#(that single point extra over the Doctor seems so intentional and I love it)

[vampirecatprince]

We really don't talk enough about the fact that Stone is one IQ point higher than Eggman.

[wandaromanova]

Lost

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of cancer, death, cussing

A/N: hello! i’d like to put a disclaimer that i am not in any way knowledgeable of the medical field and all of the terminology and information used in this fic was found through research! happy reading <3

anon requested: hiiiii !! can i request like an angst into fluff natxfem!reader one shot where the reader has a really bad day and takes it out on nat and hurts her feelings and so they go to bed angry. but the reader realizes their mistake and the next morning just wakes her up by showering her with love and then takes the whole day to do cute little date things with her? like making her favorite meal or like dancing in the kitchen to their favorite song late at night or just super fluffy things? if not, that’s okay!! have a good day <3

Summary: The heavy weight of her profession gets to Y/N and she takes her anger out on her loving girlfriend; Natasha Romanoff.

Word Count: 3K | navigation

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

Becoming a doctor was no easy feat.

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Once high school is completed, one must receive your bachelor’s degree before taking the MCAT exam and applying to medical school. After four years of medical school, you must endure a year as an intern before being promoted to a resident. 

Depending on what specialty one has selected, residency can span from three to seven years. Fellowships follow after but are typically an optional course that provides extra training. 

Yes, there are a lot of necessary steps to take in order to set foot into the medical world, but somehow, the years of foreplay could never compare to being a full-fledged physician; and you knew this all too well.

You are a pediatric oncologist and your job was to diagnose and provide treatment to children and teenagers who had cancer. You specialized in hematology; the treatment of blood disorders.

You were the head of pediatric oncology in a Manhattan hospital. You dealt with a lot of patients, but a two-year-old little girl named Sarah was secretly your favorite. 

Despite being diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia, Sarah’s positivity and playful personality never faltered.

Even if she didn’t understand the circumstances because of her young age, you knew she was suffering. Regardless of it all, every session you had with her was endearing.

You met with the child once a week to administer chemotherapy. Her enthusiasm never failed to have you awestruck. Most of your patients were exhausted from the treatments, but not Sarah. 

She was a hyper child who would attempt to sing Frozen songs, performing as you tried to fight a smile from taking over your features. She had a stuffed Olaf doll that she brought with her to every visit and it was heartwarming to see her hug the doll close to her chest. 

Sarah would even bring you drawings every week that you would keep in your locker. You’d admire each and every one of the drawings, even if you couldn’t really tell what they were.

You’d grown fond of the little girl in the past two months you had been treating her. You were also relatively close to her parents, who were probably the kindest people you’ve ever encountered. It made sense that Sarah was the ball of sunshine she was, she obviously got it from her parents.

Most times, parents were on edge and extremely short-tempered. If parents saw you often, that meant that their child was diagnosed with some form of cancer. Understandably, they would be rather hostile whilst interacting with you, but you never took their behavior personally. 

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If you were in their shoes, you were positive that you wouldn’t be very friendly either. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You had grown fond of the beaming child. You were aware that growing emotionally attached to patients was unprofessional, but how could you not? 

You adored children and for that very reason, you had chosen a specialty that allowed you to help kids as much as medicine would allow. You always had a soft spot for kids and you found joy in helping them as best as you possibly could.

Sarah had a very good chance at pulling through. With consistent treatment and her young age, her survival rate was around 68%. Those were considerably good odds in these circumstances. Not to mention, the chemotherapy seemed to be paying off. At the rate she was improving, she was predicted to be out of the woods soon enough.

However, the child had developed a bacterial infection. Since she had been receiving chemotherapy, the treatment had damaged her white blood cells which are responsible for fighting off infections. 

All you could do was provide antibiotics to try and fight off the infection. You had monitored her for some time in hopes of seeing any sign of improvement, but unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. Her immune system was extremely vulnerable and there wasn’t any way to reverse the damage. 

Your heart was torn to pieces when you delivered the news to her parents. They broke down in the hallway outside of Sarah’s room as you informed them of Sarah’s rapidly shortened life expectancy. It was only a matter of time before the young child would pass and honestly, this was what you hated most about your job.

You hated that you couldn’t help every single patient. You hated how cruel the world could be to take away an innocent child from their loving parents. 

You allowed her parents to spend time by her bedside. They laid on either side of her bed, clinging onto her for dear life. What broke you the most was the paleness of Sarah’s once glowing skin. Her smile was still present but didn’t quite reach her eyes like it used to. 

Her parents quietly sang ‘Love Is An Open Door’ to Sarah. You felt your heart clench in a bittersweet way as you silently watched. Normally, Sarah wouldn’t hesitate to join in, but her lack of breath prevented her from doing so. All she could do was close her eyes and lightly nod her head along to their voices. 

Sarah passed hours later and it was an extremely somber experience. Hearing the cries of parents who lost their children wasn’t easy and it never would be. Your job had its pros and cons, and this was the biggest negative.

You fought back your own tears as you exited the room, giving the two mourning parents some privacy after you recorded Sarah’s time of death. You found the nearest restroom and allowed the tears to fall down your face. 

A pure soul had been ripped away from the world, never having the chance to experience the great things life had to offer.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

4 Hours Later

You trudged into your loft, immediately taking off your coat and hanging it up before tossing your keys on the small table by the front door. 

Your girlfriend, Natasha, had heard your arrival and quickly exited the bedroom to greet you, a wide smile on her face. However, her smile fell when she noticed your defeated state. 

Your shoulders were slumped as you slouched slightly and your eyes were dripping with sadness. 

“Honey? What’s wrong?” Natasha approached you while you stood frozen in front of the door. Her hands came up to cup your cheeks as she stared at you in concern, her eyes scanning over your features. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I lost Sarah.” 

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Natasha’s eyes widened and her heart sunk at your words. She was aware of how much you adored the two-year-old. Once a week, you would rave about the child and how adorable she was at the dinner table. You would go on and on about how Sarah would sing to you, draw pictures for you, and bring along stickers to place onto your coat.

The redhead loved how happy you looked whenever you spoke about any of your patients, but most especially Sarah. It brought Natasha some joy of her own to see you speak animatedly about Sarah; your happiness was her happiness. 

So, the news hurt her almost as much as it hurt her. She knew how much you loved Sarah, despite never saying it straight out.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I know how much you cared about her. Are you okay?” Natasha’s voice was oozing with sympathy. You couldn’t help but feel irritated by her question. 

You tore her hands off of your cheeks and walked past her and into the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water as the redhead watched you intently. 

“Am I okay? I’m fine! It’s not like I lost an extremely young patient today or anything. What kind of stupid fucking question is that, Natasha?” You took a sip of cold water to try and calm yourself damn, but your attempt was futile. 

The redhead made her way into the kitchen, standing on the opposite side of the island as you took another sip of water, eyes burning a hole into her head over the rim of the glass. 

“I know, that was a dumb question. I just want to help you, Y/N/N.” Natasha remained calm and patient as she spoke to you. She was no stranger to the loss of a person she desperately tried to save and knew all too well the sadness and anger that accompanied the tragedy. She was an Avenger, after all. 

“I don’t want your help and I don’t need you!” You slammed your cup onto the counter as you raised your voice. Honestly, it was surprising that you hadn’t shattered the glass with the amount of force you exerted. 

Natasha felt an ache in her chest as you yelled at her. She knew that you weren’t in the right state of mind and didn’t take it personally, but that didn’t make your words hurt any less. 

“You save entire cities and I can’t even save a single fucking person!” You were turning red at this point, tears of frustration streaming down your face. The redhead hated seeing you cry, but she knew better than to approach you at this moment. 

“Babe, you save so many pe-” Natasha’s tried to speak, but you quickly interjected. 

“If you’re going to try and spew some philosophical bullshit to me right now, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear another god damn word from your mouth.”

The redhead looked down defeatedly. She had never seen you so upset, let alone direct your frustrations towards her. Her eyes fell down to the marble counter between you both before looking up at you. You were breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. 

Without another word, Natasha retreated back to the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind her. You watched her until she was out of your view and let out a sigh. Your hands gripped the edges of the kitchen island, supporting your weight as you shut your eyes. 

You brought a hand up to your face and pinched the bridge of your nose. After a few minutes, you made your way into the living room, chucking off your shoes before collapsing onto the couch. You didn’t feel like interacting with Natasha anymore tonight, knowing that you most likely wouldn’t be able to control your temper. 

You were just so fed up with the painful losses you had to endure from your profession. 

You knew that being a doctor was more dark clouds and thunder, than sunshine and rainbows, but you just wished that for once, the weather forecast would work in your favor. 

The emotional day had finally caught up to you. Your body relaxed as you sunk further into the couch, eyes fluttering shut as you succumbed to a much-needed slumber. 

Unbeknownst to you, Natasha was still awake. She laid flat on her back and stared up at the ceiling in thought. She was mad at you, as much as she didn’t want to be. Natasha had gone through the same thing and never lost her cool with you as you had with her. 

The redhead calmed down slowly, turning on her side and facing the empty space beside her which you normally occupied. She reached one arm out, her skin colliding with cool sheets, already missing the warmth of your body. 

Natasha hated sleeping without you by her side, She didn’t feel complete when you weren’t steadily sleeping next to her, your arms wrapped around her body. However, she hoped that things would improve in the morning.

And with that thought in mind, she drifted off into a dreamless sleep, clutching the sheets firmly in her hand. 

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

 The Next Morning

You awoke to a blinding light, the morning sun shining through the windows and landing directly onto your face. You let out a groan and slowly sat up, stretching out your limbs with a groan. The couch wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, you were aching everywhere. 

You sat there for a moment as the events of the day before caught up to you. Not only had you lost Sarah, but you upset Natasha. You immediately felt guilty as you recalled the harsh words you spat at her in a fit of rage. You felt like a complete asshole, and rightfully so. 

You quickly stood up and entered the kitchen, retrieving some bacon from the freezer and eggs from the refrigerator. You grabbed two separate pans and washed your hands, making sure to get the coffee pot running before you began cooking.

Your girlfriend absolutely loved bacon, eggs, and coffee. She described the combinations as a ‘party in her mouth.’ So, this was going to be an ‘i’m sorry for being a bitch last night’ apology breakfast. 

You got started on the meal and by the time you finished up and had the stove off, Natasha stalked out of the bedroom slowly. She eyed you carefully as she approached, you sent a soft smile her way.

“You made breakfast,” Natasha spoke and you shyly nodded your head. You moved away from the stove and rounded the counter. The redhead stood in her spot as you wrapped your arms around her waist, her arms reflexively going around your neck.

“I was an asshole last night.” You stated and your girlfriend nodded her head in agreement. “Yeah, you were a total pain in the ass, the absolute worst.” You rolled your eyes at Natasha’s teasing tone.

“I’m sorry for how I behaved. I was just so upset about… Sarah. I didn’t mean to take it out on you and I can’t even begin to tell you how bad I feel for yelling at you when all you wanted to do was help me.”

Your voice was full of emotion, your eyes boring into her emerald irises as you poured your heart into every syllable you uttered. Natasha smile gently at you, her fingers lightly tugging on the baby hairs on the nape of your neck. 

“It’s okay. I know you weren’t mad at me.” You let out a sigh of relief as the redhead stared at you softly. She let out a small chuckle at your dramatics before continuing.

‘I understand how you feel. The team and I, we try our very best to save as many civilians as we can, but sometimes it’s completely out of our control. It’s the exact same situation.” 

One of Natasha’s hands found its way to your cheek, gently cupping the skin as you leaned into her touch. You were listening intently to her every word, mesmerized by the calming rasp of her voice.

“Don’t dwell on what you couldn’t do, but give yourself some credit for everything you did do. I may not know what happened, but what I do know is that you tried everything you could, no?”

Natasha questioned you and you nodded your head. “I gave her antibiotics to fight the infection, but it was too severe.” The redhead rubbed her thumb against your cheek. 

“All that matters is that you did your best and that’s all anyone could ever ask for.” Natasha ended her little speech as she placed a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. You couldn’t help but smile, an overwhelming feeling of happiness taking over. 

“Thank you. I love you and your… what was it?” You furrowed your eyebrows in concentration before your face lit up. Natasha raised an eyebrow at you. “Philosophical bullshit. That was the words.” The Russian let out a laugh, shaking her head from side to side at your antics. 

“Seriously though, I’m so grateful for you. You’re so amazing to me even when I don’t deserve it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Natasha’s laughter died down as your tone turned serious. Your eyes were so full of love and adoration as you stared into her eyes deeply. 

“Well, let’s hope you never have to find out.” Natasha smiled once more and you couldn’t resist pressing your lips against her plump ones. Your mouths moved in tandem at a slow pace, enjoying the rawness and love that accompanied each movement. 

You broke the kiss when air became an issue. Nat’s eyes fluttered open as you wiggled your eyebrows at her playfully. 

“So, are you ready for some breakfast? Maybe after we eat, we can go on top of a rooftop and I’ll serenade you with a rendition of ‘Sorry’ by Justin Bieber.”

Natasha’s head flew back as she laughed uncontrollably at your words. “What? Do you not like the Biebs? If you want, I could play ‘Baby Come Back’ by Player from a boombox and hold it over my head, instead.” The redhead continued to laugh profusely and you soon joined in. Your arms tightened around her waist as your giggles subsided. 

“I think cuddling on the couch and watching the Kardashians eating ridiculously large bowls of salad will do.” You nodded your head in agreement but didn’t make a move to release Natasha from your grip. She didn’t let go either. 

The two of you just stood there, basking in each other’s embrace, a comfortable silence falling over you both. 

Natasha never failed to say the right things to pull you out of the dark abyss that was your mind. She was completely right, as always. There would always be bad days, patients who were progressing one day and deteriorating the next. 

However, there were also good days, and you shouldn’t allow the bad to overshadow all the good you’ve done. Like with Natasha, she wasn’t always the superhero she is today. She took her dark past and turned it into a bright future. 

Nat didn’t let her bad days define her and neither should you.

Of course, you would always remember every single patient you had lost, but now, you would take the pain and turn it into motivation; motivation to improve yourself, not only in your professional life but in your personal life as well. 

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You would do right by the ones you’ve lost and the one who stuck by your side; Natasha Romanoff. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

───────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

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[titularkilljoy]

sometimes and always

//a love story in five acts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: It's hard to resist falling into bed with a cute neighbour, but it turns out it's even harder to resist falling for him. (alternatively- Spencer Reid and the reader struggle to resolve their feelings but make valiant attempts to do so while lying horizontally in each other's beds.)

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, strong language, decidedly non-American spelling conventions

Author's Note: SO. This fic was originally part of a fic swap for the wickedly talented @imagining-in-the-margins, but it is now over six months too late. Thankfully, patience apparently springs eternal in her?? besides all the other amazing things?? Unfair, but good for me. So, Pom, this one is for you. Thanks for being the absolute best and putting up with my rants and not judging me for mocking everything and everyone all the time. Love, Perpetually Tardy.

(i)

This is how it happened the first time.

I was frowning at the pitiful stack of mail in my hands, wondering if the conspicuously missing letters and subscriptions would ever be returned to me. Ever since moving to my new apartment, I had been at the mercy of the Postal System and that was never a good situation to be in. I’d resigned myself to having to take an extra trip back to my old building and do some investigating, when the elevator dinged and I stepped in. Just as the doors slid closed, there was the frantic rumble of footsteps and a hand slipping into the narrowing gap.

The doors sprang apart to let in the harried owner of the appendage, who barely spared me a glance before turning to face the front, eyes briefly darting to the buttons. It took me a second to recognise him. It was the guy from the apartment opposite to mine, although so far that seemed to be only a nominal living arrangement; in my two weeks there, I’d seen him exactly once, merely in passing, and we had exchanged a sum total of zero words.

I followed his lead and stopped blatantly staring at him, though I continued studying him covertly through my peripheral vision. He looked—well, his jawline looked like it could cut glass effortlessly and he had the soft chestnut hair of a male model and I knew I was probably going to develop a very embarrassing crush on him at some point— but besides that, he looked browbeaten, his whole posture seeming to buckle under the invisible weight of the world.

There was an awkward moment when he realised we were both heading in the same direction, and I took it upon myself to break the ice.

“Hi,” I greeted, introducing myself, “I just moved in. I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” I gave him my warmest smile.

His swift assessing glance would have escaped my notice if I hadn’t been paying such close attention; his expression was still shuttered off, but he offered an endearing little quirk of his lips and an introduction. “Spencer Reid. I’ve-uh, I’ve been away on a work thing.”

“Oh? What do you do?” I asked, beginning a leisurely walk down the hallway and fishing my keys out of my bag. I immediately regretted the query when, impossibly, his eyes became even more guarded.

“I’m an FBI agent.”

Well, that clipped admission would have given anyone pause. “Oh, wow. That’s really impressive, dude.”

“Thanks.” He hesitated before adding, “I’m part of the Behavioural Analysis Unit.”

“So, you’re like a psychologist?”

“I catch serial killers.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable so much as it was brimming with my insecurities. The alcohol in my blood helped with that, though; the next words were out of my mouth before I even registered the thought.

“Do you want to come in?”

“Oh, uh—”

He was going to say no.

“It’s just that you look like you could use some company. And I think it’s absolutely criminal that we haven’t gotten to know each other yet.”

“It’s really late.”

But he was rocking forwards on his toes just the tiniest bit, leading me to believe that some part of him did want to take me up on my offer that night.

“So it is. Come on, Agent Reid. Be a good neighbour.”

“It’s Doctor, actually,” he corrected. “Doctor Reid. I have Ph.Ds. Three of them.”

My eyebrows had risen to my hairline and, sensing the change in the air, he hurried to put me at ease. “But you can just call me Spencer.”

“Huh. You don’t hear that every day.” I chuckled sheepishly. “Well, come on in, Doctor.”

There was a moment when his whole body leaned towards me and his face looked conflicted but slightly enthusiastic, and I was convinced I could turn the night into a very pleasant one for both of us. Then, with a loud clatter, my keys slipped from my hands, startling us. The moment was broken, and I sighed in resignation.

“Let me guess, you’ve decided I’m too drunk and we’re going to go our separate ways.”

At least he had the good grace to look apologetic. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now,” he told me slowly as he bent down to pick up my keys and pressed them securely into my outstretched hand, “It’s late and I’ve had a long day. I’ll...see you around?”

“Sure,” I managed to say with a regretful smile, “I’m holding you to that.”

*~*

That, however, turned out to be easier said than done, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the Herculean feat of unpacking and organising my new place with a mild hangover and a tinge of frustration over lost opportunities looming over me. Once that was dealt with, the bigger challenge turned out to be actually locating the man in question. I knocked on his door a few times, but when the responding silence continued to persist for over a week, I began to think he’d just been a drunken hallucination in the first place. And the longer I went without any follow-up interactions, the more intensely I started overthinking the slightly fuzzy memory of our brief conversation.

Of course I’d managed to make a fool of myself in front of a really cute guy. That was absolutely in character for me. Every time I passed by his door, I convinced myself a little more that I owed him a sincere apology for my poor, inconsiderate conduct.

Beyond the embarrassment, however, work didn’t leave me much time to think about it, and by the time I was trudging to my apartment the next Saturday, the whole encounter had been relegated firmly to the back burner. Naturally, that was when the faint glow of light under his door distracted me from the very passive-aggressive email I was composing. I hesitated.

The deep breaths I sucked in didn’t serve much more purpose than to make me somewhat lightheaded, but I forged on anyway. I knocked on the door, and waited.

There was silence, followed by the sound of reluctantly shuffling feet, and then, finally, I was face to face with Spencer Reid once again.

“Um,” I started, “hi.”

He stared at me wordlessly for a beat, during which I started to wonder if he’d actually forgotten me already.

“So, we met the other day, and I just want to apologise. I didn’t mean to come on to you so strongly, and I get that you weren’t int-”

“Do you want to come inside?”

“..What?”

“Do you want to come inside?” he repeated, enunciating clearly. That didn’t clear up my confusion, though.

“Um. Yes? Sure. I mean, no, shouldn’t we talk about this a bit?”

He let out a tired laugh. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Alright,” I said, biting my lip. I followed him inside, and pushed the door closed behind me; it emitted an innocuous little click as it fell shut.

There was something about the weariness behind his eyes and the careful set of his jaw that made me want to study him and understand what was going through his head, but all I could glean that night was that Spencer didn’t seem amenable to much time spent on documentation.

“So,” I began unsurely, shedding my jacket and scanning the contents of the room, the piles upon piles of books and the distinct lack of much else, “tell me about yourself.”

“Didn’t I already do that?”

“Hmm, that’s not the whole story,” I mumbled, running my fingers over a broken-spined, wrinkled copy of Paradise Lost laid open on a heavy wooden desk. A single smudge of blue ink stood out against the yellowing page, and beside it, the print read: This horror will grow mild, this darkness light. “You’re not just an FBI agent.”

“That’s all that’s important,” he asserted, taking a step towards me. He had one eye on my curiously wandering fingers and, sensing that it was making him more antsy than he needed to be, I tucked my hands into my back pockets, facing him with a grin of false bravado. I really wished I was drunk. That would have made things infinitely easier.

“Besides,” he continued, this time meeting my eyes directly, “I don’t know anything about you either.”

“Fair enough,” I conceded, stepping closer to him.

His eyes didn’t leave mine, until my own strayed to the bobbing curve of his throat and the tantalising motion of his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. Not for the first time that week, I wondered how terrible of an idea it would be to try to kiss my attractive neighbour. I could see my own apprehensions mirrored in his stance, and I saw the exact moment when he identified the focus of my gaze.

I didn’t have to spend much time contemplating. He decided, just as I did, that any consequences of this impulsive decision could be dealt with later.. I lunged for him just as he closed the distance in one long stride, grasping my jaw in both his hands. Then we were firmly attached at the lips, and his arms wrapped around my waist and dragged me closer, seemingly intent on devouring my mouth. Gradually, our actions slowed a bit, the kiss turning softer and more exploratory, our tongues winding around each other gently, my lungs readily accepting his deep, nasal sigh.

His arms around my waist were a steadily spreading band of warmth, and I could feel the growing evidence of his arousal against my thigh. I found myself thinking I could be very happy with just kissing him like this, feeling his breaths tickle my face, letting my hands suffer minute pinpricks from the stubble littering his jaw. But then his grip shifted to my hips and tightened ever so slightly, and it was like I’d been doused with fuel and set alight. My fingers struggled to unbutton his shirt as he pressed distracting kisses along my neck, my soft whimpers breaking the relative silence of the room.

All of a sudden, the ground shifted and my stomach swooped, and it took a second or two before I realised I was now in his arms, being carried towards, presumably, his bedroom. Content, I got to work on undoing the last button and trying to slip the shirt down his arms entirely. He granted me a chuckle for my troubles before laying me down gently on our destination and taking it off himself.

He didn’t waste any time in sinking his knees into the soft mattress on either side of my legs, helping me out of my own clothes and methodically kissing every bit of newly exposed skin, until finally, I was clad only in flimsy cotton and he was nosing at my aching core. With two fingers, he deftly removed the last of my defences and pressed his mouth against me. I moaned, my hands flying to his hair and trying to keep from pulling too hard as he used his tongue to examine every inch of my arousal, evidently experimenting based on the sounds he managed to elicit from me.

“Oh, my God,” I babbled, hips bucking wildly under the iron grip holding them down.

“Tell me,” he demanded, pulling away slightly, “tell me how much you like it.”

“Spencer,” I breathed desperately, “Please. I need- I need more.”

He hummed leisurely against me, frustrating me to no end. My grip in his hair tightened at last, guiding him where I needed him most, and I swear I felt his lips stretch into a smile.

It went on for what felt like hours, but there was no earthly way I could have lasted that long. He took mercy on me eventually, plunging two long fingers deep inside me, closing his lips around the bundle of nerves that, predictably, sent me into a violent, shaking climax. He nursed me patiently through the aftershocks, waiting till my legs had stilled before rising to undo his belt and rid himself of his pants. I was already mourning the loss of his closeness, and I pulled him back on top of me the moment he was within reach.

“Come on, Doctor,” I taunted, “It’s time you made good on your promise and got to the main event.”

“I never promised anything,” he retorted, but the playful glint in his eyes excited me, and while he reached over beside us to the nightstand, I rose to the occasion.

“Oh? Well, if you don’t want to, I guess I’ll just head out, then,” I teased, going so far as to attempt to sit up from underneath him. I felt a low, threatening sound begin in his chest and make its way up his throat as his hands gripped my wrists and brought them down to my sides, pinning me in place.

It was my turn to chuckle at his eagerness, lifting my head to briefly peck him on his lips.

“Don’t worry, Spencer,” I cooed, “I’m not going anywhere. Now fuck me already.”

“With pleasure,” came the response, and while I wondered idly how a smirk could simultaneously be sinister and bashful, there was the sharp sound of crinkling foil, and then he cut off my thoughts by entering me in one fluid motion.

“Fuck!” I cried out, holding him around the shoulders, bringing him impossibly closer.

“That’s it,” he groaned in my ear, “let me hear you.”

He set a torturous rhythm, thrusting into me harshly before pulling out slowly, carefully, making me relish the sensation, anticipation building steadily in the pit of my stomach and spreading until it engulfed me. A ceaseless litany of moans and whimpers filled the air around us, the source of each barely discernible. At last, I could feel myself riding the very precipice, and his name began to fall from my lips like a prayer.

“Spencer,” I called, “Spenc-”

He swallowed the rest of my inconsequential cries, bringing his thumb to where we were joined to guide me over the edge, and as I convulsed around him soundlessly, he reached his own climax, blunt fingernails leaving crescent marks on my hips, his heavy panting breaths stuttering, once, against my clavicle, before calming and slowly evening out.

We stayed that way for a few minutes, my hand combing lightly through his hair, his closed-mouth kisses pressing against my neck like a balm. Eventually, though, we had to move, and it was he who did first. He pulled out and walked away from the bed without looking at me, tossing the tied-up condom in the trash. I sat up, cross-legged, watching him for a bit, pursing my lips when I noticed he was actively avoiding my gaze.

I cleared my throat. “Where’s your bathroom?”

He pointed in a general direction and mumbled something incoherent; sighing in disappointment, I stood up gingerly and went to clean myself up. When I returned, the room still smelled like sex, and Spencer was still evasive, but he was sitting on the edge of the bed now. He looked up when I entered, watching me pick up my clothes.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

I glanced over at him. “Yeah, I’m good. You?”

Nodding, he watched me get dressed, then followed me into the living room and watched me drape my jacket over my arm. Then he watched me walk to the door, all the while not saying a word.

The cool steel of the doorknob in my hand, I looked over my shoulder one more time.

“Well, Spencer. You know where to find me, I guess,” I muttered, shaking my head slightly. Then I left his apartment, and despite the enormity of what had transpired during my visit, the click of the door closing sounded exactly the same.

.

(ii)

Of course, after that, I resolved it would never happen again. The man next door clearly had some issues with what we had done, and I couldn’t be bothered to solve them. It was, frankly, idiotic to jeopardise the prospect of good neighbours in favour of sex, however great it might have been.

It was embarrassing how quickly my resolution packed its bags and jumped out of my third-storey window.

I was awoken the next morning by three firm raps on my door. I think I knew, somehow, who was trying to get my attention, so I took my time, but the reveal of Spencer’s regretful face didn’t surprise me any less. I was wary as I stared at him wordlessly, cycling through all the possible reasons for his visit, and his eyes dropped to the way my arms tightly hugged my midsection. He winced then, meeting my eyes.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted,” he blurted, and it sounded so rehearsed that I had to stifle a guffaw. There was a flicker of something in his eyes that could have been frustration, but he powered through. “I’ve had a pretty terrible week at work and I think I was trying to get something out of my head. But I was awful to you, and it was completely my fault. I’m sorry if I offended you. I had...a great time.”

I’d been watching him carefully throughout his speech, and if he was faking the earnestness in those last couple of lines, he was an extraordinary actor. I concluded, as I studied the apologetic slump of his shoulders and the dark bags into which his eyes had sunken, that I didn’t need to worry about the veracity of his words.

“It’s okay,” I said hesitantly. “I mean, no, it’s not okay, it felt really awful, but thanks for explaining. I get it now.”

“Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking off to the side, “that’s great. Thank you.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“Problem?” I was bemused.

“No!” He was looking back at me, now. “I- well, to be honest, I wasn’t expecting it to be this easy. I thought I’d have to convince you.”

“Huh. Well, you can still convince me, Doctor. Give me a second to get ready. You’re buying me breakfast.”

I quite liked the shy smile that graced his face in response.

*~*

It kept happening. There was no way I could have stopped it, and there was no reason I would have wanted to.

We quickly grew into a familiar rhythm. Each time, it started with one of us having a particularly stressful day. Each time, it started with a knock on the door and some perfunctory shuffling around. Before wasn’t the time for talking. Each time, we’d stumble into whichever surface was closest, and every time it wasn’t the bed, Spencer would make some halfhearted protests about germs and hygiene, before I shut him up very effectively with a manicured hand on his dick. Each time, in the During, I marvelled at how well we fit together, how quickly we’d learned each other’s bodies, and each time, I saw more of him than I had the last.

And I loved every bit of it.

Spencer no longer retreated into his shell in the After. He’d try sometimes, but I knew how to coax him out, now. I’d slip my hand into his, ever so gently, and wait. Or I’d sling one arm around his waist until he returned the embrace. I was getting scarily good at reading him. It was like working on an intricate puzzle, and every new achievement was rewarded with a deeper, longer look into his mind.

I carefully stored away every casual anecdote about someone from work or his godson or his mother, and I loved to watch the life burn bright in his eyes. Of course, they were all happy stories. I could sense the bittersweet aftertaste they left in his mouth, but he never let me inspect it too closely. In turn, I regaled him with tales of my own, of my sister and my parents, of my cat that was perpetually falling asleep on top of me. I told him all the easy, palatable things, holding back just as much as he did, always careful to maintain the wall of superficiality.

But things did slip through the cracks every once in a while, from both of us-- they were bound to, what with the sheer amount of time we spent together in various states of undress. Things that made me burn with curiosity that couldn’t be sated without jeopardising the very foundation of our arrangement. So I turned a blind eye to the jagged scars on his thigh and neck when he failed to maneuver to hide them; in return, he kept mum when I walked into his apartment, on the day of my worst professional disaster, with runny makeup and bloodshot eyes, shivering all over.

