she knows what she’s doing. She’s mindful even when she’s reckless, thinks soberly even when she’s been drinking heavily. She’s always proved herself to me and to the people who think of her as a lowlife without even trying. She lets the world breeze by her without thinking too much of it and yet she still mesmerizes me and many of the people she meets - Abbey has now officially joined the club.

But, all things said and considered, I think I’ve never felt as proud of her as I do right now, seeing those six bracelets on her wrist - half a year without getting drunk. I know she wouldn’t lie to Abbey, she rarely lies to me too, so those bracelets have been earned and well-deserved and that makes me feel like the Y/N I remember is not the one standing in front of me right now. That silly girl is still in the suburbs, making a shitty-ass choice of messing up her liver. A grown woman, a responsible adult has taken her place though, and I couldn’t be more glad.

“Y/N...“ I finally manage to utter her name, making her gaze meet mine, “I’m so fucking proud of you.“

A smile slowly stretches the corners of her mouth upwards, her eyes shning in a way that has nothing to do with the lighting in this hallway. She’s not a crier though, I know those tears are gonna stay right there, stubbornly refusing to escape her eyes, “Thanks, Corpse. I’m proud of you too....” she says, nodding her head slowly, “I can overlook the untrimmed hair.”

Sigh

Y/N will always be Y/N no matter what I guess. That’s a good thing - I love her just the way she is.

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Amoreena | chapter twelve

Chapter Twelve

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: spencers mom has a bad day at the doctor's and so spencer thinks he's going to have a bad day too but he ends up having the best day of his entire life.

talk of pregnancy, celebratory sex, oral (female receiving), grinding, no penetration, serious deep talks after sex about their most depressive episodes, sharing trauma and making sure they know the other is loved regardless of what goes on in their mind. it's a rough one so read with caution

word count: 4.5K

from the beginning <3

He was up before Amoreena, awaking for the second time that morning to the sound of his alarm, kissing Y/N on the forehead before leaving their bed, she simply laid there and watched him get ready.

Most of his clothes were here now, every time he was near his apartment he brought more and more things home with him. Because that wasn’t his home, it hadn’t been for a long time, even when he lived there it was just a trove of books and a bed he slept on occasionally.

They were probably going to move all his stuff over in the summer, after the second wedding… after the girls meet Taylor, and hopefully when Y/N’s actually pregnant and not too sick or tired to help.

“Come here,” she whispers before he can slip out of the room, “kiss your wife.”

He can’t help but smile as he bounds towards the bed, jumping in and wrapping her up in his arms. He smothers her face in kisses, making her laugh, still half asleep as she let him manhandle her.

“I love you,” he reminded her.

“We love you too,” she replied with a smile, answering for Amoreena even though she was still asleep down the hall, “don’t wake her up yet, she needs all her rest for today.”

“I’ll be quiet,” he responds with a smile, kissing her again before he finally gets out of the bed, if not he would have stayed there forever.

He tiptoes down the hall and into Amoreena’s room, kissing her sweet little forehead lightly before exiting just as quietly. It was like he was never there.

He snuck down the stairs quietly, locked the door behind himself on the way out, and took off down the driveway in his old blue Volvo amazon, paying extra attention to the path for any kitties or Rufus out on their morning strolls.

It didn’t take long for a happy day to go sour when he was in a doctor's office with his mom. Those were the worst places he could go with her, especially on a bad day. Her mind was playing tricks on her, she really didn’t like hospitals or government buildings, even lawyers' offices stressed her out.

Today she was convinced he wasn’t really her son, Spencer, and that he was actually leading her to be a government experiment. It was hard to see her struggle, especially on a day they needed to ask her serious questions while she sat still. It was the fact she had to stay awake for 24 hours that triggered the episode, the EEG requiring her mind to be deprived of sleep. It was rough, she barely knew him. They wouldn’t have the test results for a while but he already knew it wasn’t good.

He dropped her back off at the home as quickly as he could, not able to deal with the verbal abuse any longer, he didn’t even say goodbye. The woman he dropped off was his mother on the outside but not on the inside today. It was really hard to look at her and know her, but not see that same look in her eyes.

By the time he’s returning to the farm, it’s 11:45 and he’s exhausted.

He finds Y/N in the bedroom, lying in bed in just a t-shirt and her underwear, completely sound asleep with the blankets thrown off the bed. She looks so beautiful, he slips out of his clothes to match her, sliding into bed beside her and just looking at her perfect face.

He presses a kiss to her shoulder that startles her awake, “oh god, Spencer!” she places her hand on her heart as she calms down.

“Sorry,” he smiles, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in closer.

“How’s your mom?” Her tired words meet his ears and his smile dies.

“Not great, really don’t want to talk about it yet,” he was honest with her, snuggling in closer as she hummed in agreement to drop it. “How was Amoreena’s morning?”

“I told Amoreena I wouldn’t tell you, but I don’t need to you to freak out in front of all the kids or cry or pass out in front of all them, but there’s a positive pregnancy test on her all about me project,” she explains it like she’s about to say it’s just Amoreena’s from 8 years ago…

He pulls back slowly, looking into her eyes as she smiles wider and wider, “you’re pregnant?”

She nods her head as her smile gets bigger and toothier, she’s wrapping her arms around him so tight it’s like he can’t breathe for multiple reasons.

“We did it, Spencer, I made you a daddy again,” the words carry from her mouth in a beautiful tune.

He’s holding her back so gently, afraid to squeeze too hard and hurt her and the tiny little life that’s starting inside her. He’s silent, overjoyed but absolutely dumbstruck at the fact it’s real. A month ago he thought about walking into traffic after work and just seeing what happened, now he was a father of 2 with a wife and a happy farm and a life that was good.

A life he deserved.

All thanks to a beautiful little girl with an interest in dinosaurs and making new friends. Amoreena was an angel sent from heaven, improving both of their lives greatly, and now they were making another.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, oh my god yes, I’m just,” he didn’t know what words to say and it was evident. “Amoreena knows?”

She nodded softly, “she now knows girl parts make eggs, boy parts make sperm, and that adults have sex but you can only make a baby at 25, she really didn’t seem to be all that interested in the science, but she’s excited to be a big sister.”

“Wow,” it all caught up to him then, he placed his hand on her stomach softly, “hi little one.”

Y/N laid back against the bed, pulling her shirt up so he could see the barely-there bump, “It’s mostly leftover’s from Amoreena, but yeah, there’s another one in there.”

He couldn’t help himself from running his hands over the curve of her stomach, thinking about Amoreena being in there once upon a time and how tiny she must have been. It was even weirder to think that a part of her was once even in him.

“It’s strange to think that I jerked off into a cup and you made the most perfect kid on earth with it… it just feels like it doesn’t add up. She’s so perfect I can’t believe she was once a part of us both,” he can’t help but let his inner monologue seep out, she didn’t mind it, she loved hearing how his mind worked.

“I can’t wait to see you holding this little one,” her hands joined his on her stomach, the shape of her forefingers and thumbs making a heart over her bare belly.

Spencer leaned in and kissed right in the middle, beside her belly button, in love with whoever was in there already.

“Amoreena had a dream last night too,” Y/N cuts into his little moment, “guess how many sisters she said she had.”

“8?” Spencer can’t help but smile.

She nods, “I don’t know what it is about this house but the good dreams always come true, who knows how many babies are in there right now.”

“I hope just one for now,” he says in all honesty, “I really want time with just one little one, you and Amoreena. A family of four for a bit and then the twins, that’s how it was in the dream.”

“Did they have names?”

“You called them Elly, Junie, tho and Cordelia, and you said there were 3 sets of twins, two after Cordelia,” he remembers it all as if he was really there, whispering all the words against her stomach, his cheek resting on the band of her underwear as he laid between her legs with his arms around her.

“Amoreena, Elizabeth, Juniper, Theodora, and Cordelia were all the options I was choosing from last time,” she says with the widest smile, “how the heck did your mind know that?”

“It felt very real, which is why I was so worried about where I was, I don’t know how I could have missed anything but now I know that part was just my anxiety,” Spencer rationalized it. “Amoreena probably had the better version of that future in her dream last night.”

“I was having a great dream before you came back,” she teases him, running her fingers through his hair as he continues to kiss her stomach.

He loops his fingers around the band of her underwear, sliding it down just low enough to really kiss where that baby of his is hiding out. She lifts her hips into the contact, letting him slip them down her legs and completely off, she spreads her legs even more.

He takes his time pressing a kiss to every single inch of her, her skin is soft, her leg hair is prickly on his hands and his cheeks but it’s nice, he rubs his face against her like a cat marking his territory as she continued to scratch his scalp.

He spread her open with two fingers, he presses a soft kiss to her clitoris and all the way down to her opening before licking a wet stripe up the sensitive skin. The moan she releases is the loudest one he’s heard on her yet, it was really the first time he’s been allowed to really enjoy her.

“It’s important for your partner to help with the stretching in the third trimester,” she teases him, “but they don’t mention anything about starting too early being a bad thing.”

“I don’t want to disrupt anything in there,” he worries aloud, letting her decide if it’s okay.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she laughed, “I don’t think you’d reach them, but if you’re really worried there are other ways to help.”

“Such as,” he asks, lowering his face back down to her wet heat, continuing to explore her with his tongue as he expects her to talk.

“You, um you can, shit, wow,” she props herself up on her elbows to get a better look at what he’s doing as she stalls for a few minutes, “just rub yourself over me, Spencer please, I want more of you.”

She grips him by his cheeks and pulls him up into a kiss, both of them rushing to push his boxers down and off his legs, she spreads her own once more so he can press against her.

His hard cock resting flat against her, rubbing back and forth as he spreads her wetness around with him. The head gliding over her clit just the right way as she held him close to her body, kissing down his neck and sucking marks all over his chest.

She was desperate for him and who was he to deprive her, so he rocked into her more, grinding down harder against her body and making her shaking lightly. It felt better, more intimate, more euphoric than any other sex he’s had, just being close to her had him on the edge faster than he expected to get there.

She’s chanting his name then, head tossed back against the pillow as she digs her fingers into his asscheeks, holding him so close to him he can feel her orgasm rush through her. She stills, bucking up into him one last time as he finishes all across her stomach.

His hands are curled around her cheeks then, holding her perfect face in his hands as he hovers over her, using everything in his power to not crush her or the baby. He’s trying so hard to steady his breathing, so is she, they just smile at each other, laughing lightly at how in love they are.

“I love you,” he says on impulse, “you’re so good to me.”

“Look at all the good you’ve given me,” she whispers, “it would be wrong for me not to love you for everything you’ve done for me, whether you were aware of it or not.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not going to tell you about my depression while your cum dries between us like glue,” she laughed at how crude it sounded.

He laughs lightly too, rolling off her to see just how much of a mess they made. “Tell me in the shower?”

“Seems appropriate,” she agreed, taking his hand and following him into the bathroom.

He loved the old feel of her bathroom, the green linoleum and floral wallpaper, the pink towels and bright orange shower curtain, it was happy and bright and the perfect place to laugh for half an hour as they washed each other.

She has him pressed against the shower wall then, water trickling over them gently as she stares into his eyes, “I don’t know how to say it without it coming out really scary,” she finally resumes the conversation they were about to have in the bedroom.

“I’ve probably been in the same mental state, I’m not going to judge your method of choice,” he explains it in a way that she’ll know he really, really gets it.

“I had a few suicidal thoughts when my grandma went to chemo before I chose your sample and before I did all the hormones, I was thinking why should I stay and bring another life into my misery when I could just die first and not have to see her go through that anymore,” she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth as she stops, letting him digest all the words.

“Did you try anything?” He’s not sure why he’s asking.

She shakes her head, the best no he’s ever seen in his life. “My grandma noticed on my birthday when I wasn't coming down for breakfast like normal, I was really depressed and so we went out and talked and had lunch together for the first time in forever cause she wasn't feeling sick, I’ll never forget it. It was the best and worst birthday of my life.”

“I’m the worst husband ever,” he says, taking her by surprise, “I don’t even know your birthday.”

It makes her laugh, taking her out of the sadness as she realizes he really doesn’t judge her, he gets it completely. “January 16th, 1986, three minutes after Evan,” she manages to say it with a smile.

“That’s the date Maeve died,” both of them stare at each other in shock, wondering just how many other coincidences they had out there to figure out.

“How many days after did you donate?”

“On the 19th,” he confirmed without taking a breath, “holy shit.”

“We both were suicidal on the same day,” she covers her mouth with a wet slap, laughing at the worst thing she’s ever said, it’s the shock and the emotions of everything catching up to her right then and there.

“Oh my god,” he laughs in response, both of them laughing as they hugged in the corner of her green shower. “we are fucked up.”

“Soulmate things,” she shrugged, holding him even tighter.

He wished she could see his face then, the looking that overcame him as he heard the word soulmates. She just called him her soulmate. He licks his lips, taking it all in and almost hyperventilating, she can feel the way his breathing changes as she looks up with concern.

“What?”

He shakes the thoughts out, swallowing sharply as he makes eye contact with her, “nothing.”

