#where's their shared past as bullied kids sticking up for each other

[luckydicekirby]

would love any director's commentary you may have on The Only True Thing if slightly older fics are on the table here bc lowkey it changed my brain chemistry forever. I read it on a whim like four years ago at 1 in the morning and ever since then I've been hooked on making all my fav pairings miserable for no reason. this sounds like sarcasm but I'm being completely sincere the schadenfreude is exquisite

okay first of all I’m SO glad to hear this because making your favs miserable is I think one of the most rewarding activities on this earth so I’m really glad I could help share that joy. thanks also to sylvain for just making it so easy. anyway, here’s some assorted thoughts, hopefully some of which are edifying!

(the only true thing for reference for anyone playing along at home.)

this fic affectionately named the darkling au due to this tweet which I feel like I should put in a hall of fame someday. anyway this entire thread showcases the origin of this fic which was me catie and lily bullying each other on twitter about sylvix, a pastime left behind in 2019 which i really miss.

the thing that really first made me Crazy Cuckoo about sylvain is his B support with Byleth--I'm obsessed with that moment where he very coldly threatens to kill you and then laughs it off, and that was pretty much the jumping off point for Sylvain's characterization in this au--what if he was like that all the time? answer: it would be bad, but also pretty sexy!

One thing I miss about writing for fe3h is the hero’s relics were sooo nice as like. shortcut symbolism. the lance of ruin comes preloaded for you! It’s familial cycles of violence! Easy! and there's a mechanic for it breaking ALSO preloaded into the game mechanics! I wrote like three versions of the ending and the lance getting busted moved around a bit--it originally happened a little earlier.

For a while when I was still femblempilled I was idly thinking about two sequels to this—a sylvain pov sequel about the war, which would have been fun but also Yikes, and then epistolary dorothea/ingrid ideological divorce fic. sorry to dorothea and ingrid who really get the short end of the stick in this universe.

oh there's a playlist. I can’t claim to have put a ton of thought into it it’s just all my fav bad ya boyfriend songs <3 actually dead girl walking reprise is like. yeah that's the fic.

ANYWAY. I feel like a lot of my commentary on this has been washed away by the sea (the passage of time) so a few extras. I apparently wrote like 400 words of sylvain POV of the training yard scene also? Last edited September 26th 2019, here you go:

Felix has always been smaller him, ever since they were kids. Still is these days, to Sylvain’s delight. He wondered about it plenty, these past two years--maybe Felix had a growth spurt. Maybe he caught up to Dimitri. Maybe Sylvain would meet him at the monastery and they’d see eye to eye. Of course they don’t. Felix is a head shorter than him, and he’ll never see things the way Sylvain does. Still. Sylvain thought about it. He’s had a lot of time to think about Felix since the last time he saw him, since Felix ran away. Still a crybaby at heart, no matter how sure he was he’d grown out of it. Not much has changed, Sylvain figures. Felix might have everyone else fooled with that delightfully sharp-edged exterior of his--a pretty decent feint, Sylvian should know--but Felix can’t hide from him. Sylvain sees him down to the bone. The two of them are a matched set: liars at heart.  Like right now. Felix is trying so hard not to cry, his back to the wall of the training yard, his grip tight around the wood of his training sword like he’s actually going to use it. Sylvain hopes he will. He hasn’t gotten to see Felix fight yet, really fight. He bets he’s gotten better. He bets he’s elegant and controlled—maybe less so with Sylvain, and wouldn’t that be nice? That’s how it goes sometimes, when Sylvain dreams about their last day together. Felix’s sword at his throat, biting and cold, ending all this before it began. It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble. Sylvain wouldn’t have had to spend such an awfully long time missing him.  He bets Felix could make him hurt. Nothing seems to do that anymore, except for thoughts of Felix, the ones he can never stop worrying at like a bruise.  Sylvain doesn’t want much these days, and maybe that’s why it’s so hard: he wants Felix in a way that aches, delirious and unstoppable. It doesn’t matter so much how. Felix is welcome to cut him open or kiss him quiet or anything in between. As long as he never stops looking at Sylvain like he is now, hateful and just on the edge of tears, so clearly focused on nothing else. As long as Sylvain can have that, the rest doesn’t matter.  That’s love, Sylvain figures; the cheerful facade he gives the girls is nothing. He forgets about a new one every week. But Felix? He’ll be dead someday, and Felix will still have a grip on his heart, as tight as he’s holding his sword and just as dangerous.

and what exists of the sylvain POV sequel I never wrote:

Felix looks like shit. Of course he’s also beautiful. He’s radiant, for all that his hair’s a mess and his face is drawn and he’s got the kind of dark circles that only come from weeks and weeks of exhaustion. He’s Felix, right? He can’t be anything else. “You look like shit,” Sylvain tells him, because honesty is what Felix thinks he wants from him. He hasn’t seen Felix in six moons, but that probably hasn’t changed. “What are you doing here?” Felix asks. His horse stamps her feet and shakes her head, moving uneasily under him. Felix has never been a good rider. It’s clear he doesn’t appreciate his mare, and she doesn’t appreciate him. Sylvain wonders how long Felix has been making his way across Faerghus like this. He wonders if he stole the horse. It’s awful not to know. “Looking for you,” Sylvain says. “They say you’re searching for the king.” Felix never could stop himself from chasing ghosts. Sylvain hates that about him. It’s just as unfair as everything else: it’s the only reason Sylvain is still here, after all.  “I am. And you should be defending Gautier territory.” “Got a message from your father,” Sylvain lies. He slides off his horse, patting her flank. Felix, clumsily, does the same. “He wants you to come home.” That part’s probably true.  Felix scoffs. “My old man can send all the messages he wants. I’m going to find the boar.” He means it. Sylvain can see that he means it, in the flinty look in his eyes, the fold of his arms, the jut of his chin as he looks up at Sylvain. It’s the saddest thing Sylvain’s ever seen, and he’s seen a lot of shit. “Felix,” he says. He reaches out. He can never help it, not when Felix is like this, not when he believes. Felix doesn’t flinch from Sylvain’s hand on his cheek anymore. “Sweetheart. You know he’s dead.” “Don’t call me that,” Felix says. But when he swings himself back in the saddle and Sylvain does the same, he doesn’t tell Sylvain not to follow. That’s more than good enough. 

[bixels]

I'm obsessed with your rarijack post. I would love to hear your thoughts on flutterdash. That one was always my favorite but rainbow was often a victim of the new writers not understanding her and writing her weirdly

SHE SOLD HER INTO SLAVERY!

[waywardsunlight]

Short Story- St. Peter’s Wings

Since I was asked to share this, I will. :) For my horror fans.

There is a graveyard I pass by on the walk to school every day. It’s a small one, on the roadside, connected to a rickety old church that looks like it’ll cave in on a moment's notice, old rotting beams sticking out as if they were reaching out to Heaven in a plea to be laid to rest. When I go there to hide, I skip past the mossy stones and find myself at the center where Saint Peter stands, with gray empty eyes and ringlets of hair tossed around as if he were flying with his magnificent wings, an artistic choice I guess. I sit there, on his feet, and write my little stories in my secret journal. His hand is outstretched and I reach for it often and hold it as if he were my friend. He was my only friend. I didn’t connect to the other kids at school and often they bullied me, pulled my hair and poked my skin. It felt like, at school, I didn’t own my body. It was everybody’s body to use as they pleased, to push me and pull me like a little doll and watch me cry for my mom. But Peter didn’t hurt me. 

I know my saints very well. I’m a good Christian. I got into this expensive Catholic elementary school because I was gifted, they said. Gifted means to me that I had no friends to play with so I found myself in books rather than having any talent or God-given miracle, although I wish I did. I wish God had given me the miracle of sitting still and keeping quiet, of being able to make friends or be loved. Because I didn’t feel loved. Except by Peter. I got up, and brushed my little plaid skirt off, looking up at him with weary eyes, knowing what horrors would await me at school. But then I looked at the church. And I made a choice. 

Maybe I shouldn’t have done it. I felt the floorboards creak under each step, the shadowy remains of what once was a place of worship. Dust floated upwards around me, a stray shaft of light falling on the dilapidated image of Christ on the wall, a spear in his side. I touched my own side gingerly, my eyes wide, my mouth parted in a scream as I fell through the floor into the darkness below. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I hear the distant sound of bells, calling me. There’s a moment in the darkness where I remember that this has happened before, that it will happen again. I always make the same choice, I always find myself here, in the space between life and death, and with the words bubbling to the surface, my thoughts and feelings that I had buried instead, trying to burst out in a final gasp in the hope anyone could hear me, that I had mattered. I feel the rush of wings, or maybe the cool breeze. The leaves float downward around me, the smell of a crisp autumn day and the potential it brings. Maybe this time I’ll make a different choice. Maybe this time I’ll be brave. I open my eyes and I am once again standing on the sidewalk in front of the rusted fence to the graveyard, the church standing in its dark hues, beams reaching toward the sky. As if I had done it a million times, I opened the iron gate and walked inside, past the headstones and the fallen leaves, to rest under Saint Peter’s wings.

[birdsareblooming]

Could you tell me some fun facts about sonic if you want? I only have passing knowledge of some things but it seems to have a lot of fun stuff.

Sonic is Santa Claus

Tails has a body count (of at LEAST one maybe more)

Knuckles was microwaved as an infant (archie canon that no one uses) this caused his parents' divorce

just read a wikipedia page on Sonic Underground it's so funny. none of it is canon

Eggman and Sonic seem to canonically share a birthday (June 23rd)

Sonic had an adopted robot son in one game that appears to be fully canon just not as well known. he showed up in Sonic X but with a very different story either because of time or they didn't know what it was yet because of release dates. anyway there is a specific reason Sonic's robot son isnt used anymore so watch Sonic Battle to find out its great and in my top two games

Shadow the hedgehog has two dads

Sonic has befriended 2 deities and beat the shit out of 4 (if you want to use the split ones instead of their full forms he's befriended 2 and beat the shit out of 5)

Chaos is an interesting case, apparently somewhere it says he's a mutated chao however I have yet to see the sourse and if it's trustworthy, but he referred to as a deity in Sonic Adventure.

Tails has a dead girlfriend (and her infant child)

Despite SEGA not talking about their exact ages a lot, there are very few important characters whose ages are completely unknown. The two biggest characters this includes is Dr. Eggman, Cream's mom and Sticks

Ian Flynn has confirmed that Tangle and Whisper are dating

Amy can summon her hammer out of no where, other mobians have had a similar ability as well with different things

There is never a Sonic Says that says not to do drugs. There is one about not taking other people's medication, not smoking cigarettes or drinking alcohol, but nothing about drugs.

Across canons Sonic has had 6 mothers (including adoptive/figure ones) and 5 fathers (including adoptive/figure ones) the amounts do not overlap as much as you would think, Sonic only had both a mother and father so far in 4 canons, one of those canons his father being dead, and then getting a father figure. one of the canons has two adoptive/figurative mothers. In multiple canons he's had an uncle (Uncle Chuck) as well or instead.

In almost every canon Tails has had a past of being bullied, whether it be for his physical mutation or his smarts. We barely have ever seen it happen, however, the one time i can think of is the flashback to Sonic and Tails meeting in Sonic X, when two kids physically hold him back while they break an invention of his. It is implied that his bullied past contributed to his self-worth issues.

Rouge has mentioned having a mother twice: "Oh, great. Mama always told me that one day I'd get stuck in an alien dimension without a change of clothes."&"Mama told me there'd be days like this."

The only character in the main group with a confirmed alive parental figure is Cream, who has Vanilla (her biological mother). It is implied Vector is in a paternal relationship with Charmy and Espio but nothing is confirmed. As mentioned before Rouge mentions a mother but her living status is unknown. Specifically in Sonic SATAM Tails mentions once having a mother that is no longer around, she is never mentioned again or in any other canon.

Archie Sonic gave lots of Sonic characters biological parents, but due to copyright they have never shown up again, and because of how the stories generally are they haven't attempted anything similar since.

The only characters with confirmed dead parents/parental figures is Knuckles and Shadow

In at least two canons Sonic raised Tails from infancy, and it's implied they've known each other long enough in modern canon for Sonic to raise him. "Well, he was practically raised by Sonic, and he's not known for his patience..."

Rouge had a female partner in Sonic X and they were heavily hinted to be romantically involved. Rouge's first words to her upon being arrested is a bdsm joke, and later Topaz gives her a bejeweled ring asking her to promise not to leave. They are seen hanging out just the two of them outside of work, specifically once when they were eating together. When Rouge goes back to her dimension she gives Topaz a giant gaudy jeweled necklace, and after she left Topaz fell down sobbing.

Tails has had the most age variation when it comes to canons. Modern settled on 8 eventually. In Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog he starts at 4 1\2, the show takes place over 2 years as we see 2 of Sonic's birthdays, so he ends the show at 6-6 1/2. Sonic Satam (which ran at the same time) had Tails as 10.

Multiple Sonic characters are coded as specific races. This includes but is not limited to Knuckles and his tribe who are coded as Jamaican and South-American, Vector is is black-coded, and Espio and Whisper being Japanese-coded. Sonic in 2 canons has had Egyptian or Egyptian-adjacent ancestry, both of these canons while he was voiced by a black man.

The oldest character in the Sonic friend group with a confirmed age is Vector at 20, however Vanilla is of the characters whose ages are unknown and she has a 6-year-old child. The youngest i would put her at is 22, She is probably closer to 24.

The youngest in the group being Charmy and Cream at 6

It's hinted at that Shadow was based on carvings and art of Super Sonic seen in echidna and non-specific ruins. This is hinted at by a copy of the Master Emerald shrine in the ARK, as well has Shadow himself having a recolored model of the original Super Sonic from Sonic Adventure.

Blaze is from a mirror dimension, having their own emeralds, (Sol Emeralds) their own Sonic, (Blaze) Their own Eggman, (Eggman Nega) and their own Tails. (Marine) Specific locations seen in Sonic Rush Adventure are similar to locations in past Sonic games from his dimention.

Eggman Nega is one of the modern characters with conflicting canons, being either from Blaze's dimension or from the future. The other character is Silver.

For Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog, Robotnik was voiced by Long John Baldry, who had been out as gay for 20 years before the show. Silver's theme song (Dreams of an Absolution) was also written by a gay man who admitted to writing the song about a recent breakup.

Blaze is a princess of an empire meaning when she's old enough she'll be an Empress. The status of her parents are unknown however Sonic Rush Adventure states that she has a family line that protected artifacts, as well as everyone (except Marine) recognizing her as the princess. It is also heavily hinted at in Sonic Rush that she had a rough childhood, and one where she was not around other children and had to learn to control her flame ability.

There's a reoccurring theme of Sonic's opposers being red. Most notably Eggman, then Knuckles, then Shadow, and most recently Infinite. Even if the enemies become friends or allies they remain red. Despite this, the opposite of blue is actually orange, which Tails is.

Tails being yellow or orange has been a debate. Orange is a color that easily changes in lighting so in most circumstances it's hard to tell. In some canons and lighting he's very orange while in others he's very yellow. The wiki lists his fur as "Amber"

Sonic takes a super-esk form in Sonic and the Secret Rings called Darkspine Sonic, the design and name are very similar to Dark Sonic from Sonic X, who only ever appeared in one scene but is still a fan favorite super form. The coloring of Sonic the Werehog is also similar to Dark Sonic.

Knuckles has been hinted to be gay, specifically for Sonic, in multiple canons, this mainly appears in Sonic X.

Sonic killed the time god in 2006, and it is heavily hinted at that he's the only one who remembers this.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Hey uhm I saw that ur request box is open if not feel free to ignore hehe but I wanna request a Sanzu x fem!reader where they're making out and he has a pill in his mouth and they you know uhm share it maybe hehe

Look I'm a Sanzu simp so naturally my tastes in fanfiction clearly ain't vanilla😂😂😂

I've actually been thinking about this since you sent it, and I've decided this is how I want to swing it.

Remember my little ducklings: I DO NOT ENDORSE HARMFUL AND ADDICTIVE DRUG USAGE IRL! This includes many illegal substances EXCEPT for marijuana (crucify me). If you want my full speech on drugs and my stances on specific drugs, feel free to inbox me!

I'm up at 1AM, so let's do this.

No Warning: Sanzu Haruchiyo x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.7k

tw: drug usage, NSFW

masterlist

song recommendation:

You first ran into your kid brother's former bully in an aquarium.

Your eyes were focused on the blue tang behind the glass, swimming to and fro, when you spotted the familiar baby blue eyes of a certain Sanzu Haruchiyo on the other side. You both tilt your head to the side at the same time, mimicking each other before you finally straighten up and he smiles at you behind his mask.

"Goody two-shoes." He sticks his hands in his pockets and walks around the tank to let his eyes roam over your body, obviously devouring your visage. "Wow, you look... different."

"Loyal mad dog," you retort, crossing your arms over your chest. "Fancy seeing you anywhere that doesn't involve beating the shit out of someone."

"Damn, what are you doing with all of that ass?" Sanzu asks, serious concern clouding his baby blues. "Last I checked, you were flat as hell."

"What are you doing sober?"

"It's only twelve in the afternoon," Sanzu shrugs. You give him a look and then turn around to keep walking away from him. "How's your little brother doing, y/n?"

"Great," you reply half-heartedly. "He's great."

"Still pissing his pants when he gets into fights?" You sigh, rubbing your forehead as people walk past you, eyes sliding from you to Sanzu before hurrying along. "Oh, sorry. Wasn't supposed to say that out loud, huh?"

"What do you want, Sanzu?" you hiss, turning to face him. "You don't just appear out of nowhere for fun." Sanzu raises a brow, but you roll your eyes. "I know what you're getting into these days."

"Fair enough," Sanzu walks toward you with his hands behind his back as if he were a shy little boy asking a girl to dance with him. "I need your help."

"With?"

"I know what you're into these days," he murmurs, leaning close to you. "Goody two-shoes turned into a blackhat overnight, huh?" You angle your head at him, and he removes his mask, showing his scars. "Tell me I'm lying and I'll leave you alone."

"What do you want help with?" Sanzu's eyes travel from yours to the top of your dress, then back up to your eyes.

"First, I have to take you to meet a few of my friends. Then, I'll tell you."

_____________________________________________________________

The restaurant is completely empty when you arrive, dressed in all black from head to toe. A man in a suit waves you past the glass doors and points you straight back to a set of wooden doors that are opened at the back of the establishment, revealing a few men standing at an elegant table. When you walk past the doors, five pairs of eyes flick over to you, and Sanzu holds his arms out.

"Y/n! You made it." You look around the room and determine you don't trust a single soul in the room, even Sanzu, and especially not the man who's sitting at the head of the table with dark bags under his eyes. Sanzu sidles up to you, cradling your waist as he points everyone out.

"There's Mikey, the Head of Bonten; Rindou and Ran Haitani, and Koko." You don't bother waving your hand and instead sit in the seat offered to you. Sanzu pushes you in and rests his hands on your shoulders, rubbing them carefully. "Tell them what you did last month." You look up at Sanzu and raise a brow, but he encourages you with a smile.

"I hijacked an entire nuclear plant's system and performed a ransomware attack with my team." There's no response from anyone, and Sanzu groans, removing his hands from your shoulders.

"I brought her here because she could help with a new stream of income." Ran clears his throat, then inhales deeply.

"Ms. Y/n, tell me, how much does it cost to employ your services?"

"Depends on what you want to get into."

"Could we get into a police department's systems? And if so, how fast?"

"Those are basic systems that don't require too much manpower. It would take my team about five hours to create and set the ransomware, but once it's done, it's done." Your answer seems to intrigue the brothers, but Koko and Mikey are still silent.

"How about I give you all the night to think about it?" Sanzu wonders, which earns a few shrugs around the table. "I'll walk you out, y/n."

As you walk out with Sanzu, he grumbles to himself, hands in his pockets.

"That was a bust." Sanzu ruffles his hair. "Thought it would get some heads turning at least."

"They don't understand it yet," you murmur, patting Sanzu on the back. "But they will soon."

"I hate that I wasted your time," he continues. "Can I least take you out for a ride?" You think about going out for a drive with your brother's former bully, but when you compare it to the shit you've already done, you cave.

"Why not?"

_____________________________________________________________

"Holy fucking shit!"

You're standing on the armrest with half of your body out of the sunroof of Sanzu's car, hair whipping around your face as he drives down an abandoned road. You feel like you're ten again, sticking your hands out of the window in your mother's car. But this time there's no seatbelt, no one to stop you, no one to prevent you from doing what you want.

You slip back down into the passenger seat, exhaling and turning to Sanzu, your eyes swimming. "I should do this more often."

"There's a lot of shit you should do more often," he advises, and you lean back into your seat, squinting.

"Like what?"

"Ever tried Molly?" Your smile fades instantly, and you shift around a little, pressing your lips together.

"No, never really got into the party scene. Too busy at the computer."

"Come on," Sanzu mutters as he pulls over to the side of the road. "Pure MDMA, no additives. Got one for you and one for me. Indulge me, goody-two-shoes." You watch him pull out a tablet from his pocket and put it in his mouth, then lean over to you. For a moment, you consider saying "no" as this really didn't fit your "image", but when his lips meet yours, you surrender to your darkest desires.

You kiss him back eagerly, biting his lower lip and pulling at it slightly before his tongue swipes out to meet yours. And you feel the tablet pass your lips and slide down your throat as he pulls away. He takes another tablet and swallows it this time, turning back to you before kissing you feverishly and pulling you on top of him.

"What if we get caught here?" you breathe between kisses.

"What if we don't?"

"Take me to your place."

"What, don't like car sex?" Sanzu asks, and you shake your head. "Fine. I don't live too far from here and we've got about twenty minutes before this shit kicks in."

It's a wonder you don't crash with how fast Sanzu gets you to his humble home nestled between two mansions on a private drive. As soon as you get inside, you start to feel warm, and a shudder works its way down your spine. You cling to Sanzu as he walks you up the staircase, your cheeks flushing a little as you whisper,

"God, I want you to fuck me so bad." Sanzu just laughs at your comment and lures you into a room, turning the lights down low before pulling you to the bed. You quickly undress, helping him once you're done wiggling out of your outfit. "Kiss me."