If he noticed that I kissed the skin over his scars a little more tenderly, lavishing attention on him the first time I saw them, he didn’t show it. If he liked the way I always nuzzled my face into the one on his neck when we were done, he didn’t show it.

For my part, I tried very hard not to read into the slow, shallow thrusts or the almost reverent way he handled me when my tears still hadn’t dried. I definitely did not read into the arm over my shoulder or the slightly baffled crease in his brow while we sat on his couch with a random episode of The Office.

And if, maybe, the frequency of his visits increased as the months went by, who could blame him? He was an FBI agent. He probably had a lot of bad days.

Sometimes, though, I’d go over when I’d had a good day and I felt like celebrating. Sometimes, I’d knock on his door just because I was bored and I wanted to see him. It wasn’t as if he would know the difference. Our bodies knew how to be around each other, and that was all that mattered.

This was just stress relief, after all.

(“Have you ever been in love?” I asked him once, abruptly, my heart still pounding as the sweat cooled on our skins.

He glanced at me warily, but he must have detected only honest curiosity on my face, not lovesickness or anything else that would have had him running for the hills.

He chewed on his lip for a moment. “Once.”

“What happened?” My finger traced an aimless pattern on his chest.

“She loves me,” he said, “but she isn’t in love with me.”)

We never articulated any feelings we may or may not have about each other or our situation. We dodged sincere conversation like it would kill us. So all the pieces we owned of each other were ones that we had been remiss in guarding diligently. That only made them all the more precious.

But on the heels of every stolen glance, there was a moment where he looked right through me, where I felt blank and insubstantial, like I was a placeholder for something or someone, and that would be enough for the wall to be between us again, rigid and unrelenting.

It was a shame that I was stupid enough to hold on to the scraps that fell through anyway.

.

(iii)

I was an immensely stupid person.

That was the only explanation for why I was leaning against the outer wall of our apartment building at three in the morning, desperately shoving my hands into my coat pockets to brace against the cold.

“You don’t have to be here.”

Can he read minds now? I wondered sullenly. Spencer was sitting on the front steps, with his head in his hands. His hair was dishevelled, and his eyes were the picture of torment. I would have loved to console him, but every attempt so far had been firmly rebuffed.

He had knocked on my door an hour ago and silenced my greeting with a bruising kiss. Of course, I knew how to do that dance, but Spencer had been off his rhythm tonight. When I’d reached for his shirt, he’d pushed my arms away. When I had kissed his jaw, he'd flinched. When I’d finally retreated in concern to ask him what was wrong, he had huffed out that he was perfectly fine, before trying to lift my shirt over my head.

I’d pushed him onto the bed and tried to distract him, and he had responded by clenching the sheets in his fists instead of grabbing my hips. I’d whispered his name in his ear the way he usually loved, and he’d climbed out from under me, sitting up on the bed with his chest heaving. At that point, I’d given up. What had followed was an exercise in patience.

(“Spencer, what’s wrong?” I’d asked again, to no avail.

“It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it,” he’d gritted out, glaring at me.

I’d sighed. “Okay, which is it? Nothing, or that you don’t want to talk about it?”

Silence.

“Well something is clearly bothering you. Am I just supposed to ignore that?”

“We don’t need to talk about anything.” He’d tried to kiss me again. That time, I was the one who pushed him away.

“No, Spencer, this isn’t working. I don’t think we should do this tonight.”

The glare had intensified. “Fine.” He’d gotten up and tried to put his shirt back on, but his hands were shaking.

Cursing my investment in this man, I’d helped him while he stared daggers at me. When he’d hunted down his shoes and made his way out of my apartment, I’d pulled on my coat and followed, petting my cat briefly when he tried to follow us.)

So now we were outside, experiencing the most awkward silence ever known to man. Every time I attempted to put a hand on his shoulder or sit beside him, he would tense up yet again.

“Yes, Spencer,” I replied at length, “I do. You look like you might accidentally walk into traffic. I’m not leaving.”

“It’s not your problem.” The petulance was beginning to get on my nerves. I hadn’t signed up for sleepless weeknights.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I told him, shrugging.

I pulled out my phone to distract myself with the cute animals in my game. Spencer was still worryingly silent. But if he didn’t want to talk to me and he wouldn’t let me near him, there was little I could do but stand there.

Every now and then, his breathing would hitch, and I would study him out of the corner of my eye. Whether he fully registered my presence or not, I was unsure, but he seemed to be calming down. He looked less on edge, his eyes less wild, and I was about to approach him and try again, when a black car pulled up just ahead of us.

Both our heads jerked to attention, but the petite blonde who exited the car only had eyes for Spencer.

“Spence!” She rushed to him, pulling him into a hug that he slowly reciprocated. “Your phone is off. After what happened, I was so worried,” she murmured into his hair, her eyes shut in relief.

And Spencer-- Spencer’s face was something to behold. His eyes were tightly closed, his lips turned down unhappily, and his face was so naked and open that I almost looked away. Almost. The pain that shone there riveted me. I felt as if I could see every wound he had ever suffered, in that instant. He’d never shown me that before. And he still hadn’t-- this wasn’t for me. The embrace broke, but his face stayed the same while the woman fussed over him.

Something came back to me, a fragment of a memory. She loves me but she isn’t in love with me. Unbidden, a sound of realisation escaped my throat, drawing two pairs of eyes to the dark corner in which I had been so far obscured.

Spencer schooled his face back to some semblance of normalcy, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Uh, JJ, this is--”

“Leaving,” I blurted out, then cleared my throat. “I was just leaving. Work in the morning. Nice to meet you.” I tried to smile at her, but it felt more like a pained grimace.

I brushed past both of them, but hesitated on the top step. “Spencer…”

His gaze was inscrutable, and I was too tired to try to decipher it.

“Feel better,” I mumbled, and then I left them there.

*~*

I was not sulking.

I told myself this as I lounged on the couch in my most comfortable pyjamas, stuffing my face with junk food and watching Michael Scott lament his foot injury.

So what if Spencer was in love with a beautiful blonde while getting him to talk to me was like pulling teeth? It wasn’t like I’d been carrying a torch for him. We were just extremely compatible sexually. And in very close proximity to each other. That put us in the ideal position to hook up whenever we needed it. That was the extent of our relationship. For all I knew, he’d been sleeping with other people this whole time. I hardly had the right to protest it if he had. We hadn’t set up rules. We just fell into bed together as and when we liked.

It was a good, uncomplicated thing.

So I needed to make sense of whatever needless jealousy I was feeling, before I ruined it. I couldn’t sit around being pathetic. I had a life.

There was a knock on the door.

Sighing, I turned off the TV and put the snacks away. Spencer was quiet as I let him in. His eyes roamed the small living room as if he didn’t know his way around my place as well as he did his own. I perched on the arm of the couch and stared at him, hoping my face didn’t betray the rollercoaster of emotions I’d experienced over the last forty-eight hours.

“So,” I started, “you okay?”

He looked a bit startled, as if he hadn’t expected me to address it at all. I tried not to roll my eyes.

“Yeah. I’m alright.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” I prompted, “It was pretty intense.”

“It-uh, it was a work thing. JJ helped me out.”

Of course she did. “Great,” I said aloud.

We looked at each other for a beat. “She’s the one, isn’t she?” I blurted before I could stop myself.

“What?”

“The one you’re in love with?”

There was a telltale spot of red high on his cheeks, even as he sputtered. “That’s not-- I mean, yes, but that was--”

“It’s fine,” I said cheerily. “I was just curious.”

He frowned at me. “She’s my best friend, it’s not--”

“No, I get it.” My stomach was somewhere near my feet. “So, do you wanna fuck?”

Again, he seemed taken aback. “What?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” I directed my gaze at his meticulously polished shoes.

“No.” A pause. “I just wanted to say-- would you look at me for a second?”

I forced myself to comply.

“I, uh, I wanted to thank you. For staying with me the other night.” The sincerity in his eyes was a bit too much to bear at the moment.

I hadn’t done anything, and I told him as much.

“You didn’t have to. Just being there was more than enough.”

“Right,” I said hollowly. “So is that it?”

“Yeah.” He seemed very lost. “Um, are you okay?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re acting kind of strange.”

“That’s because there isn’t usually this much talking,” I snapped.

I longed to smooth out the lines on his face and make him feel at ease again. This was supposed to be the good, uncomplicated thing. He was apparently making an effort. I could return the favour.

“I’m sorry,” I said, letting out a deep breath and rubbing a hand over my face. “Can I get you something to drink? We can talk about it if you want. Or just hang out.” I tried to squash down the hope that bloomed in my chest.

“Oh. Sure, if that’s okay.” He was chewing on his lip again, and it was unfairly appealing.

And so he stayed. I got two mugs of coffee, and when I came back, he was on my couch reading a well-worn paperback, as if he belonged there. I had to agree with the thought. When he heard me enter the room, he looked up with a smile.

When he left three hours later, I couldn’t remember what we’d talked about or the name of the book he’d abandoned within minutes, but I remembered the way he’d leaned close to me while gesturing wildly with his hands, and I remembered that we hadn’t touched beyond accidental brushes of our fingers the entire time.

He still hadn’t revealed the source of his despair, and I knew there was someone he loved. I knew whatever this was, it would be temporary.

But the smile on my face as I closed the door was real.

.

(v)

Spencer kept coming over. I was never given the chance to initiate contact because it seemed like he was always at my place. Whenever he was in the city, he would be with me. I started to worry about his apartment gathering cobwebs from the disuse. But I couldn’t honestly complain about this new development.

Sometimes we had sex, and sometimes we didn’t. Sometimes he came in sore and tired, other times he was brimming with excitement with a playful grin. Sometimes he was angry at the world and I was allowed to coax him down from his rage. Those nights were in turn infuriating and thrilling.

(“What happened?”

“Work.”

“That’s really helpful, Spencer, care to elucidate?”

“No.”

“Okay, caveman.”

“Shut up and take off your clothes.”

I’d rolled my eyes and complied.)

I enjoyed every bit of him. I wanted to observe and chart every one of his moods and his little quirks. I loved the small pile of his books that had found their way onto the coffee table. I loved introducing him to pop culture that he approached with the same diligence as he would a textbook of quantum physics. He was an eager student, and I attempted to return the favour whenever he launched into his obscure tirades.

Some nights I would drowsily let him in and he would crawl into bed with me, fully clothed. The following mornings, I would wake up with a silly grin on my face, seeing him utterly relaxed and at peace. We’d have breakfast in my kitchen and slowly come awake together over our steaming mugs of coffee.

It was fun, learning him.

In the dead of night, as I was drifting off to sleep, he would tell me bits and pieces of horrible things he’d had to see. All I could offer him then was a tight, protective embrace and a steady gaze as the words clawed their way out of his reluctant throat. It felt like he was giving me some sort of twisted boon, these revelations of his pain. I collected them just as carefully as I did everything else. If it was a part of him that was freely given, I knew I wanted it.

At intervals, I would have to remind myself that he wasn’t truly emotionally available. It wasn’t hard. I only had to picture JJ’s relieved smile and the raw uncloaked expression on his face that I had never seen again. He mentioned her every now and then, and I’d discovered that his godson was her child. He never seemed upset, talking about her family, but he wasn’t the kind of man who would resent another’s happiness, even if it was at the expense of his own. I knew that now. I still remembered the way he would pull away from me and flinch at my touch, and I knew I was playing a losing game. There was no way out of this where I didn’t get hurt. All I could do was try to control it.

Three months after that night outside our building, I knew I’d fallen for him.

I was in trouble and I needed to do something about it, quickly. So I stopped preemptively cancelling plans with my friends and coworkers. I joined a book club. I called in a guy to loudly fix my bathroom sink the day I knew Spencer would be getting home. I even got a gym membership. I tried to be away from home as much as I could.

Whenever Spencer texted me, I would let him know I was unavailable. His texts got progressively more frustrated. Watching the excitement on his face dim when I turned him away at my door was painful. But it was necessary. I convinced myself that when Spencer and I stopped existing in this vacuum without other people, my feelings would weaken and I would be able to get him out of my head.

It didn’t work, of course, and I spent every day missing him. I tried to distract myself with work and my suddenly-full schedule, but the feelings were still there. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking of him every morning and every night, and every time I passed his door and every time I walked by a bookstore.

So when Neil from work asked me out a week later, I said yes.

I wore a nice dress and heels, and he picked me up. We went to a midscale restaurant and talked about boring first-date things, and I knew within the first fifteen minutes that I didn’t want to see him again. I went through the motions, smiled pleasantly at him, and told him I would take a cab home. When I walked dejectedly up to my apartment, it took me a second to realise what I was looking at. My heart leapt and I dropped my keys.

Spencer was sitting on the floor outside my door, and he looked tireder and older than I’d ever seen him. He had looked up at my approach. I froze.

“Spencer.” I hadn’t seen him in a month.

He looked me up and down, and there was an unhappy tilt to his mouth. I wanted to kiss it away. He reached for the keys and rose to his feet.

“Hi.” He held them out to me, and I wanted to laugh and the eerie reflection of our first meeting.

“Hi,” I echoed.

“Were you on a date?”

There was no point in lying to him. “Yes.”

He looked away, his jaw clenching.

Silently, I unlocked the door and held it open. After a moment’s hesitation, he walked in.

He paced the floor of my living room. I took off my shoes and put my keys on the table, waiting for him to speak. I felt out of sorts and unprepared for what was to come. Even when I heard him come to a halt, I didn’t lift my gaze to meet his.

“Why would you-- I thought we had something.” His tone was heavy with accusation.

I stared back at him in challenge. “Sure. We had something. But I didn’t want to fool myself into thinking it was more than it was.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Us! You. You send me all these mixed signals, and I know you’re still hung up on someone else but I let myself get in too deep anyway. I had to protect myself.”

“I’m not hung up on someone else,” he shouted, raising his hands in frustration.

“Of course you are!” I matched his volume. “You told me so yourself.”

“When did I do that?” He sounded honestly bewildered.

“A few months ago. You said you were in love with someone but she didn’t love you back. And then I saw you with JJ that day. I know it’s her. It’s okay. You didn’t promise me anything.”

Feeling drained, I wrapped my hands around my middle. The tears were threatening to fall, but I tried to hold them at bay. This would be over soon. It all would.

“JJ--” he barked out a laugh, surprising me.

“What about this situation is funny to you?” I demanded.

“No, listen--”

“You’re hot and you’re cold. You kick me out right after our first time and then you’re sweet the next day. How do you want me to feel about that?”

“I’m sorry about-”

“Trying to talk to you is impossible! I want to help you. But you clearly don’t want to talk to me!”

“That’s not--”

“And then you’re over here all the time, and I get that it’s because you want to distract yourself, but you have to know how it would con--”

“God, would you just shut up and listen to me for once?”

I glared up at him. He was undeterred, a strange glint in his eyes.

“I love you,” he informed me, striking me dumb. “It took me a while to realise it, but it’s true. I love you.”

All I could do was gape at him as he walked closer to me and took my tightly clenched fists in his hands. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was holding back. I’m trying to be better. And I don’t know what you thought you saw between me and JJ,” he said very slowly, stroking his thumbs gently over my palms, “but all that’s there is a lot of trauma and shared experiences. Yes, I thought I loved her once, but that was a long time ago. We’ve never-- she’s not you.”

Traitorously, that tendril of hope began to coil around my heart again as I searched his face, looking for a trace of a lie.

I found none.

I surged forward, crashing my lips to his with no finesse and too much force, but he was ready for me, releasing my hands and cradling my waist instead. I gripped his hair, letting the tears spill at last, an overjoyed laugh bubbling out of my throat and into his mouth. I let my hands roam the hard plane of his body, the delicious ripple of wiry muscle beneath his shirt, the hidden softness that only I could feel.

“I love you,” I told him when we broke apart for air. “I’m glad I can tell you, I love you, I fucking love you.” Spencer grinned down at me, and the look was so fond I had to kiss him again.

The rest was a blur of hastily discarded clothes and the steadfastly ignored pain of knocking into furniture before we finally found my bed and tumbled into it.

(“All this time, I could have had you,” I groaned into his ear while he thrust his fingers into me, mouthing along my jaw.

“You have me,” he promised into my skin an eternity later, when he was inside me and my nails were scrambling for purchase along his back, my vision going white.)

That night, there were no painful confessions or taunting insecurities. There were just the two of us, blissfully entwined together, and the deepest of dreamless sleeps. Somewhere in the middle of falling out and falling back together, we had found our new rhythm.

.fin.

[x-reader-theater]

Inspired by the @katytheinspiredworkaholic Noir AU mood board, Spencer dating Hotches or Alvezes younger brother in around 20's-40's era when it was still illegal. Hotch or Alvez (who ever you choose) would be some sort of important name in the city so obviously the reader would be too, being from a wealthy family. So it is especially hard for the reader and Spencer to sneak around kissing and stuff when everyone has their eyes on the reader. But one day the reader realises that fuck the others, he is wealthy and so known that no-one dared to mess with him anyway so reader and Spencer would publicly announce their relation ship.

(sorry if its too long of a request)

This got away from me a bit, I'm so sorry. I also made a moodboard because I was so inspired. This was soooooo much fun to write. I love me a good noir AU loll. Edited by @mystic-writes

Moodboard by Me

You laugh lightly as Spencer pushes you into the wall right outside of your bedroom, kissing down your neck and sucking right below your collarbone. You chose to have your top three buttons undone tonight, just for this very purpose. You wanted to entice, without making it known that it was your intention. You got a few ladies coming over to try and talk to you, much to your brother's delight, but you rebuffed every single one of them. They weren't who your heart was truly with.

You moan as you grind your hips against Spencer's and pant out, "We- uh- we should get inside. Before someone sees us."

"Let them," Spencer says, kissing your neck more. "Let them see us. I don't care."

You push Spencer away, holding him at arm's length, before saying, "I do. I care. Do you know what my brother would do if he found out who I shared my bed with?"

You look away from Spencer, who sighs. "Maybe I should go-"

"No, wait," you say, grabbing his wrist. "Please don't. Just, hold me tonight?"

Spencer smiles and kisses you.

–

"Hey! Little brother! Come to watch the show?" your older brother Luke asks you from his usual seat. He's the only one in the club, but that makes sense since the sun hasn't even set yet. You walk over and sit down next to him, and he leans over, whispering, "Isn't she a vision?"

he points to the obviously very beautiful woman on stage, with dark skin and black hair curled beautifully on her head. She's wearing a white rhinestoned dress with spaghetti straps and you think you see her pearly white heels underneath . She looks stunning.

"She's not my type," you say, leaning back and listening to her sing.

Luke hits your arm. "No one is! I swear, if Ma and Pa hadn't raised me to be such a gentleman, I would be kickin' the snot out of you to find out."

You snort when he says he's a gentleman, but cross your arms and ignore it. "I do have a type. You just don't know what it is," you snort, and look over at your brother, who's frowning at you. "You're not her type either." You nod to the woman on stage.

"What do you mean? I'm everybody's type!" Luke exclaims and the woman glares at you.

You snort. "She keeps looking over at Penelope at the bar, making sure she's watching. She's singing a love song, but the only person in the entire place that it's for is your bartender."

Luke's eyes go wide, and you smile and slap him on the shoulder, while the woman finishes her song. You give Penelope a wink as you exit.

–

That night, you walk into the club. No one's singing at the moment, but you met the woman, Tara, back behind the stage in one of the back rooms that had been converted into a dressing room for her. She's going to go on stage later, and you paid her something extra to make the first song a love song.

You were good for it after all.

You haven't been keeping up with the family as much as you used to, but you notice your brother doing deals every now and again, and you have to step in to save him from getting his ass beat.

You take a deep breath and walk into the crowded club, the low jazz coming from the band on stage. You walk over to the bar and order a gin from Emily, who smiles at you and takes it from your fingers before you can grab it. She points at one of the tables where you see Spencer, sitting with a woman, ignoring her flirting. You sigh and thank Emily, before going to the table with your drink, and sitting down on Spencer's other side.

"[Y/N]!" he exclaims, a grateful look in his eyes.

"Spencer! Good to see you," you say, clasping a hand onto his shoulder. You squeeze it and he smiles at you. "Who's your friend here?" You ask, gesturing to her, but you don't stop touching him.

"Uh, this is… uh…" he starts to say, but the woman frowns at him when he doesn't say it.

"I'm Lila. Lila Archer," she says. While you're in Chicago, most folks around here don't have any sort of accent. She however has a southern lilt to her words. She's blonde haired and blue eyed, and she looks incredibly uncomfortable in here, surrounded by both black and white folks. There was also the occasional Hispanic person in here, like your brother, but they are few and far between.

Your brother owns one of the only mixed race clubs in town, only because he was adopted into the family as a young boy. He has the money as a non-white to own and run a business. Helps that his "family" is a majority white as well.

Your grandfather was sent to Chicago from New York to make sure the city knew the Italians still ran the place. But, he likes to pick up a lot of strays.

Doctor Spencer Reid being one of them. No one quite knows what he's a doctor of, but he seems to be a doctor of everything. Medicine, the arts, mathematics, you name it, he probably knows it. It's one of the many reasons you fell in love with him.

"Miss Archer. I've never seen you in here before. Is this your first time visiting my brother's club?" You ask.

She nods stiffly. "That's right. My father wants to buy this place, but he can't seem to put in an offer big enough. Says he wants to rid the city of it's filth and reclaim it for the whites once again."

"Well, Miss Archer, as you can see, there are plenty of whites here tonight," you say, gesturing to the people seated at tables and getting drinks from the bar. "And I'm really hoping you don't share the same… convictions as he does, because otherwise, I might just have to get one of my people to throw you out of here."

You make eye contact with Morgan who's sitting at a nearby table and he nods at you, acknowledging what you want.

"I-" she begins to say, before she deflates. "I wanted to see what was so bad, all the voodoo and evil devil worshiping he says he's seen you folks doin'. But, y'all just seem like good honest people."

You smile at her and stand up. "I'm glad to hear it, Miss Archer. I think you'll find we're a lot more human than everyone makes us out to be." She smiles at you and you turn to Spencer, holding out your hand. "Now, my good doctor, would you do me the pleasure of joining me for a dance? Miss Lewis is about to start her singing, and I heard it's going to be *beautiful*."

Spencer grins and takes your hand. You drag him to the dance floor, where there's already a group of people dancing together, swinging them around their bodies, moving and shaking and laughing.

The music gradually changes, and while it does get slower and softer, it is by no means a slow dancing tune.

You start shaking your hips and kicking your legs and Spencer does the same. He spins you around, almost forcing you to go out and in, and it's perfect. The melody is beautifully sung by Tara, and you smile as your back is pulled to Spencer's chest. He loops his arms around you, and you look up at him, smiling.

He's looking at you with a quizzical look, as if saying, "You sure you want to do this?"

Instead of answering, you kiss him. He opens his mouth and you slide your tongue into his mouth, capturing his mouth in a wet and heated kiss. When you pull away, he has the happiest smile on his face.

You look over at your brother, who has the angriest look on his face, and you raise an eyebrow, silently saying, "Just try to stop me."

[whump-a-la-mode]

Maybe, if you have any extra time, would you consider doing a continuation of the good villain rehab center prompt??? 🥺

🥺 I loved writing that one. Here you go! Just as a heads up, I’m going to start making prompt fills like this a little shorter, just because they’re starting to pile up a little. I wanna make sure I can answer all of them!

Thank you so much for the request!! Continued from here. This one is fluffy but also just a little sad.

CW//Hospital setting, pill mention, nausea mention, low self esteem

Visiting hours were from one to four.

That was the first thing Villain learned about the Supervillain Memorial Villainous Recovery Center, or, as it was far more commonly known, for the sake of brevity, the RC. That visiting hours were from one to four.

They could not help but hear the fact, echoing in their mind, as they glanced to the clock. Half after noon.

Half an hour.

Lunch was served at noon sharp-- they had learned that, too. Villain glanced down at the plate, sitting on the desk before them. It had been picked clean, to the point of nigh-spotlessness, leaving behind only the smeared residue of sauces and spices.

Two days. Three, they supposed, now, since the clock’s hands had already passed well into the afternoon. Three days, spent at the RC.

72 hours. Not counting the time they’d spent without their consciousness intact.

They sighed, placing down their fork-- a real, metal fork-- and listening to its soft clatter against the porcelain dishware.

Visiting hours were from one to four. Meaning that, in half an hour, Hero would be there. They’d grown familiar with, though not particularly fond of, the knock on their door-- the age-old call: “Villain, you have a visitor.”

Lunchtime had quickly become their least favorite time of day.

Things were peaceful before food was served. They woke up when wakefulness stirred them, spurred by no alarm, human or otherwise. The room was... comfortable. Light coaxed its way between the shades of their closed blind, leaving sunspots on the wood-paneled floor.

Though they awoke alone, when they emerged from bed, it was never long before someone came to see them. Doctor, it had been so far. A face they had learned to find kind and welcoming, even if their movements still made them uneasy.

Every day, the doctor would coax a light knocking upon their door, greeting them with a soft call of ‘good morning.’ They would ask how they had slept, how they were doing.

It was always the less practical questions that came before those of a medical nature. ‘Have you been feeling well?’ ‘Is there anything you need?’ ‘Would you like some tea?’

Then came the medical questionnaire-- a short affair of simple ‘yes’s’ and ‘no’s.’ Yes, their head still hurt. No, they weren’t having any trouble breathing. Yes, they were drinking their water. And their pills. Based upon the doctor’s warm, content smile, Villain’s recovery was going well, though they never mentioned the way that the taste of smoke refused to remove itself from the back of their tongue.

And, finally, the apologies.

To Doctor, Villain’s living conditions must have seemed to be torturous, considering the way they spoke of them.

“I’m so sorry you have to stay in here. Your doctors want a clean bill of health before you move to the main wing. It’s flu season, they say. Something like that could land you in the hospital while your lungs are still weak.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you could come visit with the nurses for a while... Oh, you must be so lonely. Are you sure there’s no one you want to call?”

“You aren’t getting bored, are you? The library is just down the street, are there any books you want? There’s a TV in the employee lounge...”

Yet, despite their countless worries, each and every one went unfounded. Villain’s room was a cell, yes. The door was locked. The window was bolted shut. They were a prisoner, and they knew that.

But, inexplicably, they were happy. On the first day, they had gone so far as to wonder if their food had been tampered with. They’d soon found otherwise, however. There was a far less sinister explanation.

They were simply happy. Perhaps not euphoric. Not overjoyed. But... content.

The time they spent in their cell was serene. Staring out over the window, watching the ocean play, the flowers in the botanical garden flash their extravagant petals. On the second day, when their fatigue had receded, they had obliged one of the doctor’s many offers. A book from the library.

Later that day, a chatty intern had brought in five, jabbering about how they didn’t know how fast of a reader Villain was.

So far, they’d only gotten through one, flipping leisurely through its pages. There was something nearly overwhelming about the experience. Letting the words flow to their mind as waves whorled in the ocean outdoors.

Prisoner or not, they were happy. They enjoyed their cell. There was room to roam, room to breathe. They couldn’t remember the last time they had been able to simply pause. To let every part of them relax.

And, during most of the day, they did relax.

Except during visiting hours. One to four.

Villain’s gaze glanced to the clock. 12:45.

Three days they’d been in the RC. Three days Hero would visit. Even if the hour had no struck yet, there was no doubt in their mind that the hero would be there, right on time, smiling and bringing gifts. The first day, it had been cookies. The second, a handful of candies. Today, they’d promised a brownie.

Villain never ate the food. It went right in the trash, every piece of it. It wasn’t an act of spite, not an act of distrust. But an act of nausea. When Hero left after their visits, they had no desire to eat.

Hero was... nice. That was undeniable. They entered with a grin and left with one, even as it fluttered throughout their meeting. Never had they uttered to Villain an insulting word, an aggressive tone. That was exactly the problem.

Why?

Why hadn’t they harmed them?

By name alone, the RC would have made any villain keep far from its walls. A recovery center was certainly a misnomer, a joke at those inside. Those being held captive, broken down and shattered into fiberglass particles of themself.

Because the heroes were evil. They were in the wrong. Regardless of what they said, regardless of what the public thought, it was the villains who were fighting the good fight. Any facility they had control over was certainly a torture chamber, intent on inflicting nothing but suffering on those inside.

Not bringing them tea and library books.

During visiting hours, from one to four, Villain would hardly speak. They allowed Hero to do that for them-- even as they asked them questions, requested their input, nudged them for anecdotes. There were no words that villain could say that would sound right.

So, they listened. Listened to the hero’s stories, how their day had gone, what stupid think their drunk teammates had done last weekend. Yet, they never strayed to topics of villainy. Never to topics of work. When such things would come up, they were brushed over with professional efficiency. ‘Then we fought downtown, but you’ll never guess how Teammate managed to set off the fire alarm.’

Because they didn’t care. Hero didn’t care.

They didn’t care that they were speaking to a villain. One who had caused untold harm, unending, ceaseless, meaningless destruction. Every time they prompted Villain to speak, they struggled to open their mouth. To let a stream of apologies spill forth, greater than the ocean outside their window.

But, not a single word would emerge. Because it wouldn’t be enough.

In the Supervillain Memorial Villainous Recovery Center, Villain was recovering. That was the problem.

They didn’t deserve it.

[nessaxc]

___________________________________

Stress Reliever || Kuroo Tetsurou

You're working so hard one day that you develop a migraine so Kuroo is determined to help relieve it.

~ Rating: Explicit

~ Words: 2.5k

~ Tags: Fluff, Comfort Sex, Lap Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Shameless Smut, Sexual dialogue, Swearing, Vaginal Sex,

___________________________________

Funny enough the day didn’t start off terrible. In fact, it started off pretty well. You woke up fairly early enough to drag yourself out of bed to do your morning exercises. Even after exercising and getting ready, you still had time to make yourself some coffee, and you were feeling in a positively good mood, though, that quickly went away.