“No, I know that look Spencer, what did your brain say to you this time? I will go in there and kick its ass,” she pokes his forehead then, threatening his anxiety to fuck off.

“I never thought I’d get to hear someone say that to me, it’s stupid,” he felt too vulnerable suddenly, sky and closed off.

“Who hurt you?” She asks in complete curiosity, wanting to know why he can’t imagine someone loving him.

“My parents,” it slips out before he can catch it, “I love my mom. I always have to preface that, she did what she could but it was nowhere near enough. I don’t hold anything against her, I just hate that that’s how it was, that she had bad days at all because they always shine brighter in my memory than the good days.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed you,” she worries this time, seeing the hurt on his face and feeling like she fucked up, he can read her micro-expressions easier than anyone else.

“I would have told you soon enough, my dad left because of my mom's illness and he made sure I knew he didn’t want me. I don’t care that he kept up with me on the internet, the fact he didn’t even care to let me know he lived 10 miles from me my whole life makes me feel sick. I was 14 point 6 miles away from Amoreena this whole time and I would give all my fucking organs to go back in time and be with her from day 1, I don’t get how he could just not love me?” The rant comes out of his mouth for the first time ever, the same thoughts that have been there building for 40 years bursting at the seam.

She reaches behind them to turn off the water then, stepping away from him while he cools down a bit, “Yeah, no I get it, I hate him too now. That's so fucked up, honey, I'm so sorry.”

It makes him huff out a laugh, “I’m sorry, you’re not my therapist you don’t have to deal with all that.”

“I’m your wife, I deal with that regardless. In sickness and in health remember?” She reminds him, “depression is just as real of an illness as cancer. I don’t want you to keep these thoughts from me. I want to know about every paper cut, every splinter, every bad thought that crosses that beautiful mind because I love you.”

“As long as you always remember that too,” he makes sure that she knows he feels the same. “Don’t keep anything from me thinking it’ll ruin the happy atmosphere of this kingdom, Amoreena would tell you that a castle is only as strong as its weakest brick. If you crack we all tumble.”

“My foundations are strong, if not Derek’s a renovator right?” She raised her eyebrows, making another joke. They were always going to be okay.

“Speaking of, how are we going to house all 12 of these children you plan on having?”

"We, smartie pants, we are having," she tosses the shower curtain out of the way then, stepping out and wrapping herself in a towel, “I was thinking we add a few more rooms, nanny and pop were always adding on to this place, it would be nice to fix it up a bit.”

“I can see if Derek wants to help, or we can find a contractor?”

“Well, Alli still has another 8 weeks till her baby comes, so you might as well do something with Derek here in that time,” she agrees with a smile, “my nanny left everything to me, so I have a decent amount saved still for whatever you guys think the house can handle, I just want it done safely, and it has to match.”

She was bossy, he loved every second of it. “Yes ma’am,” he smiles as he steps out, drying off beside her.

Y/N couldn’t stop smiling at him as she watched him fluff his curly wet hair in the mirror, “how would you like to go out and get our first kid a big sister present before the graduation?”

“We never had a chance to read on Saturday, would you want to get her a big sister book and read at the tree?” Spencer suggests, making eye contact with her reflection in the mirror, even backwards she’s beautiful.

She nods with a smile, “sounds great, daddy.”

He wraps his arms around her before she can leave the room, kissing her neck and shoulder as she squirms, trying to get away from him but failing on purpose. “Spencer, seriously we have to go.”

“Then don’t call me daddy,” he whispers in her ear, and he can physically feel the way it excites her.

“We will revisit this later,” she says with a stern look as she pulls away finally, dropping the towel on purpose as she walks towards her new closet.

She was going to be the death of him, and hopefully, that wasn’t for a long time. Hopefully, he thought right then and there, that the moment he finally does die, he dies is beside her. Happily in his sleep, as they’re in their 90’s, and in a perfect world she’d slip away with him.

“Can I ask a dumb question?” He rushes the words out, taking her up on that offer of hearing all the bad thoughts.

“Always,” she smiles.

“When we get to heaven, stay with me? Pick me instead of Stephen for the forever part?” He’s not sure why he’s crying, or why he’s thinking about it. But it’s where his mind went and she said she’d always follow.

She tilts her head to the side, dropping her shoulders as she sighs, “we can set Stephen and Maeve up with each other.”

It makes him smile, she always knew what to say. “Who knows, they could be the reason all this happened.”

She nods then, “I like the thought of that, they deserve to be happy together, I’m sure they would like each other.”

He really believed they were soulmates then, that something bigger set up all these dominoes and he was so excited to watch them fall. To see where they landed, the beautiful pattern that they would reveal. The wonderful world he was creating with her was always going to be amazing because something greater than them said so.

—

She looked more beautiful than he’s ever seen her as they rolled up to the school. She was physically glowing, her hair was perfect, her dress laid over her stomach in the right way that he could see proof she was with child, even if she called it leftovers from the last one. It was his favourite part of her, it was where she made the best person they knew.

They walked around to the back gate, hand in hand, smiling wide as they walked into the little classroom. There were balloons and streamers everywhere, they had little cupcakes all set up and all of them were in matching blue caps and gowns.

Amoreena waved at them when she saw them, not allowed to leave her seat from where they were practicing their ceremony. It was unbelievably adorable, Spencer couldn’t help but be that Dad who took a million photos on his cellphone. He was never going to miss another moment.

JJ wrapped her arm around him sneakily, startling him as she hugged him, “hello Spencer Reid, father and husband,” she teased him. “Still weird thinking of you as a dad.”

He wanted to tell her, but she’d know soon anyway once she saw the all about me project, “shit,” Y/N says from behind him as she realizes too. “Tell her.”

“We’re having another one,” Spencer whispers in JJ’s ear before she can even react.

She smacks his side as she pulls back, staring at him with her mouth wide open. The same face Henry made when he saw Y/N for the first time, completely shocked and nervous, “oh my god?”

He nodded, “we’re not telling anyone, I was supposed to find out on her all about me project but she didn’t want me to pass out in front of all the kids.”

It made JJ laugh, shrugging as she agreed with the idea, she pulled away from him and wrapped Y/N up in her arms, hugging her ever so softly. Y/N closed her eyes and pressed their cheeks together as she accepted the thank you, knowing JJ was just happy to see Spencer succeed.

She placed a hand on Y/N’s tummy before pulling away fully, “I always hoped I’d see the day where Spencer made a little genius, I still can’t believe Amoreena is his sometimes, that hasn’t really hit me yet, but this… this is real. I’m so happy for you.”

Y/N cried a little, wiping her eyes as she laughed it off, “okay, sorry this is a big day for me, my first baby is graduating, this baby is trying to grow a heartbeat, it’s all a lot.”

“I get it, believe me,” JJ agreed, placing her hand on Y/N’s lover back and holding her close to her side. Bonding in that moment, making Spencer’s heart swell.

“Where’s the cowboy?” She changed the subject, looking for Will.

“Oh there’s a case in Kentucky, I missed Henry’s graduation, so I’m here for Michaels while he’s on the case, it’s only fair,” she explained with a smile, content with how their life and relationship worked.

“Do you want to sit with us?” Y/N offered, pointing at the folding chairs, taking a seat with JJ in the front, sitting between her and Spencer so she could talk to both of them before the ceremony.

It was lovely having them become friends, his first love and the last one he'd ever have.

They passed out tissues (thank god) before the ceremony, Y/N and Spencer both using at least 5 as they watched Amoreena get her tiny scroll of paper, move the string on her hat to the other side and then wave at them. Spencer took at least 100 photos of her, unable to stop how proud he felt that he made her.

What Amoreena failed to mention was that she was chosen to be the class valedictorian, surprising them with a tiny speech at an even tinier podium. It was so cute, both Spencer and JJ recorded it to remember for later.

“My class chose me to talk to everyone because I’m the oldest, lots of my classmates like to think of me as an older sister,” she smiled right at her parents, hinting at the fact she knew when she thought Spencer didn’t yet.

So he played along, looking surprised at the word choice.

“I’ve had the best two years with all my friends in this classroom, Miss Kennedy was the nicest women they could pick to make sure we learned everything we need to before grade school starts,” her words were definitely chosen by her, possibly reworded by her teacher but definitely from her heart.

“My mom taught me the alphabet, she taught me how to spell and count, she taught me lots of things that miss Kennedy taught in here, at first it was hard being the kid who knew more, but then it was fun getting to help everyone else learn,” she continued with the most enthusiastic voice, going off-script as she thought of more. “My dad, though, he’s taught me how special our family is. How special it is to get to meet new people and learn about the world with them, I’m so glad my parents made me so I could learn with all of you these past 2 years.”

All the parents were crying, she was able to touch the hearts of everyone around her. At the age of 7, she was more well-spoken, more understanding and grateful than any of the adults in that room.

“I’ll see you all on the big kid yard next year!” She cheered, jumping up and down and clapping, all her friends rushed to the stage for a big group hug.

His little girl was so unbelievably loved, the way she deserved.

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 12: Capsaicin

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Maybe he wrote her address wrong.

The odds of that happening are pretty damn slim; Mulder’s had it down by heart for years, but he’s grasping at all possibilities right now.

He had sent the letter through the postal service in an attempt to keep himself from stressing out over its delivery, but that plan backfired the minute the envelope left his hands.

He dropped it in the mail on Saturday evening. It’s now Wednesday, and Scully has made no mention of it. There’s been no indication in her demeanor at all to suggest that she’d received any revelatory mail-pieces.

He might live the rest of his life in this horrific limbo, a purgatory of his own construction. He’s been on pins and needles all week, filling the basement office with nervous energy, furtively glancing at Scully in attempts to read her facial expressions. Did she get the letter and throw it out? How is she so calm? Maybe it got stuck in one of the sorting machines…

Before he knows it, Scully’s bidding him a friendly “goodnight” and shutting the office door.

Say what you will about anxiety, but it sure spices up the workday.

Mulder drives home in a fog; he’s exhausted from the mental exertion of thinking in circles and jumping to conclusions. Inside his apartment he flops down on the sofa and calls for takeout from the Thai place down the street that has his order memorized.

The next time he confesses his undying love to somebody, he’s going to use e-mail.

A knock on his door shakes him from his reverie.

“How much do I owe-” he begins as he opens the door, then freezes.

Scully is standing at his doorstep, a high flush on her cheeks. She looks somehow startled, as though he surprised her by opening his own front door.

“Scully,” he says, concerned. “Are you alright?”

“Mulder,” she replies, voice cracking on the edges. Her big blue eyes are full, ready to spill over her lower lids.

Oh.

“You read it,” he says softly. He feels his chest tighten into a tight knot of anxiety, and he swallows hard.

She nods. “Can I- I need to come in.”

He stands aside, ushers her into his living room.

She’s vibrating with nervous energy. Mulder motions to the couch. “Would you, uh, like to sit down?”

“I’d prefer to stand, thank you,” she says, voice tight. She grips her elbows.

“Well, I guess I’ll sit,” Mulder says softly, lowering himself to the couch. “Scully, I-“

She holds out a hand. “You got to say your piece, Mulder, now it’s time for mine.” Her lower lip crumples slightly, and he wants to get up and hug her.

She takes a deep breath, pulling herself together. “Mulder, when I received your letter today…” She blinks back tears. “I was completely overwhelmed. I’m not even sure how I managed to drive here,” she admits. “And I appreciate that in it you acknowledged the inopportune timing of your confession. Things just keep piling up,” she says. “But now I just want to know, need to know… why the hell did you wait so long?”

There’s pain in her voice, and he aches in return.

“I didn’t know how you felt,” he says simply, “and then Mark happened.” It’s so insufficient, but it’s all he has.

“I wish you’d told me before,” she says. “I wish I’d known. I dragged you into this mess with him, and the whole time you… you felt that for me.”

“Scully,” he says slowly, “If I had told you I loved you, would you have still gone out with Mark?”

She doesn’t answer right away, and his heart falls into his stomach.

“How can you ask me that?” she says, voice a rough whisper. “What do you want me to say?”

Say no. Please. “I’m only interested in the truth, Scully. You of all people know that by now.”

A tear spills down her cheek, and she wipes it away roughly. “I… I don’t know. Do you have any idea how long and hard I worked to not feel? I’d wake up every damn morning thinking about you. I’d scrub myself raw in the shower so you couldn’t smell me, sense how much I wanted you all fucking night. I’d come to work and turn my heart off, bury my feelings so deep that even now I can barely scratch the surface of them. I did it for years, Mulder.” She takes a deep, shaky breath. “So when my mother introduced me to a nice man with a little girl, I decided to go for it. And I almost forget how to really feel something. But you… you never let me forget. And the rational choices cease to make sense.” She sniffs noisily. “You turned my entire world upside down.”

He hangs his head. “I’m sorry-” he begins.

“No,” Scully interrupts. “No, Mulder. I don’t want your guilt, or your pity; I don’t need it. I want you, and me. I want us to be the two broken people we are, healing. We can’t keep hurting each other with misguided attempts to protect each other.”

“What do you mean, then? How do we stop?”

“By being honest,” she says, coming around the coffee table and perching on the edge of the couch. “We start here. Right now.”