"'Atta girl," Sanzu mumbles, gripping the flesh of your ass cheeks as he leans down to lock lips with you. His fingers feel around your core, sinking into you once you spread your legs wide. "Soaking wet." You moan and clench around his fingers, jerking your hips up when he taps your g-spot. The squelching sounds your pussy makes as Sanzu's fingers work diligently at their task is enough to make the nastiest side of you blush, but you don't really care at the end of the day. All you want is for Sanzu to be deeper than deep inside of you.

But your orgasm comes early - and unexpectedly - a river of wetness exploding around his fingers as you groan and shiver underneath him. "Oh, shit," Sanzu mumbles, hand covered in your slick. "No warning, huh?" He doesn't wait for a response, instead pressing his cockhead at your entrance as you're still shaking. Your slick serves as the perfect lube for him to pump into you, working his cock inside of you slowly before going as deep as he can.

"Sanzu!" You clasp at his back and dig your nails into his skin, drawing a hiss out of him. "Sanzu, please..."

"Shhh..." He muffles your grunts of pleasure with his lips, sliding in and out of you rapidly. The smacking sounds of your flesh against his fill the room, along with your muffled panting and Sanzu's wet kisses. When he finally lifts his mouth off of yours, he leans down to whisper in your ear. "You like that, hm? Like feeling that big dick inside of you?"

"Oh my god," you whine, shuddering.

"Come on, don't be shy. Let me hear you, goody-two-shoes."

"Feels... good..." you pant, but Sanzu just shakes his head.

"Tell me how much you like this dick." The command is met with a few pants and grunts, but nothing of substance. "Ah, you're too fucked-out to even speak, huh?" You know you look wanton beneath Sanzu, legs spread, hair a mess on the sheets behind you, eyes half-rolled into the back of your head.

And you can't help it.

Shit, he makes you feel so fucking good.

"That's a good girl," Sanzu whispers into your ear and you come undone right then and there.

"Fuck!" Your walls rock against his cock rhythmically, and you have the pleasure of watching Sanzu's eyes close as he leans his head back and lets out a loud groan. His dick twitches inside of you more times than you care to count, but once he's done, he has to hold himself up to keep from collapsing on top of you. Sanzu rocks into you a few more times, then breathes out deeply, pulling out of you and stumbling back. You lay on the bed as he kneels down, face level with your spasming cunt.

"Push all that cum out for me," he murmurs, and you push, feeling most of it slide out of you before Sanzu stands again and parts your legs, rubbing your clit. "Good... Ready for round two?"

[deluluass]

Red, like blood. Blue, like love.

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; bullying; soulmates au

Prompt: 88 & 183

There’s someone for everyone, you’d learned growing up.

 "Remember, blue means happy," your mother would say. "The happiest you'll ever be.”

She liked reminding you about this fact— for it is an indisputable truth, every so often when she could still carry you. You’d be hugged from the back, as she recounted stories of first meetings, serendipitous and life changing in their nature; belonging to those who’ve lived long before you, sometimes even those who’ve only lived in tales.

Mostly, your mother loved telling those involving the people she knew. And if you’ve behaved properly, she would tell you about hers. 

Tracing your palm, starting from the forked lines to the dashed ones on your fingers, she’d say, “These would start to glow like stars.”

“That’s weird!” you’d burst out, shrieking a laughter as she tickled you. 

“Listen carefully,” she chastised. “Blue is for your soulmate, okay?”

And you’d repeat: Blue is for my soulmate.

“Then, mama,” you tugged at her sleeves, “What if it’s really, really bright red! Like! Bloody glow sticks! Say, mama, you see, everyone at the park was talking about the man who died because he touched someone and his hand became bright re— ”

You never brought that up again. What your mother said about it had been enough to never make you forget.

“Tell me if you get red,” she said firmly, clutching your arms as if she feared someone would snatch you away from her. “Red is bad, my heart. Red means run.”

 It hadn’t nearly been as gruesome as your mother made it out to be. 

Case in point, when you turned twelve the couple three houses down your street found out, shortly after their honeymoon, that their palms gleamed a fierce red once they clasped each other’s hands in front of the neighborhood aunties.  

Their marriage ended with a swift and ordinary divorce, a year or so later.

Red: Not just an ominous warning for homicide, then. That was a relief, you’d thought.

Contrary to how your mother framed it, you were thankful, actually. It helped some of your friends escape from potentially hellish relationships. How lucky is it that you lived in a reality where the universe seemed exceedingly benevolent. Though, you sometimes have to question if that generosity extended to everyone.

Fat lot of good it did for you. 

Because, from where you’re standing, it doesn’t have to take some arbitrary and unsolvable scientific mystery to heed that Oikawa Tooru must be avoided like the plague.

Any person in your shoes would be conditioned to do exactly that. 

You’d first met in Elementary. You thought he was the prettiest kid you’d ever seen, with chestnut curls and doe eyes and lashes that swept past his cheeks, and when you’d asked for a hand shake he’d called you “the ugliest girl I’ve ever seen” and “fart face.” 

Recess and lunch were when he’s most fearsome. Spiky burdocks slapped on the collar of your dress; dead lizards in your food; the boy was determined. The worst part was that it always happened when no one was looking. And if someone were, it was his best friend. So when you finally told on him to your mom, both your teacher and the principal simply judged Oikawa as the victim of an attention deprived child.

“Please discipline your daughter,” they told her. “We are all aware of your situation at home, but do ensure that she’s not getting out of control.”

You couldn’t even muster up the strength to defend yourself. In that moment all you could do was swear that you’d never allow anyone to talk to your mother in that way again. 

You moved out of that school. 

You didn’t wait for your palms to flash a warning signal because, somehow, you knew that boys who discover early that they could get away with anything cannot get any better. 

There’d been no way to be sure of that until Aoba Johsai— after a peaceful interim of no Oikawa; no red palm lines (and no blue ones, either).

The proof hit you in the face. Literally. 

“Oi, Shittykawa!”

Heat permeated from your nostrils as you patted your cheek, detached and staring back at the large gymnasium. 

“You hit someone!”

How unlucky did a person have to be to bleed right on the first day of classes? 

You tried to lean forward. “It’s okay,” you slurred nasally, pinching your nose and averting your embarrassed gaze from the boy kneeling next to you.

“Trashykawa! You better hurry and apologize!”

“Don’t be mad, Iwa-chan,” that disgustingly saccharine voice came from behind you, making you flinch, as if the years you’d spent apart had done nothing to purge it out of your system.

In all honesty, you hadn’t really cared for whoever was responsible for the ball that careened all the way to where you were standing, so sure that it had to be an accident. No one in their right mind would want to injure someone they barely knew, especially if said someone is a couple of feet away from you. 

Morally and athletically, it should’ve been improbable. But then you saw who did it and everything made perfect sense.

Iwa-chan. The boy beside you. Iwaizumi Hajime.

If he’s here, then— 

“You,” he whispered. 

“Eh?! Gosh, I’m so sorry!” Oikawa Tooru gasped. “You’re bleeding.”

Time is cruel. It wears down on you, tears you and molds you into something you can’t even recognize, if it decides to. (Fate, more so). You didn’t know if you wanted to cry or laugh, looking at him. If the universe were so benevolent, then perhaps Oikawa Tooru had received all of its favor.

He was beautiful. You’d known this before, but with all the baby fat replaced with sharp yet slender angles, figure lean and imposing even when he’d lowered himself to meet your eyes, Oikawa didn’t seem real.

“I did hit someone, didn’t I?” he pouted, wiping the dried blood atop your lip. “And such a pretty girl, too.”

That volleyball existed should’ve made life better for you. It didn’t. If anything, it seemed that out of the court, when he’s not taking names and being praised like a god, you were his little pastime. Something fun to take his mind off whatever it is he thinks about it. 

The mocking comments, you could handle; every time you’d recite and he’ll interject with something playful and then the entire class would laugh (because he’s Oikawa) and your professor would reprimand him but you could always tell that they, too, are holding in a giggle. 

Those were easy to bear, because although his insults hit way too close to home, it’s just— it’s just so petty.

Really, it’s the aftermath that does the damage.

“They’re like Christmas lights under your skin!” 

This topic pops up every month or so. Most people your age can be lucky enough to meet their soulmate this early. 

“And it’s the most awesome feeling in the world,” your classmate sighed. “When we touched hands? Man. We just- we glowed.”

Then, the others would poke fun, faking a gagged expression, but they’d always ask afterwards, “What happened next?” And everytime, you’d watch from the sidelines. Like an uninvited audience. 

You tried being a part of it once, wanting to share about the time your close friend met her soulmate. But all you’d gotten were side eyes and titters, as if they were laughing about a joke only you didn’t know about. 

“They’re so mean to you.” 

You groaned.

Oikawa was seated behind you, resting his head against his elbow. Everyone was too busy talking about blue lights and destined souls to notice what’s happening at the back of the room. 

He continued, “Not including you in conversations, treating you like an outsider.”

You didn’t bite, focusing on the opened book in front of you.

“Must be lonely, having no one.”

“Oikawa,” you muttered under your breath. “I don’t have the energy for this.”

The silence that came after that was unexpected. You were sure it would be short lived; he’s just gearing up for more. He usually went at it until you’d have no choice but to physically remove yourself from his presence. You’d thought once that that may be why he does this so much. Maybe he still thought you were the “ugliest girl” he’s ever met and he wants you out of his sight. Because Oikawa’s infantile like that.

But the silence stayed, accompanied by the background noise of eager conversations; lingering some more as white, fluffy clouds passed by the glass windows. 

When he broke it, all Oikawa said was, “Soulmates, huh.”

You felt a finger touch your back, drawing the barest of lines over your uniform. He removed them just before you could stand up and leave. 

You disliked those moments with him. 

You disliked him especially when he played. 

Oikawa’s a monster, be it in volleyball or with you. There are times, though, that you’d notice some things that you think you’re not meant to see. Like after a serve— its impact booming throughout the court, he’d have this puzzling expression on his face. 

It looked like....anger. 

He scored a point, right? Everyone’s cheering for him, aren’t they? Wait, didn’t they win?

You thought maybe it’s the adrenaline making him nastier than usual, but sometimes you’d pass by the gym when he happens to be alone. And that anger is still there, punctuated by the sound of the ball exploding against the floor. Jump. Hit. Spike. Jump. Hit. Spike. He’d do it, again and again and again. 

As if he’s trying to grasp something even he cannot reach. 

Those instances should’ve taught you that the best thing to do is look away. 

That’s what you should’ve done. Look away.

They lost the Interhigh tournament.

You knew this not because you’d watched, but because for one day, Oikawa Tooru wasn’t your bully. 

The derision was replaced by sulking. He didn’t speak for the entire period. The funniest thing about it was that everyone kept staring at you. Like somehow you’d been the cause of this, when all of them were lamenting the loss just as much as the team itself. 

 What was supposed to be a reason for celebration suddenly became a crime that you had to explain for.

 “Great,” you grumbled to yourself. “One time I don’t have a target on my back, now I’m the bad guy.”

Trash bag in hand, the scraps inside rattled against each other as you stomped to the recycling bin, both sleeves of your P.E jacket folded up to the elbows. You affected a tone, choosing to mock the grating way some of classmates talked:

“Oh, hey, if it’s not too much,” you began. “Can you please be his punching bag again? If you will, can you relieve our superstar’s burdens? By, I don’t know, alluring him into walking all over you? Like the good old days! Please, oh please? We rely on you, oh Great Punching Bag! We Beseech thee, oh Esteemed Doormat! We compel— dude, what the fuck?!”

Crumpled papers and steel and tin cans rolled to the ground. You didn’t pick them up, like you should’ve; you left it there, trash bag lying open, and grabbed the ball that whisked mere inches from your face. 

This time you’re not making the same mistake. The asshole is more than capable of suspending what little morals he has, just to hurt someone he barely knew. As well as athletically adept (an understatement, that) at hitting a walking target; or not hitting it, in this case.  

You stormed the almost empty gym. Oikawa is a ray of sunshine, greeting you with that smile. It makes you want to punch him.

“What is wrong with you?” you spat. 

He chuckled. “Whoops. Sorry!” 

“I’m not having this-” you shoved the ball to his stomach. He didn’t even blink. “This isn’t gonna slide anymore, Oikawa.”

Wide grin still in place, he took it from your hands with his much larger ones and said, “Wow, you’re actually mad this time. ”  

Then, he added, “I didn’t mean it! Honest!” 

Must be nice, you thought with a scowl, to be him. Anyone can be sincere if they look anything like Oikawa. 

“Sure. Fine. No, actually,” you glowered. “You know what?” 

“Hm?” He tilted his head. Oikawa tilted his pretty little head.

You seethed. “I get it. You lost. That doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me. I mean, what did I ever do to you, Oikawa? I have-” you exhaled, surprised by the break in your voice. 

“I haven’t done anything to you. We stopped being kids a long time ago. That shit you pull should’ve ended by now. We’ve grown.” You jabbed his chest. “But I see that maybe not all of us have.”

His pleased expression hadn’t dropped. “Ouch,” Oikawa grimaced, glancing amusedly at the place you’d touched. “How mean.”

This isn’t going anywhere. 

You don’t know why it took you this long to realize this, as you shifted your gaze away from him, noticing the gashes on the floor that tear the surface like scars that never healed. That must’ve been because of him, with the amount of practice he does. 

“It won’t be enough, won’t it, Oikawa?” you whispered. “Not for you.”

The smile that’s been there since you arrived tensed, straining at the corners of his lips. 

“Yeah, I’ve been told,” he beamed. 

He was bathing in his own sweat, seeping through his shirt and matting his hair to his face, and he looks— Oikawa looked tired. His eyes were sunken in, too. Did he even sleep?

You’re so used to seeing him not a hair out of place, with a sweet scent that you amusedly thought lures his gaggle of admirers into following him everywhere. It takes you aback, honestly. Particularly the wobble in his step as he bent and squeezed his knee with shaky fingers.

You don’t think he’s aware he’s doing it in front of you.

Then, just like that, everything seemed to have added up.  

“You’ll never be happy,” you said.

You should’ve stopped there. You should’ve left. Instead, you looked him in those brown eyes, the warm hue becoming a lot colder as he moved closer. 

Oikawa sneered. “And what do you know, huh?” 

(Go. Leave.)

“Nothing,” you told him. “I don’t- I don’t know. Because, I don’t get it.”

(Shut up. Shut up.)

“Why you try any harder, I don’t know. Win or lose, it’s all the same. You’re still the same. You’re still awful and annoying and- and still you.” You laughed, unsure why you’re running your mouth like this. 

“Win or lose. Oikawa is still Oikawa,” you breathed in. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

His teammates must’ve gone somewhere. For lunch, maybe, you thought as you eyed the abandoned bottles and used towels scattered around the court. “Besides,” you huffed, not without a twinge of envy. “They’ll all still love you, either way.” 

Everything went still for a while, and you’d just realized what you’d just said.

“What about you?” 

You looked back at him.

“What?”

He tipped his chin. You stepped backwards. 

He brushed your wrist.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, but he only smiled and wrapped his entire hand around it. 

Oikawa had been your first bully. Before you could even comprehend what that meant, Oikawa had been the source of your mother’s worries whenever she parted with you at the school gates. It is funny, thinking about it, for letting this boy affect you despite making an effort to stay away the first time. 

But it is only now— now that he has a firm hold on you, gentle yet smothering— that you truly feared Oikawa Tooru. 

It rattled your breath, squeezing your heart and refusing air to pass through your lungs, as you felt a shock zap through you. And apparently through him as well.

You broke away from each out with a cry.

Your hand was burning. That’s the only explanation for it. Your hand was burning and any moment now smoke will diffuse from the pores. 

You waited. Any moment now. But the more you stared at it the more tiny spots of flames sparked under your skin, bursting along the palm lines— first, the forked ones; then, the dashed lines— glaring back at you, glowing brighter, blotting and spreading until they mapped your palms then your entire hands like constellations. 

“Red is bad, my heart,” your mother said. “Red means run.”

“I knew it,” you scoffed, shaking your head. 

Well, it’s not as if this is news to you. 

“What about that, Oikawa?” You put both your radiating hands in the air. “The universe is telling us, you and I? We just don’t—”

Why are you crying?

Why is Oikawa crying? 

“I knew it,” he croaked.

Your mother made the red light sound so horrifying for a reason. 

There has to be a reason, too, why the universe is warning you so late into your life. You’d actually ran before. And when you thought it a waste of money, you chose to stay and not fight back; thinking that his punches have become less severe, degraded into verbal taunts that induce social exclusion at most; that, certainly, red doesn’t forbode something as bad as murder, right?

Well, what now? You were wrong, after all. This time you have a feeling that you actually need to hide. 

Because Oikawa’s looking at you like you’re the last two people left in this Earth. 

Just you and him. Without any need for anybody else. 

You didn’t breathe, attempting to bolt despite the overwhelming need to throw up right where you're standing. He stepped closer, faster than you’d liked, and touched your face, caressing your cheek up to your aching temple.

“You should really stop trying to run away,” he said, voice low as if he’s sharing a secret. “I’ll always find you, you know?”

You didn’t have to look to know. Even if you closed your eyes, as well, you know it’s still going to be there; glowing in the darkness behind your eyelids.

“Me and you—” Oikawa sighed. 

Listen carefully, your mother said.

“ —we have a connection that no one else will ever understand,” he said.

The light emitting from his hand was so harsh it hurt you, pricking your sight until it drew fat tears, reflecting against your damp face and tinting the fallen streaks with bright—

Blue means happy, she told you. The happiest you’ll ever be.

And you’d repeat: Blue. Blue is for—

“My soulmate," Oikawa said, before locking you in a deep, searing kiss. 

The lights didn't die even as he dragged you into the storage room.  

"Hey, where'd senpai go?" 

The rest of the volleyball team came in droves, occupying the hollow court with their squeaking shoes and questions about Oikawa's whereabouts.

"Must've gone somewhere," you heard a deep voice say. 

You could answer that question. All you  had to do was scream. They weren't so far from the room that they wouldn't pick it up over the noise of their volleyball practice. Really, if you needed to, you could even outshout their guttural yells of "Nice kill!"

Though, you'd have to remove the underwear lodged in your mouth first. 

Yours, in fact; soaked now by your own saliva, drool dripping to your chin as your wrists chafed against the rope that's keeping them tied at your back.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" You felt every sickening movement of Oikawa's lips against your throat. "Feels good when you- ah, fuck- when you give in."

With the cloth muting your shrill bawling, you tried your best to recall how you ended up here: seated on his lap as he sluggishly humped himself against you, his still glowing hands cupping your ass.  

The only thing left on your body was your bra, and even that he's already lowered to let your tits spill over the top. Your pants and t-shirt and jacket are lying around somewhere. You couldn't determine where in particular; the only sources of light were behind you.  

He was leaving imprints of blue all over your skin; around your waist as he slithered his hands to reach your breasts, scantily brushing over the hardened nipples and making you keel over.

"So sensitive," he tutted, smooching your neck so gently that even the underwear couldn't muffle your loud yelp when he suddenly bit into the flesh. Hard. 

You wanted to claw his eyes out and call for help and you wanted badly to scream don't do that Oikawa someone please save me he's gonna kill me he's gonna kill me-

But the gag remained intact and the boys outside continued their game, ignorant that their precious captain is taking everything away from you. 

Sharp canines bruised your skin, provoking a fresh batch of tears as he sucked and licked every after cruel bite. 

Then, when you thought the worst had passed, he removed his mouth from your neck to spit onto your bare cunt, allowing it to slide from the hair on your mound to the nub sticking out in the middle.

(It is not enough that he is killing you. Oikawa must defile you, too.)

His fingers gripped the insides of your thighs open when you tried to shut them together. "Don't be a brat," he clicked his tongue.

"Be a nice little kitten for me," Oikawa drawled, smearing the slick that's soaking your folds against the spittle coating your clit.

You didn't notice when he'd taken his cock out, you only realize that he's about to enter you when he teased your entrance with it, pushing the tip to nudge the drenched hole, only to pull it back again.

And you didn't dare look. The feel of it almost stretching you out with just the head is already driving you to insipid begging.

"What'd you say, kitten?" he pouted.

Oikawa you've already taken too much is it never going to be enough Oikawa let me go.

"I can't understand you," he chuckled. "Here—"

He pulled the underwear out of your mouth as he thrust all the way inside, your back arching, driving him deeper, as his cock throbbed against your pussy walls.

"Now, what were you saying?"

You swallowed your cries and heaved and swore you were gonna tear his heart out after this. 

"Say," he whispered, sniffing your wet panties without breaking his gaze. "If everyone saw us right now, how'd you think they'd react?"

It was so reverent, the way he did it, blue light revealing that he closed his eyes as he took a whiff, as if he hung onto your scent like a lifeline.

But you thought that'd been a calculated move, because as you dumbly stared at him, he immediately gyrated his hips under you, rocking back and forth ever so slowly, and you remembered that you had to keep quiet.

His cock was so big inside you, making you bite your lip as it filled you up, the curved tip hitting a spot that has you squirming in his embrace.

"At this point they'll know how much of a whore you are," he said, tangling his muscled arms around yours and anchoring you to his body. "Made just for me."

"Oika-Oikawa…"

You don't know this person. 

"Help..me.."

You don't know who's speaking out and whimpering for Oikawa, on her knees and bouncing up and down on his lap with weak, quivering thighs. 

It couldn't be you.

"Help you?" You felt him nuzzle your neck. "I thought you wanted me to stay away, though?"

Someone mewled out a pathetic, "N-no."

"No? Then what d'you want, kitten?"

(Oh. Oh, he feels so fucking good.)

Your belly has never felt this hot before and it's driving you crazy that you're chasing for something you cannot see and it feels so near but there's something, something that's keeping you from it that all you can do is grind your sopping cunt closer to him.

"Wanna- I wanna cum."

Oikawa kissed you on the forehead, and then he said, "Go ahead, then."

He released your arms. 

Then, he's scooping cum off your pussy, making sure to drag his fingers under the lips, before circling your large, swelling clit. Then, he's sucking your tits and swirling his tongue around a nipple and you're so so close.

"That's it," Oikawa sighed. "Ride my cock, baby."

His rough palm slapped both your ass cheeks and the cry that erupted from you only made him laugh. 

