#either way I’d comfort them and definitely help or try and help them get back home

[a-chaotically-small-lunta]

Okay hear me out. Imagine a story where a scientist is leading a tour of kids through his lab, showing off all the inventions that will hopefully one day help humanity! In this tour is his son, who is very excited to be with his dad at his job, while also technically going to school? Win Win!! His dad has been a bit overprotective of him, but he sort of enjoys the attention. Although he isn’t too keen on his classmates who bully (perhaps one of the bullies is his brother or something) him for it, still poking and teasing him during the tour.

After awhile the dad shows off a portal machine which can open a portal to a whole new world, or at least that’s what they think it leads to anyway. The lab hasn’t fully tested it and is making a robot to send in first. The kids all ask if they can see it and the science team agrees as long as no one goes over the rails towards the portal, cause it seems to have a suction. (You can see where this is going I bet) The science team flips on the machine and the portal lights up, and while everyone is distracted the bully decides to have some fun, whispering into the Scientist kid’s ear something like “Maybe you’ll see your mom over there” or “Perhaps I should just take out trash like you. You’re just wasting dad’s time anyway” before the kid can really process what happens he is pushed over the rail into the portal, disappearing. The machine shuts off with a clunk and the dad is pissed. He is shouting at the bully about how stupid that was and how they have no idea if it’s even life sustainable on the other side! A guard nearby says that the kid is in real serious trouble for so many reasons, only for the dad to chime in that the bully better hope his kid is alive cause if he isn’t, he’ll get a murder charge. The bully explains he didn’t mean to only for most of the class saying that the bully always does this and one student even repeats what he said before he pushed the kid in. They decide to end the tour early and send everyone home, while the bully is escorted out by the guards and won’t be going home soon.

The science team asks what they’re gonna do and the dad says they’re gonna make something. Perhaps a suit or vehicle so that he can go into the portal and find his son. The team nods and quickly gets to work, they know it’ll take more than a few weeks, but maybe if they are lucky the kid will be okay, and maybe they can get it done faster.

Meanwhile, the kid flies through the portal and lands on a soft ground. Panicking he sits up and looks around, only to notice he’s on a huge bed. The portal sent him to a world that was way bigger than his own. Fear strikes him as he realizes where there is a big bed, there’s a big person. He’s right when he looks over across the room and sees a huge person sitting at a desk mumbling to themself. He’s frozen in fear and can’t move, even when the person swings around from their chair and walks over to their bed only to pause and stare at him.

The giant just stared at him, confused as to why there is a tiny child in their bed. They swear they didn’t put them there and are about to say something when the kid just burst out crying and the giant panicked. They quickly kneel by their bed and try to hush the child and tell them that it’s okay. The child keeps sobbing and soft hiccups can be heard, but eventually the kid quiets down a bit. The giant carefully asks how the kid got there, and the boy answers between sobs. The giant listens and the boy eventually bursts into tears again, crying out that they want their dad. The giant gently scoops them up, and holds them close saying “hey, hey, it’s going to be alright. You said your dad was a scientist…sooo he must have seen you get pushed in. I bet he’s trying to get back to you, he just has to figure out how to.” The kid sniffles and asks if the giant really believes that and they nod. They then reassure the kid that they won’t hurt them and that they’ll watch and care for them, until their dad comes to save them. The boy nods and the giant pauses and asks if he likes movies. The boy says yes and that he likes action like movies. The giant then decides that maybe they could watch a movie, to help the boy calm down, they’ll even let the kid choose the movie. He gets a little excited over this and the two of them go and do exactly that. Through this we learn that the worlds are almost identical, but some things are changed like Superman is Aceman, and Ice Cream is Frost Gel. All still the same thing, just named differently, which both the giant and boy find amusing.