“I-I don’t know how much more clear or honest I could possible be,” Mulder stammers. “The letter spelled it out. My cards are on the table.”

“They are,” she agrees, “But you wrote under the assumption that I wouldn’t reciprocate. You left no room for alternatives.”

“Alternatives being…”

Scully’s eyes are pleading. “Mulder,” she whispers, beseeching.

There’s a knock on the door.

Mulder glances over his shoulder, startled out of their moment. “I ordered Thai,” he explains. “If you’re here, then that must be the delivery guy,” he says.

Scully nods. “Likely.” She gets up from the sofa and crosses to the desk, fetching the tissue box there. “You should-”

“Answer the door, yeah,” Mulder agrees absently, standing and feeling his pockets for his wallet.

The bored teenager on the other side of the door holds the bag out. “Sixteen forty-nine,” he says.

“Give him a twenty,” Scully instructs from the living room, blowing her nose.

Mulder digs a bill out of his wallet and hands it to the delivery guy. “You and the Mrs have a good night,” the boy says, stifling a yawn as he shoves the money into the pack on his waist.

“That tip was what, twenty-five percent?” Mulder grouses, setting the bag on the coffee table.

“Oh, so you can do math,” Scully says, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. “So what’s your excuse for being a lousy tipper, then?”

“Spoken like a former waitress,” Mulder mumbles.

“You’re goddamn right,” Scully says. “Best IHOP server in San Diego.”

Her bravado contrasts sharply with her puffy eyes and watery voice, and Mulder wants to pull her into his arms and never let go.

“You want any of this?” he asks, pulling steaming cartons out of the bag. “There’s plenty for both of us, and if you don’t eat I’ll feel like a crappy host.”

She sits back down on the couch, setting the tissue box on the coffee table. “If you don’t mind sharing,” she concedes.

“I’ll grab you a fork,” he replies, giving her knee a squeeze.

They eat quietly, passing cartons between them, migrating together until they’re shoulder to shoulder in the center of the couch.

“So,” Mulder says, “Before the food got here, we were talking about something pretty important.”

Scully nods, turning her fork to wind noodles around the tines. “That we were,” she agrees.

“About honesty,” he prompts. “Alternatives.”

Scully sets her fork down, closes her eyes. “This… this is difficult for me, Mulder. It’s surreal; I didn’t expect this outcome for us. For you to… to feel the way you do,” she clarifies.

“On the contrary,” Mulder says, “I feel like this was always going to happen, from the day we met. Somewhere deep in my mind I knew I was going to fall in love with you.”

Scully looks at him then, eyes wide.

“Th-that’s the first time I’ve said that aloud,” he says in realization, eyes not leaving hers.

Scully nods. “How’d it feel?” she asks softly.

Mulder licks his lip. “Kinda depends on how it felt for you,” he responds, voice low.

She takes a deep breath. “Call me crazy, but I think I need to hear it again.”

He nods, then on impulse leans in until his mouth is next to her ear, strands of coppery hair tickling his cheek. “I’m in love with you,” he murmurs.

Scully reflexively grips the edge of the couch cushion. “Don’t,” she warns, voice husky and breathier than he expected. “I’m not ready.”

He draws back. “Ready for what?” he asks.

She smoothes her hair behind her ear. “You,” she says simply, looking him up and down out of the corner of her eye. She picks up her fork and takes another bite of noodles. “I’ve spent so long in denial, Mulder, I feel… flammable. Like the smallest spark could just…” she motions to herself. “Destroy my equilibrium, or something.”

“Is this the official medical terminology? Because I’m not familiar,” he quips.

She huffs a laugh. “No, Mulder. What I’m trying to say is that I think we should go slow. Whatever ‘going’ means, in this case.”

“But we are a we,” he clarifies.

“Yes, I think we are,” Scully says tenderly, facing him again. “I… I want to be. But I’m processing things, so I need you to give me time.”

You can have my whole life. “That’s fine by me,” he assures her. “So you think we have a spark, Scully?”

She licks her upper lip, nodding. “Oh yes,” she says, eyes flicking down to his mouth. “Yes, we do.”

He leans back into the couch cushions. “Well then,” he says, eyeing her lazily, “When you feel like starting some fires… I’m your boy.”

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Into The Thick of It (3)

Loki x Female Reader

Chapter 3: The Magical Pond

Series Summary: Her work as an agriculturist nearly takes the readers life is not for a stranger (and his weird looking dog) who later turns out to be the God of Mischief. Thrown into a completely different realm, you want to figure out a way home while trying to stay out of the way of this literal God. But fate has its own plans for the two of you.

Written for @tarithenurse and her #Taris1Kchallenge

Warnings: nudity (lol)

Word Count:it’s so weirdly nice to be scolded by your therapist

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"Pervert." All you hear is a sigh. "What...you could have sent a woman with me but nooooo. Mister's gotta see everything himself, right?" It's nearly dark in this already dense forest. The tall trees are not helping with the anxiety slowly creeping up your nerves to be all alone in the woods with an entirely different stranger for the second time this week. The last time that happened, you are sure it was when you had been placed in the baby room right after you were born. And this man walking in front of you without so much as a word is making it all the more nerve-wrecking. Right...not human. A Lord. Lord? Or God? Zaira told me that her sister works in Stark Industries and that one of the avengers was a God from Asgard. Is he...? "There is just one woman travelling with us. There are devious creatures at the springs. And I rather not lose a precious handmaiden to creatures who will come out to gawk at a human."

Loki's horse turns to look at him as if he asking him where he left his manners. You, on the other hand, make a face to dilute your anger somehow. "Right. This human isn't worth losing a precious Asgardian. If that's the case, just point me towards the pond-" "Hot spring." "-and I'll be on my way. Wouldn't want Asgard to lose their precious Lord either." You skip to come in front of him and bow as you utter those words before walking ahead. His presence is heavy all around you but you cannot theorise why it does not feel dangerous like it did last night; when you thought you were as good as dead. And yet you still keep your senses on alert. Like usual. "How does your kind live on earth like this?" You keep walking but turn around to look at him. It almost annoys you how calm he looks still. I mean, not like I'm the one who's dangerous but he could show some emotion, maybe. Even his horse is showing more expressions than him. "What do you mean?" "With so much fear constantly revolving in your veins." The statement catches you off guard and you almost miss a step while going backwards. Little bubbles of anxiety rush up through your feet to your heart and up till your head; your heartbeat is suddenly quite audible to your ears. "I can smell it off you since last night," he continues, still walking towards you, "but not from that man." "Oh, that!" you try to breathe in a lungful as forcefully as you can. "I think that's the side effects of the mechanism women build as they grow up back on earth when they learn they are not safe anywhere? I think that's what you smelled last night." "But it's not that strong now," he asks with null emotions on his face and a soft blink. You cannot help but look at him and then curse yourself for letting your eyes stay on his features for more than five seconds. "I wonder why." You feel your throat catch that breathlessness as soon as you turn back to walk ahead. But a cold hand is already catching your arm to pull you back. Curses fly in your head as you find yourself falling on that surprisingly steady chest covered with quite thick apparel when the ground does not keep you steady. One part of you- the part that thinks itself to be the only rational cell living in your body- questions the intentions of this God for pulling you so close to him that you can breathe in the scent of spices he probably bathes in every day. The other part- that seldom comes out; mostly when you are alone at home with an episode of Jujutsu Kaisen playing- seems to play a smooth string while wanting to make the wind blow between the two of you as time slows down when you gaze at each other. "Stop," you hiss at your second part, immediately stopping the strings and winds in your head as that part quickly crawls into the little hole it came out from, never realising the confusion creeping on Loki's face as he takes your words personally and immediately moves his hand away from your arm. You can hear the dumb, hidden part wince in the darkness of its hole as the cold, soothing touch vanishes within seconds. "We are here." You hear Loki but register his words with a lag. You follow his gaze and see a path hidden under the green leading up to where a very patient Agni is wagging his tail and panting with his tongue out. . The last time you saw a secret garden was literally in a movie named The Secret Garden. This time, the view beyond a cast of vines being pulled away by a literal God for you seems unreal to a fault. "Lýsa upp." The words barely leave his lips and thousands of fireflies float out of nowhere to rest by the edges of the pond Loki was talking about. They perch themselves on the flowers blooming in the night, or the vines hanging over the lone tree that covers the entirety of this body with its being. The pond is about as clear as day even in the darkness. So clear, you can see a school of tiny fishes at this end, and something bigger at the far end. "Is it safe?" You have to ask. Loki sets down his sword and satchel in the lap of the tree and sits down right there, facing the entrance you two entered from. Agni too roams in circles next to him before sitting down facing the pond. "What if it is not?" Every expression drops from your face. "Then I'll die naked in a pond because I trusted the first man I met in the woods. Oh, sorry. The first God I met in the woods." Loki cannot help but chuckle. "Don't you dare take a peak," you order the God. "I already s-" "YES! Yes!" You try drowning his words with your own, throwing your overcoat on his face before turning to untie your robe, "you've already seen everything I have. Nothing new. Heard that already. No need to remind me." As soon as you give Agni the loose cotton camisole, you dash for the water, making the God snicker where he sits when he hears the plop and a deep-throated low scream. "It's fucking cooooooooold!" Loki can hear the cold in your shivering voice. His hand goes to the inside pocket of his overcoat to take out something akin to a toothpick. "Give it a minute," he announces before putting one end of that toothpick in his mouth, holding it under his teeth and moving his jaw to roll that little piece of wood in between his teeth. You want to kill him just with your thought waves. But the serenity of the pond surrounding you is diluting your rage with every passing second. The flora itself is mesmerising. You can see blue plants sway peacefully near your feet and the further you move away, you find little yellow pond flowers surprisingly blooming in the night. A glance or two is passed in Loki's direction to make sure he is not looking; only to find the God levitating a little burning matchstick in his palms before whispering something to it and sending it to the nearest corner of the water. As soon as the flame hits the surface, you begin to realise that the pond is getting warmer. "Agni, did you pee in the pond?" The poor boy just wags his tail and tilts his head at your question. But this is not just any warmth. You can feel that numbing pain in your ankles being slowly replaced with a welcoming lightness. "There is a resting stone at your left." You jump at his voice, your hands immediately going for your boobs. This bitch! He hasn't moved an inch. Turning to your left, you find stone naturally carved in the shape of a bathtub half-submerged in water. Your back cautiously moves towards it and your butt just gives up once you cannot smell any foul play. Your shoulders begin to let go of the tightness and your legs are being tickled by the tiny fishes ready to eat any dead cells off your body. "This is no regular pond, is it?"  It can't be. Not with the way it is sucking off every wound off my body. And just as your insides think of it, memories of the previous night float inside your head like a little duck toy lazying in a limitless ocean. Every little detail moves ever so slowly in front of you. And just as it comes from the darkness, it dissolves into it, leaving you with nothing; just a few tears that run down your bare skin. You do not remember the last time your body and thoughts felt like a feather. You just want to stay like this; eyes shut, warm water, no thoughts. Just peace. A creature roams the pond, coming over the surface only when you have closed your eyes and let your guard. Green snake-like eyes and slimy skin with muddy hair slowly move from the farther edge towards you. And the more you seem relaxed, the more they surface over to reveal themselves. The water nymph is nearly as close as your hair length, positioning themselves behind you with the curiosity of a predator. Their padded hands begin to rise to the level of your neck. "Þú þorir að snerta eitt hár á líkama hennar. Ég mun rífa þig í sundur og fæða gæludýrið mitt stykkin." Loki's voice is smooth as the movement of planets but the weight of his words seems to strike where it needs to, making that water nymph scurry into the darkness it came out from. All the while, you sit there slightly snoring. The silence is beautiful. A cool breeze touches Loki's hair as if tapping him to ask the reason behind this smile stuck on his thin lips, one he is finding hard to explain but blames it on the kooky-ness of this human stuck in his world.  Loki turns around slowly, making not even the slightest sound for the fear of stopping these constant train of soft snores coming from you. He gets the first glimpse of your face, with your lips apart, your eyes shut and your head bobbing a bit while your shoulders are slowly gliding into the water as you are going deep into the subconsciousness. The God brings his knees close to his chest to rest his arms on them while his head is grounded on his knuckles as he entertains himself with the view of this one human snoring in the midst of her bath, her guards so down they must be visiting Hel as we speak. Time passes slowly- at least it does for the Viking God when he is lost in studying all the minute details of this creature out of place. His mind is taking mental notes: of how those little hairs on your face rest in waves, receding down the sides; how your nose flares up when you breathe in amidst the snores growing louder with every passing moment; how tiny moles mark your bare skin like contrasting constellations; how that one scar on your left arm has not healed completely, leaving it just as it had been; how head drops back on the rock when your neck cannot bear the burden of the heavy slumber; how your hair has a mind of its own, curling itself ever so decently down your shoulders; how there is a small stir of air around- No time is wasted. Even the water in the healing pond takes time to give space to the sudden emergence of the God's body.  His dominant arm is directed towards you while his other hand is holding the arrow dripping with the blue moat's poisonous blood, its head facing for yours.  The braids in the front are swinging, touching his cheeks in the process while everything else is still.  The figure taking the shelter of darkness has not relaxed his bow yet. Its eyes are looking for a breath's window to find your head again. Unlike a human, this shadow stays so still that even the leaves around it cannot experience its existence for those crucial minutes.  The only sound is your insouciant snores. The crickets have quieted down. The fishes have gone back under their rocks. The fireflies have taken cover under the leaves, turning off any light there are; so that the only glow is the illumination of these smaragdine eyes burning as they glare over their shoulder in the direction of the shadow. Nothing moves between these two entities. The hand holding the arrow that was aimed for you bursts into golden flames, instantly turning the poison and wood into ashes. The hand holding the stretched bow takes three seconds before the shadow lowers its weapon, moves its gloved hand and its chest to press an intricate pendant. The pendant lights up with a pure white glow before emanating a cloud of darkness that dissolves the shadow into nothing. And once the shadow does dissolve. one can see the God standing two feet behind where the assassin was, already capturing that essence- this possible murderer left- into a pyramid-like device in his hand. Once the device clicks close, it is sent into the pocket dimension and God's being dissolves automatically. The real Loki still stands inside the pond, not having moved even an inch. His senses are still sharp when he hears a familiar set of footsteps climbing up the stairs, not really liking the idea of what is about to commence. It is the thunderous laugh that breaks you from the best sleep you had in the past three years. You try to go back into the arms of the temptress that is this healing slumber when that laugh gets closer along with a few more voices joining in. Rubbing that moaning temptress from your eyes, you see a shadow in your vision. And beyond that shadow are lights coming into view with one...two...three figures by the tree where Loki was last sitting. Just as your vision becomes clear, a well-built man with his blonde hair tied and in braids is seen with his head turned- in confusion- to get a clearer look at you. Another blonde guy with a carefree and pride-filled gait follows the former's lead to look and whistle in your direction, making you realise the nakedness of your situation. Your body immediately slips down the water till your chin until your eye registers the familiarity of the shadow standing between you and those new perverts there. "Didn't take you for the God who likes to enjoy himself in the wild," the latter of the blondes chuckles out loud. The former Viking slaps the back of his hand on his friend's chest while he is still trying to figure the situation out. Every cell in your body activates the basic instinct and your limbs are naturally moving to get close to Loki's back.  You find yourself clenching to his cloak for your life, hoping to any force of the universe that would listen to you not to turn this situation into one like last night. "Didn't take you for someone who prefers a laugh over someone's dignity," Loki retorts while casually slipping the cloak from his arms to make it subtly land on you. “Is one of you hurt, Loki?” The Viking asks with concern heavy in his voice. “No, Thor, we were just trying to test how cold the healing waters are.” Thor understands the sarcasm in his brother’s voice. “Our apologies, my lady,” he directs his voice to you, making you shiver under the cloak while you still hide behind Loki, “we intend no harm. We came here after a fruitful battle to get our wounds tended by the healing waters too.” Silence. “Who’s that?” You whisper the question as close to his back as you can. Loki blinks. “That…is my brother.” You do not realise how hard your fists are clutching onto Loki’s shirt. Neither do you realise how clear is your anxious heart in his ears. “Don’t worry,” Loki announces softly, turning his head a little in your direction, “the only thing he is capable of doing is either being too chivalrous or too brute.” “Fandral,” Thor announces, “let us give the lady some space that we clearly seem to have violated. I apologise again and would take it as a token of forgiveness to let us accompany you back to our camp till we reach back home.” You are waiting for your saviour to say something and realise that the God is busy scratching an itch on his neck, expecting you to answer. The question was for me. So…obviously! Your inner voice goes ‘duh’ at you. Clearing your throat, you manage to just shift so much as to show your face from behind Loki. “I’ll only go if Loki accompanies m-us.” The look of confused surprise seems superficial on Fandral’s face but Thor seems to be going deeper than just the surface. “Looks like you have learned a new enchantment spell, Loki.” Fandral is quick to tease with a smirk. “Enchantment or not, at least he didn’t ogle at a naked woman at first sight and then stay there to see where it was going!” You snap back at him. That all smiles face is certainly not feeling that jovial anymore. Especially not when your gaze is burning a hole through his ego. You cannot see but Loki’s brow has shot up and a light smirk sits on the corner of his lips. Thor, on the other hand, is pinching his friend on his waist and pushing him out of the radius of your rage. “We will-“ Thor barely catches himself from tripping over the roots of the tree, still pushing Fandral and himself down the stairs, “we will wait for you.” “I too am going down with them.” Loki steps away from you to get out of the pond and your senses start to bang loudly inside you, covering you in his cloak, trying to hold your footing in the water as you begin to walk behind him, looking around for any more brothers and their pervy friends. Out of the pond with not a drop of water sticking to his clothes, you envy this one for the first time since having met him. Not to mention how your brain is struggling to do the math of getting out of the pond with the cloak and your dignity intact. Loki seems to answer that question gladly with his hand out for you to grab. You look up with the question of what could probably be going in his head. His eyes, on the contrary, are quite clear. No thoughts. Just a hand reaching out to help you, waiting patiently. One hand grabbing the warmth filled with his scent tightly, the other goes on to hold his. Your hand seems so tiny in his palm. Your anxious heat is being siphoned off by his cold one. Once your fingers have curled themselves around his palm, his fingers curl around the back of your hand with a firm grip.  With one leg exposed as it takes the support of a stone on the edge, Loki seems to barely use any strength to pull you out of the water. He barely emotes when you nearly lose your footing but he is quick to grab your waist and pull you close to him. At this moment you are just glad that human thoughts are not audible, otherwise, the screams might have woken up all the resting animals within a kilometre of you.  This has got to be the cringiest and cheesiest situation I have been in. "Hm?" Loki tilts his head a little. "Hm? Nothing. I was wondering where Agni went." "He is out somewhere chasing a shadow." Loki lets go of you the second time this night and you still cannot believe you are feeling bad about it. He walks down the stairs into the shadows of the forest, leaving you with his cloak and your clothes by the tree. You stand there, surrounded by fireflies, wondering what exactly was the decision you took that landed you in such close proximity to a God that is nowhere on the scale of the men and women you had fallen for back on earth. "Fcuk!" the word comes out as a tired yet frustration filled realisation. And it just does not stop there. It comes out repeatedly while you jump around stomping your feet in some adolescent ritual under the tree till all the fucks in your system have been thrown out. "Gods! why does it always have to be the fuckers that can kill with their bloody eyes!!!"