"Make yourself cum on my cock," he grunted, licking his smiling lips as he leaned back against the wall, hand idly rubbing your dripping clit. "You're making a mess, darling. Leaking like that."

You're quivering all over; your cunt is spasming and your legs are complaining beneath you, but you don't stop. You lift your hips and then sink your pussy down, down until you feel his balls touching your sore ass, the sloshing sound growing louder as you move faster. 

You don't think about what this'll all mean later, what you're doing giving in to him, when you scream out his name. But as soon as you did, Oikawa's growl had been your only warning.

He grabbed the back of your head and kissed you, plunging his tongue into your throat, his strong arms pressing you so close to him you can no longer tell his skin from yours, his battering heartbeat from yours. 

You didn't move—weren't allowed to, when he hammered his cock into you, pounding your cunt and fucking you raw until you're breathless and nothing but a shuddering wreck, splitting at the seams in his hands as you feel thick spurts of hot cum slide out of you. 

"My pretty girl," came his hoarse whisper. "My pretty, pretty girl."

The lights have dimmed, when he cradled your shaking form and moved out of you, faint traces left on just the palm lines and fingertips. 

They were flooded by the sudden brightness that enveloped the storage room.

"Holy shit."

You pressed your eyes close, your entire body prickling at Oikawa’s touch.

It shouldn't be surprising, at this point, that Oikawa, as quick as he'd stripped you off of everything, has already covered you back in your jacket. The smell of it striking you ruthlessly, that old cologne that you always use to school reminding you of who you were, before all this.

Had it only been a few hours? It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Ah," Oikawa murmured. "They caught us."

"Oikawa,” someone roared. Oikawa held you, hiding your face against his chest. “Why you son of a-"

"C-coach..! Stop- Oi, someone help me hold him- no, coach! "

You heard him chuckle. “Sorry about this, everyone.” He held up his hand and you had to keep yourself from sobbing. “But, look.”

There were several gasps. 

(Everybody knows now.)

“You..and her?” 

The boy who said that sounded so astonished, clearly overjoyed for some reason, that it revolted you.

“Mhm,” he nodded, a smile in his voice. “Now, can you guys please give us some privacy?” 

Feet shuffled out of the room, along with stuttered apologies. They all left. 

Except for one.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa pouted.

“What did you do, Oikawa?”

A beat. Then, he repeated, “Iwa-chan.”

Please. 

Iwaizumi didn’t say anything. 

Please help me.

“Sure,” he grunted.

He was gone, too, after that.

You were back in the darkness, with nothing but the faltering red and blue on your hands and his, while he untied your wrists and kneaded the abrasion away, cooing sweet nothings to your ear. 

“I hate you,” you rasped. 

“Don’t say that.”

“I fucking hate you-”

“Please stop yelling-”

“I won’t ever forgive you, Oikawa!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he cried, shaking his head as he brushed your tear-stained cheeks with both thumbs. You clutched them, wanting him off you, but he only latched himself firmly into you. “We’re meant to be.”

“You’re the only one for me.” 

Oikawa brought your numb hand to his face, pressing a kiss to your palm, the red light basking him in its soft glow.

“And I’m the only one for you,” he said, intertwining your fingers together. 

The lights flickered in and out, at first, as you stared vacantly into it, the red and blue swallowing each other. Until they finally disappeared, leaving just you and him, curled against each other in the shadows. 

[angelwiththeblue-box]

well actually im supposed to be asleep (2am my time) but I have homework. i was hoping you could maybe try to write a childhood friends trope? ship of your choosing, but i don't seem to be in many fandoms you're in other than tss–

~ Rose

i would tell you to go to sleep but i just spent the past hour writing fanfiction and have no plans of going to sleep anytime soon (but it's an hour later for you, so you should probably sleep soon)

anyways! prinxiety childhood friends to lovers!!

Age 7

“Who are you?” Roman asks. A boy sits on the swing, kicking dirt in the air. His black hair falls over his bicolored eyes.

“Virgil.” The boy mumbles.

“I’m Roman. Over there is my twin, Remus.” Roman sits down on the swing next to Virgil. “Wanna be friends. I don’t know anyone other than Remus.”

“I’m not fun.” Virgil says.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Roman says matter of factly. He holds his hand out.

“Friends?” Virgil takes it reluctantly.

“Friends.”

Age 11

Virgil flinches and back into a chain link fence.

“Scared?” A teen stands in front of Virgil and cracks his knuckles. “That’s cute. Where’s your boyfriend? I see he’s not coming to save you.”

“Back off.” Roman says from behind the bully.

“Roman, it’s fine-” Virgil stops. Roman glares at him, before raising a stick and smacking the bully in the chest.

“That’s for hurting my friend!” He says.

“Roman, I had it handled.” Virgil says.

“No, you didn’t. Why didn’t you tell me you were being bullied. I had to find out from Remus. Are you okay?”

Virgil nods.

“I’m fine.” Roman smiles. “Alright, c’mon, emo, Patton’s rounding up players for groundies.”

Age 14

“Picture!” Patton says, rounding up their group of friends. “First day of high school!” Patton holds up his phone and snaps a photo.

Virgil holds up a peace sign and smiles. He had seen enough TV dramas to know that highschool literally never went well for the out of place kids. And that was, well, their entire group. (It could be reasoned that since they were all weird, they could be weird together, but that was too cheesy for Virgil.)

“What do your schedules look like?” Logan asks, pulling his out.

“Virgil, we have first and fourth together.” Patton says, bumping Virgil’s shoulder.

“So do I!” Roman and Remus say in sync, high fiving each other. Roman grabs Virgil’s schedule and looks it over.

“Aw, we almost have all of our classes together. We just don’t have math together.”

The group shares schedules, before the bell rings, cutting them off.

Roman grabs Virgil’s hand and them, along with Patton and Remus head to first period together.

Age 17

“Senior year! We did it!” Roman says, jumping on Virgil’s bed.

“We still have another year left. And five more minutes to sleep in.” Virgil whines, burying his face in his pillow.

Well, Roman’s pillow. He fell asleep while the two of them were watching Doctor Who. It’s happened more often than not. Virgil’s parents kind of sucked, so he spent a lot of time at Roman and Remus’s houses. And Patton’s. And Logan’s. And Janus’s. Really any place that wasn’t his parents was good.

“Virgil!” Roman says, tugging on his arm. “We should get ready. Plan. Look over schedules!”

“Ro, we’ve been in practically the same classes since middle school. It’s the benefit of a small high school.”

“Please.” Roman pleads. “I’ll buy you coffee.” Virgil sits up, rubbing his eyes.

“Free coffee?” Virgil yawns and basically rolls out of bed. He hits the floor and stands up. “I’m up. Now, coffee.”

“Are you going to school in that?” By that, Roman meant the black cargo pants and Green Day t-shirt that Virgil fell asleep in last night.

“Yes. Because I, unlike you, don’t give a shit about anyone.” Roman sticks out his bottom lip and Virgil sighs. “Except you. Though that might change if we don’t get coffee soon.

“You’re a menace.” Roman says, linking his arm in Virgil’s. “I’ll tell Remus we’re leaving. He gets first period off, so I think he’s getting a ride from Janus.”

“Why couldn’t I get first period off?” Virgil asks, grabbing his backpack, the pins clinking together.

“Because, if you had first period off, you wouldn’t get to go to art with me.” Roman says. “Now, let’s go.”

“I thought you were writing Remus a note?” Virgil asks as they walk to Roman’s car.

“Yes, but then I remembered that I can just text him.”

“So, coffee?”

“Yes, emo, we’re getting coffee.” Virgil scrunches his nose as Roman, before pulling out his phone to put on music, missing Roman’s reddening face.

Age 18

This was it. Virgil was finally ready to get out of this stupid fucking town. He and the rest of his friends are waiting on stage as their principal hands out diplomas.

“Virgil Young.” Virgil was so excited to change his last name to something cool, like Zeppelin or Bowie. He walks downstage and takes the diploma, his hands shaking ever so slightly. Virgil avoids looking his principal in the eye or look at the crowd of people watching him.

Don’t trip don’t trip don’t trip

Virgil makes it back to his friends and breathes a sigh of relief. He didn’t fuck it up.

Roman takes his hand and smiles.

“You did it.” He mouths. Virgil squeezes his hand ever so slightly and inclines his head as a thanks.

The rest of the ceremony goes by in a blur, the only thing Virgil focuses on is Roman’s hand in his.

Finally, the seniors are let out to meet with parents and celebrate.

Virgil knows his parents didn’t come. He doesn’t care if they came anyways. Roman and Remus’s parents came with enough love and support for Virgil anyways.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” Roman asks. Virgil nods and Roman leads him into the hallway behind the auditorium, where the stage door is.

“What’s up?”

“We’ve known each other since we were five.” Roman starts. “I saw you on the swings, with your shaggy hair and baggy clothes and I don’t know why I went over to say hello, but I did, and now, nearly thirteen years later, and you’re my best friend. We’re going to different colleges and I know that won’t stop us from being friends, but I really wanted to tell you before you left that I really really like you. I have for a while now. And it’s fine if you don’t feel the same, but I couldn’t keep pretending that I don’t have feelings for you.”

Virgil smiles, blush dusting his cheeks, as he leans up and kisses Roman on the cheek.

“I like you too, Princey.” Virgil says.

Age 25

“Can you believe this is ours?” Roman asks, pulling Virgil into their new apartment. “We own this. Together. It’s ours.”

“Yes, Ro, I’m also very excited about our new apartment. I’m also excited for the coffee shop that’s right below us.” Roman rolls his eyes and pulls Virgil closer.

“Come on. We have an apartment. We live together now.”

“We spent most of our childhood and teenage years platonically sharing a bed. I don’t think this’ll be much different.” Virgil responds.

“Yes, but now I can kiss you.” Roman says, kissing Virgil’s nose. “Whenever I want.”

Virgil smiles.

“I love you.” Virgil says. “And I’m excited about our apartment.”

“I knew it! And I love you too.”

[boldlyvoid]

CONGRATS ON 800, LOVE! IM SO SORRY I HAVENT BEEN ABLE TO SUBMIT SOMETHING EARLIER (this is shemarmooresfedora but from another acct because mine has been shadowbanned for some reason)

i’ll do ❤️🤡💄🛏 please and thank you

maybe like spencer invites you to something as his date and you’re both crushing on each other but it’s not official until the reservation only booked one room

I LOVE YOU DORY!!! i am so sorry you're shadowbanned that is so weird? i hope this cheers you up a little! thank you for all the love and support, and for helping me create little Jo in Amoreena <3

cw: flirting, fake married, mutual pining, high school reunions, assault, love confessions, one bed, implied sex, kissing,

1.4K

When he got the invitation in the mail, he thought nothing of it. He left it in the pile on his counter and went off to work the way he always would. He hasn’t been back to his old high school since he was 13, the 15 year reunion was coming up and he was invited.

He wasn’t going to go. He never went to any event unless it was a CalTech alumni event. Because there he was respected, there he was Doctor Spencer Reid, the FBI’s asset and excellent graduate. He was a nobody, a kid and a loser in high school.

“You okay?” Y/N notices he’s quieter than normal, he’s staring off past his desk and she’s worried for him.

“Huh?” He turns to her, “I’m fine.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” she whispers, “come get a coffee with me down at the kart?”

He nods and stands silently, following her out of the room and away from all their friends, in the elevator she knows he’s more comfortable.

“What’s going on, Spence?”

“My high school reunion is coming up, and I really want to go and prove to them that I’m not a dork anymore…” his voice is low and his eyes are fixated on the floor.

Her face drops, she pulls the emergency button and wraps herself around him. “You have never been a dork, Spencer. You have always been magnificent and they’re too dumb to see that.”

He holds her in return, settling as he rests his chin on her shoulder. She feels nice and warm, her hair smells like apples and her laundry detergent is all over her shirt.

“Would you come back to Vegas with me and pretend to be my girlfriend? Say things like that and make them think I’ve got it all?”

He cant see how much she smiles while they hug, “yes, I’d love to be your girlfriend for the day.”

—

She buys the nicest dress imaginable, they fly out to Vegas together and she’s so excited she forgot to ask for her own room. Or at least that’s what she tells him because she really wanted a chance to sleep with him, in more ways than one.

Even to just cuddle with Spencer Reid would be a gift, so she goes all out to seduce him. She looked impeccable, He was thinking it was her way of helping him show off… he was so clueless she was going to have to be the smart one when it came to getting him to see her as more than a friend. She wanted him, she was going to show him just how good she would be to him if she was his.

Her dress hugs her in all the right places, she wraps an arm around Spencer’s middle and holds him close. They walk in like they own the place, everyone is taking turns looking at them as they walk to the name tag table.

“Hi, Spener Reid,” he smiles, “and my plus one.”

“Hi,” Y/N waved at the woman behind the desk.

“Hello,” she smiles, “here are your name tags, Mr. and Mrs. Reid.”

“Oh we’re—“

“Thank you,” Y/N smiles, she takes the name tags from the woman. “Newlyweds, my rings getting resized, he’s still adjusting to the title.”

“Ah, my husband was the same, called it wedding bell shock,” she smiled, old enough to have a husband with shell-shock as well.

“Can I have a pen?” Y/N asks, “or a marker?”

“Here,” she hands her a sharpie.

Y/N leans onto the table to scratch out the Mr. and replace it with Dr. “He has 3 Ph.D.’s you know? My husband is the smartest man in the FBI.”

“Oh,” she looks shocked, “thank you for your service sir.”

He blushes and nods, “thank you.”

Y/N peels the sticker off and sticks it to Spencer's chest before leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose, she gets lipstick on him. She smiles and wipes it off, “there, still cute.”

The rest of the night is much of the same; she hangs off him, telling all the people who used to bully him that she was so madly in love with him, he was super smart and he was so strong and sexy on the job.

She slips away from him to get a drink while he explains how profiling works to his crowd of new fans. She’s filling her cup with punch when a weird, balding man slides up beside her, his hand touching her waist. She looks at him quickly, recognizing his name from the worst childhood story Spencer ever shared with her.

“Hey there, hot stuff,” he tried to hit on her.

She puts her cup down calmly and takes his hand off her, bending his arm behind his back and slamming him face-first into the punch bowl. She pulls his face back up by his hair, “that was for touching me.”

Then she slams him onto the floor where he coughs out punch from his lungs. “And that was for what you did to my husband as a kid, he was a Kid! You may have peaked in high school, but at least Doctor Reid doesn’t have a widow's peak, like yours. He is the smartest, sexiest, and most wonderful man in the world and you're nothing but a loser.”

Spencer turns around at the sound of her voice, “oooo” echos around the gym as everyone looks at the scene unfolding. Patrick, the asshole quarterback that traumatized him as a child, was on the ground covered in red juice as he complained about a sore arm.

Y/N smiles at him and waves before rejoining Spencer, “he doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Spencer suggests and she is all too eager to skip out of the room with him, right past Patrick.

—

She slams him against the wall as soon as they’re inside the hotel room again, kissing him with more desperation than she’s ever felt in her life. She needed him, he was her last piece and then she’d be complete.

She breaks the kiss to move down his neck as she loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt. “Are you sure we can be friends after this?”

“I’d hope my husband was my best friend,” she whispers against his skin.

He pulls her away from his neck, hands on her cheeks so he can look at her and read her expressions as best as possible, “I’m serious, I don’t want to do this if it’s going to make working together hard.”

“You’re an idiot,” she smiles, “I have been in love with you for months Spencer. I want this, I have wanted you for so long…”

His breathing changes as she explains her feelings, leaning in to kiss his neck again and make her way down his chest. “I’ve thought about this for so long Spencer, you have no idea how many dirty thoughts I have about doing things like this with you.”

“I got 1 bed on purpose,” he gasps out, “I wanted to sleep beside you… I hoped—

She smiles against him, “I know. That’s why I didn’t tell you to get 2…”

“You’re really not kidding?” He sounds so desperate it’s almost sad.

She stops her kissing and looks at him again, “why is it so hard for you to believe all the things I’ve said about you tonight? I’m not just trying to impress them, I’m telling the whole fucking world that the person I am in love with is the smartest man they will ever meet. People should bow at your feet, Spencer, let me appreciate you for how incredibly wonderful you are and stop doubting my feelings.”

“You love me?” Tears well in his eyes and he feels like a complete idiot, “why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I wanted you to admit it first,” she whispers, equally as embarrassed. “I have a huge crush on you Spence, it’s not just that I love you, I never want to stop. You’re so nice and kind and funny? And you make me smile every day and I laugh even on the worst days ever because you’re there, and when I think about the future and reunions and events like this that I have to go to one day, and all I want is to bring you along and show everyone that you’re mine.”

She rambled more than he did, “so please, will you unzip my dress and join me in our one bed, husband?”

“Absolutely, my beautiful wife,” he turns her around, moving her hair off her back, he kisses her shoulder softly.

He moves the zip down as slow as possible, kissing every inch of newly exposed skin as he did so. When he reached the end, she pushed the straps off her arms and let the dress fall to the floor.

Mission accomplished.

[marauderundercover]

This Side of Normal Ch. 10

AO3

Prev

Marinette glances around the silent table, willing Jason to say something. Or do something. Or even Dick. She needed one of them to start a conversation, because Adrien hated awkward silences. And if this silence went on much longer, he was definitely going to say something and then she would regret it. Horribly. 

“These rolls are purr-fect.” Adrien says, out of nowhere. Marinette lets out a groan, of course he’d skip straight ahead to the cat puns. Of course that’s where his freaking mind was tonight. 

“Aren’t they? I’d say Alfred’s cooking is pretty claw-some, myself.” Dick speaks up, grinning at Adrien. Marinette looks at him, wide eyed. 

“That’s it. I’ll find a new trapeze partner and a new best friend. Both of you are out of my life.” She deadpans, ignoring Adrien’s offended gasp. 

“But Bugaboo, who else would give you a hand with your crazy schemes?” Adrien asks, and Marinette turns to him, narrowing her eyes. 

“I swear to god if you take your arm off right now you will never find it again.” She threatens, pointing her fork at him from across the table. 

“But Mari, that joke needs the arm. It doesn’t work without it.” He pouts, she rolls her eyes and turns to Damian. 

“I apologize for him. He thinks he’s funny.” She says, turning her glance back at Adrien. “He’s wrong.” 

“Tt. I’m unbothered by his sense of humor. I have lived with Grayson for eight years. His humor is nothing compared to those horrors.” Damian quips, and Marinette swears his lips almost quirk into a smile. She snorts. 

“Guess I made the right choice in throwing Dick to the curb, huh?” She teases, ignoring Dick’s gasp and Adrien’s reassurance to the man. Honestly, who was the adult here? 

“It was for the best, Dupain-Cheng.” Damian says and Marinette winces slightly. The only person who called her by her last name (in regular conversation, anyway) was Chloe. And while the girl had long since given up full on bullying her, she still wasn’t Marinette’s best friend in the world. 

“You can call me Marinette, my last name is kind of a mouthful.” She says, trying to be nonchalant about it. She’d heard him refer to everyone else as their last name the entire evening. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but him calling her Dupain-Cheng was going to make her uncomfortable in the long run. 

“Very well.” He says, and though he doesn’t say her name, she still counts it as a win. A throat clearing catches her attention and she glances at Jason who was glaring at Damian. 

“What’s up, Jay?” She asks, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Nothing Pixie Pop. Just thinking about the time you kicked the ass of that would be mugger.” He says, and Marinette frowns. Mugger? “You know, the one that was obsessed with you?” He clarifies, and she understands. Copycat had been reakumatized during Jason’s stay in Paris. And he had wanted nothing more than a date with Ladybug. Though, she couldn’t understand why he was bringing it up now. 

“I am so lost.” She admits, shaking her head at her pseudo-brother. He grins. 

“That’s fine, just sharing that you can kick ass with the table. In case someone wants to try something.” He says pointedly. Oh. He definitely caught the heart eyes she sent Damian back in the gym. Can he blame her, though? Her weakness was green eyes. And Damian’s were the greenest. 

“I did walk in on you hogtied, Todd. I assumed she was a reputable fighter after that.” Damian says, and Marinette blushes furiously. 

“I’m sorry, what happened?” Mr. Wayne asks, his vapid (and fake) smile replaced with a faux look of bewilderment. She briefly wondered if it was exhausting, putting on a constant act, until she remembered how tired she was throughout collège, before she started lycée and decided she didn’t really care. Yeah, acting constantly was tiring. But why did he do it? Jason nudges her lightly and she blinks, focusing back on the conversation. 

“Oh, Jason and I sparred. He apparently had forgotten that I use my surroundings to my advantage and that Adrien is always on my side.” She explains, shooting Jason a smug smile. Jason huffs. 

“Not always.” He says, and Marinette raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms and giving him a challenging look. 

“Oh really? Name one time that Adrien took your side instead of mine.” She challenges. She grins as Jason starts to think, obviously wracking his brain. 

“Earlier today!” Adrien pipes up, and she immediately turns to him, glaring. 

“What?” She asks, confused. What had- oh. Of fucking course. “That doesn’t count!” She protests, narrowing her eyes. 

“Why not?” Adrien asks, raising an eyebrow in a challenge. She scoffs. 

“Because it wasn’t a fight or argument or anything. It was a joke.” She says. 

“Are you talking about the adoption shit, cause that was definitely not a joke. All the kids B adopts definitely have trauma and certain features.” Jason cuts in, and Marinette sighs. Of course he would clue in. 

“But- no. No. That was a fluke. A glitch in the matrix, obviously. You literally cannot name a singular other time. And technically, ya big jerk, you didn’t even name this time. Adrien did.” Marinette points out, glaring at Jason. 

“I’m sorry, how long have you three known each other?” Mr. Wayne cuts in again, and this time- this time- she sees that some of the confusion on his face is real. But it looks odd, like he wasn’t used to expressing a real emotion. She really needed to remind herself to talk to Jason about this later. She didn’t necessarily want to make it a habit to stick billionaire fathers with asshole tendencies in jail, but she would. She’d do it for her boys. Any day of the week. She hums in thought, adding up the time. The anniversary of Gabriel’s defeat had been a few weeks ago, which meant-

“We’ve known Jason for just over a year.” She says, before glancing at Adrien and grinning. “But I’ve been stuck with this goof for four years.”