The boy stays with the giant for little over a week, getting used to the large surroundings and the movements of the giant. The giant provides a small house to the boy, made of a box and Legos, which the boy had fun playing with and designing that part of the little home. In the other world the dad and his team finally finished the suit. It was built to survive space, acid, lava, and other possibilities. It had a backpack built into the back that held food rations, weapons, tools, and other things for survival. There was also the case, which contained all the parts for a small return portal back home. Which had been tested multiple times….just not cross dimensionally. The suit also had a built in camera that would send live video feed back to the team while the dad, who wanted to be the one who went through, was over there looking for his son. He’d also do some science stuff, like take samples and explore a bit.

The day finally arrives and the dad walks through the portal. He finds himself behind a large plush wall, and he starts to walk around it when he hears booming voices. Meanwhile the giant is laying in bed scrolling through their phone. The kid is sleeping in their little house for a quick nap. Then out of the corner of their eye they see something move out from behind their pillow. The dad looks up and catches the giant’s eye glancing at him. He freezes, and then grabs a weapon from the bag. This causes the giant to freak out and quickly flop out of their bed and onto the floor. The dad runs over and, using the mic in his suit, shouts “WHERE IS HE?!?!?” The giant, confused as hell, asks that the “crazy living action figure dude” please put down the weapon, while also asking what he means. The dad just shouts “IF YOU DID ANYTHING TO HIM I SWEAR I’LL..” the threat falls from his lips as the giant rises above him and cautiously walks over to the little house. They open the top and reach in, carefully waking the boy up and whispering that they have a surprise. The dad, still in a fighting stance, watches as the giant approaches with something in their hands. He’s about to fight, when the giant opens their hands and reveals his son, causing him to freeze. The boy pauses, not recognizing him cause of the suit, but once the dad rips the helmet off, the kid jumps off the giants hand and rushes to embrace his dad.

Both the kid and the dad just tightly hold onto each other as the giant just smiles softly, watching them. They then comment how much of a strong and loving dad the kid has and how the dad has such a brave and smart son. They both look up at the giant, who gives them a sweet smile. The dad explains they can go back home and the son is excited to tell his dad everything he learned about the place. The giant asks if there is anything they can do to help, which the dad asks if there is a safe place to setup a portal device somewhere that isn’t, well, a bed. The giant nods, and offers their hand to the pair. The son quickly hops on and the dad, carefully steps on after a bit of encouragement from his son. The giant takes them to their desk and says they can set it up in the free space near the wall.

After some time the portal is up and running and the dad has some samples, including a hair from the giant, and the small pair is ready to go home. The giant remarks that they’ll probably be seeing more of the tiny people, but says that they are welcome to visit. The boy hugs the giants hand and thanks them for taking care of them. The dad also thanks them for watching over his son, and says that he’s glad that the giant was the one to find his son. They take their leave and the story comes out in their world about what happens. The bully is still charged for some things, mostly messing with official government science stuff, but everything seems fine in the end. Plus the boy made an amazing friend, and the dad found someone he can trust to watch his son.

Anyway, basically what if a portal led to a giant world similar to our own, but it was discovered because some kids decided to mess with a kid. Resulting in the kid getting lost in that world, having to wait to be found or find a way back themself?

[iceunhie]

JEALOUSY IS A FICKLE THING...

ft. al-haitham, ayato, wriothesley, lyney

warnings : gender neutral, jealousy, mentions of suggestive content on wriothesley's part, established relationship, you are wriothesley's spouse. erm slight dark content but it's okay it isn't implied, we need more men like them in the world

mhie's notes : i used the wheel randomizer for this i hope everyone's proud i write for anyone other than scara ijbol

al-haitham’s jealousy is muted; quiet and hardly noticeable, often non-existent unless you have the fortune of knowing him deeply enough (kaveh). make no mistake, al-haitham trusts you, he simply doesn’t trust those that make moves on you when he was clearly right there. when some bothersome person disrupts you both on a simple date, which is already a clear red warning sign, for the acting grand sage hardly has any time to spare; naturally, his reaction would be to put a complete stop to any and all the flirty remarks towards you with a flat tone.

it’s not the content of the words that make the person making a move on you leave, but the slight menacing edge to al-haitham’s voice, a sign that if they do intend to cross the line more than necessary, he won’t just be using his words.

most would back off after a simple talking-to, but in the case that person doesn’t cease their advance, you can best bet your lover is steering you away immediately. dendro archon forbid they touch you or make you uncomfortable in the slightest, though, or else al-haitham has no qualms contacting the matra or taking matters in his own hands, but this scenario hardly happens often, given his seamless ability to get to the heart of the conflict and uprooting it so that no problems arise.

he’d most likely opt to diffuse the situation by straight-up telling any admirer of yours that you were taken and most definitely not up for grabs.

