#might crosspost to a03 perhaps

[comfort-questing]

17. touch averse/ "leave me alone."

guess who did the Wriothesley story quest and has Feelings.

-

"Your Grace?"

His hands ached as he unclenched them from the bedcovers, his jaw tight and the taste of blood in his mouth from a bitten lip. How long he'd managed to sleep before the night terrors caught him, he didn't know; all hours were the same down here, beneath the weight of the water and above the tilted cap screwed over disaster.

Had he woken anyone? His throat was dry, from thirst only he hoped. He feared it was from screaming, though.

Again the knock, small and muffled, down the twisting stair. "Your Grace, may I come in?"

It was Sigewinne, of course. Always Sigewinne, at the rightest and the wrongest moments. With any luck, she wouldn't have a health drink with her.

Wriothesley staggered upright out of the bed, grabbing his coat to bundle around him against the ever-present chill of the Fortress. The floor was icy beneath his bare feet, and he winced, fumbling for his slippers wherever he had thrown them. By the time he managed his boots, Sigewinne might have decided to shoot the door latch.

He would turn on the light, he would put a record on, he'd find some tea and chase away the shadows. He would remind himself that he was the Duke of Meropide and not a ragged waif anymore, to need a hug and a head pat to chase away nightmares. All this he told himself, his knees shaky as he climbed down the stairs.

True to expectation it was the little Melusine outside his doorstep, as he pushed one door open a crack; her face was folded in worry, hands tucked together in front of her, the nighttime lights of the Fortress crosshatching her form.

"Your Grace, one of the guards mentioned you seemed - distressed."

"I'm all right, Sigewinne. I - need to go back to sleep, that's all."

"You were crying out." Sigewinne swayed back and forth where she stood, the frills of her jacket flaring out. "That doesn't seem all right, sir."

The cut inside his lip stung as he licked it. "Please don't trouble yourself - "

Her calculating gaze swept up and down his form, face pensive. "Are you ill? You don't seem ill, but your heartbeat is abnormally fast and I can see you're exhibiting other panic symptoms - "

No matter how slowly he tried to breathe, he couldn't seem to fool her. She knew; she had always known. But this was his battle to fight, and an old familiar one. "I said I'm fine. Go back to the infirmary, Sigewinne."

"If you want me to get someone else - one of the guards - "

Sigewinne stepped forward, trying to squeeze through the half-open door. She put out a hand to touch his, soothing and soft on the back of his scarred knuckles.

"Leave me alone!"

The words burst out of his throat before he knew he'd said them, startling back with a force that dissolved the last of his careful facade of calm. He was trembling in every limb, his knees threatening to give way underneath him. Distantly, he recognized that this was going to take more than tea and a song to fix; he hadn't had an episode like this for a long time, had thought he was past that...

Miserably, he watched as Sigewinne shut the door behind her, stopping just short of where he stood leaning against the office wall.

"I won't touch you, Your Grace, but I want you to breathe with me, all right?"

To sink down to the floor now would be too much of a match with all the rest of the memories now tearing at him - the kind of thing a scared child would do, hungry and longing for a comfort that he now loathed the very thought of. He clenched his teeth and willed himself to stay upright as he followed Sigewinne's exaggerated breaths.

Sigewinne's voice was quietly even. "I'm going to open and close my hands, can you open and close yours too?"

He could. He did.

"You don't have to be alone when these things happen," Sigewinne murmured. "Anyone can have nightmares, or be afraid. There's nothing shameful about it. It's part of being human. Your minds are as complicated as your bodies, and I don't understand all of your feelings and thoughts... but just like your bodies have scars that take time to heal, your minds are the same, and there's no more weakness about it than it's weak to take to bed when you're ill..."

He didn't remember the last time he'd let himself go to bed with an illness, either. Maybe Sigewinne needed a new metaphor. But listening to her steady voice and clenching and unclenching his fists had helped slow the racing of his heartbeat, and ease the clutch of panic around his ribs. The round-walled office had begun to seem real around him once more, all brass and gold and echos, the thrumming of the Fortress's machinery never quite beyond hearing. Slowly, Wriothesley straightened up, pushing his shoulders back.