[eliemo]

Face Down

Summary: Virgil remembers how he was treated and realizes, for the first time, that he didn’t deserve what he went through. 

TW: Flashback, descriptions of past abuse, violence, past gaslighting, mental breakdowns, crying, swearing, threats, blood and injuries

Sympathetic Light and Dark sides

Masterpost

Virgil had thought he was going to die. 

He remembered when the thought popped into his head, sudden and frantic, screaming at him to get away. It hadn’t been the first time he’d had the thought, but it had been the first time it came from the rational part of his brain, not the panicking part. 

Which had been horrifying, especially considering the fact that he was fairly certain Sides couldn’t die. Not completely, anyway. 

But it had been one of Wrath’s beatings (those were always the worst), and it hadn’t stopped. 

He supposed it made sense. Virgil tried not to think about it too much anymore, but Wrath was the manifestation of the deepest parts of Thomas’s anger, the rage he would never give power to, because that wasn’t Thomas. 

He had carried out a majority of Virgil’s more extreme punishments for longer than he could remember. 

Which was...fine. It had been fine. It made sense after all, Virgil needed to learn his lesson. The pain was always warranted, always given when he needed to do better, when he’d made a mistake. 

Except…

Except it had been different that time. It should have been eye opening, should have been a red flag, but all he’d done was ignore it. He’d forgotten it, shoving it to the back of his mind until it was nothing but a distant blue, identical to all the other memories he wished he could forget. 

He’d been on the ground, face down, gagging against the coppery taste in his mouth, trembling and gasping in a pathetic heap. Everything hurt, his clothes drenched in what could have been sweat or blood, the room spinning violently, voices far away and distorted.

He’d long ago lost the strength to raise his hands up to protect his face, and he could barely see through the blood dripping into his eyes. He was almost positive his nose was broken, along with at least a couple of his ribs. 

It had all been...unfortunately routine as far as punishments went, albeit a bit more intense than usual. The only difference was that it wouldn’t stop. Wrath had just kept going and going, until Virgil was completely convinced the other side was determined to kill him this time. 

He’d been terrified, of course, he always was when they hurt him no matter how often it happened. But this time he remembered being...confused. He hadn’t understood why it was happening. 

He was always hit for a reason. Small mistakes, like stumbling, moving too slow, stuttering or taking too long to answer when he was asked a simple question, were met with smaller punishments- slaps, kicks, shoves, a punch or two, occasionally chasing him out of the kitchen when he went to get food. Just enough to remind him of his place, to keep him scared enough to do his job efficiently. 

Things like making a mess, dropping something, making a loud noise, breaking or damaging something were met with...more severe punishments. And while he obviously didn’t like it, he knew better than to complain. 

He knew it was pathetic how often he messed something up, so he knew how important punishing him was. But this time...he’d had no idea what he’d done. 

It had been first thing in the morning- he hadn’t even had a chance to open his mouth yet. And he’d been extra careful lately, still a bit sore from the last beating Wrath had put him through. 

So as guilty as it made him feel to admit it, he had no idea what he could have done to warrant this. 

Wrath’s beating had come to a stop without warning, and suddenly Virgil was gasping against the pressure of a boot against his neck, keeping him down. 

“What the fuck did you just say, Anxiety?” 

Virgil had always been nothing but Anxiety to him- to all of them. Years spent together, and they had never bothered to even show interest in his name. (In his dreams, the nightmares that left him waking up to his own screams, they always called him Virgil. Always taking away as much power as they could)  

Janus and Remus knew his name- but at the time Virgil thought it was only a reward for them never having to raise a hand against him. 

He should have known better. He shouldn’t have been so gullible and stupid. 

And apparently he’d spoken without realizing, terrified questions forcing themselves to the surface without his permission, and Virgil could feel Wrath’s anger only grow, and quickly scrambled to take it back. 

“I- I’m- I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry, I--” 

“Shut up! Just shut up! God, do you ever stop talking?” 

Virgil obeyed, biting his bloodied lip to keep from whimpering when Wrath’s boot was replaced with a knee digging painfully into his back. 

He couldn’t see them from where he’d been pinned down on his stomach, but he knew the Others were there, crowded around and watching like it was entertainment. 

He could hear them laughing. Why were they laughing? Weren’t they supposed to be mad? What was so funny? 

Why did they always seem so excited when he made a mistake? 

“Don’t ever ask me that,” Wrath hissed, and Virgil bit back another cry of pain, knowing it would just make him angrier. “Don’t you ever ask me what you did wrong, do you understand? Do you know how stupid you sound?” 

“I...s-sorry--” 

A hand twisted into his hair, yanking hard enough for Virgil to see stars, choking on his own desperate words. 

“I don’t know what you did, Anxiety, but does it even matter? I don’t need a reason, you’ve always done something, haven’t you? You deserve this- you always deserve it, and I don’t owe you a fucking explanation. You’re lucky we put up with you at all.” 

Virgil tried to nod, squeezing his eyes shut against the humiliation and the pain, but the motion proved impossible with the way Wrath was holding him down, and he didn’t dare try to talk again. 

“Do you understand that?” Wrath asked, suddenly speaking like he was addressing a toddler throwing a tantrum. “Nobody needs a reason to hate you Anxiety, it’s not our fault you’re like this. And I sure as hell don’t need an excuse to remind you exactly what you deserve.” 

The hand in his hair tightened, and this time Virgil couldn’t help but cry out, eyes flying open in alarm. He thought he heard someone snicker. 

“Do you understand?” Wrath demanded again, a heavy weight on Virgil’s back. “Tell me that you understand!” 

 But Virgil couldn’t form a response, throat tight and mouth flooding with his own blood and spit, ears still ringing with Wrath’s demands that he stay silent. 

And then another voice was calling, somewhere from the other side of the room, but Virgil couldn’t focus enough to make out who it was. 

“Remus is coming. Get him out of here.” 

Virgil barely had time to process that, the terror that came with the thought of another side seeing him like this, seeing how weak and pathetic he was, another excuse to hurt him even worse. He didn’t think he could handle much more. 

(Looking back on it, Virgil would have given anything for Remus to walk in on time)

The weight on his back was gone, and Virgil was suddenly being lifted off the ground, one hand under his arm, another grabbing at his hoodie and yanking him forward. 

He gasped in pain as Wrath threw him haphazardly over his shoulder and began walking to the stairs. 

“N-no...please, I--” 

“Shut up, Anxiety.” 

Virgil did as he was told, only able to silently hope his constant trembling wasn’t obnoxious enough to warrant another strike, forcing himself not to whimper when any of his injuries were jostled by Wrath’s less than careful movements. 

Virgil tried not to think about how this was the most physical contact outside of any violence that he’d had in years. 