“they are my lover. since you’re clearly crossing their preferred boundaries and seem ignorant of the fact, i’d advise you to stop making them feel any more uncomfortable.”

though it’s truly difficult to get al-haitham jealous due to the excellent control of his emotions, tempered by his rational thinking, the most you can see of it is how he seems to stay closer to you than usual and the simple but firm link of your fingers as you both continue on your days.

(but if you notice him putting a subtle hand on your waist as you both walk, do try not to comment on it, will you?)

for ayato��� er, why have you even bothered? if one even has the nerve to flirt and court the yashiro commissioner’s own partner, then that’d make you either not inazuman, or simply an idiot. it’s no exaggeration, but a simple fact. ayato is by no means a jealous man, but he doesn’t like seeing those not worthy of you hover around you with such impure and unwelcome intentions, so he tells ayaka and thoma, but really, he just wants to call the shuumatsuban on any who dares to even look at you the wrong way.

he bides his time well, approaching your admirer with a genial smile and elegant composure and indulges in small talk, but there’s a chill in the air and the looming feeling of doom as well as his smile that seems to see through any and all actions. its terrifying, really.

it also doesn’t help that he’d be extremely touchy in these moments, seeking to link arms with you and yes, even going as far as to rest his head on your shoulder, a clear indication of exactly how close you two really are. after you introduce him as your lover, at this point, it’s likely that the person making a move on you would back off and run away immediately, for how could they even dare to compete when it’s the yashiro commissioner himself who they’re facing?

he’d gloat silently afterwards in the comfort of his own quarters though, the sight of your admirer cowering like a dog getting cornered by a wolf, ah, truly satisfying. though thoma would eventually tell him to tone down the ‘borderline evil chuckling.’

“my love, have you been well? hm? the change of topic? ah, well, as the saying goes; ‘out of sight, out of mind,’ yes? no need to think about those that’ll only bother you. now, come here, there’s a new hotpot ingredient i’d like you to try… haha, relax, it isn’t dango this time.”

another one with a terrifying reputation and terrifying influence to make even the most daring of your admirers quake in their boots. wriothesley is amused - he gets that there’s hardly any window for romance in such a dreary place like the fortress, but even going as far as to court the duke of meropide’s own spouse? really funny, honestly.

but after the initial wave of amusement, he does take this time to immediately show off his status as your husband, showing off the matching wedding rings and even having the well-deserved nerve to smile and continue on rambling about your marriage, which is clearly a very happy one, judging by the way he presses a lingering kiss to your cheek while maintaining clear eye contact towards the person.

you’d have to wrangle in your husband when you both sleep tonight though, because wriothesley has made it his personal mission for any and all those who wish to covet you to show them that you were his spouse, and no other held your heart or your affections. when morning rises the next day, you promptly leave with a very visible bruise on your neck, and an especially relaxed and happy duke at your heels. most would look away in embarrassment, including your admirers, so that’s that.