"I think - I think I'll make myself some tea," he said, stiffly, around the lump in his throat. "Do you want some, too?"

"Of course!" said Sigewinne, her voice brightening up. "I think that would be perfect, Your Grace."

-

White tea with Bulle fruit, steeped as long as the little hourglass told, with two lumps of sugar, for him; Sigewinne wanted four, and salt as well, but there was no accounting for Melusine tastes after all. The record had almost finished its scratchy song, a hollow mimic no doubt of the musician who had once composed it. Wriothesley sighed, and found himself yawning.

He was safe. He wasn't alone anymore, or helpless. Whatever darkness awaited him in his dreams, they were dreams and nothing more, and he would survive them as he had survived everything else before.

And in the morning there would be more matters to tend to, and his Fortress to handle, and new inmates to welcome and old ones to counsel, and more contraband to search and papers to process - so he had better finish the tea soon, and get back to sleep, so that he would be ready to do his best in justice and in mercy both.

[starwardprincesswriting]

Yandere!Aoyama fic

Rating: Teen

Words: 477 

Pairing: Dekuyama (one-sided)

Tags/Warnings: One-shot, Yandere character, AU I guess

Hey sup, I love the idea of yandere Aoyama so I wrote this thing while I had a burst of inspo. I might turn this into a 5+1 thing, but I’m not really sure. Unbeta’d, so if you see any mistakes lemme know. This is also untitled for now

Takes place during that little bit where they’re seeing everyone’s rooms.

This has not been crossposted on A03 for the time being.

Cheeks ruddy and eyes currently wandering the floor, Midoriya lags behind his classmates as they make their way up to the third floor of class A's dormatory. Though Mineta raised a bit of a scene and everyone was moving on, he can't quite get over the humiliating feeling of having half his class gawk at his All Might-saturated room.

No sooner than when the sole of his faded red sneakers hit the first step, a voice higher-pitched in nature calls out to him, drawing him out of his humiliated trance.

Standing behind him is Yuuga Aoyama, the blonde kid who had "teamed" up with him during the entrance exams. Aside from having a ridiculous obsession with sparkling objects and a quirk that was somewhat attention-catching, Aoyama didn't particularly stand out. Midoriya was startled, considering they hadn't even looked at each other since the exams.

"Aoyama?" Midoriya says as he turns around, assuming that maybe his shoe is untied or he left a tag on his shirt.

Aoyama wears his standard grin, crooked right down the center, arms neatly tucked behind his back. "Isn't it great we have rooms right next to each other?" He says as he sways on the balls of his feet, never quite still.

Midoriya takes a moment to answer, words and phrases escaping his mind. Aoyama was never around, always hiding out in the classroom at lunch or disappearing during critical moments- how was he supposed to know what to say?

"I, uh," Midoriya swallows his stuttering "Yeah! I'm happy we're all here together."

"Mm-hm," come's Aoyama's quick reply, "I can hop over to your room any time I need something."

The response strikes Midoriya as odd, but he stays in the conversation. He was once an awkward boy trying to navigate the complex social network of his classroom. Perhaps Aoyama was still there and needed a friend. "You sure can. I can do the same with you and Tokoyami, too."

No words come to meet his. Aoyama has gone completely silent and almost rigid in posture. His eyes, a cold purple that resembles the emptiness of space, bore into Midoriya's, stealing all of his focus so that he can't look anywhere else. His heart is suddenly pounding, a cold sweat starting to form on his palms, and his instincts scream to run away, that something's not right. He can't move, though. He's stuck on the first step, hand practically glued to the railing all the while Aoyama never breaks his gaze, irises like a black holes sucking in everything in sight.

And then he blinks.

"Enjoy the tour, Midoriya," he says, tilting his head. The one part of his bangs that sticks out brushes over his face, moving with his body. "Have a goodnight."

Midoriya turns tail and runs up the stairs as if the world's most vile monster were chasing him.