“You know you love me.” Adrien says with a wide grin. She rolls her eyes. 

“How exactly did you meet Jason?” Mr. Wayne asks, and she kind of wants to throw her fork at him. What was it, interrogate the random kids at dinner night? Though, to be fair, they were random kids in his house. But she refused to like the man until she’d talked to Jason about the potential assholeish tendencies. 

“He helped me learn some self defence after I got caught up in an akuma attack.” Marinette lies smoothly. Well, it was technically a half truth. But the Waynes didn’t need to know that she was always caught up in akuma attacks. 

“Akuma?” Mr. Wayne asks, and Marinette glances at Jason with a frown. Had he not told his father about anything? Not even the basics? 

“Wait, is that what the thing that flooded Paris is called?” Dick asks suddenly and Marinette nearly flinches from the memory. That was one of the akumas that still gave her nightmares. One of the ones that was burned in the back of her eyelids when all she wanted was to sleep. And not think about bloated corpses and dead classmates for one goddamn minute. She lets out a steadying breath, glancing at Jason whose face had changed from annoyance to concern. She resists the urge to roll her eyes. She could talk about akumas. It was the past. Sure, she had refused all of the therapy options her parents gave her and Adrien, but she didn’t need it. She was fine. 

“Yeah. Technically, her akumatized name was Siren. But, the general term for those attacks was ‘akuma’.” She says, gripping her fork a little tighter than necessary, grounding herself with Tikki’s reassuring nudges from inside her purse. 

“There were more?” Dick asks, his eyes wide. Marinette glances at Jason and raises an eyebrow. Why had he not said anything? He’d been there for an entire month of Hawkmoth’s reign. He’d seen dozens of akuma attacks. Jason shrugs. Thank Jay. Super helpful. 

“When you get down to it, there were probably hundreds if not thousands more. Some people, like Siren, were turned into the same akuma several times. Some people became a different akuma when they were akumatized again. I think it just depended on the person or their issue.” Marinette explains, hating how dry her mouth felt all of a sudden. She could talk about this. She could. So why was everything a little too bright? Why was the sound of forks against plates a little too loud? 

“Did the Justice League stop it?” Damian asks, though by his tone, he seems to already know the answer. Odd. 

“No, the local heroes did. Ladybug and Chat Noir.” Marinette says, ignoring the constricting feeling in her chest. 

“Why-” Mr. Wayne starts, but Jason clears his throat. Everyone glances at him, and Marinette is unsurprised to see the flicker of anger in his eyes. Especially after she glances at Adrien and sees how pale he’s gotten. She kicks him lightly under the table to get his attention, frowning at him in a silent question. He nods, slightly. She purses her lips, not believing for a second that he was actually okay. But they could talk later. Away from eager ears. 

“I’m sure you remember what Dick said about my phone call from when I first arrived in Paris. Marinette and Adrien dealt with attacks like that interrupting their day to day lives from thirteen to sixteen. I get that you’re not the best at knowing when to drop the damn topic, but I really think you should drop the damn topic.” Jason says, and though he’s smiling, Marinette can see the danger behind it. The warning. ‘Drop it, or I’ll make you’. 

“My apologies, it was just so interesting.” Mr. Wayne says and this time Marinette winces at the falseness in his voice. And the smile on his face. God, this man could not have lasted a day in Hawkmoth’s Paris. 

---

Finally, finally, dinner was over. After the akuma talk ceased, it was extremely awkward. Mr. Wayne looked like he would rather be anywhere else. And Marinette couldn’t blame him, wanting nothing more than to get back to her hotel room and away from the constant lack of real emotion on the eldest Wayne’s face. It was tiresome, just watching him. 

“Thanks again, for having us.” Marinette says, mostly directing her comment to Dick and Alfred. Alfred just nods. 

“Of course! Come back any time. Really soon, actually, so we can work more on the trapeze. I can’t lose my new trapeze buddy.” Dick says with a wide smile. Marinette holds back a sigh, nodding instead. She liked Dick, she did. But she’d definitely have to make sure that Mr. Wayne wouldn’t be around. She still wasn’t sure what to think of him. 

“You should also spar with me, some time.” Damian speaks up and Marinette blinks in surprise. 

“Spar. With...you?” She says, tilting her head in confusion. That came out of nowhere. 

“Yes. You took down Todd easily, and I am far superior. You would actually have a challenge if we sparred.” He says. She smirks, and suddenly, with a burst of confidence she didn’t know she had, says:

“Sure thing, Pretty boy.” Before turning and walking straight out the door. The second she’s outside, she drops her head into her hands. “I can’t believe I just said that.” She mumbles under her breath. 

“Pretty boy?” Adrien says with a smirk, she glares at him and moves down the front steps. 

“Fuck you.” She says, no real venom in her voice. The boy knew how she got around crushes. He’d seen it firsthand. With him. With Luka. With Kagami. With the girl with bright green eyes who worked at the coffee shop across the street from the bakery. She was an absolute disaster. He was worse, but still. He wasn’t the one with the quickly developing crush on the youngest Wayne. 

“Pretty boy?” Jason asks, a scowl on his face as he catches up to the two. 

“Not another word, Jason.” She scowls at him, crossing her arms defiantly. He holds his hands up in surrender. 

“Sure.” He says. Her mind rushes suddenly to her previous thought. Youngest Wayne. Damian Wayne. Hadn’t Lila- she snorts, before erupting into uncontrollable laughter, ignoring the worried looks from Adrien. 

“I- oh my god, Jay.” She manages to say, straightening up and following Jason to the car he was borrowing to drive them back to the hotel.

“I’m completely lost.” He says.

“Join the club.” Adrien adds, and Marinette just laughs again. 

“Your little brother is Damian Wayne.” She says, as if it should be obvious. Jason doesn’t get it, and neither does Adrien. But after a moment-

“Oh my god, that’s hilarious!” Adrien cries, letting out a chuckle. Jason huffs as the trio get into the car. 

“Care to share with the class?” He asks, and Marinette snorts. 

“Absolutely not, I dislike the majority of those people.” She says, referring to the group who was hopefully already in their rooms and not in the lobby of the hotel. “Now it’s funny that your brother is Damian Wayne because Lila made us come to Gotham instead of New York and London, because she’s dating him.” She explains and Jason scoffs. 

“Yeah right.” 

“Obviously she’s not actually dating him, Jay. But it’s freaking hilarious that she thinks she’s gonna get away with it. He definitely goes to Gotham Academy, and people are definitely going to call her out.” She says, not even trying to hide the absolute glee she’s feeling. If there was ever a time for all of Lila’s lies to come crashing down around her, now would be good. When she can’t just run away and claim Marinette set it up. If people Marinette didn’t even know called Lila out, well, that would be irrefutable evidence, right? 

“Her regime is gonna topple and I’m gonna take you guys out for ice cream to celebrate.” Jason declares and Marinette laughs again. She was so against the idea of Gotham originally, but now, with Jason at their sides again, she’d decided that it wasn’t so bad. Suddenly remembering what had been on her mind most of the night, she turns to Jason. 

“Jay, I have a serious question. And I know it’s a little hard to talk about but just know that we’re here for you to support you, and that we’ll figure out a way to make sure you and your brothers are safe and-” 

“Whoa, Pix, calm down kiddo. You’re rambling again.” He says gently, furrowing his eyebrows. He pulls the car over to the side of the road and turns to put his full attention on the two. “What’s bothering you?” He asks. 

“Is Mr. Wayne abusive?” She asks and Jason blinks. “I saw how hesitant you were to call him your father, and you were tense around him a lot of the night. And I don’t think the man had one legitimate expression all night. He was acting the whole time.” Marinette says, looking at him worriedly. “Look, Jay, I don’t necessarily want to make a habit of putting billionaires in jail, but I’d do it for you.” 

“Is he- you would-” Jason stops and lets out a breath, obviously trying to compose himself. “No, kiddo, he’s not.” He finally says. Marinette frowns. 

“Really?” She asks, and he sighs. 

“Yeah, look. Our relationship has been...rough, for a couple years. We had a sort of falling out when I was a teenager and I stopped talking to him for several years. We reconnected a while ago, but it’s still rocky at times. I don’t usually call him dad or father or anything. He’s just Bruce, or B, to me.” Jason explains and Marinette nods, letting out a small sigh of relief. 

“I was worried, Jay.” She admits, and Jason grins at her before pulling away from the curb again. 

“I didn’t even catch on.” Adrien says with a frown. Marinette rolls her eyes, smiling at him with fondness. 

“Course you didn’t Kitty. Reading people isn’t really your strong suit.” She says with a small smile. He huffs, but nods in agreement. 

“True.” He says and Marinette laughs. She could officially take Bruce Wayne off her ‘threat to be dealt with immediately’ list and move him to ‘possible future annoyance’ list. A big improvement for the man, and it would mean she wouldn’t be as tense around him the next time she saw him.

Next

Tag list: @toodaloo-kangaroo @laurcad123 @kittenmywaythrulife @lost-in-the-world-of-maribat @queenz-z @daminette-56

[baguettehead]

Quarry days

Stan Uris x they/them reader

warnings: some curse words, richie tozer, lil bit of angst, possibly based off of real situations, lil bit of Reddie ;)

Summary: You’ve always had a thing for the brown eyes and mop of curly hair, the voice that made you melt like a Popsicle, but what if you added in scheming friends, darkness, missing gas, and maybe a turtle.

_____________________________________________________

   You had known the losers since 6th grade. That was the year your parents decided to make the move from Michigan to Derry, Main. You moved around a lot, and you weren’t even an army brat, your parents just seemed to enjoy hopping from place to place. Your parents owned their own business, all the work was mostly online so it was pretty easy to just up and leave. You were born in Washington state, lived their for a while, then you lived in California for a few years, Colorado for a singular year, Michigan, and now the shithole that is Derry, Maine.

    You had no idea why your parents chose Derry, there really wasn’t much here. A few nice shops, a pretty decent arcade, old people with sticks up their butts, and what you thought to be a normal group of neighborhood bullies.

    When you moved to Derry you had no one, and at this point you didn’t care enough to try and make friends, you didn’t know if you were staying long. After an tantalizingly long day of being forcefully introduced to classmates and eating lunch alone, in the library, you honestly just wanted a nap.

  Leaving the school you were suddenly pushed into the wall next to you, your bag thrown off your shoulder, and coming face to face with the wonderful scent of vodka and utter shit. Must be Bowers. He held you by the shoulder of your shirt with his right hand and with his left he put his forearm on your neck, effectively trapping you to the wall

  This was your first encounter with the infamous gang, but you’d heard about them from the few conversations you’d had with kids in classes and passing periods. Let’s just say, he was as disgusting as you’d heard. Has he ever tried a toothbrush before??

  “Look at this” he spoke, looking back to his gang of douchbags “Fresh meat” his goons laughed a little while you just rolled your eyes, you’d dealt with your fare share of bullies and asshats that you simply couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore

 “look” you said in an exasperated sigh “i don’t have cash, my mom packs my lunch”

  “well then” Bowers said “you’ll just have to pay me in another way darling” a disgusting grin overtook his face and his goons began laugh and cheer like they just took a shit on the toilet for the first time

  “i’m good” you spoke calmly as you attempted to leave his grasp. Bowers just stared down at you confused for a second before he snapped back into action and held you a little tighter

 “it wasn’t a question” he seethed through closed teeth

 “and i wasn’t giving a suggestion dipshit”

 Henry’s jaw tightened and you could practically see the anger bubbling inside him while his group of misfit toys got real quite

“now listen here you little bit-”

“no you listen asshole” you cut him off  “i don’t have time to deal with insecure little boys who didn’t get mommy’s attention as a child and now take it out on all those around him” you spoke quickly faking a pout and slowly worming your way out of his grip “your just some stuck up prick who relishes in the hurt of others because you are so hurt that your deranged little brain finds pleasure making other miserable so that you can fake happiness. News flash, hurting others won’t make you happy, you’ll always be an attention deprived, whiny ass child who probably won’t live past their 30′s, will definitely have a substance abuse issue, and even as a 15 year old attempts to drown his sorrows in vodka and punching kids smaller than him for fun” you finished your little rant, taking in a short breath “now” you continued, marveling at the befuddled looks on all their faces “i have a can of pepper spray in my back pocket and if one of you little rascal looking ass children comes any closer i’ll mace you in the face. Got it”

 As soon as you finished you slipped from his grasp and starting running like hell towards your house. You could hear him screaming profanities, and you knew you were now on his hit list, but you really couldn’t find it in yourself to give a shit.

 Once you knew you were far enough, you knew he wouldn’t follow you but didn’t want to risk it, you sat on the curb to catch your breath. Almost immediately you saw 4 bikes coming around the corner, the occupants stopping in front of you and throwing their bikes down.

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT THAT WAS INCREDIBLE”  the one with coke bottle glasses screamed at you practically screamed at you, you returned a weak smile

“H-h-he’s gonna f-f-fu-fucking kill you” another rushed out

 You shrugged your shoulders “ive got a at least a few days” you told them “i wounded his masculinity, gotta build that back up” you muttered

 “I can’t believe you did that” the one with the fanny pack stated as he started to pace in front of you “i mean, now bowers and his whole gang are gonna be on your ass” he stopped in front of you and made direct eye contact “your gonna have to watch for him at all times” he deadpanned and you grimaced a little bit

“don’t worry” coke bottle glasses spoke up again “bowers is always on our asses so we can show you the best place to avoid him”

 “a-and the hallways to a-a-avoid h-him” the dirty blonde spoke up

you smiled up at them “i’d actually quite like that”

“Then welcome to the losers club y/n” the forth boy spoke up as he held his hand out for you, the one with curly hair and amazing eyes. You had him in two of classes and he always seems to catch your eye. You took his hand and he helped you off the curb before they gave you their unofficial, official, tour of the town.

 After that you were practically glued to the four boys, you did everything with them now. And if it wasn’t all of them, you were with at east one practically at all times.

You told them about your moving adventures, even opening up about your constant fear that your parents are gonna pack up and leave forcing you to leave them, and earning Richie’s nickname for you Cali. For some reason Richie couldn’t seem to let go of the fact that you lived in California, asking questions about it whenever there was downtime, and telling you about his dream of living there one day and making it big. You always told him that he could do it, because you truly believed he could.

Soon Bev, Mike, and Ben joined the group, making it 8. You gained your ‘secret’ clubhouse, and Bill, Mike, Stan, and Richie all got their licences.

 Now its junior year, you’ve made it almost 5 years in Derry, and you’ve gained the closed friends you’ve ever had

_________________________________________________

“You guys wanna go to the quarry after school?” Richie asked, his mouth half full of turkey sandwich and pretty much yelling over all the noise in the cafeteria. You shuddered and watched as Eddie slapped his shoulder and scolded him for talking with his mouth open, Rich pouting like a child. You loved watching them, a knowing smile on your face.  

 “sounds like fun” Bev voiced “y/n and i just went swimsuit shopping and they looked killer in their suit” she smirked at you from down the table while you blushed and rolled your eyes

“i mean i’d prefer to see the suit on the floor but whatever your comfortable with” Richie commented

you threw a baby carrot at his face, which he caught in his mouth promoting cheers from the others and for you to dissolve into laughter

“i is s-s-s-supposed to be like n-n-ninety degrees today” Bill added in

“oh fuck that” you groaned as you lent your head on stand shoulder next you and continued munching on your carrots, missing how he smiled down at you

“quarry it is!” Richie exclaimed before everyone else fell back into their conversations

“sooooo” you heard Stan draw out from above you, moving your head to look up at him but leaving it resting on his shoulder “will i get to see this new suit you apparently look amazing in?” he questioned while wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive way. You simply laughed, shoving his shoulder and telling him to shut up.

You’ve had a crush on Stan since 7th grade. You always thought he was attractive, like REALLY attractive, but after getting to know him and spending time together you knew you were fucked.

Bev has tried convincing you that he likes you back but, something in your brain just can’t accept it. She’s gone on and on about how ‘different’ he acts around you, how hes “not such a stuck up prick, he like, actually kinda nice and soft”, her words exactly. But, that was just the Stan you knew, the one you always saw. Caring, kind, funny, and enjoyable.

Bill drove you and Bev to her house, where your suits where from the last time you slept over like 4 days ago, and then took you both to the quarry. Once you got there you saw all the other cars and heard splashing and screaming.

“Those assholes went without us” Bev cried as she ripped the car door open, bolting for the cliff and immediately jumping off. You and Bill just laughed and sat there for a moment.

“r-ready m’lady?” Bill asked as he left the car and extended a hand for you

laughing, you took his hand “Of course good sir”

Bill was already in his trunks so after the short walk up the hill he plunged into the water , full cannonball, soaking almost everyone except Mike who swam out of the way. You watched from the top, laughing as they splashed each other back and forth. Sometimes it was nice to just watch their antics and relish in the moment.

“you coming sweet cheeks” Richie yelled up to effectively drawing every ones attention you

You blushed at the sudden attention “Whatever Tozier” you yelled back before you began stripping down to your swim suit.

Unbeknownst to you at the top of the cliff, you had some effect on poor Stan down in the water. He sat with his eyes glued to you as you exposed more and more skin. He’s seen you in a swimsuit before, hell he’s even seen you in your panties, but every time it still manages to make his mouth go dry and eyes widen.

“They’ll catch you drooling if you stare too long” Richie quipped with a smirk

“Shut it Tozier” he murmured lowering into the water to hide his blush right as you jumped from the cliff.

The eight of you spent hours in the water. Chicken fights, splash wars, and Richie attempting to dunk you, Bill even found a turtle which he claimed meant good luck. You only got out of the water for a bit to dry off before leaving. You and Bev lie on the rocks to dry off and maybe tan, that was, before Mike carried a bucket of water over and splashed you both with started yet another splash war. You finally got out when the sun started to set. You sat around and talked, told stories, before you had to leave. You were all still pretty wet but you didn’t care.

Stan had offered you a ride earlier and you happily agreed, knowing you’d get some alone time with him and ice cream if you begged hard enough.

You layed back on the rocks, to watch the sunset and see the stars starting to pop out.

“alright were heading out” Richie suddenly said

 Mike had already left, taking Ben with him due to their stricter curfews. But Rich was taking Eddie and Bill Bev.

“What, why?” Stan said, narrowing his eyes as if he knew they were plotting something

“j-just tired is all” Bill replied casually before he began walking to his car

“bye” Eddie chimed in

“Bye Edds!” you called back

“wait why can she call you that” Rich argued walking side by side with Eddie

“cause i actually like them” He replied casually with a shrug

Richie just huffed and pouted like a child before Eddie nudged his shoulder and he was all smiley again

“See you at school” Bev called, sending a wink in your direction which you replied to with an eye roll

As they walked towards their cars and began to drive away Stan turned towards you “That was suspicious right?”

“completely” you replied climbing down from the rock you previously lied on

“Okay good, it wasn’t just me” he said with a sigh

You laughed a bit “But when are they not suspicious?”

“You got me there” he said before he leaned back on the rock behind him

You crawled over to sit next to him, laying your head on his shoulder and just admiring the sunset. You both sat like that for a while, surrounded by comfortable silence.

One thing about Derry was that no matter how hot the days were the nights seemed to always be freezing, accompanied by wind. You crossed your arms over yourself in hopes of generating more body heat.

“Are you cold” Stan asked taking notice of your shivering form

“Just a bit” you answered not wanting to ruin the comfortable bubble you’d found yourselves in

“i have a blanket in my car” he started to stand up only for you to groan and cling on to his arm. Laughing, he sat back down and you cuddled into his side.

“you’ll catch a cold babe come on” you blushed at the pet name and melted even further into his side when he started combing through your hair with his fingers. Noticing that you weren’t going to budge he huffed a bit, though, he didn’t want to move either.

“I’ll get you ice cream” he sighed

You bounced up with a goofy grin on your face, pulling his hand towards the car

“Lets not waste time” you started “i’m in critical condition, need creamed ice immediately” you feigned sick with a hand to your forehead and pouty eyes. He only laughed, getting up and heading to the car, his hand never leaving yours as you walked to the car.

“what the fuck” he muttered as you reached the car

Tucked under the windshield wiper of his car was a note that said ‘use protection’, clearly in Richies handwriting, and a roll of condoms

You blushed lightly, giggling a bit. Stan looked to with a puzzled expression on his face “i don’t know” you shrugged trying to prove your innocence.

“I don’t understand half the things he does” you comment as you climb into the passengers seat

“does anyone?” he questions with a laugh

Stan throws the note and condoms into the center console before starting up the car. Your bouncing in your seat, the anticipation of ice cream making you giddy and Stan laughs at that. Well, the car doesn’t start. Stan tried multiple times, clearly getting frustrated

“uh Stan” you try and grab his attention, it works, anytime you talk Stan always has his full attention on you. You point towards the gas meter, which displays empty.

 “I literally got fucking gas on the way here what the fuck” he exclaims as he gets out of the car, you follow. You see him stop and stare at the gas tank opening

“what?” you question before reaching the other side of the car and falling silent

Right below the gas tank, on the ground, lays a rubber pipe.

“Did they fucking siphon my gas?!” He yells

You stand there for a moment longer, staring at the gas lined pipe, before you break out into hysterical laughter. The pure kind that comes from the belly and leaves you gasping for air with side cramps

“its not funny” he yells

you try to talk but it just dissolves into more hysterics and soon enough Stan is laughing with you, your laugh is just contagious and your radiant smile that could light up the entire galaxy never fail to make him follow along.

After you both calm down, clutching your bellies, you break the silence

“so, what do we do now?” you look over to Stan who’s sitting next to you on the curb

“i guess i’ll call Rich and have him come pick us up” you nod

He stands up, pulling out his phone and calling Rich. You sort of zone out, guess you were more tired than you thought, but your brought back to earth by Stan yelling into the phone. All you could catch was

“what?! No! Hey no no no” and “Fucking asshole” as he ended the call. You new what was coming but you asked anyways

“so?”

“He said hes not coming” Stan sighed in defeat as he sat next to you and lied his head on your shoulder. Your hand immediately immersed itself in his hair, gently scratching his scalp and brushing through his curls. You sighed wondering how the fuck you were gonna get out of this one.