It took him a moment to realize Wrath had brought him to his room, only really comprehending where he was when he was unceremoniously dumped on the floor, crying out against the wave of blinding pain. 

“Stop whining,” Wrath snarled, and Virgil cringed, waiting for another blow. “You know you deserve this. If anyone tries to say you don’t, they’re lying. And if you believe them you’re even stupider than I thought.” 

And with that he was gone, sinking out of the dark room without another word, leaving Virgil a shaking, bloody mess on the floor. 

He didn’t know how long he stayed there. He couldn’t remember- everything fuzzy and faded with time and pain. 

He did, however, remember with perfect clarity the terror that had shot through him at the sudden knocking on his bedroom door. 

He tried to calm himself down, tried to remind himself that no one ever knocked when they planned on hurting him. If they were angry, they would just barge in without warning. 

“Anxiety?” It took him a moment to recognize Morality’s voice, deceptively sweet as ever, and he curled up tighter to muffle any sound. “You in there, kiddo? I think Thomas wants us for a video if you can make it.” 

And Morality sounded so...nice. He always seemed so kind, so genuinely caring. Virgil had been warned, of course, that none of the kindness extended to him was real. It was a trap, a twisted trick, and if Virgil fell for it he’d be hurt worse than ever before. He was safest where he was. 

But that day, half-conscious and bleeding all over his bedroom floor, Virgil had thought about calling out. For the first time, he’d considered asking for help. 

Because the beating had finally stopped, but the pain had only gotten worse. He honestly wasn’t sure he could clean himself up like he usually did. He didn’t even know if he’d be able to stand. 

Obviously, Morality wouldn’t want to help him when he saw the kind of beating Virgil had deserved. He’d probably only get ridiculed and scolded when the other side saw what kind of injuries had been needed to put Virgil back in his place. 

But Virgil would take yells and taunts over slowly bleeding out on the floor. And he could come up with some kind of excuse. He could say he fell down the stairs, and that he just needed help making it to the bathroom to wash up. 

And he almost managed to do it, taking in a shaky breath when Morality knocked softly again. 

But he couldn’t. Because no matter how badly he wanted to, no matter how desperately he wanted someone to care just a little, he knew nobody would. He was so tired of being terrified, but there wasn’t any other choice. 

And he really didn’t think he could handle any more pain. Especially not from someone he hadn’t gotten a chance to see angry yet. He wouldn’t know what to expect. 

So Virgil had closed his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the silence to come, and Morality had eventually relented. 

“Alright, kiddo,” he’d called, sounding almost disappointed. “I know you’re busy.” 

(Virgil would do anything to go back and change it. He’d give anything to convince his past self to give in and call out, to scream and cry and beg for help. Because if Patton had heard him, if Patton had seen what the others did to Virgil, it all could have been over so much sooner)

It had taken Virgil all night to find the strength to pull himself off the floor to make it to his bed, and when he didn’t leave his room for nearly three days, no one seemed to notice. If they did, he doubted they cared. 

If Wrath hadn’t stormed into his room and demanded Virgil washed the blood off his face or he’d get it twice as bad, he might have forgotten he existed at all, content with letting himself waste away. 

-

Virgil had no idea when he’d started crying but here he was, leaned against the side of his bed, a hand pressed tightly over his mouth while tears rolled down his cheeks. 

He didn’t get it. He didn’t know why he’d let himself sit here almost all night, staring blankly at the floor, consumed by a memory he’d tried so hard not to think about for so long. 

He’d pretty much forgotten about it completely, letting it blend in with the rest of the non-stop fear and pain he was put through. It shouldn’t be a big deal anymore. It was over. 

But Virgil wanted to scream. He wanted to kick his bed frame until his foot split open, he wanted to throw his lamp on the ground and watch the bulb shatter into a hundred jagged pieces that could tear his skin open with a single touch. He wanted to yell and bite his skin, tear into his own flesh with his teeth until he couldn’t think anymore, couldn’t feel the hurt in his chest trying to suffocate him. 

Because...because it wasn’t like all the other times. It was so much different- so much worse- and he’d just been too stupid to realize. 

He’d thought he’d deserved it. Every time, no matter how bad it had gotten, he’d really, truly believed it was for the best. He’d understood, even through his pleading for the pain to stop. 

There had always been something, some reason or excuse for why he needed to be punished. He’d been too loud, too disrespectful, too annoying, always an obnoxious nuisance everyone wished would just go away. 

He was clumsy, he knocked things over or forgot where certain dishes went. He stumbled over his words or occasionally tripped if he moved too fast. 

They were normal things. He’d seen everyone make small mistakes like that before and had never once gotten angry, never once felt the need or want to hurt them to make them better. 

But Virgil had to be hurt. He would always be less than everyone else, always weak and evil and pathetic, so he deserved it. It wasn’t something he should question, it was just the way things were. And he’d believed it, every time. 

Even after things had gotten better, even after the light sides had constantly shown him otherwise and Janus and Remus had proved to him over and over again that they would never, he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. 

But that time…

That time he hadn’t done anything. He’d done nothing. He’d been awake all of five minutes and it had been one of the few times he’d thought they were genuinely trying to kill him.

And they...Wrath hadn’t even denied it. He hadn’t had a reason to punish Virgil, and he hadn’t even bothered to come up with one. He just hated him. He just wanted Virgil to die. 

And he’d known...he’d known Virgil wouldn’t fight it. He knew he would just lay there and take it, convinced after years of conditioning that no matter what, he deserved it. He deserved to be scared and hurting. 

Virgil suddenly wondered how many other beatings he’d gotten for no reason at all. How many times they had tormented him just because they’d wanted to, trusting Virgil to come up with the reason all on his own. 

And he always had, because that was what he'd been taught to do. Lock onto the smallest mistake and expect the worst. And even now, even when deep down he knew he was safe, he couldn’t stop. 

It was never about punishment. It was never about helping Thomas. It had all been for entertainment. 

It wasn’t...fair. It wasn’t fair. 

God, what was wrong with him? Why was he so stupid? His whole life he’d let them do what they wanted, let them hurt him, manipulate him, twist his mind until he thought that it was normal. They’d had him convinced that the people he now loved more than anything in the world would do the same without a second thought. 

They’d barely treated him like a person. They’d practically brainwashed him into believing Anxiety was lesser, that he didn't deserve things like safety, or privacy, or sometimes even food. They’d gotten him to believe he didn’t deserve to be loved. To be happy. 

And Virgil had never tried to do anything about it. Not once. 

Because...because it had never crossed his mind. He’d never let himself believe that anyone could be so cruel. He didn’t know, even after all this time, why they hated him so much. 

Maybe it was to take back the power Thomas refused to give those parts of himself. Or maybe Virgil really was that irritating. Maybe they just found it funny. 

He’d never know. He’d never know and that...somehow that was so much worse. Suddenly, he wished he could go back to believing he deserved it. 

He hated this. He hated this. 

This time, he didn’t fight against the angry, impulsive thoughts that popped into his head, desperate for any kind of relief from the swarm of emotions he couldn’t even begin to sift through. 

Virgil pushed himself back, kicking out against the metal bed frame as hard as he could, letting his crying morph to ragged sobs against the vicious combination of pain and panic. 

He felt pathetic as he kicked out again, slamming the top of his socked foot onto the edge of his bed. He felt small, and weak, and scared. Everything he didn’t have to be anymore. 

But he’d never actually stopped. He couldn’t. He wondered if he would ever be able to. 

He curled forward, sinking his teeth into his sleeve and finally letting himself scream, a muffled, pathetic noise that sounded more like broken wailing than anything else. 

He didn’t care. For once, he didn’t think twice about it. He just let himself fall apart, let himself feel the hurt and anger, screaming and sobbing wordlessly into his arm, free hand tugging ruthlessly at his hair. 

Just like Wrath had always done to get his attention. 

He barely registered the frantic knocking at his door, everything completely drowned out by his own cries and ragged breathing. 

“Kiddo?” It was Patton’s voice calling to him from the hallway, faint and panicked. “Can I come in? Virgil?” 

Virgil almost wanted to laugh at the irony of the situation, how everything had come full circle. He could call out this time, no longer afraid of Patton wanting to hurt him. But once again, he couldn’t find the strength to speak. 

Thankfully things were different now, and Virgil managed to raise a shaky hand to unlock the door for Patton, courtesy of the special lock Roman had conjured up for him after the unfortunate misunderstanding they’d had over Virgil’s need for privacy. 

“Oh, honey.” There were footsteps, quick and soft, and suddenly Patton was kneeling beside him, close but not yet touching. “I’m here, I’m right here. Can you hear me, kiddo?” 

Virgil didn’t respond, just curled further in on himself and shut his eyes. He didn’t have the energy to try and muffle his sobs anymore. 

“Virgil--” a hand grazed his shoulder, and Virgil flinched back before he could stop himself. “Ok! Ok, I won’t touch you, kiddo. Can you tell me what’s wrong?” 

Virgil forced himself to breathe, pulling his knees up to his chest and digging his nails into his scalp, wishing he could just get Wrath’s voice out of his head. He wanted to forget, wanted to block out the laughter that always came with his pain…

Laughter. Someone had always been laughing. It had always just been entertainment to them. 

“I-I didn’t--” God, he could barely talk. He just wanted everything to stop. “I d-didn’t do an-anything I didn’t do anything--” 

“I know,” Patton said, even as Virgil furiously shook his head. “I know you didn’t, baby, it’s ok--” 

“No it’s not!” He hadn’t meant to shout, he’d never meant to shout at Patton- at any of them, but it felt like he was barely even here. Everything was too much. “I- I didn’t- they always...Pat I- I could have just opened th-the door!” 

He could barely breathe, chest aching with each ragged sob, but he couldn’t seem to stop, everything spilling out all at once. 

“Kiddo--” 

“Y-you were right there. You...you were right outside the door and I didn’t...I let it- I...I hadn’t even done anything and he--” 

“Patton? Is he alright?” 

That was Logan’s voice, more footsteps making their way to the open door, and Virgil quickly fell back into a fit of uncontrollable sobs, hoping it was enough to block everything else out. 

“What happened?” Roman was there too, all of them clearly woken up by the commotion from his room. 

Virgil wanted the floor to swallow him up, to disappear forever until everyone forgot he existed. He wanted to sob and scream until he could never speak again. 

He wanted to forget everything that had happened and just be ok. He wanted to stop being so scared. 

“I’m trying to calm him down,” Patton said quietly. “I think he just had a bad dream.” 

Virgil shook his head, breaths nothing more than hiccuping wheezes, pressing his head against his knees, refusing to see the looks of pity and confusion. 

“It- it wasn’t...I wasn’t dreaming. It...it was- y-you were right there. I th-thought I was- I was dying and you were...I-I wasn’t ignoring you, I just c-couldn’t--” 

“Virgil,” Logan said, calm and steady as ever. “You need to slow down. Try and take some deep breaths to--” 

“No, I- I...R-Remus almost saw, they- they had to take me to my room and Pat...Patton was right outside. It- it hurt so b-bad and I...I was so scared.”   

“Oh, god.” Patton sounded so small, but Virgil knew the moral side suddenly understood what he meant. “Virgil, I--” 

“I thought I was going to die.” Virgil took a shuddering breath, the admission leaving him dizzy. “I thought...I-I wanted to ask for help so bad.” 

This time, Virgil didn’t pull away when Patton reached for him. He fell into his embrace, shaking and sobbing uncontrollably, clutching at the other side’s pajama shirt like a lifeline. 

“It’s ok,” he heard Roman say somewhere behind him. “It’s ok, Virge.” 

“It’s not. It- it’s not...I-I never did anything. It- it was never a punishment they...they just hated me. They just liked h-hurting me and I don’t- I don’t know why. It’s not...i-it’s not--” 

“It’s not fair,” Logan finished for him, when Virgil couldn’t seem to form the words. “You should never have been treated like that. And as hard as it is, recognizing the abuse for what it was is an important step.” 

Virgil just tightened his hold on Patton, choking on his own sobs as they just grew louder and louder while he made no effort to quiet them. 

He didn’t want to keep taking these steps, he didn’t want to have to recover. He wanted it to be over. He didn’t want to do this anymore. 

“I’m so stupid.” It was muffled by Patton’s shirt, but he felt the moral side tighten his hold. “I’m so fucking stupid!” 

“You aren’t--” 

“Yes I am! All the- all the shit they said to me and I never...I never...why couldn’t I have just asked for help?” 

There was another hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles in between his shoulders, the movement slow and precise. 

“Because you had been gaslighted and meticulously conditioned your entire life,” Logan said carefully. “You believed we would hurt you just as badly, if not worse. You had no reason to think otherwise.” 

Virgil didn’t respond, suddenly too light headed to think straight, focusing instead on Patton’s steady breaths in his ear, gasping in between desperate sobs. 

After a moment Logan spoke up again, quieter than before. “Could you two get him some water, please? Perhaps an extra blanket?” 

At first, Virgil thought he was talking to Roman or Patton, who Virgil currently had no intention of letting go of. 

But then there was shuffling by the doorway, and Virgil glanced up just enough to see two familiar, blurry figures watching from just outside. 