Your professor was nagging you about the extra exercises and apparently you had a deadline for it, so you were swamped with work, and felt like you were being pulled in multiple directions. As such, you completely skipped lunch and barely had time to snack or eat the rest of the day. That was a major mistake and now you were starting to regret it horribly. The coffee stain on your shirt was a grim reminder of how much of a shit day you were having, so you tugged it off later that day to change into a comfortable nightdress.

Your head felt like it was on fire. You tried to focus on your computer screen, but the light of the device hurt your eyes and you shut them, pressing the heels of your palms into closed eyelids. The lack of food and water, plus your stress was starting to cause a migraine to emerge and you foolishly tried to just wish it away. Obviously it didn't seem to work.

Then Kuroo came around when you were working in the living room, wearing a deep red robe, sipping from a cup before he pulled it away from his lips to ask, "You okay, baby?" he walked over, and when he slammed his cup down on the table it made you wince.

"No," you admitted. You pulled your hands away from your face and nearly sobbed as you saw that your computer was now frozen.

You bit back a collection of swears that you wanted so desperately to scream. Instead, you grimly began to work again after everything closed, clicking on a browser to get back started.

"Earth to Y/N!" he waved his hand in front of your face, chuckling in amusement, and you just moved your head to the direction of the screen. The more you went on, the harder it got to concentrate. Your migraine was full on now, and your head was throbbing so much that it made it near impossible to focus on anything. You closed your eyes for a few moments, before you forced yourself to open them as you returned to the exercises you were working on.

"I think you need to relax," he suggested, "you can barely look at the computer screen," he laughed as he mocked the way your eyes were falling closed, his eyes heavily lidded as he slowly blinked them, a dazed look on his face.

"I can't, I have more work to do," you muttered. You appreciated his attempt at showing concern, but you really were too busy to leave now. You didn't even know what time it was, but you constantly told yourself that you weren't going to stop until everything was finished.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, and you fought the urge to look at him as he massaged the curve of it with his fingers.

"Aw don't be such a workaholic," he told you, and you nearly hissed at him, "I think what you need is a break, doctor's orders!" he exclaimed with a chuckle. "C'mon, you don't have anything that can't wait until tomorrow."

"I'm fine," you lied. You were stubborn and hated leaving things unfinished.

"You're not fine, c'mon, now the boss is telling you that you need to stop working," he urged, and you would have laughed because he was speaking in that cute whiny voice you loved had you not been so invested in your work. "I won't take no for an answer," he said with an amused smirk.

"No it's okay," you started, "I can keep going," you said, your voice lacking any sort of conviction. "I have a deadline."

"Well I said you don't, the professor gonna have to wait, last I checked you're supposed to listen to me, not that old fart," he pulled the laptop away from your grasp, and you wanted to argue but the words died in your throat as your head throbbed painfully.

"Tetsurou, I wasn't finished," you said, your voice expressing weak disapproval.

He scooped you up into his arms suddenly, humming away loudly and acting as if he didn't hear you. He carried you all the way to his room, bridal-style, which you couldn't help but giggle at, and he flopped down on the bed, positioning you on the comfortable seat that was his lap. He ran his hand along your arm, stroking the skin there as he eyed you with a suggestive look on his face.

"Migraine?" he asked. He knew you so well. You had the tendency to get migraines when you pushed yourself too much, and you groaned in response.

"You had a tough day huh?" he continued, a pout playing on his lips before he chuckled. "No biggie, I'm here to fix that," he assured, his voice somewhat soothing for once.

"It sucked," you mumbled, leaning into his touch as he stroked both of your arms with his hands, feeling yourself relax a little more. He pulled you closer against his chest, his breath tickling your neck.

"Sorry you had a shit day," he chuckled, his grin widening when you cracked a small smile, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. "But that's why you always have me to make it extraordinary!" he exclaimed smugly.

"It's fine, I had worse," you admitted, and he continued to laugh at that. You both fell into silence for a few moments. You loved that you could have a horrible day or a shitty migraine, and Kuroo would be there to help make you feel better. You were so comfortable and warm, despite the pounding in your head. But even with that pulsating ache in your head, you found yourself getting lost in the features of his face — those long ebony eyelashes, that single strand of black hair that fell in front of his forehead, the glimmer in his eyes, you drank it all in, and of course he noticed this.

"Like what you see, baby?" he raised both eyebrows inquisitively, his smirk only broadening even more so, entertained by your watchful stare.

"Maybe," you said with a light shrug, acting as if it was nothing.

He slid his hands up to your shoulders, kneading his fingers into them, and the feeling made you shiver slightly. You found yourself craving his touch almost instantly. You were suddenly very aware of his hot skin against yours and his hot breath chasing the skin on your neck.

"You know," he said before leaning in to press kisses upon your neck, "sex actually helps migraines."

As soon as he said the words, you felt him twitch against you. His lips then brushed your shoulder and you could feel his sly smirk.

"Is that so?" you asked, your voice taking a very different tone, that suggested a challenge. His fingers wandered down to the hem of your nightdress in search of the skin underneath.

"Yes, or so I've heard," he teased, making you chuckle in response.

"Make me feel better then," you whispered. You reached for the first button of your nightdress, his eyes widened a little as you worked your way down, and you emitted a soft gasp as you felt him harden against you. You popped the next one open but he quickly became impatient with your pace, he brought his hands back up and tore the dress open, letting the buttons fly about the room in loud pings before tossing it away.

You couldn't help but giggle in response to that because of how eager he was, and he quickly joined your state of laughter. Your hands fumbled to rid of the robe that covered his body, slipping it off in a hurry and allowing it to join your ripped dress on the floor. Your cheeks turned to the color of scarlet upon the sight of his stiff erection pointing up, amazed by how hard he was already.

You shivered when he cupped your breast. His hand was cold, and your nipples were already hard from the chill in the night air, but when he brushed his thumb over the sensitive tip of your breast, you sighed in pleasure. You trailed your cool fingertips down his side to his hip, your breath hitched.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he said under his breath before a chuckle slipped through, then he pressed his lips to yours. When you began to trail your fingers up and down his member, his tongue plunged into your mouth. He cupped your other breast, his thumbs brushing back and forth over your nipples. You inched forward, rubbing the ball of your thumb against the head of his member. When you were almost straddling him, you shifted your weight from your knees to your feet, sliding one arm around his neck to hold your balance as you kept fondling his member, and he nipped at your bottom lip, letting out a low, pleased moan.

"Oh shit," he growled before he added, "you're mine, all mine," he repeated, giving you one last hard kiss, then nuzzling his way down to your neck, and you arched to give him room as he brushed his lips just lightly across the tops of your breasts. You angled your hips, gripping his shoulders as you rubbed the slit of your sex into the hard length of his erection, your clit sliding against the underside of his shaft, and when he suckled against your nipple, you shuddered, making you whimper loudly.

"Mmm, yes," you murmured, closing your eyes as he lashed his tongue back and forth against your nipple, then gently bit the underside of your breast.

"So beautiful, fuck, I love how this perfect body is all mine," he cooed. He moved to the other, stroking your wet nipple as he pressed his other palm into the small of your back, guiding you as you ground against him. He murmured your name against your breast, and closed his teeth around your nipple. Your clit brushed the tip of his member and you moaned, hips trembling a little as you kept rubbing against him in a desperate attempt for some relief.

"Baby, get inside me," you moaned, and he kissed you between your breasts before he straightened. His dark-eyed gaze was intent on yours, watching as you were a complete and utter panting mess against him. He guided you up, angling himself under you, making you lean forward and you caught his earlobe in your mouth hungrily.

"Please, baby, please, oh fuck," you cried, and when he was just barely seated inside you, instantly you tilted forward, the tips of your breasts rubbing against his chest. He pressed the pad of his thumb against your clit, and you trembled as you sank onto his member, working your way down until your hips were flush.

You threw your head back as you thrust into him fervidly, losing yourself in the sensation of him inside you, filling you. When you took his full length and then gently circled your hips, his thumb still working against your clit, you both moaned aloud.

"Mmm. You feel so good," he growled. "Harder, baby," he urged breathlessly.

You adjusted your weight and he tilted back a little, changing the angle just slightly. When you began to bounce up and down on his member, he let out a louder moan, flicking your clit even harder, his other hand coming up to pluck at your breast. You cried out in pleasure when he squeezed your nipple between his forefinger and thumb, then did the same to the other.

"Yeah, babygirl, you're so fucking sexy," he panted hotly upon your moist skin, "so perfect riding my cock like this, oh fuck," he uttered gruffly around a grunt.

"Oh yes, Tetsurou," you sobbed as your inner flesh started to spasm around his member. You rode him harder, faster, seeking the friction your body craved without missing a beat, slamming your hips up and down upon his, frantically bumping into them without a care as your cries bounced off the walls of the room. "Yes, yes yes, baby, it feels so fucking good—"

"Come," he demanded hoarsely as he forcefully pressed down on your clit then slipped the pad of his finger into it with an untamed motion. Your arousal was making you shudder with desperation, and your sobs rose until you were almost screaming as he rocked up under you. Beads of hot sweat formed on his temple, making his hair stick to his warm skin as his body twitched with the sensation of engulfing you completely.

"Fuck, your pussy feels so good, baby," he praised, and your face flushed a deeper red, tipping your head back as your whole body trembled. You lifted your hips up and down as fast as you possibly could because you knew you were about to burst any second. You gripped his shoulders painfully tight for leverage when you finally reached your climax.

"Oh fuck," you mewled, rocking your hips side to side, almost corkscrewing down onto his member, and the wild movements of his finger stilled, groaning as he let himself come. You sank down onto him as he pulsed inside of you, and stayed lock to him, skin to skin, wrapped around each other.

Your head was against his neck as you panted hard upon his skin, eyes fluttering open as he tilted forward, letting both of your bodies fall back upon the soft cushion of his bed once you two shared a moment of simply attempting to get your breathing under control. He reached for the blanket, pulling it up around you two, over your bare shoulders, and then you realized you were shaking as your sweat dried on your skin.

"Mmmm," you murmured against his skin, placing a soft kiss upon his neck in a weak attempt to thank him.

Your migraine was now just a dull throbbing pain, and you felt so relaxed and satisfied that you went limp against his body. He lifted your chin up to make you face him, removing a few strands of hair from your face. He planted a couple of kisses along your shoulder and then your cheek. "So how's my girl feeling now? All better?" he asked with a chuckle, running his other hand down your back, feeling the soft flesh beneath.

"Better, much better," you purred as you stretched your body closer to his touch.

He chuckled, "Glad I could help."

___________________________________

[alicanta77]

Chapter 5: Empire Dawning

Pairing: princess!y/n x prince!Chenle

Themes: royalty au, fluff, angst

Warnings: arranged marriage, character death, injury, illness

Words: 6k

Inspiration: BTS - Blood, Sweat and Tears - orchestral cover

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Finale

tag list: @hiqhkey @jaeshatshop @lebrookestore @honei-n @cheonsa1004 @haechans-sunflower @crispy-chan @rvse-hvvck​ @chezzontop​​​

——————————————————————————

The next few months passed like a blur. You and Chenle hadn’t gone a single day without seeing each other and your happiness radiated throughout the whole kingdom. As well as spending time together, you also had your individual duties, with Chenle training with the knights and you attending council hearings and shadowing your mother.

The only dark cloud that hung over you, was your father’s health.

In the months since his injury, he still hadn’t recovered. The castle doctors couldn’t understand what the problem was. The wound had been treated with disinfectant and cared for with the utmost care, and it appeared as though it had healed. Yet, your father could barely get out of bed.

He was weak, his eyes were duller skin had less colour than normal, and you were worried. It became clear that the blade had been laced with some kind of poison, something that was intended to kill the king from the inside out. For a while you had thought that he would just be weakened, but as his health began to deteriorate once again, and you knew that he didn’t have long left.

Chenle had become a pillar of support for your mother while your father struggled. He had attended countless meetings and sessions, and provided her with advice when she asked for it. Anybody could see that he was someone she relied on and trusted with every fibre of her being.

You drew your eyes away from your mother and once again regarded the papers in front of you, tuning your ears back into the councilman who was speaking.

“By increasing taxes we can afford to pay for the renovations for the lower towns. We’ll need to purchase some materials from travelling merchants in order to deter the bandits from making more attacks. But this money will be to bring in specialists who can build the defences.”

Your mother sighed, reading the documents in her hands, reaching to sign it but Chenle’s brows furrowed and he gently stopped her hand.

“Why would we need to increase the taxes again?” He questioned, looking at the councilman who visibly swallowed under Chenle’s scrutinising gaze. “The taxes were temporarily increased in order to pay for medication for the king which hasn’t worked. I don’t think we can justify raising them again for a job that some of our own people can do.”

“The people are already giving everything they can.” You spoke up, nodding at Chenle to show your support for his objection. “If we increase the taxes, some of them may need to ration food or pick up extra jobs.”

“But this will not be a permanent raise.” The councilman argued. “This is only to ensure that the job is done properly.”

“We have some fine workmen here. Why would we hire people to do a job when we could give it to someone who is already here?” You questioned with Chenle immediately backing you up with another point after.

“Not only is that better for the economy, but it’s a solution, whereas raising taxes and bringing in external ‘specialists’ would simply create public unrest and difficulty for our people, which, in my eyes, seem to be more problems that we would then need to solve.”

Your mother placed the document back down on the table in front of her, and slid it across back to the sullen councilman.

“No.” She spoke with a quiet authority. “While your idea seemed manageable to you, it is only because you would not be the one finding solutions to the problems it causes, the Prince and Princess would. They are correct. It is not worth paying people extra to do a job that our own people can do. I want you to spread words for the work that we need done along with the salary that is offered.” Your mother gestured towards a few people on her right, who nodded at her words before she turned back towards the rest of the council. “If there are no more issues to be addressed, this concludes today’s meeting.”

When no words were spoken, the guards standing by the exit opened the large wooden doors and everyone stood. The three of you waited for the room to empty before the queen nodded at the guards again, and they shut the doors once more, this time standing on the outside of it.

“Well, that ran for longer than expected.” Your mother muttered, turning back to the two of you. “Thank you for speaking up.”

After receiving a smile and nod from both you and Chenle she turned and began to walk away, the smile slowly dropping off your face as you watched her go. She still held herself high, walking with the power that a queen would, but there was a heaviness that followed her wherever she went. It was as if she was struggling to make it through the day. 

Chenle’s hand squeezed your shoulder lightly.

“She’s just worried about your father.” He murmured, stepping forwards to wrap an arm fully around your shoulders. “Like I am about you.”

You leaned back into him, resting your head against his shoulder and sighed.

“i’ll be fine.” You reassured him, turning around and wrapping your arms lightly around his waist as he leant down to briefly touch his forehead to yours. “I just... I’ve never seen her like this. She’s always been so strong, so sure of everything she does, and now, it’s like, as my father dies, so does some part of her. I feel like I’m losing them both at the same time, and I’m not ready for it.”

Chenle nodded, taking in your words and listening intently. He leaned in, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“I know it’s difficult watching them like this, it’s difficult for me too, but all we can do is be there for her, and offer her the support that your father can’t anymore.” You closed your eyes and nodded, Chenle’s words comforting you.

“You’re right. I know you’re right I just need reminding sometimes.”

Chenle nodded, placing a kiss on your cheek.

“Hey, we have some free time and I think the music room is free.” He suggested, his eyebrows raised in anticipation and you grinned in response, grabbing his hand and leading him out of the hall.

---

Chenle’s fingers danced over the piano, expertly playing the ending to the song the two of you had just sung. This place was a safe space. A place where it was just the two of you and you could forget about the countless things kept you from falling asleep at night.

The final note echoed around the otherwise empty room, and you gently shut your eyes, listening as it faded into nothingness. When you reopened your eyes, you found Chenle already looking at you. For a moment the two of you just stared at each, the silence comforting enough with words unnecessarily interrupting it.

The silence eventually grew thin and you began to think of something to say, a phrase that would match the perfection of this moment in time. Luckily for you, Chenle seemed to have a different idea on what to say, which was limited to saying nothing.

He quickly leant in, closing the short distance between the two of you and pressing his lips to yours. You kissed him back, smiling into the kiss and moving your hand up to his cheek.

“What was that for?” You asked him, the grin on your face mirrored on his.

Chenle shrugged.

“I just felt like it.” He leaned in again, placing a much softer peck on your lips before standing up.

He offered you a hand which you took, standing as well and adjusting your long dress as you did. Chenle kept a hold of your hand, using it to bring you closer to him.

“You know, one day we should get someone else to play for us.” He suggested as you raised your eyebrows.

“Is that so?” You asked as he nodded nonchalantly.

“Yep, because that way I can do this with you to someone else’s music.” He grabbed your waist lightly with his other hand and began to gently sway the two of you. 

Your body reacted on instinct, moving your free hand to his shoulder and you couldn’t stop the giggle that left you when your mind registered what you were doing.

The two of you gently danced around the room, covering ground yet never looking away from each other. Chenle turned you in a dramatic spin before dipping you as you both cracked up. The sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, causing Chenle to pull you back up into a standing position.

The two of you shared a knowing look, predicting what was about to happen. And, just as you had thought, your lady in waiting appeared in the corner, informing you of the time. You nodded at her words that your father was asking for you and you turned back towards Chenle, pulling on his hand to guide him out of the door.

“I’ll see you later?” You asked.

“Of course.” Chenle replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Don’t forget to ask your father about us visiting the villages!”

Your eyes widened slightly at that, the thought having slipped your mind. You thanked him, promising to remember and you both walked your separate ways.

---

Chenle wandered the halls of the castle, not walking anywhere in particular and not really focusing on where he was going. He had become so familiar with these passages that he could get to any room on muscle memory alone.

He still remembers the time he got lost in the North quarter in his early days here. He’d been thinking about meeting you, and somehow taken the wrong turn, leaving it up to you to come and find him. Chenle chuckled to himself as he remembered the state of panic he had been in.

He sometimes found himself missing those early days, when everything was new and he was seeing these things for the first time. But if he was being honest, the only thing that Chenle wanted to do again for the first time, was meet you, to get to know you and learn about you all over again. To fall in love with you all over again.

Sometimes Chenle dreamt about taking you back to Shanghai, showing you off to his people and touring you around the castle he grew up in. Maybe even coming to find you when you got lost this time. But that couldn’t happen, not now at least. You couldn’t afford to leave the Queen in this state, not while the king was so fragile.

One day, Chenle promised. One day, he would show you his home.

The clanging sound of swords clashing drew him out of his thoughts and Chenle realised he was walking towards the training grounds. He let his feet carry him across the grass and he came to a stop, standing on the side of the training grounds, watching Jisung, Jaehyun and Taeyong training some new knights in swordplay.

Jisung noticed him watching, sending him a nod in acknowledgement, which Chenle returned. Jisung looked at the knight in front of him and Chenle could see the cockiness radiating off him from where he was standing.

Taeyong and Jaehyun came to stand beside Chenle, both of them patting him on the shoulder and bumping his elbow in greeting.

“They’re not a bad bunch.” Taeyong told him, referring to the new knights. “Lots of potential, they just need to get it in their heads that this isn’t all glory. That one facing Jisung now, he’s the best out of this group.”

Chenle nodded, tilting his head as he caught the end of what Jisung was saying.

“You can’t fight for something you don’t believe in.”

The knight who was facing off Jisung scoffed, making all of the knights watching raise their eyebrows in disbelief at his attitude.

“You can when you’re as skilled as I am.” The young knight retaliated, clearly attempting to show off to his friends. “I can fight for nothing and I’ll still win.”

“No.” Chenle spoke up, making all eyes turn on him as he began to walk towards them. “You’ll lose.” The jaws of knights who were training all dropped slightly at the sight of their Prince. Ever since the battle and his coronation, Chenle had been extremely well respected around the kingdom and that respect had only been going up with his close relationship with the queen. “You’ll always lose.”

Chenle stepped forward so that he was standing in front of the group of knights, standing at Jisung’s side. Jisung reached out, offering him a sword which Chenle took with a small but grateful smile.

“Those who fight without belief can never win. Because it’s that belief, that passion, that trust in what you’re fighting for that gives you strength when you need it most. The picture of what you love most in this world appears in your head and you know that, for that thing you love, you can fight for as long as you need to. Those who fight with a cause don’t fight because they have to, they fight because they want to. Because they have something worth fighting for.”

The knights were rendered speechless by the end of Chenle’s short speech. All of them, including the cocky youngster at the front nodded rapidly in understanding. Jisung gave some new commands to pair up with a trainer as some of the more experienced knights, including Jaemin and Jeno arrived. Chenle immediately began to help out, demonstrating moves and tricks to the boy he was assigned to.

He didn’t notice or hear Taeyong lean over to Jaehyun and speak a quiet sentence which Jaehyun nodded in agreement with.

“Spoken like a true King.”

---

You had never been so relieved to have switched out your usual floaty dresses for a pair of trousers today. You and Chenle had headed down to one of the kingdom’s outlying villages for the day in order to help them rebuild it. When you had visited your father the day before, you’d asked for his permission and his words were still echoing in your head today.

“My dear, even if I didn’t give you permission you would be going down there anyway. And I know that because I know you, and I know what you’re willing to do. Now let me tell you, no one needs permission to care about someone else or to help them. This goes beyond being a good queen, this is being a good person.”

It was the last thing he said before you left the room. Your father had a habit of leaving you with words that stayed with you for a while. It was as if he had a goal of giving you a piece of wisdom every time you talked.

You reached for another plank of wood, passing it up to Chenle who grabbed it and began to move it into the right place on the roof. You had been working hard for a couple of hours and you were beginning to tire. Your muscles were aching, but you refused to stop, knowing how much this would help the people living in this village.

You reached down for another plank, your fingers grasping at empty air as you realised that was the final one. You shouted the news up at Chenle before moving to sit on a nearby grassy slope. Chenle climbed down from the ladder he was on and flopped down in a heap next to you.

“You’ve never been more graceful.” You commented sarcastically.

“Thank you.” He replied without missing a beat. “You know, you should wear trousers more often, they look good.”

“I doubt my mother would approve.” You laugh as Chenle chuckled too.

“You’re probably right.” He agreed, before lifting his hand and pointing towards the crops. “Also, we should do something about the fence.”

Your eyes followed his finger to see that the fence around one of the fields had caved in, falling over the crops and stunting their growth.

“Yes, definitely. We could also put up a boundary around some of the houses. Maybe give them extra protection or places to store weapons. We should also install some trap doors if we can to give them a place to hide crops so that, if bandits come again and there’s no one here to protect them, they don’t lose everything they have.”

“Good idea.” 

You and Chenle kept chatting, exchanging ideas and making plans of building that you would pitch to your parents. Chenle was just beginning the idea of training some of the young farm boys in basic combat when you suddenly put your hand on his chest, stopping him talking immediately. 

He looked at you in confusion until he heard what you were hearing. Galloping hooves, horses getting closer and closer with each passing second. You both scrambled for your weapons, prepared to defend these people from the bandits you assumed were approaching with everything you had, when a single horse rounded the corner and approached you.

You recognised the man sitting upon it as the royal messenger.

“You’re needed back at the castle, immediately.” The urgency in his voice made you move quickly, sheathing your sword and mounting Obsidian. Chenle followed your actions also managing to ask the exact question that you were too afraid too.

“Why? What’s this about?”

“The King.”

---

You galloped all the way back to the castle, not slowing down for a second. Chenle was close behind you, the messenger somewhere further back, his horse too tired from the journey to the village to keep up with your desperate pace. You couldn’t describe the panic you felt in your chest. It was driving every move you made, encouraging you to go even faster. You urged Obsidian on, your horse grunting as he poured even more speed into his legs. 

You heard Chenle do the same with Aspen, determined to keep up with you no matter what. You both approached the castle without losing speed, the guards at the gates running out of your way. You were forced to pull Obsidian to a slower pace as you made your way towards the castle doors. The stable hands rushed out to meet you and you jumped off and ran straight through the doors, ignoring everyone in your way.

By this point you didn’t know if Chenle was still behind you, and you didn’t have it in you to slow down and find out as you raced towards your parents quarters. You finally reached their room, threw open the doors and stared at the scene in front of you.

You barely heard Chenle’s footsteps as he arrived behind you, but you did feel his arms catching you as your knees gave out.

Your father was dead.

---

The funeral was the next day.

The night of his death, the citizens of your kingdom had stood in the courtyard of the palace and held candles, all of them wearing black out of respect. Your mother, Chenle and yourself went out to thank them and it took everything in you not to fall apart.

After thanking the people, you headed back inside. You went straight to your room, Chenle following you no matter how much you protested. Eventually you turned on him, demanding to know why he wouldn’t let you be. He took a step towards you, reaching up to move a small piece of hair out of your face before softly telling you.

“I don’t want you to feel alone.”

That was all it took to break you. You fell into his arms, crying about your father for the first time since you’d learnt of his death. Chenle had stayed with you the whole night, keeping you company and holding you close. He never let you go, not even for a moment.

The funeral was at night. It was a tradition of your kingdom for each living member of the royal family to say their private goodbyes to the deceased. This is for the people closest to them to say goodbye to his spirit. Chenle had gone first, then you and finally, your mother. Then, after the sun sets and the moon rises, you would come together with the people of your kingdom and say goodbye to his body.

You smoothed the non-existent wrinkles out of your dress, checking your hair one last time to make sure it was perfect. You caught the sight of Chenle in your mirror, watching you with a sad smile. He saw you return his smile with an attempt of one of your own and Chenle swore he felt his heart break slightly. Watching the woman he loved getting dressed for her fathers funeral was, to say the least, not a fun sight.

He offered a hand to you, and you shakily took it. You made to leave your room, but Chenle gently squeezed your hand and you paused, looking up at him. He didn’t say anything, yet somehow managed to have a whole conversation with you.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, feeling your heart rate calm slightly. Chenle intertwined your fingers, and you both headed out to the funeral.

You were standing on the river side, watching as the small boat your father’s body lay on was carried down. He was dressed in his best clothes, his arms resting on his chest, with his sword in his hands. His eyes were closed and he looked as though he was sleeping. Peace painted across his face for the first time in the many months since the battle. As heartbreakingly painful as losing your father was, there was comfort in knowing that he finally got the rest that he deserved.

The river was decorated with flowers, stray petals and floating candles. Citizens stood beside you, all of them holding a light weight lantern like your own. The soft yellow lights reflected off the river. You knew that your father would have loved how beautiful it all was. He had an eye for those kinds of things.

You moved down the river with the body, following it on it’s journey until the river began to spread out. The people fanned out, forming lines as they watched their king drift off into the distance. Your mother lifted her arms to the sky, showing off her lantern and shouted.

“From this life to his next life. May the king rest in peace.”

“May the king rest in peace.” You repeated, along with every other person present. Only you and Chenle were close enough to hear her whisper.

“Goodbye my love.” And with that she let go of her lantern, watching as it sailed off into the air.

All the people around you followed her example, releasing their floating lanterns into the sky. They spoke to them, saying something to their king before letting them fly.

You looked down at your own, trying to think of what your last words to your father should be. You bit your lip and leaned in closer to it and whispered quietly.

“Goodbye father, I love you.”

You let go.

---

You rolled over in your bed, unable to sleep. Ever since your father’s funeral you’d struggled with falling asleep, your mind too busy to let your body rest. You groaned, throwing the covers off you as you stared up at your ceiling.

Chenle had been keeping you company often, staying by your side, making sure you were alright, and it meant the world to you. You’d begun to find yourself missing him all the time he wasn’t with you, even if he’d just left your side a second ago.

You swung your legs off your bed, knowing you weren’t going to be getting any sleep here. The doors creaked slightly as you opened them, making you wince at the sound. You slipped out of them, shutting them behind you as you made your way through the castle.

You reached Chenle’s room quickly, knocking on the door lightly before going inside. His room was similar to yours in size, and you loved the odd decorations he had that had come with him from Shanghai. The red and gold tapestry that hung on the wall by the door was your personal favourite. You ran your fingers over it gently as you quietly called out for Chenle.

He didn’t reply so you moved further into his room. You turned and stopped when you saw where he was. His balcony. The door to it was shut so you caught his attention when you opened it to join him. He whispered a quiet hello to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he pulled you close.

You leant your head on his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around his bare torso and the two of you looked out over the scenery. From this position the two of you could see almost the entire lower town. There were odd yellow squares where you could tell someone’s light was on, but for the most part the town was shrouded in moonlight.

It almost looked too good to be true.

“Are you not cold?” You asked him as a breeze blew past the two of you, worried for you shirtless boyfriend.

“Not really, it gets colder than this in Shanghai, I guess I’m just used to it.” Chenle muttered, his eyes never leaving the scene in front of him. “Couldn’t sleep?” You shook your head sighing as he reassured you. “It’ll come, you just need some time. It’s hard, being in front of the people you have to be a ruler, you can’t show your emotion, especially not with how your mother is struggling. But things will get better. We’ll fix up the outlying villages, we’ll finish some of the tasks your father had hoped for and you’ll get closure. I promise.”

You nodded, feeling more relaxed already. Another breeze ripped through the two of you, causing Chenle to shiver.

“Okay, maybe now I’m cold.” He admitted, reaching behind him to open the door and bring you both back inside. You laughed as you followed him, happily embracing the warmth that his room provided.

You shut the door behind the two of you before following Chenle to his bed. He was already lying down in it, waiting for you with his arms open. You smiled at the sight of him, thinking how you could get used to seeing that. You climbed into his bed, setting down on his chest as he began to run his fingers through your hair.

You nestled your head into his neck, feeling him giggle when you placed feather light kisses on the skin there.  Your hand came up to rest on his chest, your fingers softly tracing the scar from his stab wound. You ran your finger down the healed injury, following every pattern as Chenle watched.

The scare wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t small either. It was about 2 inches in length right in the place his shoulder meets his chest. You looked back up at him, another smile stretching across your face. Chenle’s spare hand came to rest on your shoulder, hugging you close to him and he pulled you in to kiss you.

You sighed into the kiss, feeling yourself tire for the first time that night. Chenle felt this too, quietly telling you to sleep when you both pulled away. You rested your head back in his neck before taking a deep breath. The only sign you were still awake was the small movements of your fingers lovingly tracing his scar.

Chenle shut his eyes as he kissed the top of your head, listening to your breathing even out. It was obvious you were close to falling asleep, just managing to whisper out a soft “I love you.” before you drifted off.