“what about Mike and Bill?” you questioned

“in on it” he sighed out and you hummed in response. You both sat there for a moment, in comfortable silence, trying to calm Stan down.

“did he say anything els-”

“do you like me?” Stan’s head rose from your shoulder, looking you in the eyes and cutting off your sentence. You felt your mouth go dry, eyes widening, cheeks getting hot and probably bright red.

“i- uh- well” you stuttered out, really having no clue how to answer that question

“I mean” he started, sighing and nervously running a hand through his head of wild curls “not in a …. friends way” he finished slowly, meeting your eyes

He had a blush of his own covering his cheeks and his marvelous brown eyes danced all over your face as if looking for the answer there. You sat there staring at him for what felt like forever, running over your choices. Just as the though of running away and joining the circus came into your mind you felt a surge of confidence and smashed your lips into his.

He tasted like mint, salt, and something you could only describe as Stan.

Your lips moved together perfectly, dancing around each other in the best dance you’d ever preformed. Teeth hitting teeth as the years of desperation and pining were finally put to a rest. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you into his lap to straddle him, as yours wound around his neck and wove into his hair.

You both pulled away panting. His lips barely leaving yours, still ghosting over them like a precursor for whats to come. You stared into his eyes, you could get lost in those brown orbs so easily, drowning hopelessly in their beauty and dying happily. Stan was the first to break the silence

“yes?” he questioned

you threw your head back and laughed heartily. The sight alone made him melt in your hands and the sound dug his grave. The brilliant smile you flashed him afterwards felt like the afterlife and when you leaned down to capture his lips one again he knew he was in heaven.

“yes” you breathed as you pulled away from him, as difficult as it was

Stan smiled so brightly and let out a little cheer before falling right back into your lips and kissing you more passionately than anyone ever has and you doubt anyone ever will. There you sat, Straddling Stanley Uris in an empty parking and kissing him until you were gasping for breath.

You pulled away from Stan, leaning your forehead on his, pressed into his chest, barely inches away. He leaned up and peppered your face in small kissing causing you to break into giggles.

“I love you y/n y/l/n” he spoke softly into the night air

You stared into his chocolate eyes, in complete euphoria

“I love you too Stanley Uris” you told him with the most confidence you have ever had in a statement.

[axoxtxhxh]

Promise Me - Chapter 2 - The Fight

Summary: Armin convinced Reader to let him out for the day. On their way out, they get into some trouble and Reader gets hurt.

ArminxFem!Reader

Content: Blood, a little bullying, fighting, immigrant-hating (? I’m not really sure what to call it), me failing at using old-timey slang XD

Word Count: ~ 4,500

Armin’s eyes widened with excitement and he jumped up from where he was sitting. He was going to say something, but thought better of it. Standing quietly next to you with a huge grin on his face. He shook his hair out and smoothed it down and you felt a tiny twinge in your chest that forced you to smile. His innocence was always so endearing.

It was probably best that you didn’t both go out wearing scout regiment uniforms and you moved to the few extra articles of clothing you had next to the bed, digging around. The weather in this country was quite similar to Paradis and would have normally been warm at this time of year, but today was colder. The sun was hidden behind the clouds covering the sky and it looked as though there would be rain. If you didn’t actually need to go to the store, you probably would have skipped it on a day like this.

Unfortunately, all that was in the pile of extra clothing were short sleeves and thin shirts, the only clothing cheap enough for you to afford. They would have to work for now.

“What are you looking for?” Armin peeked over.

“We both can’t be out wearing our uniform,” you explained, “it’s bad enough that I wore it. Both of us wearing it together will look bad.”

You stood up holding a short-sleeved t-shirt, quickly removing your uniform shirt and handing it to Armin. He took it from you and folded it, replacing it in the bag while you put on the t-shirt.

“Ready?” You packed the small amount of change you had in your pants pocket.

“Won’t you be cold?” Armin worried. He didn’t mind wearing the t-shirt instead of you wearing it. He looked over your arms and really became aware just how much muscle you’d lost already.

“I’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

The walk to the store was only about ten minutes and not that scenic, but watching Armin look around in awe made the experience entirely different for you. He watched the people and cars moving around him quickly with a huge smile on your face and you smiled, feeling pretty happy that he convinced you to bring him along.

Armin couldn’t believe everything he was seeing. So many people, so many different people, all the cars, the food being sold on the street, everything was so new and amazing. He was breathing in the smells coming from the food vendors, barely wanting to blink in fear that he would miss something. He looked up to you and saw that you were smiling.

As you were walking, you thought about how strange it must be seeing the two of you together. You were definitely older than Armin, but not old enough for people to mistake you as his mother, maybe his young aunt. He was smaller than you as well, not just in height, but in build. Somehow, his black scouts uniform made him look bigger though.

The reactions of the people on the street were quite different today than they normally were. Maybe it was because it was a cloudy day and people knew rain would be coming in soon or maybe you did look different with Armin walking next to you, but everyone almost seemed friendlier.

There wasn’t a food stall that you passed that wasn’t saying ‘hello’ with a smile when you normally never even got a glance in your direction. A couple of them even gave Armin a free sample to taste which he accepted with an excited ‘thank you’ and shared with you while you walked. You kept looking over at him as he smiled at everyone with his big, blue eyes. It was definitely Armin that was making the difference. His less threatening face and cheerful look in his eyes was getting the attention of everyone you moved past.

You made it to the store and the lady behind the counter who usually paid no attention to you wasn’t any different from the rest of the town, happily greeting Armin with a welcoming smile on her face. You moved to the back of the store knowing what you needed and quickly grabbing it. There was no need to be out more than necessary. Armin took the supplies from you and you both went back to the counter.

“Looks like terrible weather today,” she said smiling at Armin.

“Rainy weather is nice with a cup of tea.” He smiled back.

“Such a positive way of thinking about it.” She rang up the items. “Are you guys from around here?”

“We’re just visiting,” he replied. You remembered another item you needed and quickly ran back to the aisle in the back, tucked all the way in the corner, ‘feminine products’. It was completely different here than back home. Each time you came back thinking they would restock what you were used to using, but it was only ever the same products. You grabbed a box at random and went back to the front.

“This one is my favorite,” the cashier was saying to Armin, “it’s perfect for days like today.”

“Thank you for the information!” His innocent smile was winning everyone over. She put it in the bag with your stuff and Armin spoke up to protest. “Oh, I’m sorry. We can’t pay for that.”

“No problem.” She winked. “It’s on the house.”

“Thank you!” Armin was beaming.

He looked back to you as you set your box of tampons on the counter, looking at the box, then back to you, concern hitting his eyes. You paid for the stuff and grabbed your bags, heading back out to the street.

“Wait… wait, Y/N.” Armin rushed next to you, taking the two small bags from you. “I can carry these for you. You should rest.”

“What for?” You kept walking.

“Your condition.” His eyes were wide, still full of worry.

“Trust me—” You tried not to laugh at his concern. “—I’m fine. Besides, the bags aren’t even heavy.”

“Even still, I will—”

“What do we have here?” A voice called from a group of older boys just outside the store. Both Armin and you turned to see who they were talking to. “It looks like a couple out-of-towners.”

The group of boys laughed and that’s when you knew they were talking about you and Armin. You turned Armin around to keep walking.

“Hey, blondie. Nice outfit.” Another voice called. You stopped where you were standing. Armin turned to grab your hand, but you stayed there.

“Looks like we got a bearcat on our hands, fellas.” The group laughed.

“Don’t listen to them.” Armin was pulling you, but you weren’t budging.

“Come on, you got something to say?” The boys kept jeering.

“Don’t tell us you’re going to listen to that little guy.” Another boy taunted, throwing an empty can at you, just missing your head.

You turned around quickly, walking over to them and narrowing your eyes.

“Is there a problem?” You asked, taking time to glare at each of them.

There were four boys. They each looked to be around eighteen, maybe nineteen. They were clearly bored and looking for someone to bother. If they wanted a fight, you would give them one. It had been a while since you sparred. Why not take out some aggression on some punk kids.

“As a matter of fact—” the boy sitting on the table stood up, “—there is. We don’t like your kind coming over to our country and stinking it up.” “Our kind?”

“Yeah, foreigners.” He spit whatever it was he was chewing right next to your foot on the ground. “You’re leaving a mess.”

“I think you’re mistaking me for your friend there.” You nodded at the one who threw the can.

“Whatchu mean?” He spit off to the side again and you clenched your jaw.

“The porky ashcan sitting behind you.”

All the boys stood up at that and the spitting one calmed them down, putting his hands up until they settled.

“I think you need to be more careful with who you’re calling a porky ashcan.” He narrowed his eyes and spit, this time right in front of you, the splotch landing directly on your shoe. You moved quickly forward, but Armin was faster, standing in between the two of you and holding you back with his hand.

“Wait! Wait! We will be more careful.” He was looking at you, then turned to look at the boys. “She’s just tired. It’s making her angry. We will be more careful.”

“Looks like the blondie can tame the bearcat.” The spitter smiled an ugly smile.

“We’re sorry to bother you.” Armin nodded and pulled you along. You glared at the spitter until Armin pulled you far enough away and you both continued along the sidewalk.

“Why did you do that?” You griped. “You realize I could take them. Easily.”

“We fight titans. I don’t doubt your abilities.” His voice was low. “But you can’t just lose your temper like this every time you get a bit upset.”

“A bit upset??” You turned to look at him, your eyes wide. “He threw garbage at us, called us names and spit on me. I am more than ‘a bit upset’.”

“Let’s just get back.” Armin’s walked quickly, the smile on his face from earlier was gone.

You sighed as you followed him. Were you getting irrationally angry? It seemed like an appropriate amount of anger to you. They were punk kids that probably needed a lesson anyway. You looked over your shoulder, seeing them following you both. They might actually get that lesson if they stick close.

Before you even had the chance to prepare a plan, one of them ran forward, pushing Armin and he tripped, falling forward into the sidewalk.

“Armin!” You ran down to help him sit up and checked his face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” His cheek was bleeding, scratched on the rough surface of the sidewalk. You were seething, fists shaking, breathing heavily and unsuccessfully trying to control your anger. Armin could see how upset you were and held your hand. “Y/N, I’m okay. Don’t do anything.”

You stood up and turned around, shoving your fist in the face of the first boy you saw, the porky ashcan. His head flew back and he fell to the ground, knocked out. The other boys started getting loud, yelling threats and running at you. You moved away from Armin and drew their attention to the little junkyard area behind you.

The second boy made his way over, fists flying and you ducked and dodged until you got him in the stomach and a kick to the face where he doubled over, falling to the ground.

The next one was coming at you with a misplaced kick and you laughed at him, making him angrier until he was close enough for you to grab his collar and headbutt him, knocking him out cold.

The spitter was last, walking up to you with a confidence you could tell he didn’t earn. You hit him and he quickly shook it off. He must have been hit before, familiar with the feeling and not as shocked as the others were. He grabbed the collar of your shirt and lifted you up. You had to admit, you weren’t exactly a lightweight, the guy had some muscle.

Picking you up was a mistake though. You quickly threw your leg over his shoulder and shifted the weight, taking him down until you were straddling him, one more close hit and he was out too. You smiled, standing up and wiping your hands. You were about to turn around to head back to Armin when porky ashcan tackled you, knocking you down and into a metal shard sticking up from the ground.

“FUCK!” You screamed. You were panting when porky ashcan climbed off of you and the other boys woke up. Seeing what happened and watching the blood soak into your white shirt, they all fled, leaving you lying there.

“Y/N!” Armin ran over, helping you sit up.

“Shit.” Your breathing was shallow and quick, sharp pain stabbing your lungs as you shook, trying to grip the edge of the shard. It wasn’t thick, but it went clear through the side of your lower abdomen. “Is it all the way through?”

You lifted up the side of your shirt to take a look. Armin knelt down next to you, holding your hip and helping you lift your shirt.

“Yeah.” His eyes were wide. Armin didn’t even need to lift your shirt to know it was straight through, the back of your shirt stained with blood.

“Help me get it out.” You leaned forward, resting your head on his shoulder.

His hands were shaking as he reached forward, gripping the edge sticking out of your stomach. He wiped the beads of sweat that formed on his upper lip with the back of his hand and shifted his legs a bit. He didn’t want to do this. He reallydidn’t want to do this, but he couldn’t ask you to do it.

He gritted his teeth, forcing the water sitting in the corners of his eyes to roll down his cheeks and he blinked to clear his vision then pulled. Quickly, and yet somehow so slowly, and with a dragged-out groan from you, the shard was out of your stomach and Armin set it to the side, resting both of his hands on your shoulder to help steady you.

“Fucking shit,” you breathed. “Damn it.”

The cut wasn’t that big, mainly hitting the bulk of muscles you had at your side, but it was bleeding quite a bit. This is exactly what you didn’t need right now. You didn’t need something slowing you down, something stopping you from being at your best. You took a deep breath, Armin still examining how bad the cut was.

“I think you need stitches.” He wiped his eyes harshly on the back of his sleeve.

“I’ll be fine.” You winced as you dropped the shirt back down, lightly pressing on the cut.

“You can’t beat an injury just by being strong, Y/N. You need stitches.” Armin stood up. “I’ll be right back.”

“Armin, where are you going? Armin!” You called after him, but he was already out of view and most likely nearing out of earshot. You had no idea how he had that much energy, but you didn’t have time to think about it. You couldn’t decide if it was better to stay sitting how you were or to get moving. There was no way you would be able to help Armin if he did get in trouble. The best way to help was not sit around and take your time.

You slowly stood yourself up, the twisting and stretching starting to pull at the cut causing your vision to go white. You stopped midway, wincing and taking a deep breath, then getting yourself to fully stand up. You kept pressure on the wound and walked back to pick up the bags and slowly made your way back to your abandoned building.

You were definitely losing blood. You could feel it pooling in your hand as you held your stomach, but it wasn’t enough to prevent you from moving, though moving was only contributing to the continuous flow of blood to the cut.

It was only a couple more minutes until you would reach the building and you could rest. You took a deep breath, your feet starting to drag slightly as you fought your mind wanting your body to sleep.

You could barely hear Armin’s voice yelling for you behind you. In your attempt to slow down and turn, you lost your balance and started falling. Armin quickly ran forward and caught you.

“What the hell are you doing?!” His face was right in front of yours, eyes bright blue and glassy. His jaw was clenched in anger. “Why are you trying to carry all this and walk when you’re injured? Are you crazy?”

Seeing him yelling at you only made you smile, your vision going black shortly, body limp, before returning and you blinked yourself back.

“We need to get back,” you mumbled. Armin put you on his back and grabbed the bags, moving as fast as he could back to the building. Thankfully, the cloudy weather sent most people inside and walking through the final small streets weren’t as difficult.

Armin managed to get everything, including you, back up the stairs and moved you to the bathroom, setting you against the sink.

“I think this might hurt.” He worried.

“I promise you, I’m already in pain.” You pulled off your shirt. “Just get it over with so I can lay down.”

Armin washed his hands and wet the small rag he had with him, bringing it to the wound and wiping gently, trying to watch your reactions.

“Fuck,” you grunted through gritted teeth. He lightened the pressure of the towel and ran the water through it, squeezing it out and wiping again. You watched as he quickly wiped his eyes with his shirt sleeve. “You don’t have to cry, I’m fine.”

“I’m not…” He looked up and met your eyes, sniffling. “I’m just worried.”

“It’s okay, Armin.” He looked back down and continued cleaning the wound with the wet towel before moving to the smaller cut in the back.

He knelt down in front of you, doing his best to stitch the gash closed, thankful it was a clean cut. He continued looking up as he worked, watching as you closed your eyes and your body swayed woozily. He wasn’t the best at medical aid, but you had both certainly stitched a cut or two while out on a mission. As he finished up the stitch, the bleeding slowed and he let out a small sigh.

He had managed to find some stitching supplies at the store and the lady working there was nice enough to give them to him for free. He knew you would most likely need some sort of antibiotic, but hoped the cleaning he did would be enough for now.

He finished up the stitches in the back and helped you to the bed. The second your body hit the blankets, you passed out.

You began to lose track of time as you came in and out of consciousness, each time asking Armin how much time had passed. By the end of the second day, you were more aware and able to stay awake.

“You need to try and eat something,” he suggested, handing you a piece of stale bread.

You refused the food and he leaned over you to check on the progress of healing.

“Please at least drink some water.” He handed you a cup and you went to grab it as he laid your shirt back down.

“G—damn it!” You grimaced. “Don’t push so hard.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He frowned, worrying about how much worse the pain is getting instead of better. He put his hand on your shoulder and you fell back asleep.

You woke up in the middle of the night, sweating and in extreme pain. There was a pulsing heat coming from your side and you were shaking as you moved to sit up, a wave of nausea passing over you as you leaned your back against the wall. It was cold and actually helped the heat you felt pouring over you.

You forced yourself to take quiet, deep breaths in order to not wake up Armin. You could easily fall back asleep. So easily you were fairly certain you hadn’t been sleeping at all, but passing out from the pain. Up until now you had been able to get up and use the bathroom yourself, but right now you weren’t even sure you could stand up by yourself.

You took another deep breath, bending your legs in front of you and leaning against the wall behind you to get yourself to slide up the wall, but it was no use. There was no way you were going to stand on your own. You moved your hand to Armin, trying to call his name through labored breaths. He opened his eyes and quickly sat up, seeing you sitting.

“I need to pee.” You tapped his hand lightly with your own.

“Do you want me to bring a bag or something?”

“I don’t think we’re there yet.” You tried to laugh, but only a puff of air came out. “I just need help to the bathroom.”

Armin nodded and moved closer to you. He hooked his hands under your armpits and lifted as you used your legs to help, whimpering at the pull against the laceration. As soon as you were upright, he wrapped your arm over his shoulder and helped move you to the bathroom.

The building didn’t have the greatest bathroom, but it did have separate stalls which was helpful if you and Armin needed to use the bathroom at the same time. That had yet to happen, but it was still nice. It was also helpful having indoor plumbing, something you both weren’t familiar with.

Armin sat you down and closed the door, waiting sleepily on the other side.

“How long were you awake?” He asked, yawning through his question.

“Not long.”

“Maybe we should clean the wound a little while you’re up.” You opened the door and he turned around to help you to the sink. Armin had been suspecting that it wasn’t healing properly. Pain would have been normal, but not the amount you had been in.

He leaned you up against the cold wall in between the two sinks and lifted your shirt. You could hear his quiet gasp as he looked at wound. Perfect.

“Tell me if it hurts when I touch it.” He leaned over and started just resting his hand on the front of your stomach, far from the actual cut which was closer to your side. He continued moving it, pressing lightly as he slid it more towards your side, but higher up, just under the band of your bra. At this point, it just felt like his hand on your skin.

Armin was doing his best to slowly approach the red streaks that were creeping out from the wound. It definitely looked bad. The scab was big, wider than it was the day before, pus leaking through the cracks in it. Thin red streaks were appearing on the edges. He lowered his hand to your waist, sliding back towards the wound and you winced, your body flinching away from his hand.

“Maybe it’s better if you clean it?” He stood up straight. “I’m worried it will hurt if I do it.”

“It’s okay.” You nodded. “I can handle it.”

Armin quickly washed his hands and you braced yourself over the sink. The moment he brought his hands to your waist, the stinging pain of the water and the weight of the pressure had you gripping the sink so tightly your knuckles were white.

Armin lightened his touch, watching your ab muscles flex as your breathing picked up.

“I’m sorry.” He pulled his hand away to get more water.

“Just… do it… quickly.” You could barely separate your teeth to talk. Armin finished up and patted you dry and you both moved back to the bed.

A couple hours later, the sun had barely risen, small slivers of light shining through the window above you. You were sitting against the wall, having trouble breathing. Armin sat in front of you, his eyes watering and trying to think of anything he could do for you.

Your skin had paled significantly, lips white and chapped. You were constantly sweating at this point and somehow still managed to feel cold and hot. The pain was nearly unbearable.

“I don’t know what to do.” He held your hand, his own hand shaking as he tried to calm you.

“It’s okay,” you breathed, “we need to… if I pass out again… you have to find a way…”

You had no idea how to explain to him that he had to keep going, even if you wouldn’t be able to help him.

“Y/N, no! You have to get better.” He begged.

“Armin, I—"

“Armin?” Both of your heads shot up at the unfamiliar voice ringing quietly through the room. Armin quickly turned around. It was still too dark to see anything farther in front of them.

Armin grabbed a stick from next to the bed and held it in his unsteady hands, aiming at the direction of the voice.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” The voice called.

You still couldn’t see the owner of the voice, but you could tell it was a man, his accent different from the other people in the country.

“Who—who are you?” Armin stepped forward.

“I can come closer so you can see me.” The man took slow steps closer to them, stepping into the bit of light they had. He was maybe in his mid-to-late forties with dark features and tanned skin. Armin squinted a bit, trying to get his eyes to focus on the man’s face.

“Fran—Francisco?” His voice shook and the man smiled.

“Yes, you remember me.” The man stepped forward a bit more and Armin stiffened, stepping back, closer to you. As if right on cue, you coughed. “I can see your friend is sick. I only want to help.”

“How did you know we were here?” Armin asked, his voice firmer than it was before.

“After I gave you those shoes, I wanted to make sure you were okay.” The man stepped forward again and Armin stepped closer, lifting the stick to threaten him. The man lifted his hands in reassurance that he wasn’t there to threaten you both. “I was watching you for the last couple days. I only want to help.”

The man took another step forward, only a couple feet from them now and Armin was starting to worry. He knew this man, but only as much as the five-minute conversation they had to learn each other’s names. He had no idea what he wanted from you both.

“Stay back!” He shook the stick.

“Okay, okay.” The man stepped back and lowered himself to the ground, sitting. “I just want to talk. I can see your friend is hurt. I can help her. I have a friend who’s a doctor.”

Armin’s eyes had been watering and he wiped them on the back of his hand, looking back to you, barely conscious, and turning back to Francisco.

“She needs a hospital, Armin.” His voice was calm. “I can help her.”

Armin couldn’t think. He needed time to think things through. He looked back to you, you were dying. You were definitely going to die if you didn’t get help, but he didn’t know that this man was actually going to be the help you needed. He brought his hands to his head, groaning through his clenched jaw. His mind was running wild. He just needed time to think.