Janus nodded, grabbing Remus by the arm to guide him down the hallway, and Virgil’s heart sank when he caught a glimpse of the look on the Duke’s face.

He wondered how much they had heard, if Remus had realized just how close he’d come to catching the others in the act. If he realized how careful they’d been to make sure he never saw. 

Judging from the panic and regret he saw in Remus’s eyes as he was practically dragged away from the room, he probably did. 

But he couldn’t bring himself to dwell on it right now, not when it felt like the whole world was crashing down around him. 

“I’m tired, Pat,” he muttered, voice still trembling and weak. “I’m tired, I’m so fucking tired.” 

“I know, baby. I know. But you’re safe with us.” 

Virgil let out a humorless laugh, the sound more like a pitiful whine, his soaked face pressed against Patton’s collarbone. “I get why he didn’t- he didn’t kill me. This is...god, this is so much worse.” 

He felt Patton freeze against him, Logan’s hand on his back abruptly stopping its soothing motions. He heard Roman take in a shaky, panicked breath. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, an old habit he still hadn’t been able to grow out of. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry, Stormcloud,” Roman said, and Patton began gently rocking him back and forth, Logan continuing to rub his back as quickly as he’d stopped. “You don’t need to apologize.” 

He held on tight, squeezing his eyes shut. “I just...I don’t...I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to be better.” 

There wasn’t a response, but Virgil knew there wasn’t much that could console him right now. Not when everything was spinning, voices of the past too loud to make out much of anything else. 

But they held him, letting him cry and fall apart in their arms, wrapping him in a blanket and helping him drink water when Janus and Remus returned, careful to give them space. 

He appreciated it, though Virgil hoped one day he could have a relationship with Janus and Remus where he felt comfortable having them with him when he was vulnerable. 

They’d get there. It was just one more thing to work on. 

For now...for now he didn’t want to think about the future. He didn’t want to think about how he’d probably wake up terrified, paranoid and jumpy, expecting anger and resentment for waking everyone up. 

He didn’t want to think about how it might never stop. How he might never get better. How he could be like this forever. 

He would dwell on all of that later, whether he wanted to or not. And he could already tell his nightmares would get bad again, memory after painful memory replaying over and over again in his head. 

But he’d see it in a new light, a much darker motive behind the treatment. He wished it made it better to know he really hadn’t deserved it. It didn’t- it made it so, so much worse. 

For now, he let himself melt into Patton’s arms, shuddering and gasping, frantically trying to copy the other’s breathing before he passed out. 

The others had been wrong. The light side’s kindness wasn’t a lie, it was the only real thing he’d ever known. And he knew, no matter how bad it got, that his family would hold him together for as long as he needed.

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[shoutaaizawas]

↳ aizawa shouta x reader → “away”

summary: you had been gone all week on a mission with hawks and it gets to aizawa word count: 1.3k+ tags/warnings: light angst, happy ending, arguments a/n: this was requested by @winnies-headcannons​ , thank you!! it’s a challenge to write arguments and keep them in character

Aizawa Shouta was a rational man and a mature one at that. He wasn’t a teenager or even a young adult who was quick to jump to conclusions or act out emotions without thinking. But everyone had their moments.

Aizawa loved you and trusted you fully. When you said that he was the only one for you he believed you even if he couldn’t understand why you would pick an old man like him.

But it had been a bad week. You were both busy. He had his hands full with class 1A and on top of it, his hero work was especially troublesome. As a nice addition, he had been feeling depressed. What made it all the worse was you had been busy too.

You were a top ten hero, it was understandable that you’d be busy. Normally you made time to be home with him as much as possible but you had a lot going on. There was an important mission you had been on. That wasn’t his problem.

The issue is who you had the mission with. Hawks. You were both top ten heroes in their early twenties so it was only normal that you’d end up working together at times. Aizawa could deal with that, he trusted you but it had been a bad week.

It started with pictures of you and Hawks on the news, you had been taking a coffee break but the media saw it as the possible beginning of a new relationship. He wouldn’t blame you for the media, if anything it was his fault for wanting to avoid going public with your relationship. But Aizawa was still a man and seeing everyone get excited about you and Hawks being together upset him.

Then you had been working so much you weren’t even coming home and your texts were far and few between. He understood he had been on missions like that but it still hurt. It wasn’t your fault but he wanted you around, needed you even. But he had to be an adult and brush it aside. He didn’t expect you to drop your mission and put people in danger for his sake.

When you did call to check up on him he could hear Hawks in the background, teasing you and laughing. Interrupting the call, making you laugh and apologize for being distracted. Why did he hate how Hawks made you laugh? Aizawa wasn’t known for being funny but he loved it when he made a joke and it got a laugh from you. You had such a cute laugh. But Hawks doing the same made his stomach churn.

More photos found there way on the news and you looked so close to Hawks, nearly arm and arm as you laughed at something he said. Aizawa hated it, he hated this feeling he knew you would never cheat but seeing you with him made him realize that he couldn’t compare.

Hawks was your age, he was a high ranked hero, he wasn’t burdened with everything Aizawa was burdened with. He wasn’t scarred up or constantly napping to cope with his lifestyle. Hawks was better for you and that’s all he could think.

All week his thoughts terrorized him. All he could think about was Hawks and you. The pictures were burned into his head. The way he made you laugh. He was miserable.

“Baby, I’m home.” You said as you opened the front door, tossing your bag to the ground.

Finally, you were home but instead of the relief, he expected his bad mood only worsened. When he looked at you all he could think was you’d be better off with Hawks.

“You’re going to just throw your stuff around?” He asked in an annoyed tone. You looked at him taken aback by what he said.

“I’m sorry.” You said, grabbing the bag walking to the bedroom to put it there for the time being. “I’m just so tired.”

“Of course you are.” He said, not looking away from his book. “I’m sure Hawks kept you busy.”

You looked at him with your eyebrows pulled together. Walking to the couch he was sitting on, you sat down next to him. You expected him to pull you into a hug at the very least but he didn’t even look at you. It hurt your heart.

“Shouta, did I do something to upset you?” You asked cautiously. You hadn’t even been home all week.

“Why don’t you just run back to Hawks, I’m sure he can give you what you want.” He said to you in a biting tone.

You stared at him in disbelief. Hawks? Was he jealous of Hawks? You had just had an awful week on a rough mission where you lost people you were supposed to save and the one person you wanted to comfort you was accusing you of having feelings for someone else?

The tears welled up in your eyes before you could stop them. You just wanted to come home and hug Shouta, remind yourself that you were alive and he was alive. You wanted him to hold you and tell you everything was going to be okay, that you were still a good hero even if you didn’t save them all.

“I really missed you and I had a really hard week and all I wanted to do was come home to you and you’re accusing me of that?” Your watery eyes and broken tone tore him apart. “I-I thought you trusted me, what did I ever do to make you not trust me?”

The sight of your tears running down your face killed him and he felt like the worst person on the face of the planet. He did trust you, more than anyone. He didn’t actually think you did anything but his anxiety, his depression, made it so hard for him to not snap. He hated himself for saying that.

Now that he looked at you he could see how run down you looked, you had dark circles under your eyes, you had scratches and bruises all over, your eyes were already red before you started crying. He hadn’t even thought that you were suffering just as much as him if not more.

“Baby, no. I’m sorry.” He said pulling you into his embrace. Thankfully you didn’t push him away. He deserved it at this point. “I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

You shuttered in his arms, sobbing quietly. He ran his hand up and down your back like he knew you loved, pressing his forehead against your hair.

“I trust you more than anything, I know you would never do that.” He said. “I was having a bad week too, I missed you so much. I’m so sorry.”

Your cries calmed down and you pulled back looking at him.

“You know I would never.” You said, your tone still wobbly.

“I know, I know you wouldn’t.” He said, cupping your cheek in his hand. “I just kept seeing pictures of you together and everyone talking about what a perfect couple you’d be. I guess I started to think they were right, you shouldn’t waste your time with me.”

“Shouta, no one, I mean no one could ever compare to you.” You said in a serious tone. “Hawks is a fun guy but he gets on my nerves after a while. I’ve been dying to come home to you all week. You’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met, I know there’s no one else out there for me.” You told him.

Aizawa looked into your eyes, taking in your words. He knew they were true even if it was hard to believe it. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss against your lips.

“I’m sorry, can you forgive me?” He asked.

“Of course, Shouta. We all have our moments. We both know you’ve seen plenty of mine.” You teased.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” He asked, stroking your arm.

“Not right now, can you just hold me?” You asked.

Shouta pulled you into his arms, laying down on the couch. With a deep breath in unison, you both knew you were safe now. Things would be better now that you had each other close and whatever feelings from the week that had existed could slowly melt away in each other’s embrace.

taglist:  @sugarmaplewings-fics @lilkiwisfinest @ewwis @kandy1410 @moonlightaangel @winnies-headcannons @bakugousidehoe @paintedr0ses1 @toobsessedsstuff @spellboundxizi @softkatsuki @x0doodlebug0x @katsuhoee

[eltanin-malfoy]

The Portend (His Royal Highness II)

word count: 6.7k

warning(s): cursing, anxiety

a/n: hi all! i just wanted to say that i know this chapter’s length is SO different from the first one’s but that’s because that one is, again, 2 years old and was written all at once. the other chapters will also be fairly long from here on out. i hope you enjoy this one!

taglist: @drawlfoy @war-sword @lilyreachelcassidy @socontagiousimagines @andreasworlsboring101 [@kaibie @regalillegal @mayorofzillyhoo, i know you all wanted to be tagged in the full-length HRH and this is pretty much it ig. please let me know if you’re still interested and want me to add you to the permanent tag list for this series]

reply to this post or send me an ask/dm if you want to be added to the tag list for the series or for all of my fics!

HRH - Table Of Contents

Y/N placed her palms flat on her desk as if doing so would bring any sort of change to the absolute hurricane that had begun its wrath within her stomach. She tried to imagine she was somewhere else for a second. Why would any rational human being do this to someone? That too to someone with as much responsibility as she had. Oh, right… she’d forgotten. Prince Draco was far from rational. Far from being a human being, even.

She looked down at the paper trays with guest lists upon guest lists kept before her, shifted them to the side and planted her face on the wood. That’s better , she thought. Now no one else can see how fucking ridiculous I feel right now! She tried to think about what the hell she’d done to him to make him act so horribly towards her. What could she have possibly done in a past life that would have resulted in her having to face such a… conundrum? She’d thought it was hard enough having to bargain with the King and Queen over how much detail could possibly be squeezed into cake decorations but had no idea a situation even more stressful could and would arise.

How could she let herself get so weak? How could she not bring herself to be assertive? She could have just said no, right? It wasn’t that hard. He hadn’t been nice at all. She took a deep, deep breath, trying desperately to calm her brain. It had begun to run from thought to thought, imagining every possible scenario that could go wrong. She had so much work left to complete on her own, and god knew how much attention and criticism she might face at and after the ball.

And the way she’d freaked out in front of Draco as well! She was sure he must’ve been at least a little put off by how strongly and emotionally she’d reacted so quickly. God, not that that should matter that much but… if they were supposed to work together for a highly publicised ordeal, they had to get along, right? Right? She hadn’t meant to do that. It’s just that he’d already shocked her a bit by slipping into her office so unexpectedly. And then he’d gone on and rushed to… that . Not to excuse what he did but perhaps she should’ve realised she didn’t need to panic so much over it either. She knew she was having a hard time with her anxiety…

Nevertheless, she brought her hands to the edge of the table closer to her and pushed herself up. She looked forwards, turning slightly to face the window she was looking out before everything turned to shit. The scenery was still gorgeous, albeit not that comforting anymore but looking out at the wide expanse of a beautiful garden would bring just about anyone some tranquillity. She had been thinking about how lovely the weather was today, how nice it would be to go for a walk after she’d finished up with her work. Maybe she could even head downtown for once and meet some old friends. But no, no one was happy just giving her a single moment of peace. Even fate was bent upon just giving her as much to stress about as was possible.

She looked down at the paper trays she’d just abandoned. Administrative work could distract her a bit, couldn’t it? All she had to do was send RSVP reminders and reach out to the guests and performers coming in from out of town about their travel and accommodation details. As well as request the performers for the outlines of their performances and send them contracts saying they’d stick by the approved setups. They couldn’t have a repeat of last year’s embarrassing The Hobgoblins’ performance. To be very brief, it had gone sexual. (The King and Queen’s expressions during it were still popular reaction gifs) She picked out one of the lists and opened up her laptop, finally beginning the work she’d been putting off all morning. It seemed so much easier and more comforting now that she had the much more disturbing dilemma on hand. She corroborated the list in front of her, adding ticks and crosses to the list to mark invitees as having confirmed or not. She then compiled their contact details and created a template for emails to send to those that had yet to confirm their attendance and travel itineraries. After this, she did the same with the list of performers, making sure to add enough information to their emails regarding the outlines they should send back.