“hah, that'll show any of those who have way too much time on their hands to lay their hands off my spouse. what? too brutal? well, sweetheart, what did you expect?”

oh my god lyney. haiz this enigmatic magician… magicians are all about masterfully weaving lies and illusions in order to perform to the top standard, and it's no surprise lyney also uses such methods when dealing with any and all annoyances in your relationship. he can be perfectly fine on the outside, but he has always been good with keeping his more sinister and less than socially acceptable side in check.

in fact, chances are he’d probably charm away your admirer with his own tricks; a wink their way and honeyed suave words to ease their love-struck heart and in seconds your admirer is up and away, promising to leave.

this often gets you disgruntled and in awe of his ‘performance,’ but lyney will always stave off your complaints or questions with a rainbow rose or some other fancy trick of his up his sleeve and guide you away, person courting you forgotten. all according to plan….

in all honesty, lyney isn't as composed about it as he seems. lynette can see it at a glance after you two have separated after the encounter. it shows in the way he broods silently for some time, preferring to divert the attention of such a sore subject away and going about endlessly about what new gifts he might give you or what seat was best for viewing, read: what seat was closest to him, for that matter. her brother was truly such a pain in the neck, and lynette does thank you for making him happy, but really, at this rate, you'd drive him insane by how much sway you hold over him.

“and just a trick of the light here and-! ta-da! a rainbow rose, symbolizing just how much i do adore you, way more than any other! …so don't try to pay attention to them, okay? after all, you've already caught this magician’s eye and heart~”

he can still be pouty and extremely clingy after the encounter though, which carries on whenever he performs any of his shows, where lyney always, always makes one of his acts feature you, be it a simple guess your card trick or his favorite, the one act where he leads you to land up on stage and give him a kiss based on the card’s instructions, it's all to show just how wrong anyone else other than him would make you as elated as lyney does.

@ MHIIEEE 2023 : do not copy, repost or plagiarize my work.

btw can you tell i had fun writing for al-haitham despite the fact that i have never even been remotely interested in him in the entirety of the game

[dollyichi]

ONLY KISSES . . . tamaki amajiki x f ! reader. m—dni / period cramps are a pain in the ass / making out / established relationship / suggestive / both are pro heroes / not proofread

you whimper on the couch of your shared apartment. everything felt sore.

you just got home from an early morning patrol. your boyfriend’s just about as done too. as much as you were excited to spend time with him, you just had such a foul mood because of the pain.

you wrap yourself up in a hoodie you found and curled up. “just come home.” you mumble. as if almost on cue you hear the bell chimes from your front door. “i’m home…” you hear him say.

the cramps started again before you could even welcome him back.

you lay there in silence. you just weren’t in the mood. “baby?” he calls out to you but you stay quiet. he was sure you were home, and with furrowed brows he walks around not noticing your quiet presence on the couch.

he jumps when he sees you. you looked so cute curled up like that—but the visible discomfort on your face was much more worrying. it’s almost the end of the month so he knew it was your time. [as a good boyfriend should!]

he doesn’t say anything and sits down beside you. pulling your towards him so he could cradle you in his arms. placing you down on his lap and nuzzles his head on the side of yours to comfort you.

you ease up, taking his hands and placing it where it hurts. “cramps.” you say, and he already starts massaging it.

you sigh leaning onto him further. “i missed you.” he coos at your affection.

“should we move to the bed? i’ll carry you.”

you shake your head, “no… cause then i’d want to fuck you.”

“didn’t stop me before…” you couldn’t help but laugh at him. you just weren’t in the mood for anything but you’re content with him just touching you, like this, so sweetly. pressing on with his finger tips. letting you guide his hands where it hurts more but he couldn’t help but like one of his hands linger.

trailing up your tummy and you just stare up at him. he stops when he realizes and hugs you tighter. “s-sorry! force of habit…”

not getting to fuck him was worse than getting a broken leg.

“i saw you in a poster earlier. i thought my boyfriend’s so cool!”

“i didn’t even know i had one.” he frowns, “they probably took that mid action…” he protests.

you squeal, “even cooler! i knew i should’ve ripped it off and took it home.” he shakes his head and sighs. “that- that’s too embarrassing!”

you try your best to turn around. leaning on his arm, just enough to see him. he was pouting. definitely not a fan of his lover being hurt. “i brought you home some snacks by the way, but you can eat them later.”

“we can share! thank you!” you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss his cheek. you’re straddling his lap to see him better.

what really takes the cake was when he just looked especially good today. and he smells so good, you wanted him so bad but you’d rather get him to fuck you properly when you feel better.