“Armin…” your voice was weak, raspy and tired, barely audible, but the moment you spoke, he turned around, kneeling down to you.

“What do I do, Y/N?” He wiped the hair out of your face.

“We don’t have a choice. Let’s go with him.”

Francisco started standing up at your words, staying back until Armin told him it was okay to come closer. Your eyes closed as you slowly lost consciousness again, but not before hearing Armin’s voice in your ear.

“I won’t leave your side, Y/N. I promise.”

[autumnslance]

I've got a writing question that's been on my mind for a while: how do you keep your OCs from becoming self inserts? Every time I think of developing an OC I realize that it's attributes that I

Oops, you got cut off! But in general: all your OCs are going to have traits of yours; it’s inevitable. Sometimes big things, sometimes small things. It’s how we relate to them, and also just natural, I promise. We write what we know, and we know how we interact with ourselves and the world.

But there is a difference between sharing some traits with a character and making them a self-insert. It’s letting their life, their community and culture, their experiences, also influence their traits and thinking, in ways that might be different from how you would respond in a similar situation. Even if you share those attributes.

This is me so let’s go behind a cut shall we?

Dark Autumn is as introverted and solitary by nature as I am; she can and does interact in professional and friendly ways with people (as I try to do), but needs alone time to recharge. However, Dark also has a very different outlook and relationship with her family than I, since her family is large and supportive, very close knit. If family is a lottery, I got the $50 scratch off prize while she hit the Mega-Millions. So I take that into account when thinking of her relationships not just with family, but with friends and potential romantic interests; Dark sees things through a lens of positive, low-drama familial relationships that I can barely fathom. This also means she has a support network and resources myself and other characters don’t, so gets some wish fulfillment of working through issues with care and grace instead of remaining in unhealthy places. She is my “comfort OC” so gets a lot of good things I wish I had—which shapes how she responds to others, like taking care of a FCmate and becoming something of a big sister figure for him, or the responsible older sister figure of my group of OCs. Which is me, really, idealizing my own older sister tendencies into this giant woman who’s better at it.

Aeryn was written to be on the ace scale; not my first character to be so, but the first written that way as I began to realize where my own orientations lie and wanting to examine that through fiction. That she fell for a certain rogue in the process of playing through MSQ again was not at all intentional. I like Thancred as a character—he hits a lot of tropes I enjoy—but in my own mindset, he’s a frustrating younger brother. I didn’t think I’d do NPC x WoL shipping. But there it is, because in determining Aeryn’s own experiences and how those shaped her, it ended up working out that way (and I spent the better part of 2 years writing the characters separately to figure that out and if it could work before writing them together because it’s not something that comes naturally to me).

Aeryn’s internal anger is something I have a difficult time with; it’s outside my own nature to carry things like that. I have my angers, certainly, but they are different from hers. I tend to need a lot to set me off and then it burns out hot and quick. Aeryn’s more of a long boil she keeps bottled up. I’ve gotten a few things through various fics, I think, but it’s why I do things like reference arguments but rarely depict them. Being non-confrontational myself (I’m meek and have hangups thanks to my own life) it’s a challenge. Aeryn responded to childhood traumas (that I never dealt with), bullying (that I did), losses (that I haven’t yet), and the responsibility she’s been given (thank goodness I don’t) far differently than I. Maybe I’d be more volatile, too, if I had her life. But I understand where her anger comes from sharing some of the reasons, I just shape it differently than my own.

There’s a lot of things about Dark and Aeryn that are accidentally similar, just due to the timing of their character generation and other RP OCs made for other games along the way; “Oh I haven’t done X or Y in a character in awhile” sort of thing, but how each approaches those similarities and why—their quietness, their issues with using magic, their tendency to “adopt” others as family—all come from different places and resolve differently, too.

C’oretta comes from a part of me that doesn’t quite want to grow up. That wishes I had been more of the peppy, active, cheerful, risk-taking, live it up stereotypical party kid, that “popular girl” archetype I felt so often on the outside looking in about. As my second character, I wanted her to be different from Dark Autumn—visually, emotionally, mentally. Where Dark is steady, C’oretta is flighty. While Dark is people oriented, C’oretta’s a bit selfish (like I often feel). Dark’s introverted, C’oretta’s extroverted. Much of C’oretta’s attitude is a deflection against the hurts in her life, a way to fight back against some terrible things. It’s a way I could never react. But I also can’t get away from a character who loves to learn and wants to try new things—but where other characters gain the ability to stick with and see them through, C’oretta gets my easy frustration and boredom, and then the “ooh shiny” of a new interest. There’s a history of ADHD (or whatever the acronyms are now) and even autism and learning issues in my family; it’s possible I have some undiagnosed ND stuff going on, and people have noted these things in C’oretta that I’ve based on my own experiences and those of people very close to me.

Many of my characters have traits I wish I had, or were better at; patience, kindness, consideration, convictions, courage, thoughtfulness, and so on and etc. They’re good at skills I haven’t the knowledge in, or the ability to do. They’re certainly more active than I am, or could be! Because I can take the time to think and plan and research and write those things out better, and just maybe along the way not only learn something myself, but try to practice it better myself. I can even sometimes let them teach me what I can possibly do or be, not just imagine it as an ideal that’s out of reach.

I try to let my characters make mistakes I wouldn’t—or in some cases, have in my past, and that’s OK. Especially if I learned from them, but maybe the character does not. Maybe they do but it takes awhile, or repeated instances until it sinks in. Maybe I let them make errors I still make, as a way to puzzle out better solutions I should probably entertain for myself.

Character voice is something I’ve felt I struggled with in keeping my OCs distinct. Do characters ‘sound’ alike, in dialogue and prose? Having distinct ways of speaking helps; C’oretta’s breathless chatty run-ons are certainly different from Dark and Aeryn’s quieter tendencies. I have to remember to trim down Aeryn’s dialogue more often, say less aloud, add more gestures and facial expressions. I tend to be a talker, an over-explainer (if you can’t tell), while the only times she gets like that are specific. Dark’s somewhere in the middle of those two, like I am. A lot of the reason I like writing NPCs and try to keep them close to my interpretation of canon is to practice distinct character voice to get better at it in my OCs, so they don’t sound like me!

And something I’ve never admitted to before is that I think for me, it helps that from the time I was a kid watching various series of Star Trek, I always have had an in-my-own-head-only self-insert. She’s always a support character (that’s what I’m best at). She has cool and unusual abilities to help the actual heroes, cuz heck it’s my internal fantasy and that’s fun. She has traits I want to be better at or wish I had, developed over time with more energy and focus than I can actually muster in reality. As time’s gone on, she’s become more of a mentor and Mom Friend as I’m now older and see a lot of protagonist characters as “my kids” now. She appears in nearly every story I’ve loved over time, in one iteration or another. And because I have a headspace character where I can say “this is what I, ideally, would say and do and be capable of in this situation…” My other characters that I actually write about can vary between doing something similar (if it suits them) to doing something completely different (cuz darn kids never listen) as I can compare them to the self-insert and decide where to diverge.

So it’s a mix of myself and my traits and knowledge, but taking into account how each character would respond and use those same attributes differently than I do or would. Write what you know, write who you are—and then add in some wish fulfillment, some what ifs, some bad choices, some good choices, and shake things up. Give the characters tics and tricks different from yourself and let that shape them, too, by remembering to take those things into account (even if you have to tape a note to your monitor).

And finally, don’t be ashamed of your self-inserts; I’ve known some great characters that started as self-inserts and grew, through their experiences, into wholly different people than their writers over time. Heck, the epic romance my original WoW priest was part of was with a character that started as a self-insert; his player began the game knowing nothing of the lore or roleplaying, but as he learned the story and how to RP, and determined how his character fit into the world and how that shaped him, the character diverged over time, while still sharing some key traits (some endearing, some frustrating, as people are and all part of that friend). It’s not a bad starting point at all. The rest can come over time and practice, especially if you make a lot of OCs and try to make them different from each other while also being aspects of yourself.

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 10: Dukexiety

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 10: You are born with a birthmark, similar to a tattoo, that is shared by your soulmate.

Content warnings: allusions to past suicidal thoughts, just bad mental health past in general, vague bullying, swimming pools, past isolation, minor injury (broken ribs), general anxiety and self deprecation.

Word count: 3.9k

I was very low on time, and very exhausted from work, so I tried something new! I first discovered the concept of ‘bullet fics’ from @illogicallyinclined ‘s hockey au, GO CHECK IT OUT!!! (It’s living in my head rent free for a couple months now)

Virgil, Patton, Logan, and Roman have been friends for as long as they can remember. The first three met at a neighborhood barbecue when they were just a couple years old, and since they all live on the same block, became each other’s go to play buddies. They all stuck together in their first years of school together, the unbreakable trio, and then they met Roman. Or, Roman was pulled into their clutches and was therefore part of the group now. Patton saw him getting bullied across the playground and ran in to help, and now Roman is ‘eternally in their debt’. But they like him, so his extravagance is okay. 

They hung out constantly, all throughout middle and highschool, and they graduated together. It was a big moment for all of them; Patton, who almost got left a grade behind several times (his dyslexia went undiagnosed for several years and he was simply categorized as ‘dumb’), Virgil, who almost didn’t make it due to a mental health crisis, Logan, who was pressured heavily by his parents to move up a grade and had to fight tooth and nail to stay with his friends, and Roman, who’s bullying problems didn’t exactly lessen through the years, and was more than relieved to be leaving that behind. 

That summer, they pledge (mostly by Roman’s pleading) to try and do something fun every day. While Logan says this is improbable and Virgil groans at the thought of spending every day socializing, Patton is excited for the idea and “it’s two against two so you have to at least try!”

“That logic doesn’t make sense-” “Shut it, teach, just let us have this.”

So far, they’ve gone to the amusement park just out of town, gone to the park too many times to count, visited their local arcade that they hadn’t even stepped foot into since middle school, and tie-dyed a variety of clothing items in Patton’s backyard. Today, Patton is forcing them all to go to the pool, despite Logan claiming that they’re “feces infested, germ nesting grounds” and Virgil’s argument that “he burns like an unwatched pot of milk, how can you expect this from me”, Patton’s little puppy eyes do them all in.

Unfortunately, just as they’re leaving for the pool, Roman gets a call. At first it’s civil, and then his voice raises, and then he’s hanging up and throwing his phone onto his seat from where he’s standing next to the open car door. Angrily, he tells his friends that his mom got called into work and his dad’s on a business trip, so they need to take his brother with them.

At first, this raises some confusion.

“I was not under the impression that you had a little brother.”

“How old is he? Either way, I say, the more the merrier!”

Virgil is not thrilled at the idea of babysitting, since kids generally don’t like him, but he doesn’t voice his displeasure. 

Roman has to admit, with much embarrassment, that it’s actually his twin, who is just so chaotically irresponsible that he has lost Home Alone Privileges. He’s broken the TV, accidentally started fires, and lost their dog one too many times and his parents said no more. 

So he drives all the way back to his house, the three friends crammed into the back seat of his two door sedan (because the seats are A Pain to raise and lower and it makes more sense to give said brother the front seat instead of rearranging when they get him), grumbling under his breath about his stupid brother, stupid work, stupid stupid stupid-

Virgil is apt to agree with him, because if being around his three closest friends is enough interaction to mentally exhaust him, adding a new person to the mess is so much worse. He’s generally unexcited to meet this new person… until they pull up to the driveway.

And holy heck. 

This man is GORGEOUS. 

It takes a second for him to realize it’s Roman’s brother, because despite his first assumption, the two are not identical. They’re very similar, obviously related, for sure, but they are surprisingly easy to tell apart, and it’s not just because of the silver streak in the brother’s hair.

Which he should not find as hot as he does.

After Roman insists said brother does need to go get a bathing suit and no you can not go swimming in your jeans, he jumps into the passenger seat and, with as much energy as Roman has at Full Potential, introduces himself as Remus to the backseat audience. 

Patton and Logan both say small hello’s, but Virgil is just stuck.

Dear lord. Princey, why have you been hiding him from me?

When they get to the pool, Virgil makes a complete fool of himself getting out of the car. He trips on his seatbelt, landing directly in Remus’ arms, and looks up to see this devil man grinning at him with all the hubris of a greek god. Before he can say anything, Virgil pushes himself up and rolls his eyes (all while internally screaming) and walks away, joining Patton and Logan where they are just entering the main gate. 

He can’t help it; when in proximity of cuteness, his emergency mode is “be a dick”.

But it only gets worse from there.

When Virgil has an umbrella properly set up above a chair so he can save his skin from the sun (“I burn like unwatched milk on a stove. I’m not going in.”) and is comfortably situated with his phone and iced coffee, Remus steps in front of him to take his shirt off. 

He’s pretty sure Remus didn’t even mean to. It just… happened to be directly in his line of sight. 

As soon as the shirt is above his head, Virgil chokes on his drink, squirting iced coffee out of his nose and going into a coughing fit. Patton rubs his back while Roman tries not to laugh (and fails miserably), all while Remus is just watching him. Confused. (Logan is in the change rooms, because he insists on not wearing his bathing suit unless he is actively about to swim)

There’s more than just the sun issue that prevents Virgil from swimming. While his friend’s soulmarks are relatively small (Roman has a little one on his neck, Logan and Patton have a shared one just above their ankles), Virgil’s is a huge splotch that covers his entire side, reaching from just above his top rib to where his waistband usually lies. It’s all squiggles and lumps; Virgil once compared it to a storm cloud, but the lightning streaks were tentacles. It’s all in all, just… A Mess. And he doesn’t really like it. No one he’s ever met has had a soulmark like that, and he hates standing out.

When Remus takes off his shirt, in all his muscled glory, Virgil can’t miss the matching soulmark that trails down Remus’ side. It’s his, no doubt about it, but… that can’t be right, can it? Remus is so… full of life, dangerous, the epitome of chaotic; he’s everything Virgil is not. More so, he’s terrified of what Remus must think of him. He’s nothing special, he’s just an anxious ball of angst. What if he’s disappointed in who the universe decided to stick him with? 

After he’s done choking on iced coffee, and Logan is back from the change room, he realizes Remus is long gone, in the deep end of the pool trying to gather as many foam noodles as he can. They check that Virgil is alright, and when he merely gives them a shaky thumbs up, they take it at face value and dive in. Except Logan, who uses the steps like a mature adult, you children. 

He lets the rest of his coffee sit in the sun, until the sun melts all the ice cubes and it’s lukewarm to touch and overall, just gross, because suddenly he has no appetite. Yeah, this guy is gorgeous and he’s hopelessly gay for him, but... soulmate? That’s a lot for anyone to take in, much less someone with forty seven different kinds of anxiety. /j

If Virgil was uneasy taking his shirt off before, he sure as hell isn’t doing it now. No matter how much Patton and Roman plead with him, he stays glued to his chair, eyes flickering from his friends playing Marco Polo to watching his soulmate Remus. He’s turned the pool noodles into a giant raft and is trying to balance on it, like an absolute idiot.

An extremely good looking idiot. 

Virgil can’t help but notice that… he’s all alone. Roman, Patton, and Logan barely even throw him the occasional glance, much less invite him to hang out with them in the water. Worse than that, he seems relatively fine with it. It could just be that he doesn’t want to intrude on his brother’s friend group, but Remus doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to have those boundaries. Which kind of insinuates that he’s used to being alone, and Virgil can’t help but empathize. 

He notices it a lot, actually. The group meeting Remus also coincides with Roman and Virgil becoming more close; less of a frenemy relationship, and more of an actual friendship. Patton is delighted, because this means the three of them get to hang out at Roman’s huge place more often without their constant bickering (because when it got bad at one of their houses, Virgil’s was never more than a ten minute walk away when Roman finally pushed his last button. Here, they were all stuck.)

And every time they go over, he can’t help but notice the loud music coming from Remus’ room, or the man just sitting on the couch watching TV (which he tends to do shirtless, which does not help Virgil at all), or irritating Roman’s parrot. All in all, doing things alone. It strikes a chord in Virgil’s heart, which is something he’d never admit to another person.

Maybe that’s why, in the following week when Roman has the grand idea to go on a mountain hike, Virgil quietly asks if they could invite Remus. At first, Roman is adamant. “He’ll just ruin things, he doesn’t appreciate nature, he’s annoying!” But Patton claims “The more the merrier” and Logan doesn’t have any particular stance, so he begrudgingly invites Remus.

Who very excitedly accepts. 

The trail Roman visited is quite a ways out of town, so they cram back into his tiny car and start the drive. Patton claimed shotgun, so him and Roman have derailed into an animated conversation about cartoons, while Logan just pops in his earbuds and leans his head against the window. For the longest time, Remus and Virgil sit in awkward silence, because neither of them could get a word in edgewise to the front seat conversation even if they tried, and they don’t… really… know what to say… to each other. 

It’s Remus who finally breaks the silence (shocker).

“Roman tells more you’re the one who wanted to invite me.”

“Yeah, well, you seemed lonely. And… I mean, you’re Roman’s brother. Can you really be that bad?”

He means it as a joke, but he sees the light in Remus’ eyes die slightly. The tone of his voice doesn’t falter though, remaining as joyful and quirky as always. 

“I’m a lot more fun than Roman. People just don’t like to see it that way.”

“Setting your kitchen curtains on fire is fun?”

“If you were there, you’d understand!”

And they keep talking, maybe trailing into borderline flirting, for the whole ride. Virgil is surprised at the lack of tenseness in his shoulders, because though Remus is loud and a little unsettling, he is incredibly patient when Virgil has trouble forming his sentences and doesn’t interrupt him when he’s talking; an incredible help to someone with crippling anxiety. Underneath his exterior, he’s actually… incredibly soft? What?

By the time they pull up to the trail, Remus is actually starting to grow on Virgil. Since Patton and Roman are still so into their debate, and Logan seems content listening to his music (or podcast, but who really knows), they continue talking as the hike starts. The shorter boy can’t help but glance at the other every few seconds, seeing their soulmark just peeking past the edge of his baggy tank top. If Remus notices, he says nothing. 

And he learns Remus was bullied a lot through school, just like Roman was, but instead of finding a group that supported him, he broke off as a lone wolf. He came off scary or maybe just a little bit crazy to anyone he tried to befriend, since his social skills were pretty lacking due to disuse and his incredible lack of filter, so he learned early that staying alone hurt less. And in that time, he just became more and more… Like That… because he literally never had peers to mature with. 

The hike is a long one. Remus is pretty eager to spill his guts, probably since he was never able to before, so Virgil feels obligated to do the same. He tells Remus about his anxiety, about his mental health issues during school, about his home life and his hobbies, and the fact that there are more people around just fades into the background. It could as well be just them, and Virgil starts to wish it was. 

So of course, that’s when everything goes to shit.

A mountain biker comes ripping down the path, too quick to even process, and Virgil is caught off guard. Of course, he’s not walking near the edge of the path, because he has some shred of common sense, but the bike speeding by him causes him to flinch and stumble to the side; an instinctual reaction. Except his instincts decided to not remember until the last second that he’s at the edge of the trail.

It’s almost like happening in slow motion, his foot goes over the edge, and he doesn’t realize what’s about to happen until his other foot is already off the ground, ready to take that next step back, and he’s falling. Luckily (as lucky as one can be in this situation), it’s not a straight drop, just a decently long, steep slope that’s essentially just a bunch of rocks and weeds. 

He hears his friends scream his name, sees a hand fly out to catch him, and it just snags the edge of his jacket before he’s freefalling for a split moment. One heart stopping, never ending, eternal and all too short moment of weightlessness where he twists his body, hoping to try and brace himself, and then he meets the slope.

Hard.

His breath leaves him in a wheeze and he distinctly hears a loud snap. Through his pain addled brain, he tries to stop his slide further down by grabbing anything; rocks, roots, dirt. It’s useless.

He stops naturally, on a small ledge several meters from the top before the slope continues. For a moment, he can only lay there, trying to breathe through the intense pain flaring through him pretty much everywhere, not to mention the sheer levels of pure panic numbing his thoughts. He stares at the clouds, watching them as they float by, each breath spreading fire through his torso but at the same time strangely numb.

And then, “VIRGIL!”

His eyes shoot open (wait, when did he close them?) to see Remus’ concerned face above his. If the messied state of his outfit is any indication, this man just slid down the slope to catch up to him. His hands are hovering above Virgil, scared to touch, but more scared that Virgil is going to keep falling.

“Fuck,” is Virgil’s eloquent response. He tries to take a deep breath, tries to do his breathing pattern to calm his nerves, but NOPE. Wrong move. 

He immediately gasps and his hands fly to his ribs, another flair of pain shooting up them. Remus’ hands grab his, pulling them away from his torso, holding them securely. “I think you have some broken ribs. That was… one hell of a fall. We need to get you back up to the trail though, okay?”

Virgil can only nod his head, allowing Remus to help him stand, biting his lip so hard to keep from crying out that his lip splits. It hurts.

Trust Logan to come up with ideas on the fly. The biker must have stopped when he realized Virgil had fallen (at least he didn’t just keep driving), because when Virgil opened his tear filled eyes, there was a bike tire just a few feet from his face. He followed the frame of the bike, up to where Roman was holding the other wheel and standing precariously on the slope. Logan is clinging onto his hand, one foot on the slope and one on the actual trail, and if Virgil has to guess, the biker and Patton are just out of sight, keeping Logan steady. 

Virgil knows it’s going to hurt before Remus even warns him that it will, watching the taller man get a good grip on the bike wheel, before holding Virgil’s wrist with as much force that can muster without actively cutting off circulation. Virgil holds onto his wrist in return, Remus gives a shout to go ahead, and the human/bike chain they’ve created begins to pull them up. 

And oh lord, if Virgil thought just laying down was painful, tripping and stumbling up a steep incline is another world altogether. This time, biting his lip doesn’t work and he lets out a few muffled cries as the team works together, Remus squeezing his wrist every time a choked sound escapes his lips, mind too full of pure agony to even curse.

When they finally step foot onto the trail again, Virgil is in tears, and he is too far gone to even care. The biker is incredibly apologetic, offering his contact information and bidding them adieu when they insist that they’re okay now, and takes off, at an admittedly much slower pace than he was at before. 