And there… most of her work was done already, wasn’t it? Now all she had to do was proofread these, make sure all of the addressees were receiving the appropriate emails and well, press send. It shouldn’t take too long and then she could… She could get back to stressing about the problem fucking Draco had landed her in, goddammit! She was right back there again, her stomach beginning to swirl dangerously. She tried to take in a few deep breaths, forcing herself to get back to work. It wasn’t that hard. It wasn’t that hard!

Never mind, she couldn’t deal with it right now. She… Well, she needed a break. Or maybe she just needed to leave work early today. It was fair game after what the hell Draco had just unloaded on her. It was time she gave her intern some actual responsibility anyway. He was a sweet little fellow, straight out of university. Had his head in the right place but wasn’t particularly good with all the practical work yet. She’d assigned him some random organisational task she knew wouldn’t take her more than a minute and wasn’t going to bother checking because she thought it was simply too easy. Hopefully, he’d been able to do it to her standards.

She sat back in her chair and raised her hands up to her head, stretching out her fingers and breathing in and out deeply through her mouth. She was going to do this. She was really going to handle this (easier) bit of the work off to the intern and he was going to do it just fine. Just fine. Maybe she might have to assist him with it a little bit but it was going to work. It would work. Yes, it would. She shook her head to try and shake off some of her anxiety and stood up, closing her laptop’s screen and picking up the tray of guest lists. She walked out of her office and into the large room outside of it, which had a small group of cubicles placed in the middle.

While the rest looked rapt in their work (an exaggeration, to be sure, a lot of them were chatting with their co-workers and eating snacks), she noted her dear intern was just sitting idle which both made her feel hopeful and worried. He was sitting with his laptop closed, one hand tapping on the table’s surface, the other holding his phone.

“Hi, Colin!” Y/N said and he jerked forwards in surprise, dropping his phone to the floor. “Oh… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”. Colin shook his head as he picked it up and looked it over, “It’s no problem, miss… My phone is just fine. Are you alright? I know the prince was just in your office, he came to ask me where it was first! I was so excited and I asked him for a picture but he said he was in a rush! I can’t believe I’ve managed to have a conversation with one of the royals already!” Hmm… “have a conversation” was probably a stretch but… she chose to ignore that. The boy was definitely an optimist and she couldn’t fault him for that.

“That’s lovely, Colin. I’m sure you’ll get to talk to him and the others again. I had some work for you if you’re up to it.”

“Yes, of course! Does it have anything to do with the prin-”

“Let’s calm down there, Colin. I trust you’ve completed what I assigned you earlier?”

“... Oh, yes I have!”

“That’s great.”

She set the paper tray on the side of his desk and he looked at it for a few seconds before looking up at her again.

“So… what do I have to do?”

Y/N gulped and laid out the lists for him, beginning to explain to him the meanings of the markings she’d made and the emails he had to look through and send off.

***

Beep, beep.

Y/N kept her phone pressed between her shoulder and her ear as she walked around her apartment. She was holding a large iced vanilla latte in one hand and her purse in the other. She knew she needed to set something down but felt too jittery to do anything but pace around with her stuff. It was probably partly inspired by the amount of caffeine she’d drank that day but hey, that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Today was also a terribly tense day, wasn’t it?

Beep, beep.

She took a nice long sip of her latte, relishing in how nice and cold it was. She had the air conditioner on and had taken off her blazer but it still felt like she was this close to overheating. This sudden heatwave throughout the country was absolutely unwelcome as far as she was concerned.

Now if only Pansy’d pick up so she could get some clarity on the situation. Suddenly the dial tone ended and she heard the crackling of breathing through the speaker.

“Hello, Y/N?”

She smiled and finally set her purse down.

“Hi, Pansy! It’s so nice to finally hear your voice. Are you free to talk?”

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, I was just sending off this email but now I’m free for a bit, yes. And Jesus, Y/N, is something… up?”

“Oh, nothing… it’s just… the prince really got me gobsmacked today.”

She hears her gasp over the phone.

“Oh my, the prince?! Well then… I certainly wasn’t expecting that. Although, I suppose… it’s not so far off for the prince to bother you when you’re working at the palace...”

“Pansy… that’s beside the point.”

“Yeah, okay, so… what happened? You have to tell me now.”

“I will but you need to promise me you won’t get mad or jealous of me or anything. I didn’t choose to be a part of it.”

“Of course I won’t be mad. Why would I be?”

“Well, you know, your history and… how you were off your trolley about him as a teenager?”

“Oh, bugger off, babe. That’s not even true anyway.”

“Oh, really? I can vaguely recall someone crying and taking care of him for weeks after he was attacked by that bird he harassed in the first place.”

“I was just… overemotional.”

“Right.”

“So what, okay? So what if I liked him for a while? There’s nothing there anymore. Even waking up to him the next day after the… you know what between us, I was just repulsed. And you thought he was fit too! So. And I feel like I only just liked him because I thought my parents would be happy with us together.”

“That’s… fair. But yes, you’re right, I’ll get back to my story then.”

“Yes, please.”

Y/N started to unbutton the collar of her shirt, beginning to feel hot again. She took another sip of her latte.

“Well, basically, I was just sitting in my office, you know, minding my own business, when Mr Royalty just busts in and starts talking to me.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Yeah, I know right? Anyway, he got straight to it and asked me to be his date to the coronation ball.”

“Holy shit! That’s… never mind, but you said no, right?”

“Well… at first, yes. But then...”

“You what? That’s so unlike you, Y/N, come on…”

“I know, okay… I shouldn’t have. I just started to feel bad for him and I... Should I get out of it? I’m thinking I will. It’ll be stressful, won’t it? I just… I don’t know what to do about it, okay? I’m lost. Help me.”

Pansy fell silent for a second and Y/N undid the whole of her button-down, setting her drink down onto a table as she headed into her bedroom to look for a lighter change of clothes.

“You know the first thing I’m going to tell you is you owe him nothing. I know you felt bad for him but he really shouldn’t have asked you that with no context or anything. He was the one in the wrong here for sure. It’s sweet of you to accept his offer but you don’t have to keep up on it if it’s really stressing you out so much. Also, the fact that you accepted such a spontaneous offer makes me a little sceptical of the power play there...”

“You’re right. Also, I think it definitely wasn’t nice of him but he wasn't mean about it or anything. He was definitely adamant but eh....”

She set her phone onto her bed and turned it to speakerphone, opening her wardrobe and taking out a t-shirt and some shorts.

“At the same time… when we look at the positives, they are fairly significant. You’ll likely have to give in… not that many hours in exchange for a pretty fun night. You know the service at royal events is amazing and if you’re literally the date of the guy the event is being thrown for, the King being crowned that night… I’m going to guess you’ll get so much from that. You’ll obviously get some… fame and have to pack on some PDA there and what not but that means free stuff, great clothes, who even knows what else. You’d just have to work extra hard for that time and balance the work, but I thought you said you were done with a lot of the stuff already.”

“That is … true.”

“But you’re not happy with that, are you?”

“You don’t have to say it like that. It’s just… actually I don’t have a counterargument for that. The perks do sound pretty good.”

“Right? But you know, there might be criticism or hate or something you might get.”

“Well… I’ll also get paid to advertise things after that, won’t I? And free things and VIP invites to places I wouldn’t even have been able to enter before.”

“Well, yes, but… maybe that’s something of an exaggeration, you know. Not every brand or group or whatever is that fixated on how much publicity they can get.”

“... I mean, aren’t they?”

“Okay, yes, they are. I think you should do this.” Y/N laughed as she took off her skirt. She sat down on her bed in her underwear, lying down so her head was near her phone.

“This was a very helpful call. Thank you.”

“I do agree, I think I was a huge help.”

“I concur. Again.”

“Thank you! Now, can I request an invitation to the ball as well?”

“Pansy!”

She giggled and sat up, crossing her arms. “Of course I’ll get you an invite, Pans!”

“Great. I was expecting that. I’m not missing you floundering around, having a… Cinderella moment for the world.”

“A Cinderella moment?”

“You know, getting a chance to dress up like a princess for a night? It’s weirdly literal too, it’s just for the night and then you go back to being normal again. Unless… the prince charming decides…”

“Shush up!” Y/N felt her face beginning to heat up. Not for the second time in one day… She sighed. And… partly because of the same person too.

“I’m sorry, darling. I hope I didn’t say too much there. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah of course. It’s just a problem I’m starting to recognise with me. I keep getting more aggressive and emotionally charged than I mean to be.”

“I get that… you could try meditation, you know. Or you could join my yoga class, it’s pretty relaxing. The teacher has a nice butt too.”

“Pans!”

“Y/N!”

***

Her evening was fairly relaxed after that. The call with Pansy had seemed to fix the problem. Well, not exactly “fix”, more like change the way she looked at the issue so it felt all the lighter. And it worked pretty much the same. She began to feel so much better about the decision she’d made. After all, even if it was destiny or whatever, she’d been chosen for a reason, right? She’d managed to get Draco’s number off of Pansy. (“ It’s from… way back when so forgive me if he changed his number to get me off his back or some shit. ”) And… on a caffeine high, she had decided to text him almost right away.

Hi, your royal highness!

It only took a few hours but soon she was privy to:

Where did you get this number?

Got it from a friend. It’s Y/N btw :) should’ve said that before.

Oh, right! That makes sense. How’re you doing?

I’m alright, thanks. What about you?

I’m okay.

Listen, I was thinking about what happened today.

And now I’m wondering if we could meet tomorrow? Morning, if possible? It’s urgent.

Y/N squinted down at this message in confusion. What was this suggesting? Was there something wrong? Was he going to retract his offer? She knew there must be some kind of administrative work they’d have to log but was it really that serious already?

Sure, I’ll be free to meet before 9:30.

That is not what I was thinking of when I said morning :(

What, do you wake up at 4 o’clock or something?

No, I meant that that was too early!

She rolled her eyes. She should have seen that coming. He wasn’t exactly known for being put together. Or spiritual, for that matter.

We can call now if you really want.

No, it’s okay. It’s better we talk about it in person. I should try and wake up earlier anyway.

As you wish.

So I’ll meet you tomorrow then. Let’s say, 9 am sharp?

Perfect. I get dropped to the main drop off point at that time anyway.

Great. See you xx

See ya x

Y/N set her phone on her counter and put it to charge for the night. What the fuck? What was happening? The sleep she’d been looking forward to seemed to have suddenly drifted away. What was she going to have to worry about tomorrow morning?! She shifted under her sheets, turning where she lay to face the other side and look out her bedroom window. It was a clear, clear night. If she looked hard enough, she could probably see the edge of the royal estate. But then again, she really didn’t want to. She turned to the other side and just stared at her closet.

She wasn’t sure when her mind got tired of imagining potential disaster scenarios for the next day but Y/N woke up to the sound of her alarm ringing at 6:45 am. She reached over to her nightstand and turned it off, sitting up in bed and looking out the sun already shining bright in her window. It was barely May but the days had already begun to increase in length.

Since she’d woken up with ample time to complete her routine, she did everything she could to pamper herself, spending almost an hour in the bathroom. She even changed into her nicest formal clothes after, a white pantsuit with dark detailing. She packed her work bag with the essentials, her laptop, her water bottle, her royal admin ID, her wallet, stationery and her phone. She felt very prepared for once. Whatever was coming her way would be taken care of as needed.

She had a comfortable trip from her apartment building to the estate, the state-sanctioned car ride feeling a lot less bumpy than usual. It was still just as clear as it was last night, but the car’s windows were tinted so the sun’s rays felt like they barely even touched it. There was only the slightest hiccup when the driver slammed the brakes too hard all of a sudden and made Y/N’s face hit the seat before hers. OUCH!?

It didn’t take very long for the car to get to the palace, stopping at the main entrance pavilion. She didn’t notice anyone there yet and checked the time. It was still only 8:53 am. She had enough time to walk to the administrative wing, leave her things there and come back with time to spare. She walked through the hallway and towards the next hall which she knew led her to-

“Fuck me!” “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Hi, Y/N.”

She had her hand on her heart, trying to slow down her breathing as she looked at the blonde who had bumped straight into her. He had his hands in front of her to catch her if she fell. Thankfully, she had just missed falling.

“What the hell is it with you and giving me heart attacks?”

"I promise you that wasn’t my intention.”

“Well, I’d sure have hoped it wasn’t.”

She sighed and dropped her hand to her side, looking up at him with an eyebrow raised.

“So?”

“So, yes. Um. Can we walk or something? I don’t want to be standing here and have someone walk in on us?”

“... Draco, what do you have planned exactly...?”

She looked up at him quizzically and smirked. He managed a small smile but shook his head.

“God, get your mind out of the gutter! I just mean… this is stressful, okay?”

“Well, I’d like to drop my things off at my office if you don’t mind.”

“Alright, I’ll wait for you by the admin wing’s garden exit.”

“Done.”

***

Y/N had decided to leave her blazer on her chair and all her belongings except for her phone on her desk. Hopefully, Colin was good enough as a guard or she was getting robbed. Either way, she could spot a tall blonde’s head nervously bobbing above the hedge next to the exit. His face was a concerning shade of pink, goodness could only hope he’d put on an adequate amount of sun cream.

“Draco?”

“Yes, hi.”