“tamaaa~ i really wanna fuck you but it just really hurts today.” it’s better if he’s not worried either.

tamaki thinks you’re so cute though, getting everything he could in him not to give in. “don’t temp me… i only want to take care of you today.”

this time it was your turn to pout. “then, can you kiss me?” you smile at him so innocently, but the only one innocent between you was your lover who nods without a second thought. though a whimper leaves his lips while it quivers, because he already knows you too well.

you lean in, giving him a quick peck. he’d chase after you, eyes shut asking for more and you’d giggle and plant small kisses on him. it was just like that, kissing each other so gentle and sweet. his hands on your waist while he lets you take the lead and use him however you wanted.

gentle and sweet, until you start to whine. deepening the kiss while you entangle your fingers tips to his hair. wrapping your thighs on his waist and adding extra weight and he’s doing his best not even to let his cock twitch.

“tama…” you’re calling out to him so desperately against his lips he couldn’t help but moan with you. giving you access to suck on his tongue.

it was so messy and needy. he’s doing his best to hold on your waist so you wouldn’t grind on him. but you could feel him. hard and eager and you’re smiling in the kiss because even then you’re winning.

you both pull away for a moment and he’d still have that bruising hold on you.

“you just know how to get me…” he says it as if you did something so unfair. you caress his cheek, planting more kisses. “wanna kiss more?” you ask. and he’s out of breath, this time he’s desperate. hands shaking as he gripped your skirt doing his best not to push it up and fuck you.

as he said he never minded it, but he didn’t want to force you for his sake. he already knew when you kissed he’d feel your brows furrow when your foreheads touched.

“only kisses today then please…” he begs, as if he could short circuit anytime now.

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

[gay-dorito-dust]

hobie brown (spider-punk!!) is giving me severe brain rot, i love him sm 😭

if you ever decide to write for him, could you do some relationship hcs??

ty ^^

Not sure wether this is what you wanted but I hope it was worth it.

Music from the heart:

One of the most obvious ones is that Hobie would have a plethora of songs about you, it’s fucking adorable and so sweet, and so he would play them for you within the comfort of your room because where else would you rather be serenaded?

If anything it makes the moment more special and memorable for the both of you as something you can look back on with fondness.

Though you probably try teasing him one day by asking how many more songs of you he had in the works and Hobie would either say ‘too many to count.’ Or ‘a whole albums worth.’ He’s not going to hide the fact that he’s got notebook after notebook filled with song lyrics dedicated to you.

Pda though not quite:

Hobie isn’t the type to heavily involve himself in PDA but isn’t against the likes of:

holding hands.

his hand being placed on the small of your back when guiding you somewhere else.

the classic arm over the shoulder.

Thigh holding

His/ your head resting on each others shoulders and or laps.

Guitar pick:

This one came to my head out of the blue but I’m gonna add it here even though I’m not too certain but here it is anyway:

if Hobie uses guitar picks to play his guitar -which he probs doesn’t but idk- I’d like to think he’d make you a guitar pick necklace from one of his old picks.

Sure he hates gifts and such but this is the sole expectation alongside any and all handcrafted jewellery you may give him because he wears that shit with pride.

Terms of endearment:

Love

Darling

Sweetheart

Impromptu sleepovers:

Hobie crashes at your place more often then not to the point he might as well be living with you in regards of how often he leaves something of his at yours, so much so you’ve begun to wonder if he was doing it intentionally or accidentally.

Either way you made sure that his stay was comfortable by having a makeshift bed set up for him so he didn’t have to constantly sleep on the uncomfortable couch and wake up with a crooked neck.

Hobie appreciates all that you do for him but would often tell you it’s not necessary but you weren’t about to get into a discussion about whether or not he was deserving of help because the answer was obvious and that answer would always and forever will be; yes.

Also he’s a bit of a cuddle bug but only with you but that’s your little secrete.