Logan, the only one of them with proper (and extensive) first aid training, forces Virgil to sit, giving him time to find a position that puts as little pressure on his ribs as possible, before crouching in front of him.

“Let me check if they’re broken.”

His hand reaches out towards Virgil’s shirt and all the alarm bells start BLARING. No. No, no, no, no, no. Before he can restrain himself, he reaches out and slaps Logan’s hand away, sending another wave of pain through him. The pain doesn’t matter though, not in comparison to Logan possibly revealing his soulmark. 

Logan doesn’t understand this reaction properly (when does he ever), so he tries again.

“Virgil, I need to check the extent of the damage. A cracked rib means you can still make it back to the car. A broken rib would require emergency services and probable air lifting to prevent further damage, like a punctured lung.”

“Fine,” Virgil hisses through clenched teeth, bitterly understanding his logic, “Just… don’t take the shirt off.”

He tries to say it to only Logan, but it’s clear the other’s heard it by the way they exchange confused glances. Yes, they’ve never seen Virgil without a shirt, except they’d always pegged that up to insecurities. Wouldn’t those take a back seat in a possible medical emergency? 

Logan complies, however, and slides his hand under the hem of his shirt without moving the fabric. He runs his hands slowly up each rib, concentrating heavily, until he reaches one midway up and Virgil yelps, instinctively flinching backwards.

Startled by the reaction (it’s his first time actually administering first aid like this, give him a break), Logan jumps back, forgetting his hand is still under Virgil’s shirt.

His hand moves up.

Virgil moves back.

And the hem of his shirt rises up his chest for just a moment.

A moment’s all that’s needed, though. When you notice something that you’ve seen yourself a hundred times over, admiring this way and that in the mirror to commit it to memory, it only takes a glance to recognize it.

Remus only needed that split second of the shirt riding up to notice the lower half of the soulmark, and he definitely did notice it, if the way his jaw drops is anything to go off of. Virgil winces again, not from pain this time, and looks down at his shoes, abhorring the awkward silence that ensues.

The other three don’t understand, watching the two of them with varying levels of confusion, until Remus blurts:

“Are you my soulmate?”

And everything clicks into place. Virgil nods mutely, still not looking up, afraid of his reaction. Would he be upset Virgil kept it a secret? Would he be disappointed? Would he would he would he-

“Oh thank GOD!”

That’s… not the reaction he was expecting. He looks up to see Remus grinning like a child on their birthday, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“I mean, if I’d want anyone to be my soulmate, it would be you! You don’t hate me, which a lot of people do, and you actually listen to me, which is nice, and not to mention you’re super hot, like the whole emo thing is just-”

“Remus!” Roman screeches, cutting him off, “You’re embarrassing him, let him breathe!”

It’s the first time Roman has ever come to Virgil’s defense, and he’s only vaguely happy about that. Truth is, he’s so much more wrapped up in the fact that Remus is actually happy that he doesn’t even notice Logan’s back to touching his ribs until another sharp pain brings him back.

“They’re definitely not broken. Fractured, at worst. Either way, you’re going to the hospital. Only question is, can you get down to the car?”

Virgil wants to nod, wants to go along with no problem, but he can barely take a step before his knees almost give out. If he could double over without making everything worse, he would. 

Remus doesn’t see this as a problem, though, eagerly offering Virgil to ride on his back until they get to the bottom. The shorter is, obviously, reluctant to this plan, seeing as how it’s a decently long trail and he isn’t that light, but damn, his soulmate insists, and next thing he knows, he’s gingerly holding onto Remus’ shoulders as he pushes back into a standing position.

(If he wasn’t already super hot, he’s strong, too? Virgil has struck the literal jackpot.)

He buries his face into the crook of Remus’ neck, trying not to wince at every jolt and bump as they maneuver their way down the hill, all conversation halted so they can focus on the two of them. Roman walks in front of them and Patton and Logan behind, ready to jump into action at any sign of stumbling. 

But it’s okay, it actually is, Virgil realizes as they’re making their way down the hill. Sure, they only really bonded today, but they also bonded in a day, and if that’s not telling of the future they’ll have together, whether romantic or platonic (they still need to talk that out), it’s gonna be okay.

Anyone who’s willing to throw themselves into harm's way and carry you down a mountain has got to be a worthy soulmate.

[ackermanshoe]

March comes in like a lion, it's Portrayal of toxic & healthy relationship and how to compares rivamika + Ereh

Que the longest title everr 😌✨

So before I start on the actual analysis, I recently started watching March comes in like a lion instead of doing my assignments and I half way through season 2. For those of you who haven't watched it, it might be a spoilers so beware of that.

In this analysis I'll be comparing the similarities I found between Rei, Hina and Kyoko.

So watching any anime after being do emotionally attached to rivamika it's only natural that I compare them to the characters with even the tiniest bit similarities in their dynamic but Rei and hina's relationship jump in episode 4 of season 2 really caught me off guard and I was like omg?? Rivamika?? How do I make this about them 😩

Anyway so a little background on Rei's relationship with both girls Kyoko and Hina ( Hinata ). Firstly, i subconsciously placed Rei has Mikasa, kyoko has Eren and Hina as Levi, why? You will know on a minute. Rei is a depressed kid who has known only one way of life and that's through shogi games and after his parents death ( cough cough ) he was taken in by a old friend ( I think ) of his dad's who was also obsessed with shogi. Kyoko is the biological daughter of this man who has "adopted" Rei and later on Rei was came to know Hina and her sisters, they were super supportive of him from the start and having lost family members themselves they related to him on a personal level.

So you see why Eren and mikasa's dynamic matches with Rei and Kyoko and not only as "step siblings" it's also the fact that Rei became somewhat obsessed with her through the time he had spent over at their house, it's toxic and it's been showcased that way ever since kyoko was introduced into the series. Rei thought of her when he heard the word "love" and he even admitted to the fact that having her around is toxic and yet he can't push her away. He said he does not want to stop hearing her voice even tho she , herself is in love with a much older man who is married. Everytime she showed up to his bedroom uninvited and slept next to him my mind went "he is in love with her and their relationship is so toxic why does the author keep bringing her into his life?" Or "girl get the fuck away from him".

Without even thinking too much deep into their physical connection I already knew I would be able to related this dynamic to Eren and Mikasa. Although this series gives us much more depth into the main characters views since it's narrated from his own perspective, and the fact that he metaphorically compared his feelings of being lost and sadness helps me as an audience to understand what's happening much much easier than attack on titan. I personally feel like this kind of series are usually short ( idk how long this is) because it feels like the author knows exactly what he is going for, everything is set in stone.

Going back to Rei's ( mikasa's) relationship with kyoko ( Eren ) it's much much clear how toxic it had become for him in more than just one way. And the show isn't denying Rei of his feelings towards Kyoko and it's not even attempting to distant him from her and yet you just knew there had to be someone better right? That's when they introduced Hina and Kyoko in the same episode, meeting each other and a sense of invisible rivalry gushed over them, especially Hina. She is a happy go lucky girl and extremely sensitive to things to the point it kinda annoys me everytime she bursts out crying ( but hey you can't hate a genuinely good character ).

That's where things get interesting for me maybe because I am on that Levi X Mikasa agenda all the time but just like rivamika their relationship has been portrayed as platonic for the longest time in the seaosns. If I didn't go out of way to search up who Rei falls in love with and it didn't say hina's name I probably wouldn't be making this comparison right now because who wants to have their heart broken for the 2nd time in the same fucking month 🙄.

Anyway so in this one episode Hina comes home crying because of bullying issue at school and as she runs off into the dark streets Rei chases her and eventually catching up to her takes her hand and being able to relate to her problems, comparing his younger self to her present Rei reaches out his hand and God fucking damn it he says "you saved my life..I promise I'll stay with you" ofc I'm making this post now you know the real reason 🤡.

The unseen build up that happen between them reminds me of rivamika, the Portrayal of healthy relationship is rivamika. Hina (in our case Levi ) to Rei is the voice of emotion, she speaks out the feelings that Rei has been surpassing all these years inside of him. Just like how we talked about Levi is the voice of reason, while Mikasa has the impulsive urge to act up. Just like how Levi became the perosn who reasonably always took mikasa's side, he gave her personal reasons to take Erens side everytime have an actual meaning towards the scouts / everyone , he then became someone Mikasa was able to object & voice out her opinion towards because she knew that he would response and guide her the right way and finally he became someone she was able to fully trust.

Much like Hina and Rei, when Hina cried out her heart and Rei couldn't help but go back to his past self and imagine Hina coming to him and giving him a hand, being his saviour. It's much like how Levi saw his past self in Mikasa present ( S1 ), Levi gave Mikasa the hand she needed when she didn't know she needed.

Hina despite being much younger than him, was able to make him realise that he too was shutting out his emotions and was able to let himself be free through Hina when she cried, expressing her frustrations and very human like emotions. In the forest of the giant trees when Mikasa and Levi saved Eren for the first time he told her " we got your precious friend, didn't we?" A slight wake up call he had given her for the very first time, an attack on Mikasa's ego and evoking a different emotions within her. Like telling her it's not only about Eren and getting revenge, risking your life so easily, Levi had lost his entire squad in order to protect Eren so now that he is safe they better leave now.

So the question is did Levi and Mikasa save each other?

What can I say that I haven't said already in here about these two?

"you saved my life" Rei says to Hina as he reached out her hand and the beauty of that scene was the fact that it was delicate and soft despite it not being anything romantic. Remind me of that panel of Mikasa touching Levi's shoulder. How ironic is the fact that I'm comparing Hina, a openly emotional character to Levi who is said to be the most emotional inside?

Levi physically saved Mikasa a lot of the time however emotionally Levi saved Mikasa from being selfish and from herself. What if I said and ignoring 139, that Levi was one of of the biggest reasons Mikasa took the initiative and decapitated Eren that day?

Wait why does it feel like I already said it before lol

Through Levi, Mikasa learnt to trust more, learnt that even though they gave difference not only in height, age and in how they treat Eren ( Levi with force and Mikasa with care ), Mikasa still came in terms with Levi and relied on him, shared her burden with him. I think that's the biggest character twist Mikasa had, the fact that she was ready to draw sword at anyone who treated Eren wrong and everyone was scared of her and then came the grumpy shorty who beat her beloved brother right in front of her but eventually he became the biggest form of support she had in the end. I just can not help but laugh at all the unseen development this ship has had and all the implication of Futher interaction after season 3 between them, it's really obvious they had something going on because imagine you don't talk to someone for like 3 years and suddenly when you engage in battle against , paired up with them suddenly you become the strongest duo known to humanity. +?)!#)# make it make sense.

Sooo now you see the that having toxic relationship with a partner is only natural and inevitable but growing from that, opening your eyes to those who actually care there for you is rather healthy. So moral of the story is guys make sure stick with those who tells you to stay with them, the end.

Omg guys this turned out so much longer than I intended, anyway hopefully y'all liked it. I know it's not the strongest comparison or analysis but I feel like I'm running out of words for what I want to say about rivamika it feels like I'm recycling my sentences from previous analysis over and over again because ✨ lack of content ✨ and my inability to think of something new.

Please ignore all my spelling mistakes I have decided to embrace my mistakes instead of fixing them simply because I'm too lazy 😉

💜💜💜

[mosswillow]

Learning To Love - Steve Rogers x Reader (featuring Texas vibes)

Summary: Life always does this thing where it puts you in situations you swore you were done experiencing. You’re done having relationships, but they may not be done with you.

Warnings: Smut, feelings, angst, interrupted assault  (In relation to this, attacker going unpunished, intimidation, stalker vibes.), mature themes, 18+ adult content, slow burn?

A/N: This is a gift for @joannie95 for the Hoelentine’s Day challenge! I hope you like it. This isn’t a dark fic but it is a little heavy, there’s a healthy dollop of anxiety and feelings throughout with a happy ending.

Thanks to  @amythedvdhoarder @chrissquares and @drabblewithfrannybarnes  for putting this whole thing together, it’s such a fun challenge!

By clicking keep reading you confirm you’re over 18. This is mature content, be careful.

Unlovable.

When asked to describe yourself it’s the first word you think of. Your very first boyfriend spent months emotionally abusing you and by the end of the relationship it’s what you truly believed about yourself. Every relationship after has been the same. Your insecurities and inability to trust causing tension that eventually sabotages any chance at making things work; and with each failed relationship your view of yourself becomes more and more loathsome. Self hatred and depreciation surround you in a cloak of misery, convincing you that they’re your friends.  It’s all your fault, you deserve all of it, You’re unlovable.

So you don’t do relationships anymore. You want nothing more than to love and be loved, to hold hands and kiss under the moonlight. You want a partner to share your life with, an emotional connection that transcends yourself, creating a whole new person.

If only you were good enough, worthy enough for love.

But you’re not.

---

“No eating in here Dr. Rogers,” you chide.

Steve looks up at you and gives a smirk.

“How about a little bribe.” He holds up a bag of beaver nuggets. You roll your eyes and look around before sticking your hand in and grabbing a few puffs.

“I knew you couldn’t be perfect all the time,” He teases.

“Don’t you have an office or something?”

“I like it better here, I get to be scolded by a beautiful librarian and don’t have to deal with the other professors.”  

You’ve known Steve for years. He started teaching at the same time you joined the library staff at Rice. He’s genuine and kind. You’ve watched him help countless students outside of office hours. Everyone likes him, including you. You really like him a lot. That’s why you can’t let yourself entertain the possibility of being with him. You can’t lose him. You can’t bear the inevitable conclusion of him looking you in the eyes and telling you he’s done, that you’re too much for him.

“Well you’ll have to pack it up, they’re sending everyone home because of the hurricane.”

“It’s barely even a hurricane, more like a tropical storm,” Steve scoffs.

“Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

You close the library down before heading to your car. The wind has already started and the sky darkens by the second. You smell the slight scent of sea air and know it’s close. The humidity, which you forgot could even get this bad, causes you to start sweating profusely and you want to get home and take a shower before the storm starts. You have a pint of blue bell waiting for you at home along with a stack of unread books, a quiet night sounds perfect.

“Hey.”

You whip around and see a familiar face, a grad student who visits the library often. Alex, you remember.

“Sorry, I just closed the library down. You'll have to wait until the school opens.”

He takes a small step forward, close enough that your personal space is violated, while at the same time far enough to where the invasion feels almost accidental.

“I’ve watched you around campus, noticed your schedule.” It’s not an accident.

It’s not unusual for students to flirt with you but this is less flirting and more just creepy.

“Oh, um yeah I work a lot.” you take a step back and he follows.

“You don’t have a boyfriend.” He states.

You stare at him and take another step back, hitting your back on your car. You grab onto the handle and he reaches out and grabs your hand.

“Hey don’t be like that. I’m a good guy. I won’t hurt you.”

You pry your hand away..

“One date, say yes.” He says, slowly pushing his body towards you.

“No, I have to go.”  

You press yourself against your car as his body goes rigid.

“You’re such a fucking tease, parading around me for weeks.”

He takes a tiny step back but places his hands against your car, caging you in. You close your eyes and freeze in fear. Your mind screams at you to move but your body just won’t.

He’s suddenly pulled away from you and when you open your eyes the only thing visible is Steve’s back.

“She said no, why don’t you move along and maybe spend some time considering why you feel entitled to women who clearly aren’t interested.”

Alex and Steve stare at each other for a few slow moments before Alex scowls at you and walks away.

“Are you ok?” Steve turns to you.

“I’m fine.” you lie, crossing your arms to avoid shaking.

Steve raises his eyebrows and looks you up and down. You’re not entirely sure how it happens but somehow you end up sitting in the passenger seat of Steve's truck, looking at your apartment building. Rain has started coming down in earnest and you dread running through it.

“Are you going to be ok alone?” Steve asks

“Are you?” You reply.

You look at eachother and your mind clears. His blue eyes stare at you with concern. Steve's hands are still on the steering wheel, clutching on like it might disappear if he lets go. You don’t want to be alone and you can tell that he doesn’t either. You want to feel safe and right now Steve is the only one who makes you feel that way. It would be so easy to invite him in, you know he would say yes.

“You don’t have a car. do you have food? Bottled water? A portable charger?” Steve asks.

“You’re the one that said it’s barely a hurricane.”

Steve sighs and releases his hands from the steering wheel.

“Just call me if you need me.”

You nod and climb out of the truck. The transition from the hot rain to your air conditioned apartment causes you to start shivering and even after you change and cover yourself in a warm blanket you still shake uncontrollably.

---

The storm lasts three days, worse than you were expecting but nothing like Harvey.

Steve shows up at your apartment bright and early a bag of conchas and breakfast tacos in hand. You climb in his truck and buckle your seatbelt. Steve eyes your book bag before backing up.

“You’re not going to work are you?”

“It’s been three days.” you reply.

He looks at you like you’re crazy and you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“It wasn’t that bad, you got there before anything actually happened,” you say.

He opens his mouth and breathes in before biting his lip and driving you to work without another word.

Steve walks you to your car every day after work. You don’t ask him to, he just does. It’s an unsaid expectation you both have. The first week is awkward, You both say almost nothing to each other. The second week though Steve finally breaks the silence.

“How have you been?”

You shrug.  

“I filed a complaint. He’s barred from the library and promised not to come near me.” you say.

Steve purses his lips.

“Do you feel safe though?”

“No...”

Steve stiffens and you reach out and grasp his shoulder.

“Thank you for walking me to my car.”

“Of course,” Steve closes the door for you and you drive away.

Steve cracked something on your exterior. You had been pushing off the feelings before Steve asked you how you were and now you can’t push them down any longer. You get in the shower and let the warm water wash over you. At first you feel raw and then angry and then for the first time since it happened you cry. It feels silly, to let something so seemingly small affect you so much. It could have been so much worse, it’s not like anything actually happened. Maybe that’s what scares you, not what happened but the implication of what could have. He invaded your space and intimidated you, making you feel small and helpless. If it wasn’t for Steve…

You let yourself fall apart until the water turns cold, then you pick yourself up and wrap yourself in a soft towel.

You look at the woman in your bathroom mirror and see someone who isn’t you. She’s broken and hurting, her eyes swollen from crying. She looks like she’s about to fall over from exhaustion. She didn’t deserve what happened to her. She has every right to feel upset and frightened about it. She didn’t deserve to have her safety threatened, nobody deserves that.

You didn’t deserve it.

You go to work the next day and the day after that. Days turn into weeks turn into months and the fear slowly leaches out of you as you reach out for help. The woman in your bathroom mirror deserves therapy and so do you.

Steve is always there. He walks you to your car every day. He starts texting you and you text him back. You go out to dinner with him, an ethiopian place this weekend and a mediteranian food truck the next. You form inside jokes and slowly you find yourself telling Steve little things about yourself.

“Why are you single?” You ask him one day.

“I had a girlfriend, she’s not with us anymore. After she… I guess I just… I wasn’t in a place for a long time to date anyone, I cringe now at some of the things I did while dating after she passed.”

He leans back and gives you a little smile.

“I’ll know when it’s the right time to jump back in - when it’s the right person.”

You open up about your past and he listens. He tells you about growing up as the smallest kid in his class, how he was bullied and how suddenly people started treating him differently when he hit a late growth spurt. You feel closer to him than you’ve ever felt with anyone.

---

Steve walks you to your car. Tomorrow is your off day and you stop to thank him and remind him you aren’t working the next few days. He’s looking at you and shifts on his feet, you furrow your brows in concern.

“It’s Valentine's day tomorrow.” He blurts out.

You take a step towards your car, knowing where this is going and not wanting it to go any further.

Steve is the one who holds you together, his friendship helping you in so many ways. He holds power over you though, power to throw you aside and break you apart. You can’t be cast away, not again.

“If you don’t have plans maybe I can make you something for dinner at my place?”

You turn away and grab your door handle.

“Sorry, I’m busy.”

“Oh of course, yeah that’s fine.”

You watch Steve bring his hand up to his forehead in the rearview mirror as you drive away.

That evening you write the text, it’s cowardly but you don’t think you can face him.

I don’t need you to walk me to my car anymore. Thank you for your help but I think our relationship should be professional from here on out.

What? No, we’re friends. Are you ok?

You turn your phone off and take a sleeping pill only to be woken in the middle of the night by pounding on your door.

Steve stands in your doorway. His eyes are red and his hair is messy. He takes a deep breath and runs his hand through his hair.

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

“I turned it off.”

Steve stares at you and you look away.

“What is this about?”

“What is what about?”

“We’re friends. I’m not going to stop being your friend just because you don’t want a relationship. I know this isn’t one sided, that you feel the same way about me. Why are you trying to push me away?”

You cross your arms and look down and he leans over, putting himself in your line of sight.

“If I let you in I’ll get hurt,” you confess.

“Why do you think that?”

‘I..” You stutter

It’s not one moment. Not any one breakup you’ve been through. It’s not even what happened months ago during the hurricane. It’s everything. It’s self hatred, overthinking and analyzing. It’s all the anxiety and stress of life that compounds into fear. Fear of failing and of loss, of getting hurt and breaking. You feel like the only way to keep yourself up and moving is by pushing him away.

“You’re so scared of being hurt but Y/N, you’re hurting. You’re doing to yourself the very thing you’re so scared of.”

Tears start forming, Steve brings his hand up and wipes one away before pulling you into a hug and letting you cry into his chest.

He shifts his face close to your ear and speaks softly.

“I have fear too, but you know what I’m the most scared of? I’m scared of not being your friend anymore. We don’t have to be in a relationship but please don’t cut me out.”

His voice hitches and his grip tightens.

“I love you, I care about you and always will.”

You pull back and look at him, a tear escapes one of his eyes and he promptly wipes it away.

“I’m scared,” you say.

“I am too.”

Your heart beats rapidly as you look up into Steve's bloodshot eyes and see the pain that you’re feeling mirrored back at you. Steve holds power over you but for the first time you realize that you hold that same power over him. You never thought you would be willing to put yourself in a vulnerable position again but somehow, here you are. You put your hand over your heart and feel the life pump out if it and through your veins.

reaching up tentatively, you bring your hand to his face grabbing his cheek gently. You stand up tall and slide your hand behind his neck, bringing him in and kissing him. Tension releases from both of you as you press your lips together, embracing in a warm hug. You pull away and he brings you in for another kiss, this time pushing you into your apartment and kicking the door closed behind him.