It wasn’t the first time you had said it, but no matter how many times Chenle heard it, the warm feeling that blossomed in his chest had never faltered. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling, from being reminded just how completely in love with you he was. And he knew that you were the one he wanted to be with.

“I love you too.” Chenle replied. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Chenle had lost track of how many times he’d thanked fate for bringing him here. For your kingdom to choose his to make an alliance with. For being the one chosen to marry you. Chenle had known for his entire time here that he would marry you, but he had never been so grateful for it as he was in this moment.

---

Within the month since the king’s death, the kingdom was back to normal. You’d buried yourself in your work, taking on more responsibilities to help your mother, finding comfort in finishing the projects your father had started and supported. Chenle had been right, you’d found closure in finishing his work, in making sure that his wishes were fulfilled, and you were finding yourself moving on. 

You still missed him everyday, and you found it difficult at times to finish the work he’d started, knowing how much he would have wanted to see it. But, you were finally looking towards the future, and you knew that he would be relieved at that. He always told you “A good queen ignores the tough times and puts on a happy face for her people. But a true queen, acknowledges when times are hard, and encourages the kingdom to work through it together.” And those were the words you lived by.

You and Chenle had become loved public figures with the whole kingdom being thrilled with the strength of your relationship. It was a sign of hope, of solidarity, of new life in a time where they had been surrounded by loss.

Chenle strolled through the marketplace, his heart beating hard as he turned the gift he had just bought you over in his hands. It wasn’t, by any means, his first time buying you a gift, but he knew that this would be the most important gift he would ever buy.

He quickly made his way back to his room, Jisung waiting for him outside it when he finally arrived. Chenle ignored his friend’s questions, bringing him inside instead.

“You’re late.” Jisung said when Chenle let him speak.

“Yeah, I know, sorry.” Chenle apologised without really meaning it. His nerves were showing through his voice and it was confusing Jisung as to what gift the boy had bought. “I had to visit the royal jeweller to pick this up.”

“What is it?” Jisung asked, leaning over as if he could see into Chenle’s hands.

“It’s just a small gift for y/n.” 

“Yes but what is it?” Jisung asked again exasperated, rolling his eyes at his friend’s density.

“This.” Chenle opened the box the gift was in, Jisung’s jaw dropping at the sight of it. His eyes shot from the jewellery back up to Chenle and back down to the jewellery again as he managed to form a single sentence through his shock.

“That’s an engagement ring.”

---

You were sitting on the cliff overlooking the citadel, your favourite place in the kingdom. Chenle was next to you, the two of you sitting in comfortable silence as you watched the bustle of life in your kingdom below you.

“Do you ever get nervous as to how things will change once we’re crowned?” You asked suddenly, the question hanging dangerously heavily in the air.

Chenle turned to look at you, taking a second to think before he answered, the honesty clear in his voice.

“Yes.” You blinked at his response, almost expecting him to say that he wasn’t worried and everything would be fine. “I get scared about how much more pressure will be on us, especially since we’ll have closer links to Shanghai and we’ll have responsibilities there as well as here. I get worried that we won’t have as much free time, meaning we won’t get days like this anymore when it can just be the two of us. I’m scared to live up to your parents, they’re incredible people and rulers and they set such an example that going after then is kind of nerve wracking. But at the same time, I’m not scared. I’m not scared in the slightest, because I know that, through this all, I’m going to have you by my side no matter what. And if I’ve got you, then I think I can do anything.”

You moved closer to him, curling up into his side and hugging him close, the feeling of his heartbeat giving you an unmatchable comfort.

“You’re very good at those speeches you know?” You mumbled, feeling his chest shake as he chuckled.

“It comes with the job.” He joked, bringing an arm up and squeezing your shoulder. 

He leant down and placed a soft kiss on your forehead, sighing into your hair before pulling away.

“We have to get back soon.” You mumbled, him groaning in response.

“Why?” He whined and you laughed in disbelief.

“I don’t know? Maybe because we’re the heirs to the throne and our presence in our kingdom is kind of necessary?” You replied sarcastically and Chenle grabbed you tighter, falling back onto the grass so that you were basically lying on top of him.

“What if we weren’t though?” He suggested, holding up a finger as he saw the look on your face. “Just imagine it for a second, me and you, a simple farming couple. Just us, our fields, our horses and peace. No council meetings, no documents to read, no speeches, no wars, nothing but peace, tranquility and us. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“That... that really would be actually...” You said quietly, picturing the life he imagined. “The simple life, just the two of us-”

“Working in the fields during the days.” 

“And cooking together at night.” You and Chenle got into a rhythm of finishing each other’s sentences, being so in tune with each other and the life you were imagining.

“Having competitions as to who can bring in the most harvest in one go.”

“Rebuilding local houses in our village.”

“Slow dancing in our kitchen late at night.”

“Waking up as the sun rises.”

“With four kids to help us out.”

“Two!”

“Three? One boy and two girls.”

“Deal.”

“And we’d get married with them all there, everyone who matters most to us, surrounded in our little paradise.”

You smiled at the sky, listening to Chenle talk about your future.

“Maybe in one life-”

“Just not this one.” He finished as you shook your head.

“Unfortunately not.” You climbed up, Chenle following as the two of you prepared to make your journey back to the castle. Chenle lifted up the final bag, placing it on Aspen as you took one last look at the view. When attaching it to his saddle, the small box, which contained the gift he’d bought earlier fell out. He quickly picked it up, his heart quickening with nerves as he turned back towards you listening to your words. “We can’t have anything from that.”

“We could have something.” He suggested as you turned around, a confused smile on your face. “I can’t give you a farm, or anything like the simple life we pictured, but I can make you happy. And I’d really love to be able to do that for a very long time.” He brought the gift in front of him, dropping to one knee and opening it.

Your jaw dropped in shock, your hands instinctively coming up to cover your mouth as tears pricked your eyes. You couldn’t believe what was happening, saying it was unexpected was an understatement. You stared at the boy you loved with all your heart as he asked the single most important question you had ever been asked in your life.

“Will you marry me?”

[marbleheavy]

Flowers for You, From Me

Solangelo Hanahaki Disease AU

Word Count: 8,621

Rating: Teen and Up ( for language)

Read on AO3!

It started with a petal, just one.

Nico shot up in his bed, Tartarus itself lingering behind his eyes even when he was faced with just his empty cabin. It felt like he was still choking on the river phlegethon but wait, no, he was actually choking. He was heaving, his throat closing around something as he clutched at his chest. Sharp coughs were racking him, his chest tightening painfully and he thought that maybe he was dying. Panic was filling his chest, he was terrified that he was still in the pit. That the cabin around him was an illusion, a trick of the mind, another torture of Tartarus. Nico was taking gasping breaths and coughing and suddenly he was tumbling out of his bed. Even as he could barely breathe, he was clambering toward his door and ripping it open, moonlight pouring into the cabin. He was desperately trying to prove to himself that he hadn’t somehow been dragged back down, that he was still at Camp Half-Blood, still safe. 

He raised his hands to his face as he crumpled to his knees, coughing and coughing and coughing. Nico could taste blood in his mouth, metallic and sharp on his tongue and his lungs were burning. He was gagging at this point, nearly vomiting as it felt like his windpipe was battling between climbing out or closing entirely. And then he coughed something into his hand, something that left a sweet flavor beneath all the blood. He sucked in a shuddering breath and looked at his palm, where a single, blood-coated petal lay, a yellow edge peeking out. 

‘Is that a fucking sunflower?’ he thought, ‘What kind of sick joke is this?’

Nico blinked, his lungs still heaving even as his coughing stopped. He looked up and out his door, camp was quiet and dark, but it was camp. He wasn’t in Tartarus, he was in his cabin, and he had coughed up a flower petal. Nico closed his fist around the petal and stood up on trembling legs, shutting his door as he walked back to his bed. He perched on the edge of the mattress, holding out the hand fisted around the petal in front of him hesitantly. He still felt high on adrenaline and panic and couldn’t quite catch his breath. His chest was aching but he couldn’t focus on anything, his mind was a mess of fear and confusion and exhaustion. He laid back, his head hitting the pillow, and brought his hands to his chest. Nico stared at the ceiling, barely blinking and trying to slow his thoughts down to something he could actually process. 

After hours, when the sun was filtering in through his windows, he was able to recognize that, beneath the weakness of his lungs and the fear, there was a profound longing for something he couldn’t really name. 

——

Nico sat down at the Hades table in a huff. Percy and Jason were already there, watching him with amusement as he grumbled about being ‘so fucking tired’ and ‘needing a cup of fucking coffee’. “Rough night?” Percy asked, laughing slightly.

Nico looked up and frowned, “Yeah, something like that.”

He reached forward and grabbed his goblet now full of coffee and drank some quickly. It burned his throat raw from coughing and he barely hid his wince. He thought of the petal that was now sitting in his trash can, his stomach twisting. Jason was looking at him quizzically but Nico ignored him and took another gulp of coffee. 

“Are you gonna eat anything?” Jason asked.

Nico thought of trying to swallow anything when he could barely handle a warm drink, “Not hungry.”

“Your boyfriend isn’t going to be too happy about that,” Percy teased.

Nico tensed, “My what?”

Percy smiled that stupid smile that used to make Nico weak in the knees but right now, it was turning his stomach, “You know, your boyfriend. The doctor. Blondie. Son of Apollo. Will,” he sang. 

Nico set his goblet down harshly, coffee splashing out over the sides. “He’s not my boyfriend,” he mumbled.

“Not yet,” Percy said.

Nico stood up, “Not ever.”

“Whoa, dude,” Percy raised his hands up, “Chill out.”

Nico rolled his eyes and turned on his heel, storming away from the dining pavilion. He heard Jason call after him but he ignored him, his hands shoved in his pockets as he stared at the ground. He didn’t see the person approaching until he was right in front of them, centimeters away from running face first into their chest. He looked up from the flip flops in front of him to see Will looking down at him, smiling lazily with bright eyes and freckles, and it made his chest hurt. “Hey there, Death Boy. Hope you at least ate some toast before you stormed off,” Will said.

Nico scoffed and stepped back slightly, “Whatever you need to hear.”

“Aw, isn’t it a little early for all that snark?” Will laughed.

“Nope,” Nico said, pushing down the warmth he felt in his chest.

“Tell me more about the breakfast that I know you ate because I have told you a million times about how important three balanced meals a day are,” Will insisted. 

“Wholesome and delicious,” Nico tried to step past him, “Now I have to go.”

“I can’t say that I believe you,” Will sighed, “So I guess I’ll just make you eat a granola bar when you come visit me in the infirmary when my shift starts in fifteen minutes.”

Nico could feel the itch of a cough start in his throat and he sucked in a breath, “Yeah, fine.”

Will smiled widely at him and Nico held his breath, his chest hitching. “See you soon, Death Boy,” Will said, waving as Nico pushed past him again.

When he was certain that Will was out of ear shot, and when he couldn’t hold his breath anymore, Nico ducked behind a tree and started coughing. He slid his back down the tree as he heaved, the crook of his elbow pressed over his mouth to muffle the sound and catch the blood splatter. Panic welled up in him again as he gagged, no longer because he thought he was in hell again but at the thought of anyone hearing him or finding him. Nico didn’t know what was happening to him but it terrified him. This fit seemed to last longer than the last and at the end of it, he coughed up three petals, all as blood-coated as the first one. He tipped his head back, closing his eyes. After a moment, he brushed the petals from his sleeve and onto the ground, breathing raspily. 

Distantly, he heard other campers start to walk around camp to their various lessons and chores. He pushed himself up, standing wobbly, and peered around the tree. There was no one nearby so he darted out, walking briskly toward the infirmary. As he thought, ‘Will is probably waiting for me,’ he felt his lungs start to tense again, becoming tighter almost, like he was running out of space for air. 

——

Nico met Will in the infirmary and was immediately handed a granola bar and a clementine. “This is more than I agreed to,” Nico said.

Will smiled at him, “Think of it as a bonus. You need some fruit in your life.”

Nico rolled his eyes and sat down on the edge of an infirmary bed. He placed the granola bar beside him and started peeling the clementine, the scent of sweet citrus immediately hitting him. He peeled it gently and intently, trying to avoid squishing any of the fruit. Nico could feel Will’s eyes on him after a moment and he glanced up, blushing as their gazes met. “What?” he asked quietly, looking back down again.

“Nothing,” Will smiled, “You’re just so delicate with that clementine.”

“I don’t want to squish it,” Nico muttered.

Will laughed and Nico’s stomach flipped pleasantly. “You don’t want to squish it?” Will asked.

“Yes,” Nico huffed, “It gets all sticky and ruins the whole experience.”

“Oh, so they’re an experience now?” Will was still laughing.

Nico popped a piece of the fruit into his mouth, “Obviously.”

“You’re so cute,” Will said, looking Nico in the eyes and smiling.

Nico blushed brighter and butterflies were erupting in him. He shoved another piece in his mouth to avoid saying anything back and Will shook his head fondly. Nico’s heart was racing and he felt like he was going to implode from the weight of Will’s gaze. ‘You’re reading into this,’ he told himself as he took a shaky breath, ‘Calm down.’ He deflated slightly and ate another segment.

“You up for cutting bandages?” the blonde asked after a moment.

Nico looked up, “Don’t you have enough? That’s like all I ever do.”

“You’ve played capture the flag, you know how intense it gets. We go through bandages like they’re nothing,” Will said.

“Still, I’ve cut enough bandages to wrap the entire Roman legion from head to toe, including the elephants,” Nico scoffed.

Will stood up and grabbed a roll of bandages and a pair of scissors, handing them to Nico. “Yeah, yeah,” Will sighed, “Just get cutting, Death Boy.”

Nico grabbed the supplies, setting the half finished clementine beside him. 

“Hey! Finish your breakfast!” Will scolded. 

“You’re extra bossy today,” Nico mumbled.

“Oh darling, you haven’t seen bossy,” Will smiled widely and winked at him, “Plus, I don’t think you mind it all that much.”

Nico’s heart stuttered and he looked down, grumbling as he started to unroll the bandages and cut strips. Will just laughed at him and turned back to his own work.

——

Nico was in his cabin before dinner, reading on his bed but barely comprehending a word. His mind was racing with thoughts of Will, Will, Will. The way that he never flinched at Nico’s presence or sharp words, or the way he smiled like a kid on Christmas when Nico laughed. He wanted to believe that maybe he wasn’t reading into things, that maybe Nico wasn’t the only one who felt the way he did about the other. But then, a voice in the back of his head reminded him of all the things wrong with him and all the things so right about Will and ‘Nobody like Will would ever love you.’

He was pulled from his thoughts by a knock on his door. “Come in,” he called out. 

Jason pushed the door open and walked in and Nico ignored the spike of disappointment he felt because it wasn’t Will. The son of Jupiter was standing stiffly in front of him and Nico looked up at him, raising an eyebrow as he put his book down and stood up. “Hey, Nico,” Jason said awkwardly.

“What do you want, Jason?” Nico asked.

“I wanted to talk about breakfast today,” Jason told him, shifting on his feet.

Nico’s blood ran cold and he straightened up. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said coldly.

Jason scratched the back of his neck. “Percy shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t cool. I know that you aren’t totally comfortable with,” he paused, “With being who you are. And Percy shouldn’t tease you about it.”

“It’s Percy,” he sighed.

“Yeah,” Jason conceded, “But it still wasn’t okay. And it won’t be until you say it is.”

Nico scoffed, “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious, Nico. Being gay,” Nico bit back a wince a Jason’s words, “And coming out and everything in between belongs to you. You get to decide what you want and what you’re okay with. I know that Eros took that away from you, but it doesn’t have to happen again. You get to choose who to tell, what is okay for people to say and joke about, how to live. I’m sorry that you’ve had to deal with such bullshit but you don’t have to anymore.”

Nico almost laughed at the end, feeling bitter and spiteful. It wasn’t like Jason knew what was happening but it still made his hands shake. He looked down, blinking back tears of frustration. He sucked in a breath and looked back up at Jason, nodding once. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

Jason smiled hesitantly at him, “Of course.”

Nico cleared his throat and put his hands in his pockets, “Do you want to go to dinner?”

“Gods, yes,” Jason groaned, “I’m starving.”

Nico chuckled and followed the taller boy as they left his cabin, walking quickly to the dining pavilion. As they made it there and grabbed their food, Nico couldn’t bring himself to pray to his father (or any god) about the fucking petals he was coughing up. He sat down at the Hades table across from Jason. When Percy joined them later, he smiled apologetically and then launched into a story about a young son of Hermes nearly decapitating himself with a sword earlier that day. Nico was grateful for the ramblings, it meant he didn’t have to say much. 

Still, occasionally, as he looked past Jason and Percy, he met Will’s eyes and the blonde would smile and Nico would melt. He found it hard to focus on whatever was being said when he could feel the weight of Will’s gaze but gods, he didn’t really care at all. 

That night, as Nico thought about Will’s smile and the timbre of his voice and the way he looked at Nico, he coughed up another petal.

——

After two or three weeks, Nico’s coughing and subsequent petal expulsion fits happened two or three times a day. The trash can in his room was filled with bloody petals and he was afraid to take it out in case someone saw it. They hit him often in the middle of the night, jerking him from dreams of his worst memories. Nights spent desperately trying to clear his airway or even just take a single breath. The fits were harder to hide when they happened during the day. He would basically sprint from the infirmary or the dining pavilion and hide behind the nearest building while he nearly coughed his lungs out, but it was always just petals. 

And then one day it wasn’t. 

Nico was trying to cough quietly as Will talked to him. He knew that this wouldn’t pass until the petals came out but he didn’t want to draw attention to his issue or do anything that would encourage Will to ask questions or examine him. But still, the blonde was shooting him questioning looks and Nico knew that he had to get out of there.

“Are you okay?” Will asked.

“Yup,” Nico coughed, “I just need to get some, uh, water.”

Nico rushed from the examination room and out of the infirmary, praying that Will wouldn’t follow him. He looked over his shoulder and didn’t see anyone, so he ran as fast as he could to the nearest building and ducked behind it. 

He tried to suck in a breath, soothe the ache in his lungs, but he was choking instantly. Nico placed a hand at the base of his throat, his fingers digging into his skin as he leaned against the wall. He was coughing and hacking, blood splattering out of his mouth. He could taste it on his tongue and on his lips but he was getting light headed from lack of air. Nico fell forward on his knees, one hand braced on the ground in front of him as he leaned over. His lungs were burning and tightening unbearably so and this was so much worse than it has ever been. 

‘Maybe I am dying,’ he thought, ‘Maybe this is it. I’m going to die alone and hiding, coughing up petals.’

He managed to take a gasping breath, it was shallow and weak and only fueled the next bout of heaves. Nico was gagging, bloody saliva dripping from his mouth to the grass in front of him, and his arms were shaking with effort to keep himself up. He retched, expecting a handful of petals to hit the ground in front of him, but it was an entire flower this time. He coughed up an entire flower, mostly intact if he ignored some crumpled petals and a lot of blood. Nico stared at it as he gulped in air, entirely shocked. 

He sat back on his knees, his hands trembling as he shuddered. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to think of what to do but as he looked back down of the flower that had come out of him, the only thing he could think was, ‘At least it isn’t actually a sunflower.’

He heard voices approaching and panic raced up his spine. He couldn’t be seen, he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone knowing what was happening to him. He grabbed the flower carefully and stood up, walking around the corner, away from the approaching people. Nico tucked the flower gently into the pocket of his jacket and hurried back to the infirmary. He knew he was gone too long for just a water break and was desperately trying to think of a cover story as he was stepping back into the room. A second before Will looked up, Nico remembered the blood that was on his mouth and he brought the edge of his sleeve up, wiping at away just as Will met his eyes and smiled at him. “Get lost on your way to the water fountain?” Will teased.

Nico cleared his throat, the action painful, but smiled slightly anyway, “Jason saw me and decided he needed to talk for the longest time ever.”

“Ah, of course,” Will nodded, “Jason is always stealing you away from me.”

Nico’s heart fluttered and lungs hitched as Will spoke but he couldn’t help the smile that broke out across his face.

—-

Later that day, Nico brought the flower that he had carefully and diligently rinsed off to Katie Gardener. He knocked on the Demeter cabin door and it opened quickly. She blinked at him curiously and smiled kindly, if not slightly hesitant. “Hey Nico, what’s up?” she asked.

“Uh,” he mumbled, pulling the flower carefully from his pocket and presenting it to her in the palm of his hand, “Do you know what kind of flower this is?’

She cocked her head and leaned against the door frame. “It looks like a yellow chrysanthemum,” she told him, “We don’t grow those here. Where did you get it?”

Nico’s blood ran cold and he shifted on his feet. “Uh,” he tried to think of a convincing lie, “Persephone grows them in her garden, you know, at my dad’s place. She gave me a bunch of them last time I was running errands down there.”

Katie didn’t seem to really believe him but she nodded slowly anyway, “Oh, well it’s pretty. Persephone really does know her flowers.”

“Yup,” Nico’s hand with the flower was shaking so he pulled it back, crushing it in his fist, “Um, thanks.”

She looked down at the hand closed around the flower and then looked back up at him with concern, “Is everything alright, Nico?”

He took a step back. “Yes,” he said quickly, “I have to go, but thank you, really.”

She smiled at him hesitantly and he turned on his heel, walking briskly back to his cabin, letting the crushed flower fall from his hand and the grass. 

——

A week later and it was whole flowers every time an attack happened. Nico coughed up entire chrysanthemums multiple times a day, his throat was raw and he could barely ever catch his breath. His lungs felt like they were running out of room for air, like they were going to burst from his chest. His mouth constantly tasted of blood and honey and it made him nauseous. He started buying gum from the Stolls to try and cover the flavor but nothing was ever quite enough. Nico didn’t know what was happening and he was scared. Terrified of dying, of dying alone, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell anyone. So he just continued on, pretending that he could breathe and that he wasn’t afraid he was going to die. 

He met Jason at the arena to spar like they did every week. Lately, it had felt infinitely harder when he couldn’t catch his breath but he didn’t dare try to skip out on it. Jason would chase him down, demanding answers that Nico didn’t want to give. 

He stood in front of Jason, leaning against his sword, as the taller boy strapped on his armor. 

“Are you ready yet?” Nico asked impatiently.

“Yes,” Jason mocked, “Chill out.”

“Then let’s get on with it,” Nico said, grabbing his sword and raising it in front of him. 

“Excited to lose?” Jason teased.

“Please,” Nico scoffed, twirling his sword once for good measure, “I don’t lose.”

Jason didn’t say anything back, instead raising his gladius and charging. Nico met his blow easily, forcing it down and then swinging his sword upward. They met each other in a clash of metal again and again, easily parrying and pushing each other forward and backward. But still, their fighting styles were distinctly different and it was evident in Jason’s measured jabs and Nico’s elegant slashes. The raven was whirling around Jason, graceful and poised as he aimed to cut the taller boy down. But his chest was tightening painfully and he was trying to hide his gasping breaths. Jason caught on still and between blows, he panted out “You okay, dude?”

Nico grunted and bit back a cough, pushing forward still. He swung down harder and knocked Jason back, taking advantage of his stumble to thrust his sword forward. He nearly disarmed him, seconds away from winning, when he couldn’t hold back his fit anymore. He coughed harshly, his hands shaking, and Jason pushed him away, knocking him to his back. The son of Jupiter held his gladius victoriously over Nico’s throat but the smaller boy barely registered it. He was lurching and hacking as he turned his head to the side and rolled onto his stomach, pushing up onto his knees and bracing himself with his hands. Blood splattered onto the ground in front of him and he still couldn’t breathe.

“Holy shit, Nico. Are you okay?” Jason asked, dropping beside him. 

Nico nodded and tried to wave Jason away but he didn’t move. ‘Of course,’ Nico thought, ‘This had to happen in front of him.’ Jason placed a hand on his back hesitantly and Nico jerked away from the touch but couldn’t escape it between coughs. He gagged and felt his chest squeeze painfully.

“Nico seriously, what’s going on? Should I get Will?”

Nico shook his head, panic racing up his spine at the thought of Will ever seeing him like this. His arms were shaking and he nearly fell forward on his face but then he gagged again and threw up, a flower hitting the ground in front of him. Jason jumped back beside him. Nico sat back on his knees, wiping the blood from his mouth as he inhaled deeply. His throat was burning and felt like it was being shredded every time he breathed but he couldn’t help but be grateful for the air. 

“I’m going to get Will,” Jason said, standing up.

“No,” Nico croaked, “No, please don’t.”

“Nico, you need medical attention,” Jason exclaimed.

“I’m fine,” Nico looked up at him, “Seriously. It’s not a big deal.”

“It seems like a big fucking deal!” Jason’s voice was nearly a screech, “You just coughed up a ton of blood and a weird ball! What the hell just happened?”

Nico pushed himself up to his feet. “It was a flower,” Nico told him, “I coughed up a flower.”

“A flower?” Jason questioned, his eyes wide in a panic.

“A chrysanthemum to be specific,” Nico picked up his sword. 

“And you’re cool with that?” Jason asked.

“It happens sometimes,” Nico said calmly, avoiding meeting Jason’s eyes.

“Sometimes? How often is ‘sometimes’?” Jason questioned.

“A few times a day, I guess.”

“A few times a day? For how long?”

“The whole flowers started sometime last week. It was just petals for a few weeks before that.”

“You’ve been coughing up petals and flowers for weeks and didn’t tell anybody?”

“Yes,” Nico stated.

Jason was looking at him incredulously. “You need help! This is dangerous! We have to tell someone!” he shouted. 

“No,” Nico said curtly, glaring at Jason coldly, “You can’t tell anybody. You have to swear that you won’t.”

“No! I’m not doing that!” Jason insisted.

“Yes, you are,” Nico raised his sword and pointed it at Jason’s chest, “You have to swear.”

“No! Threaten me all you’d like,” Jason pushed the blade away from himself, “You aren’t going to do anything. Nico, you cough so violently that blood and flowers come out. That isn’t normal or safe, you need help!” he pleaded. 

“I know that, Jason!” Nico raised his voice, “I just don’t care. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but it’s mine to figure out and deal with alone.”

“You can’t do this alone, Nico!” Jason shouted, “You need help. Let me help you! Let someone help you!”

“No, Jason, No! I don’t want your help!” Nico yelled, “I don’t know why this is happening. All I know is that I cough up chrysanthemums a few times a day and that it feels like I can’t breathe. I don’t know if this is Demeter getting back at Hades or Eros fucking with me again but I don’t care. It will either go away or it won’t, but it hasn’t killed me yet. Jason, you’re the one that told me that only I get to decide who to tell about me being-” his voice cracked, “And I’m done letting anybody get to try and force me into anything. So if I choke on flowers then so be it, but I get to choose!” Nico was nearly hysterical, “I just want to make one fucking choice about my own life!”

Jason stared at him with an unreadable expression. “You’re choosing to die, Nico,” his voice had lost all it’s fire, “Do you get that? Asking me to not tell anyone is asking me to let you die.”

Nico blinked at him and then let his face drop but his eyes were pleading. “Let me die,” he said.

“What?” Jason asked.

“I get what I’m asking. Let me die. Please,” his voice cracked, “Let me choose to die.”

Jason recoiled like he had been burned by Nico’s words. “No! Absolutely not!”

“Then at least give me some time to think it over,” Nico pleaded.

“I’m not stupid. I’m not going to just back off!” Jason yelled.

“Please, Jason!” Nico stepped forward, “Three days! Give me three days! And after that, you can tell whoever you want.”

“For what? So you can figure out how to run away from help?” Jason sneered.

“So I can try and figure out what's happening to me,” Nico said.

Jason paused and took a deep breath, “You have to let me help you.”

“After three days,” Nico promised.

“No,” Jason sighed, “You have to let me help you figure out what’s happening. If you want me to keep this a secret for three days, you at least have to let me keep an eye on you.”

Nico stilled, his mind racing. He didn’t want Jason’s help, he didn’t want anyone’s help. But he knew that this wasn’t going to be a secret anymore but he could at least buy himself a few more days to figure something out, even if it meant dealing with Jason. He nodded slowly, “Yeah, okay.”

“And you have to tell me when you have those fits,” Jason added.

“Fine,” Nico shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“I’ll meet you in your cabin tomorrow morning and we can start,” the blonde told him.

“Start what?” Nico asked.

“Research,” Jason said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “To figure out why you’re coughing up flowers.”

“And you won’t tell anyone?” Nico insisted.

Jason made a pained face but nodded. Nico rolled his eyes and turned on his heel, stalking away and out of the arena. His lungs were still burning and he was desperately trying to push down the panic threatening to bubble over. ‘He knows,’ his mind screamed, ‘Jason knows and soon everyone will know. They’ll know you can’t keep it together and that you’re just as weak and broken as they thought.’ He was breathing rapidly, sharp and shallow pants that did nothing to soothe the ache for air. He was rushing away, trying to make it to his cabin as fast as possible. He ignored all the people he was running past, focusing only on staying calm until he could hide away. Nico stumbled as someone grabbed his arm, slowing him down. The warmth of Will’s touch was familiar and it made his heart clench painfully.

“Hey, Nico, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

Nico didn’t look at Will, refusing to meet his eyes because he knew he would crumble instantly. He wanted to scold himself for becoming so soft for a stupid son of Apollo but he couldn’t quite bring himself to regret anything as he remembered the way that Will tossed his head back when he laughed or the way his eyes crinkled around the edges and shined when he smiled. The raven said nothing as he ripped his arm from Will’s grip and broke out into a sprint. He could barely hear Will calling out for him and running after him over his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. He slammed his cabin door as soon as he made it inside, leaning against it as he tried to catch his breath. After just a few seconds, Will was knocking on the other side and pleading for Nico to let him in. Nico squeezed his eyes shut and tipped his head back. “Go away, Will,” he called.

“Nico, what happened?” Will asked.

Nico clenched his hands into fists, his fingernails digging into his palms painfully. Every fiber of his being was screaming to let Will in, to let him help him and comfort him and to tell him everything. He took a deep, rasping breath that hurt. “Nothing,” he said, “Just leave me alone.”

“I don’t believe you. Let me in so I can help, please,” Will insisted.