He managed out, looking toward her walking out now.

“Are you okay? You look… red.”

“I’m fine.”

“I mean, are you sunburnt?”

“Oh…?”

He brought a hand up to touch his cheek.

“No, but that’s a good point. Let’s stand in the shade.”

She stopped where she was and he walked in to meet her. She felt her insides begin to do the jitterbug in anticipation. What could possibly have him so on edge? What was wrong?

“I’m really very sorry about yesterday. I wasn’t exactly thinking very straight when I came to see you. In hindsight, I know it got on your nerves and everything and I should’ve been a lot better at telling you about it.”

“It’s no big deal now, honestly.”

“Okay, but that’s not exactly why I called you. The thing is, there’s going to be a lot of PR work at this ball. I didn’t realise it before but Mother told me she’s arranging a meeting with our publicist for us today. And the publicist is never there just to take the piss. This is serious now. Like, even more than I thought it was.”

“I- what do you-”

“It’ll be very pressing, I would never hold it against you if you decided to pull out.” He stared into her eyes with a pensive expression on his face and Y/N felt whatever response she had been planning just vanish from existence. She pretended to have comprehended everything he said, but could only really think of saying one thing right then… That’s what she said... but that would be inappropriate. He soon got conscious and looked to the side and she felt the cogs in her brain begin to work again.

“The thing is my mother was getting a little impatient with me and telling me it was time for me to tell her who my date for the ball is. My parents have been begging me to find one unless I want to risk an arranged marriage, it’s a long story. So, I told them I’d find a date for myself and that they don’t need to worry. The truth is, I didn’t actually bother to find one and it was starting to get a little late. You know there’s only one month left till... right, you know. So… she came to talk to me about it over lunch and she told me I had to tell her who it was so she could arrange everything for us. I started to think about whom my parents would be okay with me going with and whom I would be okay with and well… you were on top of the list.”

“I’m hoping that’s a compliment.”

“It- it is. I told her your name and she was satisfied with it, I think. And then I was scared she’d come and talk to you immediately so I ran to you first and just asked you about it then. Again, I’m sorry it came out as forcefully as it did. I didn’t mean to… get you stuck in this whole thing.”

He took a deep breath and looked back at her again. Her stomach seemed to begin buzzing as she felt her anxiety grow. This was not going to go as smoothly as she expected, was it? The queen, and most likely the king as well, knew. Although that wasn’t exactly unanticipated, it gave everything a sense of finality. Like, she didn’t have much legroom here at all.

“Anyway, that's what happened. I’m sorry, again.”

He looked at her as if he was waiting for her to yell at him. She wasn’t intending to and just turned to the side, trying to calm her racing heart. She needed to make a decision, didn’t she? And who knows what kind of problems would face her, either way, she decided to go? It seemed like teasing to dangle this lux option in front of her just to draw it away. Draco annoyed her.

Looking at how strangely afraid of her he looked, she couldn’t help but notice how very much he started to look like the Draco she used to know. Little and arrogant and scarily afraid of his parents getting upset with him.

“You’re fine. I… I’m going to need some time.”

“That’s okay. You can take as much time as you need. The problem is, I have no idea when today my mother is going to pull you out for the publicist meeting.”

Y/N huffed slightly and covered her face. So, what was she going to do? What was she going to do?

“I’m in.” She’d set her mind to it, hadn’t she? She’d made a promise to the prince, and his parents knew of it already. She’d already told Pansy she was going for it. Well, all of those things and also the prospect of fulfilling a childhood princess fantasy seemed more enjoyable than anything. There was something so gratifying in that idea, dressing up well and being pampered and showered with affection and just… pretending to be a princess. What could be more fun than that?

“You’re sure?”

The answer was nothing.

“Yes.”

Most likely.

“Well, I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“So do I.”

***

It still hadn’t really sunk in yet that she was actually going to do whatever this would entail. Sure, she’d been dreaming about it the day before but it seemed completely different now. Her gut seemed to be calmer now, signifying that perhaps her intuition hadn’t been completely off guiding her in the direction it had.

What’s sad was Y/N was still lost about this after Narcissa had whisked her away into one of the palace’s many giant bedrooms. She was sitting on the bed, still in her work clothes, stressed after having had to explain to Colin how to decide how accommodations would be settled for the guests and the performers coming. She’d been expecting the meeting with the publicist and Draco to happen but she was lost as to what was taking place right now.

Narcissa approached her with a clipboard and a pen. “Now, dear, I just need you to sign these first.” Y/N took both from her and glossed through the texts.

A non-disclosure agreement and an employment contract…

“I’m sorry, your majesty. Do you mind me going through the documents before signing them?”

“Absolutely not, sweetheart. Though do try to rush, we have appointments we need to get to in time.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Honestly, ma’am, I’m not too aware of legal jargon like this. Could I please ask you to explain the purpose of this agreement?”

“Well, when any…”

She seemed to want to say a word but held it back, twisting her tongue around in her mouth as she thought of what to say.

“Person unfamiliar with our ancestry and our policies gets… involved with a member of the family, we have them sign one of these in order to protect our privacy.”

“I see…”

That seemed very… imperialist of them. She began to skim through the document, trying her best to understand it based on what little knowledge of this she had. It all seemed par for the course except for the last clause.

“I’m sorry again, ma’am. The others make sense to me but this one: 11. Covertness, it’s quite vague, the “other actor”…?.”

“To be transparent, the King and I posed the covertness clause as a protective measure. We don’t need Draco learning about this agreement and growing wary of all of us. We’re doing it to protect him more than anything. You are not to revert any of this portion of our meeting to him and he mustn't ever come to know of this agreement or the contract at all.”

The Queen suddenly seemed scarier than she ever had in all the years she’d known her.

“Well, that’s- I’ll have to think about that for a second.”

She started looking through the employment contract. It was similar to the one she currently held, nothing too special, except for the fact that it detailed that she was entitled to a lump sum of £200,000 at the end of the event, assuming she kept up her end of the agreement. She paused for a moment and just stared at that number.

“Is this a misprint by any chance, ma’am?” The Queen leaned over and looked at where she was pointing, then shook her head.

“No, it is not.”

She took a deep breath. That would be much more than enough to have her set for life and for a private event planning business alongside. It would take her 10 years to even come close to earning as much. She continued reading the document. She was supposed to participate in a few publicity stunts, make it clear “she had good intentions” and was supposed to disconnect from the prince entirely after the affair was over. Those terms didn’t sound too harsh, now, did they? A little acting and ghosting for 200 grand? It didn’t sound like much. Even a real big shot actor wouldn’t get paid half as much for such little work. And the part about her leaving the prince alone after was a little strange, but she supposed it made sense, what with the royals’ obsession with keeping their family all blue-blooded. Draco had been the poster child for that kind of thing growing up. And she likely didn’t have an ounce of it in her.

Why were they even that desperate anyway? This seemed huge. It might boost the prince’s reputation a bit but… what else was there to this? She knew the country was not doing the best in terms of international relations but did this really hold that much weight along those terms? Surely, there was something here she was missing. Regardless, 200,000 quid for a little work and a lot of fun was too amazing an offer to turn down. And so, Y/N signed both papers and handed them back to her. Jesus Christ, Draco’s impulsive decision was about to get her rich. Quick. She certainly hadn’t been expecting this.

She handed the clipboard back to the Queen who smiled and took it back quickly, setting the papers into a folder which she kept in a decorative paper bag. Not a bad hiding place at all. She walked outside for a few minutes, before reentering, followed by a squat old lady well-dressed in mauve and a younger woman wearing similar clothes. The Queen ushered towards either of them and began speaking.

“Madam Malkin and assistant, this is miss Y/L/N, the crown prince’s date to the coronation ball, miss Y/L/N, this is Madam Malkin, the family’s official stylist and designer, and her assistant.”

Y/N raised her hand out for her to shake, and she did so, firmly. “It’s so great to meet you, Madam.”

“Pleasure as well, love.”

She retracted her hand, looked over Y/N’s outfit and began whispering to her assistant.

“Well, to be very honest, I feel we don’t have to worry about my wardrobe as much. I know I probably don’t meet the royal standards but… I was planning on buying this really nice dress online anyway. I could show it to you and have you approve it if that would be fine.”

The Queen looked at her vacantly, her eyebrows raised and her nose pinched in the slightest. Then her expression settled and she exchanged a look with Madam Malkin before looking back at Y/N. Madam Malkin maintained an unamused expression, then began to speak.

“ I hope you know we’re not going to let you just wear a dress you bought online to the ball… We’ll tailor one for you. And your other clothes will be picked from contemporary designers ourselves.”

Y/N just looked at her silently, nodding and blinking slowly in assent.

***

An hour or so of Y/N having to change into various clothes behind a divider and then show them off to the pair of them passed quickly. It was very fun knowing she’d get a bunch of very nice clothes out of this (even custom made underwear so her clothes fit her right over them!), and she thought the royal family was really being very generous with all of this. Lots of money and clothes? There had to be some kind of catch, right? Something that would make this hard to keep up with? What was it? Just the stress of all the work that’d pile up? That didn’t seem like enough. Everything was not going the way she was anticipating. It was going a hell of a lot better. Mostly.

The actual meeting she’d been waiting for all morning was finally occurring. She was seated in a meeting room opposite the Queen and Draco and their publicist. It was weird seeing them like this. It seemed like a strange grown-up parent-teacher conference.

“So, our point is, we need to have you both make it clear to the public that there is a strong relationship between the two of you.”

The redheaded man droned on at the head of the table and Y/N looked over at Draco who glanced at her as well before both turning to look at the man.

“It’s Percy, right? I’m just a little… I’m sorry if I just don’t know my current affairs well enough for this but… why?” Y/N gulped, crossing her arms tightly after asking this question. It was quite bold of her for sure. She could only hope she wasn’t violating anything by asking this. “She’s not wrong.” Draco chimed in, ”You never had to do anything like this, mother.” The Queen smiled but shook her head. “Things just aren’t the same anymore, are they?” She looked over at Percy to continue.

“We now live in a world of social media and tabloids and none of that will work towards the image we need to create.”

Draco seemed to be satisfied with that and just looked at Y/N silently, who could only really do the same at this point. “I’m sorry, again, I… think I’m missing something here. What “image” are we trying to create?”

Percy and the Queen exchanged a long look, where she pursed her lips and shook her head somewhat disapprovingly. She then nodded and he began to speak.

“Miss Y/L/N, to be very frank, the kingdom isn’t doing amazing. In terms of international relations and funding and… most importantly, resources and trading. We’re afraid we’re losing allies and we cannot risk anything. We not only need to increase viewership and publicity of the ceremony and the ball, but we need to raise the reputation of the family and the prince in the public eye. It’s… a trend at King’s coronation balls for royals or other elite families to offer their daughters’ hands in marriage to the crown prince or king. Our prince is bent upon not getting into an arranged marriage and having to reject offers is a lot more publicly disgraceful than you might anticipate. As you might know, the country wasn’t even on speaking terms with one of its neighbours because centuries ago a crown prince rejected an offer for marriage and an alliance with them. We cannot risk having that happen when we’re in as dire straits as we are.”

Y/N could only look up at him with her mouth agape. They were serious. This was why it mattered so much to them. This was why she was being paid to do this. In case they offended an ally or just any other country. Because of the prince’s idealistic desires for romance or whatever it was. Although she couldn’t really fault him for that, his father hadn’t had to do the same and she’d heard the conditions for some of those alliances and the situations they landed themselves in the future were never that positive.

She nodded up at Percy. “I understand. I should probably read a bit more on the news and the family anyway. I tend to avoid it.” Percy barely seemed to notice her response and started to talk about strategies and actions that needed to be taken. The meeting ended with Draco and Y/N agreeing to keep up with their public profiles and maintain a good reputation on them. They were supposed to interact more publicly for the time being while Percy laid out more intricate publicity stunt plans.

As she left the room and started to walk back to her office, thinking about what work she had to do, someone tapped at her shoulder gently. She turned around to see the very same prince that had dragged her into this mess staring down at her.

“Again, I’m sorry.”

Him saying that like this made her feel guilty now.

“It’s- it’s really okay. You don’t have to say that.”

“I feel like I have to. You’re barely getting anything for doing this for us.”

“That’s- that’s not true. I’ll have my fun, won’t I?”

“Well, whatever it is, what I told you yesterday, the offer still stands. I’ll get you anything, I’ll buy you a mansion, whatever you like.”

“Not that I’d ever decline you giving me anything… you really don’t need to. Thank you for the offer, though.”

Y/N bit her lip and smiled up at him, waving him off as he made to leave, pretending like that was really the truth. She watched him as he walked to the other end of the hallway. She was going to have to keep up this lie all the way till the event. It definitely wasn’t going to be easy. She began to clench her jaw, setting a hand on the wall as everything rushed through her head.

This was exactly like Cinderella except she had no evil stepmother or fairy godmother or glass slipper or a prince charming on a quest to find her, just a lump sum, publicised PDA and more acting than she realised. And absolutely no way out of seeing the story through anymore.

a/n: there will be a hell of a lot more draco in the next chapters, stay tuned!