It’s a flurry of body parts and heat. You’re ripping off each other's clothing. Steve kisses your neck and you bring your hand to his chest and feel down his abdomen. He groans when you get to his dick and the next thing you know you’re on the bed arching your back as he slams into you. You open your mouth to moan but nothing comes out, Instead your eyes roll to the back of your head as an orgasm washes through you and carries you away.

“Fuck, I’m coming,” He says.

He stills on top of you and then looks down making eye contact before rolling beside you and pulling you into a hug.

“That was...” Steve starts

“Amazing.” you finish.

You pry yourself from Steve and walk to the bathroom to clean up, stopping at the mirror to look at your post sex appearance.

Maybe there’s no way around it. Maybe life will stick you in situations and force you forward against your will. You weren’t trying to let Steve into your life but somehow here he is.

For the first time you don’t don’t feel like this unlovable person. You’re not scared he’s going to leave you or that you’re going to ruin the relationship.

You have a feeling you’ve never truly experienced before and now it all makes sense. Somehow in the last few months you’ve learned to love. You look at yourself in the mirror and see someone worthy.

You’ve spent all your time and energy pushing people away when you should have been building yourself up. You thought that taking care of yourself meant hiding away and putting up a wall.

Self care isn’t a bubble bath or a glass of wine and It’s not something that happens out of fear or anxiety. It’s affording yourself the same kindness and forgiveness that you would give anyone else. It’s looking at yourself in the mirror and recognizing that you deserve to love and to be loved. It’s giving yourself permission to feel however you feel without guilt or shame. It’s love in its purest form and you deserve it.

You are not unlovable.

Steve walks up beside you and kisses your temple.

“When you said you loved me...” you start.

“I meant it.”  He says quickly.

You turn and look at him, biting your lip before saying something you’ve been so scared of for so long. You kiss his cheek and smile.

“I love you.”  

[procrastinatorimagines]

Family

Fandom: Chicago PD / One Chicago

Character/s: Antonio Dawson x Reader

Warning/s: kidnapping

Word Count: 4,407

Request:  Hi there, can I get an Antonio Dawson x reader, please? Along the lines of Antonio and reader work together and started dating a while after his divorce and his kids love you (more than their own mum who has been mistreating them esp. since she started dating some guy). Laura's bf is in some shady stuff and Diego gets kidnapped (or hurt) and when they find him, he screams for him mummy and daddy and Laura moves forward but he pushes past her and runs for reader & Antonio. TQ x

Note: this got away from me a little but I never liked Laura, not after the way she treated Sylvie, and I just really miss Antonio, so here you go!

“You can’t move it like that,” Diego told you, watching as you picked up your knight tentatively, glancing up at him before you played each move to see his reaction, usually he just laughed. 

“Can’t I?” You replied, looking back at the board and the piece in your hand, hovering over the square you thought you could put it on. No matter how many times you played against Diego, you never even got close to winning.

“No, you definitely can’t,” he informed you with a smile, shifting in his seat so that he could lean over the chess board and take a better look at what you were doing.

“Huh,” you clicked your tongue, thinking, “well, what if I do this?” You moved your piece back to where it had been, moving it one space to the side and two up. He nodded and you grinned triumphantly, a look which only lasted a few seconds.

“I mean you can, but then I can do this,” he took your piece with ease and added it to his growing pile as you glanced back at the measly two pawns you’d managed to take from him, or, more accurately, that he had sacrificed. “See?” He made a show of it when he plucked the piece from the board and you heard Eva laughing behind you.

“Funny homework?” You asked, looking back to where she sat at the dining table, chewing her pen with books spread around her. 

“Oh yeah, it’s my homework that I’m laughing at,” she joked, earning a small cushion tossed in her general direction. “Hey!” She yelled as it hit her shoulder, throwing it straight back as she laughed, “I’m just saying, how many games has it been now? I’d say quit while you’re ahead, but maybe you should quit before you’re too far behind?” 

“Y/N’s already too far behind,” Diego added and you look between the two of them with fake shock and hurt.

“Antonio!” You called, putting on a whiny voice as you leaned back to look through the kitchen door at your boyfriend who was facing away from you tooking dinner, “Antonio your kids are bullying me!”

“Constructive critism!” Diego yelled back as his dad headed into the main room, wooden spoon in hand as he pointed it at the both of them. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he started and Diego and Eva tried to suppress their smiles, but instead of even pretending to come to your defense he said, “does she deserve it?” You blinked at him as the siblings burst out laughing and Antonio winked at you.

“Traitor,” you gasped, but soon all of you were laughing as Antonio told you dinner was about to be ready. You and Diego paused your game and you helped the kids set the table. 

You and Antonio had been dating since soon after his divorce, but it had been a while before he introduced you properly to his children. Technically, you’d already met both of them, having been brought into Intelligence around the same time as Adam. After you’d started seeing each other you’d kept it on the down-low, and you’d never dreamed of pushing Antonio about it, he was going through a messy divorce and he had to put his kids first. 

It was a rocky start, but when Antonio had found out that Laura had not only already introduced her new boyfriend to Eva and Diego, but had left them with him on multiple occasions, he didn’t see the point in keeping your relationship a secret anymore. 

They’d warmed up to you pretty quickly, even if Laura never had, and setting the table with them now, as you did whenever you came over for dinner with them, you fell in sync like it’d always been that way. Previously, you’d have left after dinner, but you’d started spending the night with the kids around more and more, often going so far as to spend the weekend with them. 

The kids were happy about, much to yours and Antonio’s delight, especially when you’d started making pancakes for them Saturday mornings, it’d become tradition. When Diego had first mentioned it to Laura, however, it hadn’t gone down well. Apparently, she didn’t like a woman she barely knew watching her kids, and she definitely didn’t like Antonio pointing out that her boyfriend, Todd, had been doing the same thing, and at least he’d introduced you to her first. 

It had put a bit of a strain on your relationship for a while, you remembered as Antonio brought out dinner, but sat here now, you couldn’t have been more glad that you’d both decided to stick it out. 

“It looks amazing,” you told him as he took his seat, the smell of rice and chicken in the air as you all filled up your plates. 

“Yeah, thanks dad,” both children chorused their thanks as they tucked in, Diego bulldozing food into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten all day. Eva rolled her eyes at her younger brother, but you just smiled, appreciating the normalcy of a family dinner like this, with the man you loved. You weren’t their mother, you knew that, but these kinds of nights made you realise just how much you loved them.

“Oh dad after this-” Diego started through a mouth full of food, stopping and swallowing it with a pointed look from Antonio, “sorry, but after this you should watch me finish beating Y/N at chess yet again.” 

Antonio chuckled and you shook your head. “I’d love to, but don’t you have homework to finish first?” Diego shook his head, mouth full of food again.

“Finished it,” he said at last, Antonio glancing at you quickly to check if he was telling the truth, you gave him a slight nod. “Yeah we had less today because it’s the science fair on Monday,” he explained and Antonio did his best to hide the look on his face that showed he’d forgotten.

“Right of course, that came by quickly,” he said, “what time was that again?” Chances were, he’d be stuck on at work. You knew how much Antonio loved his job, but it was things like this that made him miss the steady hours of the State’s Attourney’s office. 

“It’s okay, I know you have to work, mom and Todd said they could make it,” Diego tried to reassure him but you could tell he was disappointed. 

“I’ll try,” Antonio promised anyway, most likely remembering the parent teacher night that Laura had brought Todd to without telling him, causing several of the teachers to think he was, in fact, Diego’s actual dad. 

“Are you going to come Y/N?” Diego turned to you hopefully, “if you can, of course.” God you could never say no to that face, not that you’d want to right now, it warmed your heart that Diego was including you in this, that he actually wanted you there.

“I’ll try my best, wouldn’t want to miss it,” you replied, patting his shoulder as he smiled at you. Eva looked at you with a look of appreciation; no matter what she said, she was protective of her brother, and she’d been at the age where she actually knew what was going on throughout the divorce. 

It had taken her much longer to warm up to you than her younger brother, mostly because of how attached to you he’d seemed to get, and she’d always worried you’d leave and hurt him, and her dad. 

You finished the rest of dinner with relatively unimportant chatter, Eva explained her homework for the night and you offered to help her with it while Antonio asked for Diego’s help tidying up after dinner. You weren’t spending the entire weekend with them, you had to be back at your apartment for some maintenance work on Sunday, but you promised you’d still be making pancakes for them in the morning. Even though Eva protested that she was getting too grown up for funny shaped pancakes, that turned around very quickly when Antonio suggested she not eat them then.

The rest of the night went by happily, Diego beat you at chess, obviously, and by the time you’d helped Eva with her homework the kids had gone up to their respective rooms. 

“I’m glad he wants you there,” Antonio said, unprompted as you snuggled up to him on the sofa to watch some mindless television before bed. You moved your head so that your chin was resting on his shoulder as you looked up at his face. He smiled as he looked back at you.

“Yeah?” You were too, but your mind had kept wandering to the fact that Laura was going to be there, obviously, she was his mother afterall, but you knew she wasn’t going to be happy to see you. It was Diego’s night, and you didn’t want to do anything to ruin it.

“Of course,” he replied, kissing you sweetly, “you’re family now if you hadn’t realised.” The way he was looking at you made you melt, so full of love as he put his arm around you, drawing you closer. 

“I love you,” you told him, the only response you thought worthy of his statement.

“I love you too,” he kissed you on the head as you snuggled back into his side, how had you gotten so lucky?

-

Monday came by quickly, and mercifully you and Antonio had managed to head out early, having done all you could do on the case you were working until the morning. You were still going to be late to the fair, but Laura and Todd would already be there, and you knew Diego wouldn’t be disappointed, he’d just be glad you’d both managed to show. 

While you knew you’d have to deal with Laura tonight, you hadn’t expected her to be waiting in the parking lot, practically marching over to the car before Antonio had even finished putting it into park. She made it to you just as you were climbing out the car, sharing a look of confusion with one another. 

“Where is he?” She demanded, no greeting or politeness as she looked in the car and then back at Antonio.

“Who?” Antonio asked, just as confused as you were.

“What do you mean who? Diego, your son,” Laura snapped, clearly exasperated, concern covering her face. 

“He’s supposed to be inside,” you told her, earning a deadly glare as she focused her attention back on Antonio, clearly not wanting you to have any input in this. 

“Well he isn’t,” she replied. What did she mean? You were both late, and he had volunteered to set up before the parents arrived so he never should have even left the school.

“Okay, Laura, you need to take a breath and explain what the hell is going on,” Antonio said, his calm starting to slip, “why would we know where Diego is? We came straight from the district and as far as we knew, Diego was supposed to be inside.”

Laura swallowed hard, concern turning to fear, but she didn’t reply. You headed around to the other side of the car. “Laura,” you said with force, putting a hand on her shoulder to try and snap her out of it, “from the beginning.”

Antonio ran his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath as Laura explained what she knew. “I got here a little late, about five minutes, but when I got in his stall hadn’t been set up, I asked the teachers and they told me that his dad had picked him up straight after school and he hadn’t come back.”

“What? Laura I swear that wasn’t me, I’ve been at the district all day,” Antonio swore, looking back to the entrance of the school. You reached into the inside coat pocket of your jacket for your badge, having a dreadful feeling you were going to need it before too long. 

“Then who took him?!” Laura practically yelled, earning looks from the other parents as they headed in to the fair. “Not again...” she mumbled as Antonio checked his phone for any missed calls, you and Laura doing the same before you headed inside.

Laura pointed you both in the direction of the teacher she had spoken with. “Mr Wright,” Antonio got his attention, pulling out his badge when he tried to tell him that he was busy talking to other parents at the minute. 

“Is everything okay?” The man asked, excusing himself from the conversation. He was a bit of a younger teacher, you remembered Diego telling you that it was his first year, the old physics teacher retiring before Summer.

“Antonio Dawson,” he introduced himself quickly, “I’m looking for my son,” he told him, Wright looking to you before his eyes went to Laura, apparently clocking something as he looked back at Antonio.

“Your son?” He questioned and Antonio nodded. “No, no, Diego?” 

“Yes, Diego, Diego Dawson,” Antonio said impatiently and the teacher, at least, looked equal parts confused and guilty. 

“But his father picked him up,” Mr Wright tried, “I mean- he said he was his father.”

“And you took his word for it?” Laura demanded and Mr Wright looked to her puzzled.

“Well, yes, I mean I’d seen him with Diego before, and you Ms. Dawson, he came to the parents evening just last month, I had no reason to...” he trailed off, clearly apologetic as Antonio practically whirled on Laura.

“Todd?” You had to put your hand on his arm, reminding him that you were in a very public place and you were already drawing attention to yourselves. 

“Why would he?-” She wondered, “that doesn’t make any sense, Todd wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Isn’t he supposed to be here tonight?” You realised, cutting in to what was clearly about to turn into a heated argument, Antonio already getting angry, and rightfully so, at the whole situation.

“Yeah, he said something came up so he couldn’t make it,” Laura said finally, “but he wouldn’t do anything to Diego,” you knew she was saying that more to herself than anyone else as you let Mr. Wright get back to the fair. 

“’Something’? What is ‘something’ Laura?” Antonio demanded, getting his phone out to try and call Diego, but it told him that the line was disconnected. 

“I don’t- I don’t know, he didn’t say!” She fumbled, trying to call Todd too.

Both their phones had been disconnected.

“This can’t have been him, whatever this is,” she tried to reason but neither you or Antonio looked a little convinced.

“Then how do you explain all of this?” He snapped back, barging past her towards the entrace, you hot on his heels as you dialed the only number that could help you now, Hank Voight’s. 

Laura followed quickly, still trying to wrap her head around the whole situation as Antonio made her get into the back of the car. Laura tried Eva, but she didn’t pick up, so you decided to head back to the house, where she was supposed to be studying. 

“Hey Serg, yeah we have a situation,” you filled him in on what had just happened as Antonio peeled out of the car park, barely acknowledging Laura as he drove, anger and worry making him grip the steering wheel until his knuckles went white. 

Voight said he’d call the rest of the team as you put it on speaker, and you’d all meet at Antonio’s ASAP, this had become top priority now.

Kim and Adam had arrived first, Eva had been plugged into her laptop and missed the call, but she was okay. Antonio breathed a sigh of relief as he ran up the steps to meet his daughter at the door. The tears she had clearly tried to clear from her face told you she’d been at least partially filled in as the rest of Intelligence arrived. 

“Everyone, gather around,” Voight called everyone into the living room as you took Antonio’s hand, giving it a squeeze for support as Voight continued, “Diego Dawson is our priority right now, we need to find him, so far all we know is Todd Richards, Laura’s boyfriend, was seen taking him out of school at around 4 claiming to be his father, so, where would he take Diego?”

“Wait, Todd did this?” Eva interrupted, listening from the other room as she walking.

“We think so,” Antonio told her honestly, “but we’re going to find him sweetie,” Laura went to comfort her daughter but Eva pulled back, barely even looking at her as she leans into Antonio. Laura turns to where they are stood, clearly hurt but not entirely surprised, still looking guilt about the fact that her boyfriend was most likely responsible.

Antonio hugged his daughter as you filled the rest of the unit in about what you knew about Todd, which wasn’t much honestly. “Okay, well what does Todd do for a living? Who are his friends?” Jay asked, mostly looking to Antonio and Laura.

“Er, construction, he runs a construction company, his friends are mostly his workers,” Laura informed you all.

“He working on anything at the moment?” Kev asked and Laura shrugged a little.

“Sort of,” she replied vaguely.

“What does that mean?” Antonio asked, sending a reluctant Eva out the room with a uniform while you all worked.

“He had a project in the works, but something was up with it, I think an investor pulled out, that might have been where he was supposed to be today,” Laura explained the best she could.

“So he didn’t have enough money? Or any?” You guessed as a map was passed to the unit so Laura could point out the spot.

“They were going under,” she admitted, pulling at a thread of her shirt subconsciously. If they were going under... they’d need money.

“Random?” Hailey guessed, saying what you were all thinking.

“But why? Why take my son?” Laura sounded so lost, but you knew why, and it had nothing to do with her. No doubt she’d told Todd all about her divorce, Antonio, the unit, he must have seen an opportunity to make real cash, but it was hardly very premeditated.

“Look, this was all quick, and so far seems pretty unplanned to me, so he won’t be at some unknown location, he’ll do somewhere familiar, somewhere he feels safe,” you voiced your theory as you stared at the map.

“If construction was halted he’s probably holed up there, it’s his home ground, he’ll be comfortable there and his crew are probably in on it too,” Vanessa continued as Laura sobbed. 

Antonio was trying to hold it together Diego, and Eva, but you could tell this who situation was getting to be too much, Diego being snatched by Pulpo was bad enough, but by someone who was supposed to be trustworthy? You didn’t know what he would do to Todd when you found him, so you were going to make sure you were by his side, just in case.

“Well, whatever he was thinking it wasn’t smart, he hasn’t called to make demands yet and he had to know that cops look out for their own, taking a detective’s son is a deadly game,” Voight said.

“He’s desperate,” Antonio added, “might even be hesitating now he’s actually past the point of no return, wondering what’s going to happen to him if he makes that call.” Nothing good, that much you knew.

“So we head to the site, stake it out, if he’s there, we move in carefully, grab Diego, he’s not going to want to hurt him, he’s his only security in this situation,” Voight decided and Laura pointed with a shaky finger to the spot on the map where the construction site was. 

Hailey got a quick call from the district, confirming that both Todd and Diego’s phones had last pinged within a mile or so of that location, it had to be where they were. 

Laura tried to apologise as you all suited up to leave but Antonio didn’t want to hear it right now, they could talk about Todd when their son was safe. You’d been pretty new to the unit when Diego had been taken by Pulpo, but you remembered the grief Laura had given him about it around the divorce, knew how Antonio had blamed himself. Diego had to be okay, you thought, strapping on your vest and double checking your gun, he had to be.

-

You didn’t say much to Antonio during the drive, but you kept your hand in his all the way, reminding him that you were there with him no matter what. Laura and Eva had insisted on coming, so they’d been positioned with some uniforms outside the perimeter what was now being set up.

“Ready?” Voight asked, more to Antonio and even you than anyone else. You were trying to be as there for Antonio as you could be, and that meant staying calm and steady, but damn it if you weren’t scared for Diego, you loved that kid, you loved the family you were making with them, and you were terrified that something might go wrong. 

“Le’ts get my son back,” Antonio addressed the unit, you were more than ready to risk their lives for one of their own, as were you, as you double checked your weapon yet again.

Before long you were moving stealthily into positions along the site, keeping your eyes out for movement, careful not to attract attention to yourselves. You ad Antonio stopped by a window, carefully looking in to assess the situation, signaling to the others when you spotted movement inside. Heat sensors put about 5 men in this building, the offices for the site it seemed, and one of the figures was definitely smaller than the others, Diego.

Hank positioned himself with you and Antonio by the main door, Diego looked to be in the back, but the order was still as few bullets as possible. Hailey and Jay had taken the back entrace and the others were ready to get anyone who managed to get away, but the look on Antonio’s face told you that that wouldn’t be a problem.

Voight signaled a three second countdown on his fingers as you gripped your gun tighter, your heart thumping in your ears as you tried to steady your breathing. Nothing could go wrong. 

Antonio was more than happy to kick the door in when Voight got down to zero, “hit it,” he told the others over comms, and you were in. They’d got speedy approval from a judge before the op, but extenuating circumstances would have to be a good enough explanation as the door came off the hinges in splinters. Either the door wasn’t very strong, Antonio was very angry, or a little of both. 

Needless to say, the men, who had clearly not thought this all the way through, were startled by your sudden entrace, most dropping any weapons they had pretty quickly when they saw your guns and badges. They tried to run, but quickly saw this wasn’t a fight they were going to win.

Todd tried to keep his gun up the longest, and honestly you thought that Antonio was hoping he’d do as much. Antonio disarmed the panicking man with ease, knocking him onto the ground and jamming his gun in his face. 

“You thought you could take my kid!” He yelled, practically spitting on the man in anger. You took a step forward to stop him but Voight grabbed your arm lightly, stopping you. But you the second hit into his face with the back of Antonio’s gun, you were shoving past Voight and grabbing your boyfriend. 

When Antonio tried to resist you said into his ear: “Diego’s here, he’s all that matters, don’t let him see you like this,” you pulled his gun from his hand carefully and he let you, standing up as Jay and Hailey cuffed Todd and the others. 

You and Antonio ran to the back room as Voight was signalling an all clear. Pulling open the door you saw Diego sat on the floor, hands, feet and mouth covered in ducktape. Carefully, Antonio freed his son, who immediately rushed into his arms, shaking as his tears wet his father’s shoulder. 

“Oh my boy, oh I got you, I’m so sorry, you’re okay,” Antonio soothed as you breathed a sigh of relief, not realising how tense you yourself had been at the situation.

“We got him,” you said into your comms, not being able to take your eyes off father and son being reunited. You headed back to drag out the perps as Antonio lifted Diego still in his arms, and carried him outside. 

“Diego!” Eva and Laura were already running to him, Laura not even acknowledging Todd as she ran to her son. Antonio puts Diego down so he can see his family as you hauled the last of the kidnappers into squad cars. 

Just as you shut the door you felt something slam into your back, nearly toppling over as you turned to see Diego wrapping his arms around you. You bent down so that you were at his level, glancing back to see a shocked looking Laura, arms still out slightly to catch him as he’d run past her to you.

Pulling Diego into a hug he let out a sob, Antonio and Eva heading over to where you both were. “You’re okay, I got you,” you whispered to him, trying not to look at Laura as you did. You felt a little guilty, sure, but he’d come to you, and you weren’t about to send him away, not when you loved him this much.

“Hey,” Antonio ruffled Diego’s hair as you stood up, wiping his tears with your thumb. 

The four of you together, after the day you’d just had, made you start to well up a little as you blinked away tears, glad everyone was back together. 

“Can we go home?” Diego asked and Antonio agreed, “you’re coming too right?” 

“Always,” you told him, putting your arm around Eva as you took Antonio’s hand. Antonio put his hand on Diego’s shoulder, keeping him close as he led you all back to the car.

“Let’s go home,” Antonio agreed and despite all the time you’d spend at that house, for the first time, it really was your home, your family.