“I don’t want your help, Will!” Nico lied through his teeth, “Go away!”

“Nico, please,” Will’s voice was desperate and it made Nico want to cry, “I don’t want to leave you alone. Let me in, please.”

Nico slid down against the door, his stomach turning. He sucked in a breath and steeled his nerves. ‘He’s going to hate me,’ Nico thought, ‘He has to hate me.’

“I don’t care what you want,” Nico worked to keep his voice cold and unfeeling, “I don’t care about you. Just walk away.”

It was silent for a moment. “What?” Will asked, so quiet that it was barely audible.

Nico gasped, his heart falling apart with every passing second. “You heard me,” his voice cracked, “Go away.”

There was a thud against the door, like Will had dropped his forehead against it. Then, Nico heard the porch creak as Will stepped back. Part of him, a large part of him, wanted Will to keep knocking, to keep trying, to please don’t leave him alone. But he heard him walk down the steps, retreating because that’s what Nico told him to do and gods, what he felt in that moment was worse than any time he had heaved and choked on petals. 

——

Nico woke up the next morning to Jason banging on his door and letting himself in. Normally that would warrant a cold glare at least, but he just raised his head and looked at him with no expression. Jason was holding a stack of books and he kicked the door shut. Nico sat up and kicked his legs over the side of the bed, standing on shaky legs and walking over to stand next to Jason. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to wake himself up, “Where’d you get those?” he croaked. 

“Some are from the Big House, a few from the Athena cabin, and just a couple of the medical ones from the Apollo cabin,” Jason told him.

Nico nearly flinched as Jason mentioned the Apollo cabin but he bit his tongue and reached out for a book. “Let’s get started, I guess,” he said.

Jason picked one up as well, “You should go to breakfast, I can get started.”

Nico thought about trying to swallow down any food when his throat felt like it was coated in acid. “I’m not hungry,” he mumbled.

“If you skip, Will is gonna track you down,” Jason insisted.

Nico’s heart clenched and he looked down. “No, he won’t,” Nico said.

When he looked back up, Jason was watching him with concern and he looked like he wanted to say something. Instead, he just muttered out a hesitant, “Alright.”

Nico was grateful for Jason not pushing him as he sat down on the floor, back against the frame of his bed. Jason sat beside him and huffed. “What kind of flowers are they again?” he asked.

Nico opened the book on his lap, flipping to a table of contents. “Yellow chrysanthemums,” he said.

Jason flipped through his own book and from the corner of his eye, Nico saw him stop abruptly and scan the page he landed on. “Oh,” Jason said after a moment.

Nico looked over at him, anxiety racing down his spine, “What?”

“Different flowers symbolize different things. I thought that if we knew what your flower meant then it might help us figure out what’s happening,” Jason explained.

“And?” Nico pressed.

“Yellow chrysanthemums mean love,” Nico felt nauseous as Jason spoke, “But a sorrowful love. Or, um, unrequited love.”

Nico thought he was going to pass out. He looked at the book on his lap, blinking dumbly as his ears rang, barely processing the world around him. 

Jason spoke carefully beside him, “Nico, I’m going to ask you a question and I need you to not send me to the Underworld.”

Nico grunted in agreement and kept his eyes down. 

“Do you still love Percy?” Jason asked.

His reaction was instantaneous. Nico recoiled violently, the book flipping off of his lap as he glared at Jason, his fury visible in every way he held himself. “No!” he sneered, “Why would you ask me that?”

Jason raised his hands in defense, “I’m sorry! But you can’t really blame me for it! The only chance we have at figuring this out is if we are on the same page. Clearly what’s happening to you isn’t natural and it has to be for a reason. The flowers are chrysanthemums for a reason.”

“I’m not in love with Percy!” Nico shouted.

“Then I don’t know what else it could be,” Jason, “But it has to be something!”

Nico coughed, once, twice, “It doesn’t matter! We know what they mean, so drop it!”

Jason stared at him, his mouth in a tight line and then he looked back down harshly. He closed his book roughly. “You don’t have to do everything alone, Nico,” he whispered after a moment, “I know that you think that you deserve to be alone, but you don’t.”

Nico couldn’t respond, he was biting his lip to try and ignore the itch in his lungs. He was jerking forward as he spasmed with suppressed coughs but he couldn’t hold them back any longer as blood filled his mouth. He leaned forward and gagged, blood spilling down his chin and onto the floor as he heaved. Jason placed a hand on his back reassuringly but Nico barely felt it as he started to cough, every inhale and hack felt like his throat was being shredded. It was raw like an open wound and it just kept getting worse with every fit. 

He was retching, petals hitting the ground in clots. He felt dizzy and braced a hand on the ground, trying to keep himself from falling over but it was in vain. Nico rolled out from Jason’s touch, his back hitting the ground as he stared up at the ceiling in a daze. He was really, truly choking then, unable to breathe for even a moment. His eyes widened in a panic as Jason leaned over him, his face in a panic and mouth moving but the raven couldn’t make out his words. He reached a hand up, grabbing Jason’s arm tightly. He could feel tears streaming down his cheeks and distantly he realized that he was going to die. Nico was going to die and he was terrified. His coughing became interspersed with sobs and he was blacking out from lack of air. He was sure Jason was screaming now but all he could hear was his own heaving and spluttering and the blood rushing in his ears. His fingers tightened around Jason’s arm again and then loosened, his vision going black. 

——

Nico woke up in the infirmary and his heart dropped. Jason was sitting in a chair next to his bed, asleep. Will was on his other side, his head laid down on the edge of the mattress. He blinked blearily and as he shifted, Will shot up and whipped his head to look at him. In an instant, he placed a hand on the side of Nico’s face and the other on his shoulder. “Oh gods, Nico, you’re awake,” Will exclaimed, scanning over his face for any sign of distress.

The commotion woke Jason, who was already up and standing beside him, a hand placed on his other shoulder. Nico was overwhelmed and the panic he felt must have been visible on his face because Will and Jason both pulled away quickly, watching him with such worry that Nico felt like he was drowning in guilt. “What happened?” he croaked, his voice was like gravel and it felt like he was swallowing razor blades.

“You almost died, Nico,” Will told him, his face suddenly set, “And you weren’t going to tell anyone.”

Nico looked down, blinking slowly. “How did I get here?” he mumbled.

“I carried you after you went unconscious in your cabin,” Jason said.

“You scared the shit out of us, Nico,” Will’s voice cracked.

“I’m sorry,” Nico whispered. 

“Jason said this has been happening for weeks. If you had said something, we could have helped you sooner.”

“How?” Nico scoffed, “We don’t even know what this is.”

Jason and Will shared a look and Jason sighed. “Yes, we do,” Jason told him, “We figured it out while you were asleep.”

Nico looked up but neither Jason or Will would meet his eyes. “What?” Nico asked, “What is it?”

“Um, it’s called Hanahaki disease,” Will explained, “It’s almost like a curse. We aren’t sure you catch it, but it happens when the victim feels profound unrequited love.”

Nico was certain he was going to throw up and he flinched as Will continued, “Flowers grow in their lungs and will continue to until the patient confesses to the object of their affections and the love is returned, or, um, until they die.”

Nico felt his face burn and his throat was itching again. “Oh,” he muttered.

“There’s a procedure, though,” Will added, “To remove the flowers and stop you from dying. But when the flowers are removed, so are the feelings. And not just the feelings for that one person, all feelings of love for anyone.”

Nico froze. He glanced at Will and thought of confessing. He could imagine the way that Will would recoil in disgust but still try so hard to be nice because that’s who Will was. And it wouldn’t matter, he would die anyways. He thought of choking on flowers and his own blood, how it felt to not be able to breathe and his lungs tightening and flowers coming up his throat and tearing it to pieces. He thought of never loving Will again. Never truly appreciating how the sun caught his hair and how warm he was all the time and the way his nose scrunched when he grinned. And that was so much worse than dying painfully. He nodded and sat straighter in the bed. “Okay,” he stated.

Will looked at him with such pain in his eyes that for a moment Nico wanted to risk a confession. “You’re going to get the procedure?” Will questioned.

Nico frowned, “No, of course not.”

Will seemed to relax slightly but Jason stood just as tense beside him. “So who are we going to find?” Jason asked. 

“Why do you need to find anybody?” Nico asked him back.

“So you can tell them that you love them,” Jason clarified.

Nico visibly lurched back, “Nobody. I’m not confessing anything.”

Jason and Will looked at him desperately and both launched forward at him. “That’s not an option,” Jason said, his voice stern.

“Yes it is, you just told me. I’m not getting the flowers removed and I’m not going to confess. I’m going to die and that’s okay,” Nico was trying his best to stay calm. 

He didn’t want to die, he really, really didn’t and he was so afraid. But that felt like his only option so he was going to ignore the terror coursing through him and be whatever fucked up kind of brave this was. Will grabbed his hand and pulled his attention to him. “No,” he begged, “Nico, no. Please don’t do this. We can help you, please let us help you.”

Will’s eyes were shining and so blue and gods, maybe if Nico died right now, with Will looking at him like that and holding his hand, he would be okay. He placed a hand on Will’s cheek gently, and looked at him softly. “It’s okay,” he whispered, “Really, I’m okay with this.”

“I’m not,” Will was hysterical, “I’m not okay with you dying, Nico.”

Nico shook his head, “Will, it isn’t your choice. I’m not going to choose to stop loving y-,” he sucked in a breath, “To stop loving them forever. And they don’t love me back. So I’m going to die and that’s okay.”

Jason stepped forward as Will blinked back tears. “Nico, just let me go get them. Maybe Percy-” he started.

Nico cut him off harshly as he dropped his hand from Will’s face, “It’s not Percy, Jason. I don’t love him and I don’t think I ever did, not really and not like this.”

Will was crying and it broke Nico’s heart. He coughed, feeling another fit start. He wondered for a moment why another one was starting so quickly after the first but quickly realized that this was the end. Of his life, but of the pain too. It probably didn’t help that Will was there too and Nico felt like he was bursting with affection for him, with love. He inhaled raspily and coughed again. Will and Jason both flinched but Nico couldn’t tear his eyes away from the son of Apollo. He loved Will, so much and so completely that his heart felt like it was failing faster than his lungs.

“Nico, please,” Will cried, “You can’t die.”

He dropped his head beside onto the mattress again and Nico placed a hand in his hair, dragging his fingers through the curls. The raven looked at Jason, smiling painfully. The son of Jupiter was watching him with a guarded look. He glanced down at where Nico was running his fingers through Will’s hair and then back up at Nico. A look of understanding crossed his face and he blinked, lips parting. “Oh,” he whispered.

Nico felt panicked again and he shook his head. “Jason, please,” he said.

Jason met his eyes and smiled wryly, “You’re a fucking idiot, Nico.”

Nico winced but didn’t drop his eyes, “Let me do this, Jason. Please.”

“No,” Jason told him, “I won’t let you choose to kill yourself because you’re stupid and oblivious.”

Will raised his head, tear tracks down his cheeks, and looked between the two. “What do you mean, Jason?”

Jason didn’t break away from Nico’s gaze but spoke carefully anyways. “Will, Nico isn’t going to say anything so you have to.”

“What else can I say that will change his mind?” Will asked.

“You know,” Jason told him, “You have to tell him.”

Nico could hear Will’s breath hitch but he didn’t dare look away from Jason, afraid that if he did for even a second that Jason would say the one thing he couldn’t bear to say himself. It didn’t matter though, because Will grabbed his face and forced Nico to look at him instead. His eyes were red and watery and pleading and still he was beautiful. They stared at each other, neither saying anything and he heard Jason clear his throat. “I’m going to Iris message Hazel and Reyna, let them know what’s happening, just in case. I’ll give you two a second,” Jason started to walk out of the room but he stopped in the doorway and glanced back at Nico, “When I come back, if you’re still…” he trailed off, “I’m not gonna let you die.”

Nico flickered his gaze between Will and Jason as he left, his stomach churning and heart racing while he tried his best to keep himself calm and to stop himself from gagging on blood. Nico jerked, trying to contain another cough. Will let out a sob as he watched Nico and then they were both crying. 

“It’s going to be okay, Will,” Nico whispered.

“No it won’t,” Will cried, “Because you’re going to die. You aren’t going to be here anymore and that isn’t okay. It will never be okay.”

“You’ll move on, I’m sure you can find someone else to cut bandages for you,” Nico tried to joke, “And this is what I want to do. I-I can’t not love them. I haven’t loved anybody like this in so long and even though it’s killing me, I will choose it every time.”

“You don’t get it, Nico! You don’t just cut bandages! You’re my best friend and I can’t watch you die. I can’t,” Will was nearly shouting but Nico didn’t flinch.

Nico’s heart was crumbling to pieces at Will’s tears and words. “Sunshine,” he mumbled, “I promise that it will be alright. That you will be alright.”

“Stop saying that! It’s not true! I’m not going to be alright because I-” Will wiped Nico’s tears away with his thumb and took a breath, “Nico, I love you.”

Nico’s heart stopped, his mind froze, everything was still for a moment. And then everything was rushing at him all at once. Blood was pounding in his ears and every nerve felt like it was on fire, he felt like he was burning up under the weight of Will’s gaze and his touch. He couldn’t process what he said. “What?” he whispered brokenly.

“I love you,” Will repeated, “I love you and I don’t want you to die, so please don’t die.”

“Really?” Nico asked softly.

“Yes, really,” Will’s voice was a strange mix of annoyed and desperate and broken.

Nico blinked and he registered that for the first time in a while he didn’t have to cough. He gasped and then he couldn’t help but laugh. He laughed like a child, wet and broken up by sobs but it was laughter all the same. Will recoiled like he was hurt but Nico followed his retreating hands, never wanting to pull away from him again. “Really,” Nico repeated again, his voice breathy like he was speaking of a dream.

Will didn’t pull away again but he was looking at Nico with apprehension. Nico didn’t know what to say to explain and he just gaped. “I can breathe,” he said after a moment.

“What?” Will asked.

“I can breathe and I love you. Will Solace, I love you,” Nico whispered.

Will smiled widely and Nico was gone. Totally and completely in love with Will and he was euphoric. The blonde dropped his head forward and pressed their foreheads together, his breath fluttering across Nico’s cheeks wonderfully. “Good,” Will chuckled, “Or this would be really awkward.”

“Please,” Nico teased, “You weren’t the one who was going to die.”

Will blinked and then pulled back, shoving Nico’s shoulder harshly. “You were going to die!” he shouted, “You are such an idiot!”

Nico’s face slacked in surprise but he recovered quickly. “I’m not anymore,” he reached a hand out for Will.

The son of Apollo grabbed it but still looked angry, “But you were going to. You were going to choose to die and that isn’t okay. And you are so dumb for thinking that I didn’t love you just as much!”

“I’m sorry. I-” Nico stuttered, “I really didn’t think that you loved me, would ever love me.”

Will deflated and squeezed his fingers. “Why?” he asked, voice cracking.

Nico lowered his eyes, “You’re so good. And kind and smart and wonderful and just, you. And I’m just me.”

“Yeah, you,” Will scoffed, “Son of Hades, hero, deliverer of the Athena Parthenos, the Ghost King. You’re brave and passionate and intelligent and gods, I love you. There’s nothing about you that makes you unlovable. There’s nothing that scares me,” he shoved Nico’s shoulder again, “Except for your ridiculous lack of self preservation. That scares me to death.”

Nico chuckled and looked at Will’s face, his breath catching. “Do you believe me?” Will asked insistently.

Nico paused, focusing for a moment and how clear his chest felt. He nodded slowly, “I think so. Mostly at least. I don’t think there are chrysanthemums choking me anymore.”

“You’ll probably cough up a few more petals. I’m not sure how this works, really,” Will said softly. 

“I can deal with that,” Nico mumbled. 

“I should probably keep you for observation,” Will whispered as he leaned down.

“Yeah probably,” Nico tipped his chin up, “Just to make sure.”

“Mmhmm,” Will agreed, “We don’t want you to relapse.”

“Maybe you should tell me you love me again, you know, just in case,” Nico’s breath hitched.

Will’s nose brushed against his. “I love you,” he sighed.

“And maybe,” Nico muttered, their lips centimeters apart, “Maybe you should kiss me.”

Nico was shocked by his own words but he told himself the adrenaline of almost dying was giving him the confidence. And he really did want Will to kiss him. Will’s mouth was so close to his, their lips barely brushing. 

“Oh?” Will breathed.

Nico hummed and then Will kissed him. It was so soft it made him shiver, pleasure shocking him. Will’s lips were warm and insistent against his own as he gently cupped the blonde’s jaw. Will pulled away and Nico couldn't help but pout. “You taste like blood,” Will told him.

Nico grimaced, “Sorry.”

Will didn’t seem to mind as he kissed Nico again and again and again, peppering kisses across his lips and cheeks and nose and forehead. It made Nico laugh warmly. He felt better than he had in weeks, in years, really. Will wasn’t a fix-all but not to hide or lie or fake it was invigorating. The weight on his shoulders wasn’t gone but it felt like maybe he could share it now, maybe someone was willing to listen and care for him. He closed his eyes, felt Will’s lips flutter across his cheeks. He smiled, exhaling a deep and flowerless breath.

[hargrove-mayfields]

so sorry im late asking this (i was waiting for you to get more, super surprised you didn’t get more asks tbh) but could I hear more about your wips “I have a crush on Barbara Holland” “baby fic” and “HOH Steve” also if it’s not too much “girlyfriends” and “cali house” and “medical emergency” ik ik that’s a lot but I’d honestly want hear about ALL of you wips in that list if i could. thank u in advance

It’s alright anon! I’ll accept these asks until I run out of WIPs to talk about!

I have a crush on Barbara Holland- This one is a soulmates au, where Steve has his soulmates initials, B.H., on his wrist, and he is whole heartedly convinced that that person is Barb. He’s very much in love with her, and there’s lots of talk about how pretty and nice she is (hence the title lol) but eventually she reveals that he isn’t her soulmate. Before she had hid the initials on her own wrist under a watch or a chunky bracelet, but she feels guilty, and shows Steve that her mark had long ago faded, because her soulmate passed away when they were in elementary school. Steve decides, despite how much value he used to hold in the whole soulmate thing, he doesn’t care about who some stupid mark says he should be with, so him and Barb date until her death. He’s heart broken, but the sadness very quickly turns into so much anger after Billy Hargrove, another B.H. rolls into town with a little S.H. on his wrist. He feels like the universe or whoever is even in charge of this soulmate bullshit is spiting him for thinking he could fall in love with someone he wasn’t destined to be with, so he rejects Billy for a long, long time, even after he himself figured it out that Steve is his match. When he does start to feel that way about Billy, he struggles with so much guilt and has to go through a very long grieving process to be comfortable with his feelings, because he’s not even sure if they’re his genuine feelings or the work of this soulmate bond. Very long and very angsty.

baby fic- Nancy gets pregnant that first time at the party with Tommy and Carol, and her and Steve try really really hard to make things work out for their baby, but it just isn’t meant to be. They make an arrangement that the Harringtons are very not pleased with, where Nancy has the baby at the Byers house half the time (because let’s be honest I think the Wheelers house is not really a safe place to be raising a baby) and Steve has her the rest of the time. Because it was like, a much more mature breakup without the cheating and the drunken confessions, they’re still pretty close friends. When the upside down starts making an appearance again, they have to try to figure out how to navigate it with this little four month old baby, and that means getting some help involved. Billy shows up at the Byers and instead of a fight, Steve’s all exhausted like oh good, you’re finally here, and gives him the worlds fastest run down of this monster fighting shit with a crying baby on his hip, and like, Billy just can’t say no to him asking him to go into the tunnels while he watches the baby. There is eventual Harringrove after a while, but it’s a slow burn for sure. This is also probably the least serious and least angsty thing I have ever started to write.

HOH Stevie- They’re all in the government hospital getting their post Starcourt once overs, Billy and El of course being rushed into surgery, and Steve’s about to get discharged when he gets addressed by name and just, does not respond at all. The doctor is like hmm, and checks his ears, and they find out he has almost no hearing in his left ear, and only about forty percent in the right. All that head trauma from the Russians and then all of the explosions of the fireworks, it leaves him deaf.

Everyone tries to be supportive, but his dad refuses to let him get hearing aids because he doesn’t believe he actually needs them (Steve’s a diagnosed hypochondriac) so for the next several months while his parents are still home waiting for their next trip, he’s struggling. He basically gets iced out by the party because he just can’t hear anything they’re saying, and the kids get tired of repeating themselves, and Nancy got insulted the one time he told her her voice is too quiet, and Robin wants to do things right for him, but she forgets sometimes, and will ramble on about something without looking at him and everytime he’s like great, I didn’t catch a single word of that, lovely talk though. It’s very frustrating and isolating and nobody seems to want to make accommodations for him.

The very same day that his parents leave for their latest vacation, he goes back to hospital. At first he just has to get more testing done, since it had been upwards of six months since the last time they saw him, and on his way out he notices Max in the waiting room chairs. He hadn’t seen much of her at all since Starcourt, so he checks on her, and at first she tells him to go away, because her friends have said some not so nice things about how much time she spends at the hospital, and assumes Steve is there to tell her Billy isn’t worth it too. Because that’s not the case, he ends up going in the room to visit Billy with her.

They do the small talk, the awkward, sorry about the fact that you’ve been in the hospital for six months now and nobody wants to come see you thing, and at some point Billy realizes that Steve can’t hear a damned thing he’s saying. He tests his theory by saying Steve’s name when he’s not looking and just waiting for him to answer but, surprise he doesn’t because he didn’t hear it at all, and Billy’s just like, you’re deaf aren’t you?

The progression of the fic is basically Steve coming to visit Billy everytime he has an appointment for his hearing (and more, but Bill doesn’t know that) but the day of his last appointment to make sure his hearing aids are functioning as well as they ever will for how bad off his hearing is, Billy’s acting different.

When he’d first walked into his room Billy had been surprisingly bright eyed and bushy-tailed for what he went through, but now he’s just acting all mopey. Max makes him tell Steve what’s wrong, and he confesses that he feels like he’s going to get left behind now that Steve’s all better, because then he has no real reason to visit him anymore. But Steve has one very good reason, and the rest of the story is him making sure Billy knows it.

girlyfriends- This’n’s sort of a non-canon compliant character study about aromantic! Billy, focusing on how awful and uncomfortable he felt with his past girlfriends, messing up dates and never going as far as they wanted him to, which at the time he pinned on liking boys instead, but then after he gets with Steve, he feels like this is different and he likes it, but he’s still not too big on all the lovey dovey, romance stuff. He rationalizes it as like, maybe just being a side effect of him being an asshole or something, but he‘s actually super insecure about how he is in relationships. There is a fluffy resolution though where he embraces his identity, it’s really not all doom and gloom, boo hoo I hate myself stuff.

cali house- Years after Starcourt, the boys have moved to a decent house in California using their government hush hush money, and they’re there for only about a month when Billy’s mother shows up at their door.

She says she caught wind that her son was back in town and wanted to come see him, after all this time. Billy of course lets her back in his life immediately, his mom meant so much to his recovery process and now that she’s here, he can’t turn her away, but Steve’s a little suspicious of her intentions.

He thinks that if she wanted to see Billy, she would’ve done that years ago before he ever even left Cali in the first place, or that you know, she wouldn’t have fucking left him behind. He tries to bring it up with Billy gently, but he won’t hear it, and he feels beyond hurt by the suggestion because he thinks Steve is just jealous that he’s spending time with his mother, who he hasn’t seen for upwards of fifteen years at this point.

They fight and avoid each other for a few days until Billy’s momma admits when he brings it up, over lunch or something saying like, “Steve thought you were using me or something, isn’t that crazy?” and she’s just like “Well, actually...”and tells him that money was tight, and she needed a little extra money, so Billy and his disability checks and his rich (boy)friend seemed like the perfect opportunity to get some.

He goes back home to Steve and expects him to be mad, to rub it in that he was right, but he’s really not, he’s super supportive, and you know, Billy finally realizes he doesn’t need to have this bullshit family thing with his mother, because he already has one, Max and Steve and his friends and all the people that actually care about him.

medical emergency (tw attempted suicide)-

Billy, who’s living on his own in an apartment downtown after Starcourt, deliberately doesn’t get his prescriptions refilled because he’s so done. He’s weak and he’s hurting and he doesn’t feel like himself anymore, and he just feels like he wouldn’t care if his body gave up, if he suffocated in his sleep or had another heart attack. So he doesn’t take care of himself, and when he runs out of oxygen he just doesn’t go get anymore, but he’s halfway to choking on his own blood when he realizes he doesn’t want to die.

He calls Steve, because he’s not calling the cops and he can’t remember anyone’s numbers in his panic, but Steve’s is written on his calendar, scribbled there because they were supposed to make plans for something with the kids. Steve takes him to the hospital, having to fight him to put the CPAP on him to make sure his lungs didn’t collapse before they could get him to Hawkins General, and Billy’s just, so bone tired.

They do all their treatment stuff and get his body back under control, so Steve finally asks him what happened, if maybe he needed someone around to help him remember his meds and stuff, and Billy just, he breaks, like a dam overfilled he just pours out with all of this helplessness and sadness he’d been feeling, how he doesn’t want to live the way he does or at all anymore, and Steve’s heart just breaks for him.

He moves in with him, nobody’s willing to leave him alone after what happened, and Steve (along with Billy getting a new therapist because the old one was incompetent enough to not notice how bad off he was) helps him to realize he has something to live for.

[ohmypreciousgirl]

Xicheng AU Rec List

This time I compiled my favorite AU fics for @waterandsilver! Hope everyone will enjoy this list too ♥

Just Two Lost Souls 46,978

Even if it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife, husband, or companion, all Jiang Cheng really wants is to run his company, take care of his pets, and maybe get some sleep. Unfortunately the new job promotion to CEO comes with a loaded social calendar and a need for some sort of companion.

So clearly the most sensible answer is to start dating the man he's had a crush on since he was a teenager.

Because nothing could go wrong there. Sequels: Hold Me Like You Want Me; I Am Yours, If You Are Mine; Jiang Cheng and the Lans; You Get a Torch and a Flame and Burn The Path You Want.

i don't really care how much silence kills me 15,611 [Part 1 of all the lights couldn't put out the dark] It’s been around 2 years since Jiang Cheng has last seen to his brother, and a little over a year since the last time he spoke to him, when they locked eyes at Nie Huaisang’s art exhibition. Jiang Cheng had only come because Huaisang had explicitly promised him he wouldn’t be here. He knows Wuxian and Wangji have just moved back into the area after traveling, and he has every intention of avoiding them at all costs, just like he avoids his college-era crush Lan Xichen. 

But it would seem that the universe has other ideas.

charcoal on newsprint 2,151 [Part 1 of fine art] Xichen distantly realizes that there is no way Huaisang had actually told Jiang Cheng that this is a nude modeling session. He can already hear Jiang Cheng’s clear baritone, dripping with sarcasm, telling the entire dinner table “So, Zewu Jun wanted me naked in front of all his students.” at the next Lan-Jiang family dinner.Uncle is going to have his head. 

Madam Yu is going to skewer him alive before that. Or, Jiang Cheng models for life drawing in his spare time.

Family 2,514 [Part 1 of The Lan-Jiang Family] Jiang Cheng stops dead in the doorway as he takes in the horrendous state the apartment is in; toys and clothes everywhere, new furniture, child-furniture, all over the place, and no matter where Jiang Cheng’s gaze drops, it’s been taking over by stuff that belongs to a child.

A child that is still screaming, almost drowning out Lan Xichen’s attempts to calm it down.

“What the actual fuck is happening here?” Jiang Cheng blurts out and while it does nothing to stop the child from screaming, Lan Xichen freezes.

Worthy of a god 1,859 [Part 1 of The most faithful] Jiang Cheng knows that there is a chance Chifeng-zun will choose him; he is the god of war and rage and ever since Jiang Cheng was old enough to scowl there had been talk at Lotus Pier, how well he would fit with that.

But Jiang Cheng also knows that there is a bigger chance of no god choosing him at all.

Not just a vacation [Part 1 of The best catch] The next night Lan Xichen goes back to the beach. He keeps out of sight at first, hoping to catch the man unawares first, his mind still reeling from the research he did during the day.

It’s probably not what Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji wanted for him when they sent him on this vacation, but Lan Xichen needs to know what’s going on here. The only thing his research turned up were tales of mermaid and Lan Xichen is not ready to believe that.

Until he catches sight of a rather huge tail, flapping out of the water.

What Happens in Vegas Comes Home to Taiwan 3,120 [Part 1 of What Happens in Vegas] What do you do when your brother is getting married to someone you can’t stand?

The answer probably shouldn’t be to marry his brother, but in Lan Xichen’s defense, he didn’t know Las Vegas would allow drunk people to tie the knot at three o’clock in the damn morning.

A Lionheart 19,916 Wherein Xichen is a Crown Prince and Jiang Cheng is his bodyguard.

Emergency Help Wanted 76,819 EMERGENCY HELP WANTED I lied when I got my job. I told them I had a kid so I could leave early from work to pick him up from daycare, take him to doctor's appointments, and occasionally miss a day when he's sick. Long story short, I'm in too deep. I didn't think it through. Looking to rent a kid for bring your child to work day. Must be a boy ages four to six, longish dark hair, likes soccer. Must also be artistic as the macaroni noodle paintings I made seem a little advanced for his age. Also, I will pay extra for someone willing to play the role of husband when dropping him off. He's a prosecuting attorney who often brings his work home. Message me for further details. Serious inquiries only.

how to not fall in love in a broken elevator 2,741 [Part 1 of a guide to falling in love (for runaways and heirs)] Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen get stuck in an elevator together.

Stream 4,494 He’s in love with Lan Xichen.

Jiang Cheng blinks once, twice and allows the feeling to fill him completely, at least once, before he ruthlessly squashes it down and locks it into the deepest parts of himself.

By the time Lan Xichen stops laughing and turns his attention back to Jiang Cheng, it’s as if nothing ever happened. Sequel: Umbrella - Savor

Jiang Cheng knows what he’s worth, after all, and it’s definitely not enough for the First Jade of Gusu.

How to get revenge on your brothers: A Guide by Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen 8,339 “That’s it. That’s the solution.”

Jiang Cheng opened an eye confused. “What do you mean?”

There was a weird light in Lan Xichen’s eyes and for a moment Jiang Cheng thought the other had gone crazy. “We will make them understand what it feels like seeing their brothers being… intimate with each other.”

Talent Hunt Crew Finds Angry Guy Shouting On College Campus, Recruits Him For Vocal Projection Abilities 80,575 Jiang Cheng, resident Angry Guy and heir to a conglomerate empire, has never been the apple of his father’s eye. Quashed under the shadow of his brilliant brother, the music prodigy Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng sees his chance to turn things around when he is recruited by the All-Stars Lan Talent Hunt. One problem: he can’t sing to save his goddamn life.

do you eat pringles with or without the shell? 32,291 Wei Wuxian smiles at him, the bastard. “I’m proud of you for figuring this out. That means Xichen-ge is your gay awakening.”

“Don’t put it like that,” Jiang Cheng sighs but he isn’t wrong.

All This Could Be Yours 17,337 After transferring to the main branch of his family’s publishing business and into his newly-acquired responsibilities as its CEO and managing director, Lan Huan finds himself stressed and burnt out. His brother recommends a solution.

Jiang Cheng is too gay to deal with this shit.

how should i know what tomorrow will bring 1,630 “If they can’t accept the fact that Jin Ling will always be there, then they might as well fuck off.” Jiang Cheng points out.

“Well, sure.” Wei Wuxian concedes. “But you don’t even give them time to know if they want to be involved with you before you’re kicking them away. That’s not how first dates are supposed to go.”

“How would you know,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, annoyed that Wei Wuxian is right. This time. “You haven’t been on a date since like, 2002.”

Children's Secrets 5,225 Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen swap nephews for a weekend. Some revelations are made.

the Magical-Realism of Awkwardness 10,168 Jiang Cheng thinks things can't get worse when he is forced to third wheel Wei Wuxian and Lanzhan's date.

Then Lan Xichen shows up and proves that things damn well can.

(Or, what shapes up to be one of the worst days of Jiang Cheng's life takes an entirely different turn.)

in the incense is tangled a cool moon 3,614 Some loves aren't meant to be, Wanyin knows. 

Pay me in love 2,770 Madame Yu watches Lan Xichen walk away, until he is out of earshot, before she turns towards Jiang Cheng.

“What are you paying him?” she wants to know and Jiang Cheng can do nothing but stare dumbly at her.

“What?” he asks when she doesn’t say anything else.

“Did you really think I would believe you’re dating Lan Xichen, CEO of Lan Enterprises? Nice try, Jiang Cheng. Now tell me what you’re paying him.”

a slight tilt of perception 5,238 It was just a dance. 

Jiang Cheng, trying to avoid the society matrons and their matchmaking-themed whispers, accepted a dance invitation from Lan Xichen, an old friend.

He forgot that his dance partner was probably the most eligible bachelor in the room.

He forgot that was all it could take: a moment, a look, hands intertwined in a dance—and everything could change.

Not at all fake 3,070 “Tomorrow,” Jiang Cheng gives back and then makes a noise as if he’s dying. “Fucking hell, I’m a dead man. If I show up tomorrow without anyone in tow—without someone in tow who can give Lan Wangji a run for his money—then I am dead.”

There’s a beat of silence and then Lan Xichen says “Take me.”

Jiang Cheng blinks a few times, processing the words, but even after a full minute they don’t make any sense.

For better, for worse 6,713 People forget marriage vows are more than pretty words. It's easy to honor them when it comes to good things but they're easily forgotten when it comes to darker times. Lan Huan, however, always keeps them in mind. To love someone like Jiang Cheng, who wears his emotions on his sleeve due his terrible parents, is to remember that love is not simple.

Glow 3,033 [Part 1 of Eldritch!Lans AU] Jiang Cheng carefully turns his head, maybe the absence of his boyfriend is what woke him up, but when he looks at Lan Xichen’s side, he’s met with something so dark it even stands out against the darkness of the night.

There’s a void next to him in bed and Jiang Cheng throws himself out of it, Zidian already crackling and sparking, illuminating the room in a faint purple.

White Lotus in Bloom 7,147 As the Crown Prince from Gusu Lan visiting YunMeng Jiang, Lan Huan was beyond excited to attend the region's famous Lotus Festival, where he meets a boy in purple and black.

Never Had I Ever 56,263 Nie Mingjue is almost certain that Jin Guangyao has an ulterior motive for dating his best friend, Lan Xichen. However despite voicing his concerns, his best friend seems unconvinced and Lan Xichen continues to date the said man. Unable to give up just yet, Nie Mingjue tries a different tactic--convincing his best friend the man is not the right person for him by setting him up. Fortunately for him, Wei Wuxian's youngest brother is very much single and seems to be just the kind of person his best friend needs. Can Jiang Cheng truly change Lan Xichen's mind, or will Nie Mingjue's plan is a disaster from the beginning?

As he struggles to develop his nascent singing abilities, Jiang Cheng finds himself sucked into the whirlwind drama of reality TV, helped along by his adoring siblings, his irritable vocal coach Wen Qing, and strangely enough, the unfairly attractive host of the All-Stars Lan Talent Hunt, Lan Xichen. Somewhere in the glare of the stage lights and an unexpected first love, Jiang Cheng stumbles upon the thing he was searching for all along: the courage to dream — and to attempt the impossible.

Comfort 1,838 Wei Wuxian always pisses him off, this is common between them. Some fights, however, make Jiang Cheng sad enough to lock himself away from people and Lan Xichen has taken on the role of always being there to comfort him.

midnight comforts 1,946 At 11:36 his phone buzzed next to his ear. Lan Huan had a strict sleeping routine, but even so he was a fairly light sleeper. He answered the call—no one he knew would call him this late without reason—and murmured a groggy greeting.

“Lan Huan?”

He sat up, already rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“A-Cheng?”

“I know it’s late,” he started, voice sounding odd through the phone, “but you,” he stopped again with a gasp. Now that he was more alert, Lan Huan realized with mounting horror that the hitch in his breath, the odd thickness, was from crying. “You said I could come over whenever,” he finished, voice much shakier.

To The Beat 1,859 [Part 1 of Fever]

"The bathroom is over there you fuc--"

His words caught in his throat as he saw the person on the other side. He looked a lot like Wei Ying's boyfriend, but he was smiling and his eyes were somehow kind; comparatively, the most expression he'd ever seen on Lan Zhan's face was mild disdain.

Jiang Cheng must have been staring dumbly for a while because the man cleared his throat. There was a blush rising on his cheeks, and oh fuck, that was kind of cute.

"I apologize for interrupting your night. I was told that this room was where the people who were 'no fun' were supposed to go," the man said. His voice was deep and somehow just as smooth as his skin, which was flawless.

It Took Me So Long To Find You 6,349 [Soulmate AU]

But it didn’t take him too long to realize that he was simply not worthy of the other.

So he hoped at least that they could become friends.

Lotus Pier burned down before Jiang Cheng could think of telling Lan XiChen. And after the Sunshot Campaign, he understood, being Lan XiChen’s soulmate would not just be a burden to the other, it would be a curse.

paint my skies with your skin 15,473 [Soulmate AU] “There’s no point in this, is there?” Jiang Cheng scoffs, “We both know I am not who you want your soulmate to be.”

“Soulmate or not, you have my heart and my ribbon. Only if you want it, Wanyin.”

once upon a dream 18,438 [Part 1 of once upon a dream] An au where your dreams are small snippets of your soulmate’s day. They’d show small things like buying coffee, reading a book, or hanging out with people from their perspective.

The problem was that people always have expectations and Jiang Cheng knows he always falls short of them. Time and time again.

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

MINNIE SENPAI!! blease do E, I, K, L, N, O, W, Z for Leo? 🥺💖 (i might have gone overboard, so feel free to choose the ones you like the most fhdgk)

Haha, welcome welcome!! I’m honored kouhai, please don’t worry! 💖💖💖 I hope you enjoy this post~ 

Under a cut for length, yet again LOL

Fluffy ABC headcanons listed here for requests!

E = Emotions (how does he express emotion around her?)

Bold of you to insinuate Leonardo has emotions that aren’t imposed against his will HAHAHA. Just kidding, but he does have a hard time not clowning and hiding what he’s feeling. Say it with me kids, repression. That being said, I think he will always have a hard time expressing himself without hesitation in his relationship. His first instinct is to soothe and protect; he doesn’t really know how to put himself first, very few people have ever cared to put him first in his life. One of the hardest things about being capable with the mental acuity of a blade is that everyone just kinda assumes you'll be fine (compounded by the fact that he feels burdensome asking for help). And while there’s no doubt he can take care of himself, everybody needs a daijoubu from time to time ;-;. I like to hope that his MC will be able to see through to the truth of his feelings over time--even if he doesn’t openly enumerate them--before he can smother his emotional needs into silence. Furthermore, I think he would be a little more open/obvious about the depth of his love over time because, at some point, those feelings would accumulate to the point of overflow.

With Leonardo, vulnerability is a slow burn; he will reveal what he’s thinking someday, but today is not that day. Have patience, be gentle with his absolute clown self-neglect, try to meet him halfway; that trust will inspire him to be everything he thought he never could be for someone else. 

In the meantime:

One of the key signals when it comes to Leonardo is to pay attention to when he’s seeking to spoil her. If he’s being extra uwu, that’s a surefire sign he’s Coping™ by channeling those more negative feelings into making her happy. He thinks the best way to handle The Bad Feels and/or concern for her is to redirect that energy into something constructive, and what better outcome could there be than her pouting or giving him that dazzling smile of hers? 

Honestly, with Leonardo, he tends to convert emotion into action--she will know the warmth of his love long before he ever says it out loud. 

He has a hard time articulating his feelings, so asking him to say them outright might be hard on him--it might not be the best immediate go-to. Spoil him out of the blue, instead. She’ll seek him out and just sit in his lap and cuddle for a nap sessh completely without warning, hold him tight so that he knows she’s here no matter what. She’ll indulge his cute needy moments and lounge in bed all morning together, hold his hand first when they go out, take charge in the bedroom; she’ll show him he’s wanted and needed before he can even think to doubt himself. Murmur compliments to him, make him things he loves to eat, give him a back rub unprompted. It’s the simple awareness of what he enjoys and the execution of it before he can prepare that utterly decimates him into revealing the feelings he keeps under tight control. 

He is a lover that thrives on spontaneity and burning, silent consideration for the person he cherishes. The most adorable thing about this is that he is absolutely lost when the same tactic is used against him, he’s utterly defenseless to it!! (look at me. He has zero emotional object permanence. The mere prospect that somebody would worry about him first would send him into shock. And remember: the way people give love can often be the most powerful way they receive it, too.) The sacred texts!! She can use them to make him smile that smile that lets her know he’s an absolute goner for her without the need for words; the smile that says “it will always be you. It can only ever be you.”

When he’s happy, he literally just spoils her with more energy and teasing--expect a lot of wild fun and laughter when he’s in a good mood. He will have exceptionally tender moments now and again (say after a bad nightmare of losing her, for example) where he won’t say anything at all, just holds her close. He needs to know that she’s still here, that she’s okay. It is a rare and huge act of emotional trust; MC’s understanding and her easy proximity in these moments mean the world to him. When he’s distant and evasive, that is the time to give him some space before wedging her way inside. She won’t let him sit and stew in abysmal feelings; he has a bad habit of punishing himself too much or lingering on unhappy moments in his life. Despite how he seems he takes things incredibly seriously--to the point where he exhausts himself. 

When he’s jealous and feeling petulant, he will not hesitate bitch and will get surprisingly grumpy. She’ll coo at him and reassure him that he’s the only one for her, and he’ll calm in the circle of her arms. Fun bonus: he’ll be embarrassed/mortified about being out of control later and she has ENDLESS fun teasing him just a little, even better if he punishes her with a good bangarang. Anger and irritation are emotions he tends to leave be, but if someone directs any kind of threat to MC (or an innocent in general) every trace of his jovial nature dissolves in milliseconds. He is swift, decisive, and deadly when he’s belligerent; he is the last person to push too far. He will often regret it later or worry about scaring MC, but it really does only happen once in a great while. She always reassures him that she knows he only did what he felt he had to in the moment.

You can just hear the Leonardo stan in me, lord jesus

I = Injury (how would he react if she got hurt?)

OH GOD KILL ME FUCKING SOFTLY AUGHGHGHGHGGH

I think it would depend on the injury. If it’s something like a papercut or a scratch, he’ll just be like “yare yare cara mia, be a little more careful next time, yeah?” Will bandage her up and disinfect because he knows enough about medicine to be cautious. Plenty attentive, will probably tease her about being a klutz and/or tell her to ask for help next time. Everything you would expect from Leonardo, essentially; equal parts light-hearted and responsible.

NOW WE GONNA GET SPOICY

If the injury is much more intense--say a broken limb, or deep gashes, so on and so forth--I see Leonardo being very, very grim. His lips would be pursed into a firm line, blanched white from the pressure, and his first step would be to get her out of the danger at any cost to himself. Following his ability to get her to a safe place, he would begin to tend the wound as gently as possible, asking questions to gauge the severity with single-minded concentration. “Where does it hurt? Rate the pain, describe what it feels like. Can you move the injured limb?” He will use whatever he has at his disposal to minimize her suffering if he can’t get her to a doctor immediately. If she requires treatment from someone else, he will be beside himself the entire time; chain-smoking, pacing, running his hands through his hair nonstop. He has ants in his pants until he sees her with color in her face, eyes bright again.

May I offer: They are 100% that couple (in which Leonardo is the one that falls asleep at her bedside) that’s like “you look like shit.” “look who’s talking, stupid.” and they just start laughing, mutually relieved.

During her recovery, he will be incredibly gentle but also subliminally alert. Anything she needs, she gets. If she tries to return to a normal pace of life too fast, he is straight up just picking her up and putting her back in that recovery bed. He ain’t playin’--don’t test him on this. He’s usually pretty easygoing, but he will snap at anyone who isn’t careful with her in this state. He will not take any further risk to her life. (He’s not usually brittle, but under severe conditions he can be.) He’ll tease her from time to time, but it’s much more mild than usual; he’s too consumed with concern to let her get worked up. He’s never really had to deal with a prolonged state of physical helplessness personally, but he’s seen enough in his life to know it can be really taxing on a person’s mind. There will be a thin veneer of calm, only there to keep her relaxed and to ensure the stability of her mental health. He knows that if he shows too much distress, he’s only going to worry her further--and that’s the last thing he wants. He will spend the majority of his time acquiring as many distractions as humanly possible, even if he has to be the distraction; anything to get her mind off of darker things.

When she’s back to normal, he’ll still be on alert for a short while before he goes back to his usual clowning self; might be a little more protective and cautious than usual, or be a little paranoid about the specific thing that caused her harm. (No Leonardo, we need kitchen knives--how else are we going to cut the carrots?? Please relax.) He doesn’t want that kind of heart attack again anytime soon;;;;

Honestly, it’s very likely that MC will have to be the one to remind him that she’s fully recovered--and not quite so fragile--well after she’s returned to the normal pace of life.

K = Kisses (how does he like to kiss her?)

Mah heart, mah soul

When it comes to kisses, Leonardo will vary extensively. Will give her teasing pecks intended to make her grab hold of him and force him to linger, smirking into the kiss as she’s instigated to deepen it. When he’s feeling particularly overwhelmed with feeling--say when he’s jealous or frustrated--his kisses will be dizzying; sucking on her tongue and nipping at her lips, caging her against him as he unleashes all of the desire that was building inside him. The intent will be to drown her in passion. Lazy kisses before/after a nap, where he just wants to revel in the heat of her for a moment--express his affection on a whim--before dozing off. And last, but certainly not least, he will kiss her with the express intent of marking her. Due to his inability refusal to bite her, he seeks to relieve that instinct with hickeys all over her body (most frequently around the chest and neck, sometimes along her thighs and hips when he has fun downtown).

L = Love (how does he show her that he loves her?)

This man is Acts of Service through and through when it comes to showing his love. He is exceptionally observant and sensitive to the feelings of others, so the second he sees her in need he is already seeking an externalized solution. His usual modus operandi is to enact his love as covertly as possible; he doesn’t want her feeling guilty for troubling him. That being said, if he has to be direct--he will be. He won’t ever force her, but he will remind her that he is here and that he wants to help more than anything else. If she needs time on her own he’s happy to give it (even if he pouts and fidgets restlessly the whole time). His most acute expression of love is his reliability: taking care of people is the first way he knows how to express affection.

While that tends to be his primary method, it by no means insinuates that he won’t show affection in other ways. If he teases her, it’s because he wants her attention more than anything but is far too shy to say it directly (is he a middle schooler of a lover? Yes). More to the point, asking for her time and her attention is a way that he expresses love because it means he trusts her enough to know the signs, fulfill those needs, and realize that he meant no harm with his nonsense. Though it may sound odd, his desire to rely on her a little (insert is for me? meme) is his way of showing her he’s letting her in, and that’s a very real form of love considering how Herculean an effort it is for him to rely on someone else. It’s the same reason he will sometimes make his room an even bigger disaster zone than usual. He has every intention of cleaning up after himself, he just wants her to bust in and start fussing over him LMAO  (MC: WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS LEONARDO?! Meanwhile Leonardo, an idiot full of uwus at the sight of his beloved exasperated, sitting in a pile of trash: Just according to keikaku)

As odd as it may sound, it’s almost like a weird reverse damsel in distress sort of dynamic? He carefully constructs situations where she can offer him help with the express purpose (and hope) that she will care enough to bust past his enfeebled defenses. It’s so oddly demure for this enormous punk of a man, but I find it adorable ;-;

Other ways he loves to show how he feels is to take her on trips or on little adventures. One of his favorite things to do is to watch her take in places he knows like the back of his hand--or even places new to him--with all the gleeful excitement of a little kid. It just warms him down to the marrow, and makes him have so much more fun than he ever could alone to see her buzz around nonstop. If he can encourage her to relax and take some time for herself in the process, to live for herself a little (she’s all too giving) then he considers the entire endeavor a success. All the effort is worth it if she can remember their time together with a smile Must You Hurt Me Like This, Leonardo.

One form of love that he will behead me for revealing is that he also sketches her all the time in his notebook, and will look to those little moments he’s captured whenever he’s feeling down or she’s not around. 

He will have times where, if he can’t convey something properly with his actions or through making love, he will level with her. He will take the time to try to explain his feelings with accuracy, and in these moments he is both sincere and heartfelt. While it is a more rare expression of love for him, it is earth shattering when he does. Not only because his feelings run so deep, but also because these moments are unmistakably raw. Leonardo knows that vulnerability is a simultaneous boon and bane; it can inspire so much mutual joy, but it can also mean the exposure of lifelong wounds. It means acknowledging that these feelings are real. Even if she never takes advantage of the truth, he is aware of how precarious that position can be the more intense this love gets. It means facing how hollow he will feel when she's gone--something he works very, very hard to look away from.

(A related addendum because I have brainworms: The reason that people love and trust Leonardo is not primarily based in his intellect, fairly natural charisma, or good looks (though they are very compelling elements of his person). I think what people really see is how--though Leonardo sees through to the truth of peoples’ hearts in seconds--he keeps their secrets and treats them with so much respect/gentleness. It’s this odd capacity to be seen without feeling exposed that makes him such a remarkable and interesting man, and why he grows so close to everyone’s hearts. People feel understood without the need for words, feel cared for without a second thought. That being said, I think he needs someone who is similar. A person who sees all that he is on the surface, but barring that forges deeper still to find and cradle those parts of him that still need so much healing/care.

There’s a reason one of the greatest hits to his heart in his MS--one of the moments MC most powerfully gets through to him--is when she essentially says “Don’t give me that. Nobody ever gets used to loss. When something hurts, it hurts.” Whether she realized it or not, she penetrated straight to his heart with those few words. The truth is often much simpler than we might assume, and no matter how much experience one has with certain emotions--particularly grief and loneliness--no amount of experience makes them hurt any less. We only grow better at concealing or coping with age...)

N = Nightmare (what is his worst fear?)

I have a list (from Comte). I keep them alphabetized.

Jkjk, but if I’m honest I think this man has a good amount of fear inside him. I’d say the highest ones up there would absolutely be losing MC very suddenly, or being the reason--whether directly or indirectly--she gets hurt (like if his familia came after her to get back at him? he would be devastated).

If it is a timeline where he does choose to turn her, he’s beside himself at the prospect of the turning process going horribly wrong. It’s an unpredictable transition, and if she were to come back mentally broken or in constant pain (immortal wounds/aberrant) I think it would really fuck him up emotionally. He would blame himself without a doubt ;-; and that’s assuming she doesn’t hate his ass for the rest of eternity if it does go well (Leonardo I am begging you to use one brain cell)

O = Oddity (what is one quirk he has?) This one’s just a crack hc so if you were taking me seriously for any amt of this post, this is my suggestion that you stop

Leonardo is a man of many idiosyncrasies; among them an incapacity to dance and writing in a mirrored hand. 

Another one is his absolute hatred for mint. One of Comte’s favorite things to do to mess with Leonardo is to stuff the drawers in his desk with peppermint candies to ward off his old friend and make him stop sleeping under his desk (like how people will use salt for demons!). He will also drink mint tea if he’s feeling particularly irritated with Leonardo’s antics, like if he’s received a ton of letters from Leonardo’s familia. Tells him to come to his office and the place is SUFFUSED in the scent of mint. Comte is just sitting at his desk with the stack, wearing that incorrigible look like “If I must suffer, so must you.” 

One time--before MC was aware of this quirk--she had some chocolate that had mint in it after dinner. Leonardo kissed her without knowing (he came in late) and literally died where he was standing; he was biting his tongue to keep from gagging. MC just o: ???? because she’s never seen him make that grimace, especially after sharing a kiss. Comte was in fucking tears laughing at the head of the dining table while Napoleon and Sebastian were both fighting a smile--Arthur was outright wheezing. Isaac, blushing and coughing lightly into his fist, offers the explanation that Leonardo hates mint-flavored things and the scent of it makes him queasy. 

W = Warrior (how does he feel about her fighting? Would he fight for her, beside her, etc?)

Man, this one’s tough, but if I’m honest I think he would be conflicted. On the one hand, he thinks it’s badass and hot as all fuck that she knows how to hold her own in a brawl; he can’t deny it’s sexy and reassuring (he has to resist the urge to gaud her into punching him). But. That knowledge also comes with a lot of concern. Was she in a place or around people that never once looked after her? Or was it a safety precaution? He will think deeply about the implications of her capabilities, and ask about it openly if he can’t deduce the reasons from afar. He will see it as very important information in regards to how to look after her properly.

That being said, I don’t think he would let his MC fight unless there was literally no other conceivable choice (say she was attacked while he wasn’t there or before he could intercept the blow). He would literally rather fall on a sword than see her get hurt. He’s durable and used to pain; he’d rather suffer and heal fast than see her sustain a single scar or bruise. Even if it makes her angry, he’ll take a hit and ask her to stay behind him every single time without fail. He’ll accept her frustration about it and will feel that it is perfectly valid to be annoyed with him. It still won’t make him budge, though. 

Z = Zen (what makes him feel calm?)

Naps and lingering in bed well after morning with MC make this man happier and calmer than anything this world has ever seen. He loves that in those moments they aren’t thinking about anything else but each other, and he can indulge in the certainty of her presence in his life and so close to his heart. He can use the excuse of drowsiness to be tender, making love with a slow, devastating build to pleasure--hand entwined with hers against the sheets. 

Failing that, he goes to things that stimulate his senses to find calm--he can’t really relax if his hands and/or mind aren’t occupied (i.e. cigarillos lmao). It’s why he’s often in the library; he’s always seeking new information and conundrums to sort out mentally if he doesn’t have the energy to go out and about. If he’s in his room he’ll be drafting diagrams, coming up with new concepts and architectural schematics, even making trinkets for MC or fixing something in the mansion. If he needs a change of scene or has the spoons, he’ll make a trip to town to help people with any problems that need solving, or find some excuse to go looking for and tease MC HAHA (he’s a little shit, but he’s our little shit úwù)

[keelywolfe]

FIC: The Royal We ch.5

Summary: Finally the concluding chapter of 'The Royal We'! Wonder what's gonna happen here, hmmmm.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

Edge woke far later than normal to the sound of the shower running. He jerked halfway upright in the bed, briefly disoriented, before the events of the day before came back to him in a rush. The baby shower planning, the discussion with Stretch about having children, or rather not having them, Janice’s son getting lost, and learning that Stretch’s abilities as a Judge allowed him see Monster souls, including his own.

Small wonder he’d overslept, Any one of those things would be tiring but put together it was entirely too much for a single day, particularly one where he and Stretch finally came upstairs in the wee hours of the morning, barely taking the time to shed their clothes before flopping together into their bed.

At least Stretch seemed to be somewhat recovered if he were up to taking a shower. Edge sank back against the mattress, kicking the blankets from his feet as he stretched with joint-popping bliss, luxuriating in a moment of uncommon laziness. As stressful as the day before had been it had also been cathartic in some ways, certain issues clouded between him and Stretch discussed then cleared away.

This morning his leg felt fine even without the brace, without even a trace of a pain. It was actually healing as the doctor promised it would, despite Edge’s occasional loose interpretation of their directions, and as time passed it would keep getting better until the injury was only a memory and an occasional ache on very cold days.

Getting back to normal, that was all. The term ‘normal’ when it came to their lives was certainly up for creative interpretation, but it honestly felt like they were getting to it. Of course, that was dependent on nothing new cropping up in their lives and it surely would. It didn’t matter, whatever came he and Stretch would face it together.

Thinking of togetherness, Edge rolled out of bed and made his way to the ensuite bathroom. Muffled strains of music were coming through the closed door and when he opened it, it poured out, bright and pop-cheerful. Behind the shower curtain, oblivious to his audience, Stretch was singing along. He’d always have a lovely singing voice, husky sweet and pitch perfect but it was the lyrics gave Edge a pause.

“i’d get down on my knees, i’d do anything for you…ohhhh, i don’t want anybody else, when i think about you, i touch myself…”

Well, that was an invitation if he’d ever heard one.

Edge only took long enough to strip of his pajamas, casting them off in a rare messy pile on the floor before sliding around the shower curtain. He was ready for Stretch to yelp and jump, catching him before he could slip on the wet porcelain. His lovely bones were slick with water and soap and he was blinking through the spray, his pale eye lights still bright from the surprise.

“holy shit, babe,” Stretch sputtered, licking water from his teeth. “a little warning would be nice!”

Edge only shifted Stretch in his arms, settling him with his spine pressed firmly against Edge’s chest. At his silent urging, Stretch let his head drop back against Edge’s shoulder, huffing a groan as Edge murmured against his skull. “And miss the chance to sweep you off your feet?”

“you can get in your gropes without giving me a—oooh,” Stretch broke off and Edge smirked, mouthing lightly at his scapula as his hands wandered lower, his bare fingers seeking out places he knew were sensitive, pressing and stroking until Stretch shivered in his arms despite the heat of the water pouring down on them.

“What was that?” Edge crooned. “I couldn’t quite hear.”

“baaaaaabe,” Stretch moaned. He squirmed, his pelvis scraping tantalizingly against Edge’s. “this isn’t fair.”

“No? I was only trying to confirm the truth of your statement,” and before Stretch could ask, “Do you, then? Touch yourself when you think about me?”

“heh.” That squirm turned into a deliberate grind and Edge caught his breath, “want a demonstration?”

As it turned out, by the time Stretch was finished ‘demonstrating’, they both needed another shower and Edge was never more pleased to have splurged on their hot water heater. The chance to hold Stretch in his arms for longer without any chilly surprises was well worth the extra cost.

~~*~~

It was a few hours later that Edge was finishing buttoning his shirt, giving his husband a sideways look where he was still sprawled out on the bed, entirely naked except for a single sock that was still sagging at the ankle. The other was in his hand, waiting for its owner to either work up the energy to put it on or to abandoned it to its lonely fate.

Tipping the scales in favor of wearing might be in order. “Are you planning on putting that sock on or do you need longer to bond?”

“i’ll put it on as soon as i can feel my feet,” Stretch sighed out dreamily, “babe, you sure know how to make an entrance.”

“In a variety of ways,” Edge said serenely. “I do well with entrances.” He sat on the side of the bed next to Stretch and leaned in to give him a lingering kiss before snatching up the sweatshirt beside him and dropping it on his head. “Come on, get dressed, we need to check on the chickens. I believe there may have been an event we missed.”

Stretch lurched upright, fighting his way out of the clinging folds of the sweatshirt to give Edge a stricken look, “fuck, i forgot!” The sweatshirt was only half on when he started for the door and he was still struggling to pull it over his skull when he made for the stairs.

“Pants!” Edge shouted after him. Their neighbors asked so little of them and he really didn’t think that no unexpected nudity was an unreasonable request.

A shout floated back up, “bring ‘em with you and i’ll get the coffee going!”

Edge only shook his head and retrieved a clean pair of track pants from their dresser. However this might end, at least it would be with a reasonable amount of dignity.

Well, that might be a tall ask of Stretch and if he couldn’t be clothed in dignity, pants would have to do, so long as it wasn’t the bare minimum.

Edge stifled his grin and headed for the stairs, pants in hand and ready to share that particular witticism with his husband. Anytime was a good time for pun to Stretch, but over morning coffee held a certain brewtiful appeal.

It was with puns exchanged (among them was Stretch declaration that so many jokes this early was a latte to handle) and coffee in hand that they finally made their way to the chicken coop to investigate yesterday’s happenings. The morning air was still tinged cool, only hinting at the afternoon’s predicted warmth and Stretch shuffled through the fallen leaves to the coop door where Noodle and Dumpling were already waiting impatiently for the bringer of their breakfast.

“yeah, sorry, gals,” Stretch set his coffee cup down outside the coop before opening the door. He leaned over to give them each a brief pat before heading to the feed trough. “i know, we’re running late. let’s get you fed before checking on your sis, okay?”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes too far up,” Edge cautioned. He set his cup alongside Stretch's and followed him inside. “I can’t even calculate the odds of her not only finding a fertilized egg but also managing to hatch it.” Her finding an egg at all was a question that Edge already decided not to look into too deeply.

“i can calculate it and trust me, it’s a lot of decimal points. don’t worry,” Stretch said as he measured out a scoopful of feed. “i won’t. not even sure i wanna meet whatever’s supposed to come out of the cryptid egg she stole. hope nugget isn’t too disappointed when her basilisk doesn’t hatch.”

The sound of feed pouring into the trough was enough to summon the smallest of their wayward poultry. Nugget poked her small head through the coop’s door flap, chirring inquisitively, and then darting out to beeline right for the feed. Hungry indeed, she didn’t detour even briefly in Edge’s direction, intent on her pursuit of tasty grains.

But it wasn’t Nugget that had their attention. Behind her, coming from the coop was a faint sound, a peeping reminiscent of those Edge heard on the farm back when he was considering whether to invest in chickens of their own. Stretch only stood frozen, staring at the coop door and Edge was the one who finally opened it and stepped inside.

They’d persuaded Nugget to abandon the plastic bucket she’d nested in for one of the coop boxes, lining it with soft hay and that was where the sound was coming from. The single caged bulb overhead didn’t provide much light and Edge peered into the darkened nest, his sockets narrowed. Nearly buried into the hay was a tiny ball of yellow fluff. Edge reached for it, scooping it cautiously into his hands and bringing it out into the light.

Stretch hovered over his shoulder anxiously, “is that…what is it?”

From the rounded cup of his hands, a tiny, billed head poked out. Webbed feet shifted against his palm as the little creature peeped anxiously, its eyes dark against the bright yellow fluff.

“it’s a duckling! holy shit!” Stretch managed to keep his delight to a muted squeal, reaching out with cautiously grabby hands. Very carefully, Edge deposited it into his hands, watching as the little bird settled against the warm bones. “this is way better than a basilisk!”

“I believe the neighbors will agree,” Edge said dryly, watching as Stretch very gently inspected their newest acquisition, petting that feathery softness. “Is it male or female?”

Stretch rolled his eye lights. “welp, all the years i spent studying physics instead of zoology are letting us down here, babe. i’ve barely got ‘duck’ cleared, if you want a more detailed report, you’re gonna have to hire a pro.”

“Understood,” Edge said. He looked out the door at their backyard, freshly layered in falling leaves. “What on earth are we going to do with a duck?”

Stretch only held the little duckling closer to his chest with a gasp, “we can’t get rid of it!”

“Of course not,” Edge said, exasperated, “I’m not suggesting we drop it off at the local livestock orphanage, it was a legitimate question. We’ll need to make arrangements for it, ducks may have different nutritional needs than chickens. It will need some sort of pond to swim in and—” He broke off as Stretch gave him a look. “What?”

That gentle smile matched the softness in Stretch’s eye lights as they briefly flashed into hearts, shining with love, “nothing, babe. you’re really gonna let me keep cheese?”

Edge blinked. “Did you just call that duckling ‘Cheese’?”

“yeah.” Stretch grinned. “short for cheese and quackers.”

“Oh, for—” Edge sighed. “I walked right into that one.”

“headfirst,” Stretch agreed. “don’t feel bad, i left the door wide open.” At that moment Nugget came wandering back into the coop and started to make concerned motherly noises. Stretch hastily set the duckling, no, Cheese back into the nesting box. Nugget hopped up into it, squirming back to bury her child beneath the bulk of her feathery warmth.

“guess introductions are over.” Lacking a tiny duckling to hold, Stretch settled for flinging his arms around Edge and giving him a hard squeeze. “c’mon, hot coffee waits for no fowl and cold coffee is foul, so let’s get ours.”

“You’re an endless font of hilarity, love.” Edge followed him out and the two of them retrieved their cups. By unspoken agreement, they settled to sit at the patio, sipping their coffee as the trees rustled softly around them.

His phone buzzed, breaking the silence, and Edge checked it to see a text from Papyrus. Ah, another loose end from yesterday’s tapestry to tie up. He opened the text to find not a jumbled of excited words but a picture. Of Undyne in a hospital bed, looking both weary and elated, Alphys at her side, but it was the small bundle in their arms that drew Edge’s gaze.

The only thing visible from the swaddling of striped blankets was the child’s face, the same deep blue skin tone as their mother and a small tuft of red fronds falling over their forehead. Childbirth seemed to have left a certain squashed quality to that face that hadn’t had time yet to fade, puffy cheeks and swollen eyes, and as Edge studied the picture another text came through.

It’s a girl!

A girl, a little niece to spoil and teach, and Edge could already picture her toddling along and joining the other children as they followed Stretch around very much like ducklings as he taught them science and experiments, spending his weekends building snowmen and painting excited faces. Without making any undue assumptions, Edge could imagine the formidable child that Undyne and Papyrus’s genes would produce and the adventures that might come of it, the coming years would certainly be interesting and—

“is that the baby?”

Almost, Edge twitched his phone away before Stretch could see the picture. But none of yesterday's upset or melancholy appeared, Stretch only looked at it with an appropriate expression of interest, smiling widely.

“aww, what a cutey,” Stretch cooed. “tell undyne she does good work.”

“I will,” Edge agreed, and did so. Before he set his phone aside, another picture came through, this time with Papyrus holding the baby, the very vision of a delighted uncle and why his arm was in a sling, Edge decided not to ask. The story of Undyne’s labor and delivery was likely an epic one and not to be heard before plenty of coffee. He was nearly ready for a second cup when Stretch spoke again.

“so,” Stretch began. He shuffled his feet against the porch, his coffee cup held tightly in both hands. “you wanna get started on the pond today?”

Edge smiled faintly. “Of course, love, best to get it ready before Cheese needs it.”

He watched as Stretch lit up, equally delighted by his answer and his ready use of Stretch’s chosen name. It was hardly more ridiculous than Noodle, Nugget, and Dumpling, and besides, their baby deserved the best, too, did it not?

A pond and some research into their little duckling’s needs, that was the challenge for the day and Edge was more than up for it, so long as Stretch was by his side.

Edge set his cup on the table and reached over to take Stretch’s hand in his, slender fingers tangling with his own. He ran his thumb over Stretch’s wedding band, the smooth metal body-warm. Together, no matter what, and Edge was ready for that adventure as well and any that came along with it, for the rest of his life.

Even when it included unexpected additions.

-finis

[catboymingi]

memories - in this life and the next chap. 1

navi/masterlist

story masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: angst; soulmates & reincarnation au

word count: 3.1k

warnings: amnesia, hospital environments, dealing with grief, emotional neglect, a teeny bit of language

a/n: this is so short i’m sorry i promise the next ones will be longer, this one was just mainly to like... build the context. also the change in you/her from the previous chapter is intentional, it’s ~foreshadowing~

while some people want nothing more than to remember, others would give everything just so they could forget

the four minutes of silence had been the worst four minutes your family had ever lived through. the doctors had done whatever doctors did when someone died in their hospital bed, but were at least as surprised as your family when you shook slightly, immediately resuming their efforts at reanimating you, and this time it worked. they attached you to an incredible amount of machines and put you into an artificial coma to spare your body from having to do more work than absolutely necessary until they could somewhat safely say that being awake would not risk anything for you anymore.

when you woke up for the first time weeks after you had died for four minutes you didn’t recognise any of the faces around you. you didn’t understand what they were saying, and you couldn’t recognise the name they called you by.

“i don’t understand”, you said weakly, and surprised everyone when you spoke korean. of course your entire family spoke korean - your parents had immigrated in their twenties, before you were born, so you’d grown up bilingual. what was surprising wasn’t that you knew korean, it was that you didn’t understand the language that was supposed to be as natural to you as korean was. it was then that they realised they hadn’t gotten their daughter back. that their daughter didn’t even remember that she was their daughter. but you were alive, and that was already more than they’d hoped for when the machines first turned silent.

the doctors told you that this amnesia might slowly disappear, that you might slowly remember your life again, but also warned you that it might not ever leave and you had to be prepared for that. it stung, but they tried their best to give you your memories back, tell you about your life, your friends, everything you’d ever done that they could tell you about. you couldn’t remember any of it, but it seemed like your life had been fairly happy, if you ignored the autoimmune disease you had to deal with. they’d always tried their best to allow you as much of a normal life as they could, and even though you couldn’t remember any of it you still felt a deep gratitude towards these people that obviously cared about you incredibly much. so you tried to like them, to feel the feelings towards them that a daughter should have towards her parents, and while you didn’t feel close to them yet, couldn’t feel close to them yet, your discomfort at their touches, their physical affection, had slowly started to decrease. you knew it probably hurt them, but it wasn’t something you could change, no matter how hard you tried.

//

unlike this family, mingi hadn’t been lucky enough for the love of his life to wake up again. he’d refused to leave her side until they had told him there was nothing they could do, that there was nothing he could do either, at which point he’d broken down crying, unable to be strong anymore. he’d lost her. he’d lost her forever and he was stuck waiting until he could find her again, in the next life and the one after that, wanting nothing more than to speed up the process. but he knew that she wouldn’t have wanted that, so he forced himself to go on, even though he was but a shadow of himself, burying himself in his work and moving in with a friend because he couldn’t stand returning to the apartment he’d shared with her every single day, all the memories and all the little pieces of her that he refused to get rid of even though he was unable to even look at any of it. he felt like if he got rid of even the smallest piece of trash that she’d forgotten to throw away before she left for work that day he got rid of her, of the memories and of the relationship and of all the moments and feelings he’d shared with her. and while his friends were worried for him they knew he needed to grieve, they knew he needed his time, and they were more than willing to wait for him to be even a little more okay than he was now. they knew she’d been his everything.

//

day after day you tried to become yourself again, trying to remember who you even were in the first place. but your memories seemed to be irrevocably gone, even your name not yet something you reacted to each time someone called out for you. it didn’t feel like you. it didn’t feel like the person you were now, and you felt like you’d failed everyone for not wanting to be a person you couldn’t even remember. you wanted to create a new you, because unlike the people surrounding you, the people that remembered who you used to be and that had an attachment to those memories, the person that you were before you died held no significance to you, the only thing you had in common with her being her body, her genetic set up. you didn’t want to have to keep trying to be someone you weren’t even sure you wanted to be.

at least your overall physical condition seemed to have improved drastically, miraculously. it was as if your autoimmune disorder had died along with you, something the doctors tried very hard to figure out because that wasn’t how genetic disorders worked, but it seemed like that was the trade-off for your complete lack of memory. everyone was still somewhat wary at your sudden and technically impossible recovery, so that you were kept in the hospital for another couple weeks even after you were fine, just to be sure, but when your condition seemed to not worsen at all even after one and a half months you were deemed stable enough to return home. you would have to come in weekly for a check-up, and you would have to be careful to not over-exert yourself, but since you would be on constant watch by your parents the doctors decided that it might be helpful for you to return to your childhood home, maybe having some memories resurface in the familiar environment.

that hope was quickly destroyed by the harsh reality of your brain refusing to remember anything at all. it was as if you’d never even been in this house, and all the pictures on the walls didn’t feel like you, either. the house felt heavy, suffocating, enveloped in feelings and memories that everyone but you remembered. you felt like a stranger, you felt out of place, and as soon as your parents allowed you to you spent as much time in public spaces as you could. you wanted to escape the pressure of having to remember, and you wanted to escape their looks of disappointment and resentment towards you, the person that looked so much that the daughter they’d loved but didn’t behave like her at all. because even though you had no memory of them you didn’t want to be looked at like that, like you’d stolen their daughter from them, like you were an intruder. like it was your fault. not remembering them was okay for you, but knowing that they remembered you, remembered the you from before and the you now, and that it was very obvious which one they preferred? that hurt. knowing that you weren’t good enough for them hurt. knowing that, even if they’d never admit it, a part of them wished you’d stayed dead because this was like you being dead except they had to look at you all the time hurt. and knowing that you had no one to go to about this, to talk to about how you felt, hurt as well.

so, hours outside turned into more and more time, until at some point you decided you were tired of it. your parents had money, savings, and even though you felt a ping as guilt as you took them that quickly subsided, because you knew that the money they kept in the house wasn’t even close to all their money. they’d maybe not even notice it. but for you, it would make life much easier. you gathered the essentials - a sleeping bag they’d told you about in one of their desperate attempts to get you to remember things, food that wouldn’t be expiring anytime soon, and whatever else google told you was useful for living on the streets. it wasn’t like you were planning to do that - you weren’t stupid, nor were you suicidal, and the money you had might last you for a very cheap airbnb for the entire month and maybe more; by that time you planned to have found a job and your own place to stay. you didn’t rush this, either - transferred the money to a new bank account, got yourself a new wardrobe, a few pieces at a time, tried to prepare yourself for what you were about to do as well as you could. you might’ve hated your current life, but running away without any kind of planning wasn’t going to improve your situation. so you took your time.

when you finally did it, though, you felt relieved. you didn’t realise how caged you’d felt until you were out. it felt like you were able to breathe again, for the first time since you woke up after dying.

//

mingi still was very far from over her, but his friend yunho had convinced him that he should rent out the living room in the apartment he still refused to enter, he still refused to give up. he paid rent there, by himself now that she was gone, and the only reason why he managed to keep it was all the extra shifts he’d picked up and the fact that yunho had mercy on him and didn’t ask for a lot of rent. but he couldn’t keep it up forever either, and it was because of this that a few weeks after the initial idea, they’d found someone who had rented the living room for a few weeks right away. mingi still wasn’t ready to go in, so he asked his friend to go and lock your bedroom and take away everything that he knew was so personal to the heartbroken man. he hated the idea of changing anything, but he hated the idea of a stranger rummaging through his life with the love of his life even more. so all the important things, the anniversary gifts, the pictures, were locked in the bedroom.

it hurt yunho to be there, as well - mingi hadn’t been the only one that she’d meant a lot to. being as close as he was with the tall male it had been impossible to not befriend her too, her bright and lively aura pulling in everyone that got to meet her. but he prepared everything, for his friend, because he knew that if he had to go back he’d break down and no one might be able to piece him back together.

and it was yunho who welcomed the very first person - besides him - to enter the apartment where mingi’s entire heart was still kept.

//

you’d found a place to rent for cheap very soon - it was almost an entire apartment, for half the price you’d pay if you were to rent it first-hand. the person you’d been messaging sounded incredibly nice, and while you were doubtful because it was a man who sorted things with you and a man that was the main tenant you had a fairly good feeling about just these men. you’d been given some clear rules via call already - don’t move anything, don’t throw anything away that you didn’t bring, preferably just don’t touch anything unless absolutely necessary. you thought it was odd, but you accepted it. it was a place to stay, more luxurious than you could have hoped for, and you were guaranteed that you’d be able to stay for as long as you wanted to if you followed the rules.

a tall blond greeted you in front of the building, showing you the way to your new home for the next few weeks and handing you the keys. he entered with you, making sure there were no questions about the apartment and once more stressing that you were not allowed to throw anything away, change anything, and that the bedroom was a hard no. it was locked, anyway, but he wanted to be sure. and while you accepted these rules, you were curious about them because it did sound a little like the owner either had ocd or was an axe murderer who kept the evidence hidden away in his apartment.

“i’ll do that, no problem, but why all these rules?” but you knew the question was a sensitive one when you saw the pain that immediately distorted the man’s expression.

“this is my friend’s apartment. he shared it with his girlfriend, but she… she died. no pretty way to say it. it’s still fresh, and he just doesn’t want to lose any memories, you know? he hasn't even been here since. he wants to have her to come back to when he does, even if just in the trash she left on the floor.”

you nodded in understanding - you remembered how the first time you’d changed anything up in your room your parents damn near had a breakdown, and you weren’t even really dead.

“i’m sorry for his loss. i’ll do my best not to change anything up unless absolutely necessary. thank you for letting me stay here even though it’s hard. i know it is.” and because your voice sounded like you genuinely understood yunho got curious about you, this stranger that had rented the apartment from two strange men by herself, for several weeks in a row, seemingly willing to accept whatever rules and regulations he’d put up. he knew it’d be inappropriate to ask about you when he’d barely just met you, though, so he stayed silent, nodding at you.

“just in case something’s wrong you can always text me, or call me if it’s urgent, same number as when we last called. i hope this’ll be okay for you.”

it felt like the two of you were nodding at least as much as you were talking, you moving your head in acknowledgment again.

“anyway, i’ll go now. check up on my friend.”

“tell him thank you for letting me stay here.”

“yeah.” and with that, he left.

when you settled on the couch you felt a weird kind of familiarity, a familiarity you hadn’t felt a single time ever since you woke up again. you didn’t understand why, had no conscious recollection of this place, knew you’d never been here before. still, it felt like you knew it, knew these surroundings. the feeling was weird, kind of uncomfortable and scary, but you decided to ignore it in favour of going to sleep.

//

mingi had sent yunho to check up on the apartment every single day, to make sure that the stranger he still hadn’t met wasn’t wreaking havoc and destroying the only remembrance of her physical presence he still had. but day after day his friend told him that it seemed like you kept your promise to not change anything up, like you’d barely even touched anything at all. the couch was changed, of course, and you’d also used the bathroom and the kitchen, but both yunho and mingi were surprised at the fact that you always used the same set of cutlery, the same plate, the same towel. you’d gotten your own dish soap, your own laundry detergent, because you didn’t even want to risk emptying the ones she’d bought back then. you were careful, attentive and compassionate, and it made mingi curious to get to know you. he knew he’d not be able to see you in the apartment, so he asked yunho to ask you to meet up with the two of them in some café, just because he was curious and he wanted to ask if you were still comfortable at his place that didn’t feel like his anymore now that she was gone.

he was a little nervous about it, just because you might ask questions and because you might dig in his past and because being face to face with the person that was living where she used to live might cause emotions he’d more or less successfully suppressed by now to resurface. but his friend had convinced him that at least from your part there was nothing to fear, that you’d been more considerate of the situation than even most of their friends had been.

//

you were nervous when yunho asked you to meet in some café, because you didn’t know the second man at all, hadn’t even been told his name yet because the blond always just referred to him as ‘his friend’. you wanted to leave a good impression, so you got a little dressed up, though not too much because that’d be inappropriate as hell considering the other man had just lost his girlfriend not too long ago. it was just subtle makeup and clothes that were a bit fancier than your usual ripped jeans and oversized t-shirt, opting for ripped jeans and a cropped top instead. it was all black, not even on purpose but because you felt most comfortable in dark clothes, and after you’d spent half an hour overthinking if your outfit was appropriate or if you should wear something else you finally left.

it wasn’t hard finding the café - it was close to where you lived now, and while it wasn’t too fancy it wasn’t too hidden away, either, so that you weren’t left looking around for some secret entrance for an hour as you’d feared you would be. you entered carefully, scanning the café for the blond man whose face you could easily recognise by now by how often he’d visited you to check up on both you and the apartment, and it only took about a minute to spot him. then, your eyes fell upon the tall male next to him, and you felt the same weird kind of familiarity that had become your constant companion in the apartment. you knew there was no way you knew him, and you knew that this was probably just the desire to finally know something again, remember something again. still, you surprised yourself when you opened your mouth and yelled for him.

“mingi!”

[secondhand-trash]

Crystal Clear

A/N: All these gloomy looking boys with aesthetically pleasing character design is making me THRIVE. (Also, I was gonna post this on Saturday because yay algorithm but then I wanted to get it out by Halloween aka the last day of @villainmonth even though au is for day 27​ so here ya go)

(au masterlist)

Pairing: seer!Dabi x reader

Description: The person you worked for happen to be able to see into the future and he was convinced that you would be in love with him. You weren’t buying it though.

Warning: non-consensul touching from a third character under alcoholic influence (nothing too major but putting a heads up just in case)

Word count: 3945

Playlist:

Somebody Else//The 1975

Norman fucking Rockwell//Lana Del Ray

Drunk Text Romance//Cyberbully Mom Club

-

“You are going to fall in love with me.”

You looked up from your desk to meet the piercing blue eyes of the man you were working for, “Is that a question, a statement, a challenge, or a threat? Because no matter which one it is, that’s pretty much not gonna happen.”

Dabi placed his palms on your desk and leaned forward, towering you slightly with a smirk on his face. “We’ll see about that,” he said, sounding as cocky as always, “I see it very clearly in my vision and you’ve worked with me for long enough to know that my predictions are never wrong.”

You didn’t say a word as you couldn’t quite argue with that. Dabi made a name for himself for being a brilliant seer at such a young age. He was young and good-looking, mysterious with a snarky personality, the full package for media adoration. The internet’s opinion on him was polarized, a lot of people practically worship him but not without an equal amount of people who hated his guts, not that he cared at all. But no matter how people felt about him, there was no denying that he was frighteningly good at what he did, giving off extremely accurate readings to each and every single person who came to ask for a glimpse into their future.

The media had been digging into the origin of his great talent but they never found anything. Dabi hid a lot more from the light than most would expect but you distinctively remember the time he had you closed up the shop early and pulled out a bottle of vodka, pushing the glass that you didn’t even know he store in the shop in front of you despite your protest before taking a swing from the bottle directly himself. You did not know what gone over him that day but he looked almost distressed so you stayed. Half of the bottle was gone when he told you in a slurred voice how he got the ability to see into the future. He stared at you with those eyes of his that was so clear you almost mistaken them as glass and told you that the sight was given to him in a bet with a demon on the same day many, many years ago.

He did not tell you if he won the bet or not.

You, on the other hand, was just a poor college student who needed a job to afford rent. You came across the flyer that had “assistant for hire” written on it in a barely comprehensible handwriting with dark purple ink that gave off an odd glow when you looked at it under the sun. You were skeptical of it, it did not look legit at all and a chain of patterns that looked like runes were scribbled on the back of the thin paper in the same purple ink. Not to mention the salary it was offering seemed to be a bit too high for it to be real. It could very likely be a scam or some trap but you were really desperate and people do stupid things in desperate times.

Which led to the current moment, two years after you pushed all survival instincts to the back of your head walked into the shop that was hidden in a quiet corner at the back alley of a busy market, being mildly annoyed by the man you were the assistant to.

Dabi’s smirk only widened when you rolled your eyes. You were just about to make a remark about how your feelings was a matter for you to decide when the crisp chime of the small bell hanging on the door frame of the shop caught your attention. You looked towards the door to see a young man timidly entering the shop. Getting up, you greeted the customer with a small smile and started going through the details of his booking. Seeing that you had no intention to give him any attention and getting slightly bored by the business talk, Dabi uninterestedly turned around and lifted the heavy curtain to the back room where the scrying sessions usually take place.

With a hand lifting the fabric and his back facing the reception, Dabi took last quick glance at the man before disappearing into the room. He could not pin point what exactly gave him the feeling but something about that seemingly kind face gave off the aura of a bad omen, and he was never wrong about an omen.

“Can I leave work a bit earlier today?”

“What? Why?” Dabi tried to hide the shock on his face as he peaked out from the curtains to look at you. In the two years you had been working for him, you had never asked to leave early or to get an extra day off. There was this one time when he had to dragged you to the doctors himself because you were coughing like crazy but still insisted on showing up to work. It’s not like he couldn’t get any work done if you left just a few hours earlier than usual but knowing that he could hear your laugh as he passed by to make fun of unbearable customers in your ear made those few painful hours just a bit less miserable.

“I have a date,” you didn’t see the way his face dropped as you started organizing the waiting area of the shop, “remember Yamamoto, the guy who had an appointment a few days ago? He gave me his number before he left and he’s taking me to a pier tonight.”

You did not get any response. The silence was stuffing you and you looked up at your boss in concern, “You won’t mind, will you?”

“Yeah, of course,” he tried to sound as unbothered as he could, “it’s just, that man gave off the wrong vibes.”

“Everyone gives off the wrong vibes to you,” you laughed and shook your head, “if it has anything to do with your vision that I’ll fall in love with you, do I have to remind you that it’s my choice to make, not yours?”

Dabi wanted to tell you it wasn’t that, that he could feel something off about that Yamamoto. But he couldn’t say it, not when you looked so excited and giddy and it had nothing to do with him. He brought up his vision of you being in love with him to tease you, that was true but he ended up liking that idea a lot more than he thought he would and now it was all he could think of when he looked at you. Dabi trusted very little people and if it had been someone else, he would have do everything to prevent it from coming true. But you, you he could work with. Somehow he didn’t quite mind if his fun-loving assistant who always pick up after him despite complaining ended up falling in love with him. His mind was screaming at you to just open your eyes and see that it could have work. But as much as he knew how scarily accurate his visions could be, he also had the equally accurate knowledge that you did not believe in that at all. So he ignored the screaming of his heart and hummed a word of approval before turning his back to you, disappearing behind the curtains.

You did not talk to him again until you left the shop that day.

You didn’t pay much mind to Dabi’s scrawl whenever Yamamoto showed up at the shop to pick you up for a date. He had been nothing but a kind and loving person to you since your first date a couple months back, you wouldn’t say you were crazy for him but being with Yamamoto was enjoyable no less. He was an average man, nothing that special about him that could make him compare to a powerful seer but it gave you more sense of security than the idea of dating your boss. You couldn’t lie and say that you weren’t just a bit attracted to Dabi or that his smirk didn’t make your knees weak at all, but being in a relationship with him would be a whole other deal. You never know what to expect with him and as charming as it might sound, the idea of being with someone who could easily break your heart in that unpredictable way of his scared you.

Dabi was starting to think that he might have made a mistake. Things between you and that guy was going sickeningly well. So well, that it had him doubting his ability as a seer for the first time since the very devil who gave him all those scars and the power to see into the future in the first place laughed at his face many years ago. He had never seen anything clearer than the sight of you linking your arm in his, looking at him with so much adoration in your eyes but right now those eyes were twinkling at the sight of someone else. It made him feel pathetic at how he wanted him to be the one those eyes linger on instead.

Dabi knew the look of someone who cried themselves to sleep way too well for him to not pick up on your swollen eyes and the blood vessels that’s covering every part of them when you came into work that day. He was going to find and end the person who did whatever they did to make you cry right then and there if you wasn’t there to stop him.

“It’s fine, I’m the one who broke up with him.”

He couldn’t deny that he had been secretly hoping for this to happen for the past few months but seeing your blank expression made his heart ached no less. He was confused, you still looked so smitten with your so-called boyfriend the day before when he waited for you outside the shop, what has happened that night for you to break things off with him?

Your ego was already severely bruised and telling him what happened wouldn’t make it hurt any less. Admitting that Dabi was right and you were wrong would not help your pride at all.

You knew something was off the moment Yamamoto’s voice got just a bit louder than usual after the third cup of wine hit his throat. You let it slide when he got a bit too handsy for your comfort, convincing yourself that it was the alcohol acting up. But you couldn’t pretend that you didn’t hear him vile words left his mouth as he had a hand still resting on your thigh like it was nothing.

“I have no idea how you put up working with that thing. Just seeing that monster’s face make me sick.”

“That person you called a ‘thing’ is my friend.” you tried to keep your composure but nothing could mask that churning in your stomach as the man sitting next to you laughed.

“Oh please, we both know that you only pretend to be his friend because that job pays well.”

He insulted your honor and values, but nothing could compare to the fury you felt at the way he talked about your friend like he was some dirt on the ground that he could step over. You didn’t look back as he yelled after you, storming out of the restaurant right after slapping that asshole across the face.

Dabi’s voice brought you back to reality from your reminiscence of that fail of a break up, “Call the people who are coming over today and tell them that I’m not feeling well.”

“What?” you whispered in disbelief, “We can’t just do that!”

Dabi snorted and forced the phone into your hand, “Of course we can. They’re the ones who needed me, not the other way round.”

“But-”

“Just do as I say,” he said impatiently but there was nothing but concern behind those glass-like eyes that were staring right through you, “what kind of boss would I be if I let you work when you look like this? People are gonna think that I mistreated you for fuck’s sake, we’re going for a drink.”

He sighed in relieve when he saw the faint smile on your face as you obliged his command.

Throughout the rest of the day, Dabi made it his mission that he would get your mind off that prick and he was having a hard time holding back a grin as your laughs echoed in the empty street. You hadn’t have so much fun in a very long time and it was definitely not something you expected to happen right after an ugly break up. It was only the two of you in the empty neighbourhood, you rolled your eyes when Dabi insisted that he would walk you back to your flat, completely oblivious to the fact that it was nothing but an excuse for him to spend more time with you. Only the moon watched on as the seer who knew everything realized he did the one thing he never foresee to ever happen. He fell head first in love with you before you even noticed that he was no longer joking when he brought up the possibility of you feeling the same. The self-doubt did not help when you brushed off each of his attempts at convincing you that what he saw would eventually come true with a laugh, that beautiful sound made his heart flutter and wrench all at the same time.

You stopped in front of a building and turned to face him with a bright smile that contrasted so drastically to the disheveled expression you had this morning. Dabi thought that perhaps, he was allowed to be proud of himself for once and took credit for the change.

“Thanks for today.” you said with your hand on his forearm and the contact was driving him insane. He had to use all of his self-control just to stop the urge to pull you towards him by the arm and close that painful distance between your bodies.

And that’s when he heard that voice screaming at that back of his head again. Those three words echoing through his brain as he greedily basked in the moment when your smile was his alone to see.

I love you.

I love you I love you-

“I love you.”

His heart stayed still as the screaming in his head escaped through his lips and it sank to the bottom of his stomach as your hand that was previously on his arm slowly retreated back. Your eyes were wide and your mouth parted slightly in shock, each part of his mind begging for you to say something.

Your voice broke as you tried to force out a laugh, “No you don’t-”

“Why is it so hard to believe?” Dabi could not control his frustration anymore and his heart cracked at the way you almost flinched at the raise of his voice, “what is so wrong about it that you try so hard to deny that I could be in love with you?”

You wanted to. You wanted to just believe in it and run into his arms, but it was all too much to take in right as you were hurt by someone else. You could hear voices at the back of your head too, and each of them was whispering things that made you fear things you shouldn’t.

You could feel your lips tremble as you used all of your might to pull yourself together, even when the man in front of you looked like he was so close to breaking down. “You know everything and I know nothing about you,” your throat tightened as you forced each word out of your shaking lips, “I’m just afraid of being thrown away, is that all too wrong?”

You could not bring yourself to look into his eyes, those hypnotizing orbs made of crystal that were filled to the brim with pain because of you. You could hear the glass crack. “You think I’ll do that to you?”

“I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry.

That one line burnt through his chest and made his ears sting, the dull ache all too much to handle.

You called in sick to work the next day.

And the day after that.

And the day after that.

It was a cowardly move and it made you feel miserable, but you would much rather shut yourself in than go and face Dabi like nothing happened when everything was different. You could not bear to imagine the way he would look at you, the way those eyes had looked at you when you were too occupied with someone else to notice. If escaping from reality meant that you could pretend like you did not caused his pain, you would defer every minute until you had no choice but to return to the real world.

But the world did not work that way.

You turned off the alarm, and you stilled got up at the exact time you normally did when you would go to work. You picked out the shirt that was in the same dark shade of purple as the ink he used in the shop you wore to work because he always said that it made you blend into the shop more, that you two matched. You brew two portions of coffee when you were living on your own because you brought coffee to work that one time and Dabi did not stop nagging you about it until you started bringing an extra flask for him every day since.

He was so printed into your life that you didn’t even realize how he left his shadow in every part of it until you had the need to stop thinking about him and failed.

Dear god, you missed that bastard so much.

Now you felt stupid, and you felt terrible for pushing him away all for nothing. Because it was Dabi we were talking about. Dabi, who was never wrong about anything. Dabi, who you gladly worked for the past 2 years and made it the happiest time of your life. Dabi, who annoyed you and made you laugh all at the same time. Dabi, who was more concerned about your health than you did most of the time. Dabi, who was the reason why you did not mind going to work every day at all. Dabi, who tried to warn you about someone who eventually hurt you before you even noticed the signs. Dabi, who noticed that you had been crying and forced you to take a day off. Dabi, who made you forget that you just had a breakup the day before because he was just that good. Dabi, who told you that he was in love with you and looked wrecked when you didn’t believe him.

Dabi, who maybe, just maybe you were in love with as well.

Dabi felt miserable. It was nothing new, but he felt even more miserable than he normally did so he was really wallowing in an inhumane amount of misery. You hadn’t shown up in days and he never knew how dysfunctional he was without you until now.

He missed you so god damn much.

He kept trying to tell himself that it was his shop and he would be fine, but everywhere he turned there was something that reminded him that you were here just a few days before. That plant you put beside the door because you said the shop looked like it was lifeless when you just started working here, the small Jack Skeleton poster on the wall that you got him as a gag gift last Christmas because “he reminded me of you”, that half-emptied cereal box in the cupboard that you forced him to keep because you were convinced that skipping breakfast was bad for his health. Everything in the shop was your as much as it was his, and they were all mocking him in the face at how lost he was without you around.

Dabi hated his powers, it was nothing more than a slap in the face that he had no control over his own life. If he had the choice, he would never use it again if it meant that he could finally enjoy life without that voice in his head telling him exactly what would happen before he even get to savor it just a little longer. But now, for the first time in a long while, he closed his eyes and wished for the picture in his head to be the same as the one he saw before. The all-knowing seer who snickered at those who believed in fate now begged for the vision in his head to be unchanged.

The vision was so real that he almost thought that you were actually standing there in front of him instead of some fake image in his head.

Please be real. Please, please, please be real.

“Hey.”

You had so many things you wanted to say to him. You kept practicing the speech inside of your head as you sprinted on the route you knew at the back of your head again and again but when you saw him, standing there with his eyes closed, even the voices in your mind went silent as it gone blank and the only thing you could barely utter was that one word.

“Hey.”

Dabi could feel the lump in his throat as he finally registered that it was all real and he did not made it all up because he went mad. There were so many things he wanted to say to you but he didn’t dare to say anything more than that, too afraid that if he said something wrong, you would disappear again.

“I’m sorry.”

The same words that pained him now brought him the smallest sense of relieve and you almost let out an indecent sob when you heard his reply.

“I missed you.”

And that was all it took for you to crash into him, wrapping him in a tight embrace. Dabi quickly wrapped one arm around your waist, the other brought his hand up to your head and threaded his fingers into your hair. He clutched you tightly in his arms like you would back away at any time if he didn’t hold onto you.

When you finally pulled back, you lost your breath at how close you were to him. You could stare right into his eyes. And those eyes, those eyes you would never grow tired of looking into.

You felt his hot breath fanning your lips as his face was only so little distance away from yours yet he didn’t lean in any further as if he was waiting for a sign. So you gave him one, and locked you lips on his as your hand reached for his chin, your thumb gently caressing the metal studs on the side of his face as he tugged on your bottom lip.

You were breathless when you pulled away, lips numb from the intimacy it just experienced mere seconds ago. As Dabi closed the distance once again, you could hear the smirk in his voice that made you want to punch him and kiss him all at the same time.

“Told you my predictions are never wrong.”

[megalony]

A mother’s love- Part 7

Here is the latest part of my King! Ben Hardy series, I hope you will all enjoy it, feedback is always lovely.

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

Series taglist: @onceuponadetectivedemigod​​​

Series masterlist

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) lost their first baby but now they have a baby boy together, an heir to the throne. But life is far from easy when (Y/n)’s mental health starts to take a drastic turn.

Enjoy.

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"I'm not sick or insane, y-you don't need to be here." (Y/n)'s words were cold and without care or consideration but they weren't spoken in a rude or snide tone. Her head was turned away from the doctor sitting a few feet in front of her but she didn't look angry or scared or infuriated that he had been called here. It was as if she knew this would happen sooner or later but didn't want to come to terms with it just yet.

"I'm just here to talk to you, ma'am, his highness is worried about you. I'm not here to give you any medicine or tell you to rest, only to listen and try to help if I can. You don't have to be sick to see a doctor, maybe you're just not coping at the moment." His words were oddly gentle and his eyes were soothing, it was like (Y/n) had tripped and he was offering her a kind hand to help her back on her feet.

But (Y/n) couldn't talk to anyone. If she told him what thoughts were rattling around in her head he would take James away from her for sure and she couldn't have that. (Y/n) couldn't have people thinking she wasn't capable of being a mother and trying to interfere.

(Y/n) glanced her eyes over at the doctor she knew well before she turned back so her cheek was pressed against the back of the sofa. Her knees were pulled up to her stomach with her arms wrapped around her legs and the left side of her body pressing into the back of the sofa. She wasn't sitting lady-like or formal like she had always been told and taught to do but (Y/n) couldn't find the energy or the will to care anymore. The doctor had seen her in far worse states, she had no reason or intention to sit and be formal with him right now.

"Ma'am, whatever you decide to tell me is n the strictest of confidence, I can't tell anyone what you say, not even his Highness if I don't have your permission. If you do decide to talk to me and I think you may need some extra support, you decide what support or any treatment you have, everything is up to you."

The doctor's smile seemed to dull down the caution rattling through (Y/n) when she glanced her eyes over to look at him. His words were the kind of comfort she was looking for, but she didn't know if she could really trust him. What if he thought she was insane? What if he thought she was too much of a danger to look after James? (Y/n) would be willingly walking into a trap for him to snatch James from her and she would have no say in getting him back.

But if (Y/n) stayed silent for much longer, she didn't know how long she could carry on before things crashed down around her. She was standing on a cliff edge now and this was her safety net, without this she was going to fall down onto the rocks below.

He waited patiently when (Y/n) seemed to sigh before she lowered her legs and turned herself around so she was facing him. His eyes focused on her hands for a few seconds when he noticed she was scratching at the palms of her hands with her nails like she was trying to either hurt or control herself. It seemed like a nervous habit that was getting out of hand to control for (Y/n).

"Okay, why don't we start with answering a few questions for now? How are you finding being a mother?"

(Y/n) didn't like that question and the expression on her face gave that away very clearly. Motherhood was so much worse than (Y/n) had thought it was going to be, she thought she was going to be experiencing all these new feelings of love and happiness and bits of confusion or exhaustion here and there. But what she was feeling was nothing she had ever felt before. There was almost no love or compassion for the baby she had wanted for years, there was no smile when she looked at him and no happiness in her whatsoever.

"Hard." (Y/n) never thought it was going to be easy, but she didn't expect it to be this hard either. It was boarding on being a decision she deeply regretted making.

"How so? Is it hard from pressure, actually caring for your baby... or finding a connection with him?" Dr Rogers had seen so many mothers who struggled with the pressure they were put under or with the routines they created to care for their baby. Some were still either physically or mentally ill so caring for their baby was much harder than it was for other women. But a connection with a baby was something he had seen mothers be desperate to have but not manage to find.

The moment the word connection passed through his lips (Y/n)'s eyes were locked on his own like he had just told her he knew her deepest and darkest secret that no one else knew about. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights before a single tear slipped from her eye which set off the flood.

(Y/n)'s foot started to tap against the carpet as her breathing increased, he knew. He knew what was going through her head and she didn't know what to do. She could try and hide it, she could tell him to get out or that he was being too personal or was on the completely wrong track. (Y/n) could try and play it off and laugh or make fun of the situation and make him change his mind.

Or she could give up.

This was a fight (Y/n) knew deep down that she wasn't going to win, there were too many people being suspicious of her and thinking she wasn't good enough to be a mother and maybe they were right. Maybe she shouldn't be doing this after all and giving birth was the only part she was really cut out for even when that had been a struggle. Maybe telling the doctor everything and letting him  take James away would be the best solution for every one.

Ben could look after James perfectly well without (Y/n), she was a burden he didn't need to be carrying around and she wasn't the mother they had both wanted her to be.

(Y/n) didn't realise the tears were falling so badly until the doctor stood up so he could offer her a tissue with a gentle but sad expression. (Y/n) hiccuped through her breaths when she took the tissue that was immediately scrunched up in her hands. She so badly wanted to talk but she didn't know if she could, she didn't feel right about James but she didn't want to give him up either, she couldn't. If she talked they might never give him back to her.

"H-how... how can I love someone I know hates me? He hurt me, he keeps hurting me a-and I don't know what to do. I want to love him b...but I can't, I don't know how."

For a dreaded moment, Dr Harris thought that (Y/n) was talking about Ben. His heart jumped into his throat and constricted his breathing when he thought that the King was possibly abusing his wife to the point she was suffering a breakdown. But it was as clear as crystal that the one (Y/n) couldn't love was her son. She wouldn't breakdown at the thought of motherhood or act out in such ways if it was Ben who she thought was hurting her.

Tipping her head down, (Y/n) rubbed at her eyes furiously but it only made the stinging worse and it did nothing to rid the tears that kept on falling.

"What have I done?" The phrase was repeated from (Y/n)'s lips over and over until she was a broken record that made Dr Harris think back to when James was born. He couldn't have (Y/n) getting into such a hysterical state as she had done that night, he didn't have the will or the heart to even dare thinking about sedating her and he didn't know how he would calm her down if she got so upset.

"Ma'am, why don't we talk about how you feel in yourself, you don't have to tell me anything else about the prince." If he continued with the subject then (Y/n) would break, but if he diverted the conversation he might have a chance to better his understanding of her thoughts and see what was going on.

"You won't take him away, will you? Ben's the only one who w-wants me to be a proper mother b-but even he won't let me hold James anymore, he's pushing me away!" (Y/n) didn't know what she wanted. She didn't know if she wanted to continue trying to love someone who didn't love her back and try to bring James up, but she knew she couldn't have him taken away. Even if she just had to sit and watch Ben bringing James up, (Y/n) had to be there to watch but no one seemed to want her to do even that.

(Y/n) wasn't stupid, she knew how Ben was looking at her with such caution in his tender eyes. She could see he was afraid she was going to do something to their baby and it made him unsure whenever she went to even look at James, let alone try to hold him. (Y/n) hated Ben looking at her like that but she would put up with it if he and no one else would try and push her away any more than that.

"I have no intention of taking your baby away from you, that will not help and my job is to help you and only you right now, ma'am. How do you feel in yourself, how are your moods?" Dr Harris was thankful that he didn't have to stretch the truth or lie right now to calm (Y/n) down.

Taking James away from her was not going to help, it would push her into a further state of psychosis and he couldn't do that. She would break and it would be too hard to fix if she didn't have her baby. But he knew for certain that in order to make sure (Y/n) kept James she had to be helped and supervised. If what Ben had told him when he arrived was right, (Y/n) being alone with James didn't seem like it was going to be an option for a while.

"When I hold him, sometimes I feel relieved... I feel like everything will be okay and like I'm myself," A tender yet distant smile came over (Y/n)'s tear-stricken face as she looked down at her hands like she was staring at a picture. "But sometimes I, I just can't hold him... I know he'll hurt me s-so I try and stay away. That's when everything hurts."

"His highness says your not eating, how are you sleeping?" He knew the answer to his question, it was clear by the colour under (Y/n)'s eyes and the way she was holding herself up. Sleep was not her friend and it was making her problems worse by increasing her paranoid state and inducing her moods.

"I know he's there when I sleep, if I close my eyes..." (Y/n) didn't know what to say. What she felt couldn't be put into words or understood other than in her mind and how she felt. Knowing James was so close by at night was both a blessing and a curse because it showed (Y/n) he was there, that no one had taken him away and that he was safe. But it also showed her that he was always there, like he was listening and watching her waiting for her to make a mistake or do something stupid so he could torment her. Those two feelings stopped her from sleeping, she couldn't sleep if he was watching but she couldn't sleep if he was there because she had to make sure no one took him away.

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

"How is she?" Ben couldn't help the way his eyes darted behind the doctor to try and look into the office to catch a glimpse of his wife before the doctor shut the door to give them all some privacy. Ben hadn't wanted to be there when (Y/n) talked to the doctor because he didn't want to make (Y/n) feel like she couldn't say anything in front of him in case she worried or hurt him. It was better if he wasn't there so he stayed in their room with James who was fast asleep.

Stuffing his hands into his back pockets, Ben bit down on his lower lip as he looked worriedly at the doctor, waiting very impatiently for him to say what he thought about the situation and what to do next.

God forbid, if the doctor said that he couldn't do anything or (Y/n) was fine or that this wasn't his area, Ben didn't know what on Earth he would do. He had no means of helping (Y/n), he was at his wits end and he needed someone to help because he couldn't let (Y/n) get any worse. He felt guilty beyond belief that he didn't call the doctor earlier when he saw the signs that something wasn't right.

"Her highness is very paranoid to the extent that I don't know if talking to me helped or made her feel worse." Dr Harris watched the emotions rush through Ben's eyes as he didn't know how to think about that.

Talking seemed to have done some good for (Y/n) because it relieved the weight she was carrying around with her and she now had someone she could confide in. But at the same time, talking was going to increase her paranoia that someone was going to take James away from her now that Dr Harris knew how she felt.

Ben opened his mouth but he didn't know what to say or what he was meant to ask. Everything was swirling around in his mind but nothing seemed to make sense, he just wanted everything to be as it should have been. Ben didn't even know what way he wanted the world to work anymore, he didn't know if he wanted to rewind time and bring back Finn so they never lost him in the beginning. He didn't know if he wanted to leave the past as it was and just change the events so that (Y/n) wasn't feeling so broken and hurt after having James. Ben just wanted things to straighten out.

"Your Majesty, I do believe that the Queen is experiencing postpartum psychosis."

Those words seemed to wash over Ben's head like the tide washing over the sand. He had heard of that and he knew it was serious but the details and knowledge of that diagnosis was very limited in Ben's mind. All he knew was that it was serious.

"What... could you explain that?" Ben fumbled with his hands but he didn't know what he was trying to do or sign. He just needed clear answers and to know what they had to do now. Ben knew things couldn't stay as they were but he didn't know what kind of treatment (Y/n) needed for this, she might need to go to hospital or stay home. Ben didn't know what would be worse for (Y/n), staying home and knowing people knew something was wrong and feeling their eyes on her or going away somewhere else feeling unsettled with the whole world seeing she was ill.

"It's a state of psychosis after giving birth, most likely caused from the trauma of having the prince and... losing your first baby. The Queen is experiencing paranoid thoughts and delusions about the prince, she is very unstable. She needs to get treatment now before her condition gets worse, she could end up harming herself or the baby."

Ben's head started to shake as his breathing turned shallow. He knew (Y/n) was going through the motions, she wasn't eating, sleeping, her moods were varied and very up and down but he didn't think it was something as bad as psychosis. He thought she was just experiencing depression from everything that had happened and that was understandable, but this was something different entirely.

(Y/n) was very paranoid and Dr Harris was surprised she wasn't experiencing hallucinations with the state she seemed to be in. This was a mental illness that wouldn't go away on its own and if they left (Y/n) any longer without any help she would be in serious danger from herself. She could get into such a state that she may hurt herself or she could end up hurting James if she thought he had done something wrong or she was no longer able to cope with him.

"S-she... she said she, thought about smothering him..." Ben pressed his hand to his mouth to stop himself from screaming or choking on his words. Tears started to fall from his eyes as he turned away from the doctor.

If (Y/n) was having thoughts about smothering James now, what would happen if James cried particularly bad when she was trying to settle him? What if she thought he was trying to upset her or she thought James had hurt her? If Ben hadn't talked to her when he did this morning or if he left her for a bit longer, if (Y/n) spent just two more minutes with James in the drawing room, she could have smothered him.

"I understand this is very upsetting, but those kinds of thoughts are the ones I am worried about. She feels the baby is somehow trying to hurt her and those thoughts are scaring her, when we're afraid we lash out and she may well act on those paranoid thoughts." If (Y/n) felt that James was trying to hurt her she was going to be more on edge around him and it wasn't fair to let her be so scared like this.

"So what's the treatment for this?"

"Due to her state, the Queen needs to be in hospital in the mother and baby unit. That way, no one is taking her baby from her and she can be with him every day of her recovery, separating her from the prince won't help even if she is a risk. The hospital has a ward specially for this condition, she'll be able to have therapy, be monitored with the prince and have anti-psychotics to stop the delusions."

If (Y/n) went to the mother and baby unit it would mean she could still be with James and still feel like she was looking after him. If (Y/n) was separated from James she would feel like everyone was out to get her and that she was never going to get him back and that would do her no favours. Upsetting her and frightening her like that would make her state worse an it wouldn't be fair. But if she was at hospital, she would be monitored so that if (Y/n) felt like she would hurt James, people would be there to help and keep an eye on her.

"Hospital... I take it you want her to go now?" By the way the doctor was talking, Ben could take a wild guess that (Y/n) should have to go as soon as possible rather than waiting any longer.

"I'm afraid the sooner the better, if she did think about hurting the prince she is a danger to him as well as herself. I haven't mentioned the hospital to her yet, I think it's best if I give them a call to arrange it and you talk to her about it. She needs to agree to go herself and I think you talking it through will help, she needs support."

Ben nodded his head but his mind was already thinking forward to how he would try and talk to (Y/n) about this. She hadn't been very happy when he told her he'd called the doctor on her behalf but telling her she should go to hospital was something different entirely. (Y/n) might think Ben was sending her away never to come back or that he wanted rid of her and was shipping her off so he didn't have to deal with her. He couldn't have (Y/n) thinking anything of the sort but if she thought oddly towards James, she might have the same kind of feelings or thoughts towards Ben too.

"Okay... I, I can go with her, can't I? I don't want to just leave her there I want to help her."

"I'm sure that will be fine, your Majesty."

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"No, Ben please-"

"Baby, baby just hear me out, please." Moving his arms, Ben very gently pulled (Y/n) over to him until she got the hint and sat down on his lap. He wound his arms around her waist, pressing his lips to the top of her head when she leaned her head on his shoulder, tucking her face into his neck.

Ben could feel her tears against his neck and it made his own eyes well up with tears. He didn't want to be having this conversation, it would have been much easier with the doctor doing this but Ben knew it would be better coming from him. He could try and calm (Y/n) down and make sure she understood he wasn't leaving her, he was going with her and so was James. They were going to get her better and get everything back on track like it should have been from the beginning.

"I'm not sending you away, I swear to God that's not what I'm doing. Dr Harris thinks it's better for you if you stay there for a bit so you can start to feel better and cope."

"W-what about James?" Ben could hear the tremble in (Y/n)'s voice as her arms curled up to her chest to try and stop herself from shaking. She could hear the sincerity in Ben's voice, he wasn't trying to leave her at the hospital and forget about her but she didn't want to go. She especially didn't want to go there alone.

"He's going with you, baby, don't worry no one is gonna take him from you. There's a mother and baby unit you can stay in and I'm gonna go with you and be there every day. We're not abandoning you, we're going with you and then you're coming back home with us as soon as you feel better. Do you think you can go?" Ben didn't care what any of his council or advisers try to tell him when he informed them of this, he was going with his family. He obviously couldn't stay at the hospital with (Y/n) and James but he would be there every day to see them and make sure (Y/n) was getting better and getting the treatment she needed.

No one was going to tell him he couldn't go with his family.

A sigh of utter relief left Ben's lips when he felt (Y/n) nodding against him despite the whimper that left her lips. Ben had to get (Y/n) to agree to this, he couldn't force (Y/n) to go or she would be held against her will and it would both slow down her recovery and make the hospital less likely about her release. If (Y/n) went willingly she would have more say about her treatment and when she left and it would make her feel much more at ease.

"Okay, as long as my boys come with me." There was a trembling to (Y/n)'s voice but she sounded much calmer than Ben thought she would have. If James was going with her (Y/n) would go because it meant she was going to get help and feel better than she did now. Anything would be better than this and if Ben was going too, (Y/n) could do this.

[sloppy-butcher]

Whats your hcs for Frank, Evan and Herman?? They are my 3 loves so im curious... (love your work ya poes

how old are you sir? I must ask to see ur ID. a babey can’t be using language like that >:(

anyhow, the 3 boys eh? I’ll gladly write anything for them uwu. I’m going to be doing general relationship hc’s so things will probably get fluffy and maybe a little angsty. i can’t help myself sometimes. I’m going to try include one NSFW hc for each of the 3 stooges, so be prepared. it may be bad. the reader will be left as ambiguous as possible

edit: i write way to much :/ i think i should only do 1 or 2 character requests from now on T_T

hope you enjoy!

General relationship HeadCanons

The Legion (Frank Morrison)

With Frank, there was no real start to your relationship. There was no moment in time, no exact, pinpoint instance when one could say that that is when you two starting everything. It kind of just happened. Maybe it was when Frank first kissed you, it felt like fireworks and the snow in Mount Ormond was no longer cold. Or maybe it was when he first saw you dancing along with Suzie to one of her favorite songs, the twirling of your feet mixed with perfectly timed head slams dazzled him and he wanted nothing more than to have you give him a private dance. In the end, these are all speculations and the truth may never be known.

Around others, he was hesitant to show his emotion. You two could be sitting right next to each other your thighs all but alined when out of nowhere Joey sticks his head in. Frank snaps like a mousetrap, retreating back away from you as if he was embarrassed. You confronted him about this, you told him everything’s okay and that no one would judge him for being human. He refused you and, not to lie, it really hurt. But one day, just as you were walking away you felt his hand snake its way into yours. He hesitated for a moment, afraid you might reject him but of course, you gladly wrapped his hand in yours. You heard Joey wolf-whistle from somewhere behind you and Frank very enthusiastically tossed a middle finger at him. You couldn’t see it, but Frank was blushing under his mask.

Franks, not a romantic guy so don’t expect flowers or gifts or really anything nice. He grew up with virtually nothing so the idea of wooing someone with items of material affection is very foreign to him. He believes that if his presence and physical affection aren’t enough to prove to you that he appreciates you, then nothing will. But you never cared about gifts. All you ever wanted was Frank and he couldn’t help but feel giddy at the thought.

!NSFW! Frank was a pretty vanilla guy. He doesn’t have much experience when it comes to the department of extremely intimate affection and therefore knew literally nothing about the pleasures of the flesh. But the keyword here is ‘was’. After meeting you and your guiding hand he blossomed into a very wild and very hungry individual. His favorite position though is when he gets to look at you. And if you call his name he will instantly crumble. Afterward, or during the act you need to reach out and caress him. Touch and explore his body, mainly his face and he’d moan even louder. Your hands are so soft and gentle and when you touch him he floats with elated glee. He feels alive when he’s with you.

The Doctor (Herman Carter)

You would have to be extremely special or out-of-the-ordinary in order to catch the eye of the Doctor. But somehow you managed to do it. Herman was a man unhinged, incapable of empathy and compassion. He never looked at other humans as people with feelings and conscious ideas and thoughts. He only ever saw them and you as test subjects. But something about you was off. You did something that made this machine of a man halt in his pursuit of human torture. What exactly did you do? Well, nothing really. As he approached you, electrical energy between his hands flexing and growing ready to turn your brain to mush, you never screamed, never flinched away and never took your tired eyes off him. The first few times when you welcomed death he didn’t notice and it was only after a significate amount of encounters that finally Herman realized he had never heard your cries of fear and pain.

He would amp up his power when he would find you in trials. He would kill you much more violently than he would the others, make your liquified brain ooze out your ears and make your heart stop and start like a busted old car. Sometimes he would even through away the whole trial upsetting his boss greatly, just to get to you. But no matter what he did, you never offered him what he wanted. You had seen and experienced much worse than him and when death never gives you a release, torture becomes mundane and repetitive. When Herman finally understood that you weren’t afraid of him, he relented, snuffed out his power and walked away. He had his attention now.

Whenever you would visit him during off-time he would follow you as you wandered around the massive mansion known as Léry’s. Sometimes he would lead you, taking you to the rooms which he liked the most (operation rooms). Herman can not talk, the contraption in his mouth has stretched his lips to the point that they can no longer function and his voice box is beyond repair, damaged thanks to his constant flow of electricity that would otherwise kill a man. But he doesn’t need to talk to you. You always seem to know what he wants without hearing a single word.

!NSFW! Sex with Herman is out of the question. The man is pumped with endless volts of electricity and if you were to so much as touch him, your body would recoil and spasm painfully from the contact.  If you ever wanted to experience pleasure from or with the man, he would have to try rein back some of that overflowing energy. But the man is too prideful and would never dare try to cull some of his ability. Unfortunately. But maybe after some time, he might learn to listen. There is no time in the Fog, only eternity and humans were never meant to live for that long. Our minds dull and our intentions warp from the time spent existing and maybe even someone as mad and determined as Herman could learn that it’s not so bad to let others into his life.

The closest you could ever get to kissing Herman is probably just planting a soft peck on his cheek.  A dangerous move considering the possible consequences of actually touching him with such a sensitive part of you, but a risk you were willing to take. One day, however, in the silence and fog of the mansion Herman would reach out for you. He would lean down to your height and very slowly take your hand. There was no static shook when your skins met. He was telling you that he was calm. He would then guide your hands to his mouthpiece and he would tell you to take it off.  Delicately you would peel away the metal from flesh and his mouth would furiously bleed and dretch his teeth with red. When he was free you would quickly meet him and you would hungrily kiss his chapped lips. He would kiss you back, his lips unable to keep up with yours but his tongue is wild and eager. However, after only a minute he would shove you away violently. As you feel the connection between you two break, the space around Herman lits up and crackles with mad energy. You would have to wait for him to calm down again if you wanted to continue your endeavors.

The Trapper (Evan Macmillan)

Despite being one of the most diligent and consistently brutal killers in the realm, when Evan is alone and the only eyes watching him are yours, he is a gentleman. He would speak to you softly, asking about your day already knowing that it was pretty shit. He would hold doors open for you and he would always make sure you were warm, either with a spare blanket or a seat extra close to a fire. He would fuss over you. Your soft skin, so clean and pure, untouched by the horrible and evil ways of the world made him marvel at how human you were. To him, you were what humans were meant to be, good and kind, whereas he was a monster charred and broken, unworthy and incapable of affection and of all those things that were meant to make life wonderful. He wanted to protect you, preserve that softness of you and although he couldn’t do anything to help you when the camera’s all turned back on, during this time he would smother you with whatever cautious and motherly behavior he could muster.

He was drawn to you because of your confident behavior. He found your energy alluring and would always find himself somehow infected by your hope and optimism. You were like a fire, burning everything in your path and he just happened to be close enough to catch alight. In the beginning, Evan would become very annoyed by your seemingly endless ideas of survival but as time went on and you never seemed to dampen like the others he found that his annoyance turned into curiosity. A part of him wanted to know what it was like to be under your light of hope. It yearned to be rescued but a bigger and much louder part of him, a voice oddly resembling his fathers, drowned it out. However, that didn’t stop his feet from walking towards you and it certainly didn’t stop you from staying with him.

In the early stages of your relationship with the mountain of a man, you had to the one initiating affection. You had to be the one to reach out and grab his hand. He would look down at you and you swore you could hear him gasp. And when you would want to hug him, you would either have to wait until he sat down or you would have to climb atop a box. It’s not that he was afraid to reciprocate your feelings, he just felt like he didn’t deserve it. He tried to remain stone-cold and distant hoping that it would detour you and make you give up on him but you weren’t known for ‘giving up’. Eventually, when you refused to leave and he had to accept that you wanted to be with him, all you needed to do for a hug was open your arms wide and beckon him closer with your hands. He would roll his eyes and very stiffly lean down for you. You would eagerly wrap yourself as best you could around his neck and, if you were laughing or in an infectiously good mood, he would engulf you in his own. Sometimes he would even stand up and sweep you off your feet. He would bury himself into your neck,  trying his best to smell you through his bone and metal mask.

!NSFW! This has been said many times before but Evan has handles. Those large pieces of metal piercing his shoulders and down his back. It scared you at first when he suggested you hold onto them, they looked so painful and the skin around the puncture wounds were all puffy and red. He reassured you and explained that he doesn’t feel much of anything anymore. When he said that you looked at him confused then, without thinking, you lean forward and gently place a kiss on the wound. He tries to watch you as you trail butterfly kisses over his exposed chest. “Feel better?” You ask pulling away for a moment. He couldn’t respond, his throat welling up with shook, disgust and absolute fascination. You clearly didn’t care about what he looked like, what kind of monster he had become, and it gave him so much more confidence. Hold on to his handlebars, pull and yank them as he thrusts into you, he likes to feel your weight vibrate through the bars into his ribcage. Evan enjoys the feeling of control he gets when he is the one giving you pleasure and also foundation.

BONUS! Drag your tongue along one of the bars. Make sure his eyes never leave you and when you finally lick the whole length of the metal, plant your lips firmly on his mouth. He will kiss back passionately, amazed at how dirty someone so pure and good like you could be.