Date nights:

Most, if not all of your dates are either just the pair of you being your natural selves in the comfort of your own home where’d you would talk about anything and everything that came to your mind, free of judgment.

or

showing Hobie your undying love and support by showing up to his gigs and scream the loudest because he is talented as shit and deserves a lot more in your eyes.

Either way as long as you were within each others company, anywhere you both went could be considered a date.

Spidey business:

Now this is all dependant on wether or not you know he’s Spider-Man:

If you did then you’d probably would help him patch up his wounds after every fight he had

Or

If you weren’t due to Hobie wanting nothing more then to keep you and that life as far from each other as possible, you’d most definitely would be concerned when you see him with any sustained injuries he tried patching up himself.

No matter how hard you try to get him to tell you what’s wrong, Hobie would just tell you it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.

Meeting his friends/ Bragging rights:

Before introducing you to the likes of Pavitr, Miles and Gwen(if you haven’t already met her), it’s almost an 100% guarantee that he brags about you anyway he knows how which only intrigues them more and more to the point they’re just pleading with Hobie to introduce his cool, kickass partner to them.

So when he does, the three are practically hounding you about your relationship with Hobie and when you looked back at him for help in wrangling in his over excited friends, the little shit merely smirks and shrugs his shoulders as though he had no idea they’d react like this, all the while leaning on the wall with his arms crossed over his chest; happy to see all his favourite people he cares about a lot interacting with one another to the point that by the end of the day you’re very good friends with each of them.

[beneaththebirches]

Liability: Part 2

Pairing: College Student!Rafe Cameron x Cousenlor!Reader

Summary: After a month and a half of meeting, tensions rise. But not in the way that either of them expected.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, flirty talking.

Word Count: 5.6k (I’m so sorry lol)

A/n: Hi guys! just a reminder that this is a repost from my original account @sublimecatgalaxy!

Part 1

“Is there anything you want to talk about today?” Rafe’s eyes flicker from the drops of rain on the window to me, head shaking simply as I tuck my legs underneath me. He seems particularly tense today, because of anger or disappointment, who’s to say. But I can’t help but feel his sour mood right in my sternum, my whole body aching uncomfortably at the sight of his own discomfort. “I’m going to give you options- I learned about this in child psychology-”

“Oh fuck off.”

“-and I thought it would help.” He cracks a small smile at my attempt to make him laugh and for extra help, I reach over to flick the lava lamp on, knowing how much the nostalgic decoration has helped comfort him in the last month and a half of our meetings. Other than the incessant flirting. “I’m going to give you some options- things that I’m interested in talking about- and then you can choose which ones you want to talk about.” His eyes harden briefly, strong shoulders rolling in an attempt to relax. “Sound good?”

“I seriously have no other choice, do I?” He deadpans but I respond with a wide grin and a simple shake of my head.  “Fine, what’re my options?” 

“So, we can talk about your family and hometown, your behavioral issues, or the people who are currently in your life-”

“Last one, please.” He pleads, cutting me off as my lips part in quiet shock, adding his desperation to not talk about his past or family to the list of very evident concerns that have come from our meetings. I decide to cut him some slack so, instead of investigating, I instigate.

“Please- god, who taught you manners in the last forty-eight hours.” A small smirk spreads across his lips at my teasing, the deep blush on his cheeks crawling all the way down his neck and under the neckline of the baby-blue t-shirt that clings to his torso. Clings? Really, Y/n?  “I’d like to get them on the phone and get some pointers on how to keep you in line.” The eye contact that he maintains is down right cruel and anything but innocent, the air quickly sucked from my lungs as I try to suck in a gulp of air.  

“I can be persuaded.” 

What the fuck. 

“Hey now-” I clear my throat, suddenly overwhelmed with butterflies in my stomach, head pounding at his words but it’s really his voice, the octave dip- “Alright, people in your life- other than me- rapid fire, lets go.” I clear my throat, running my hands down my face to try to recover as Rafe chuckles to himself, leaning back into the couch, knees parting to spread across the couch.

This is definitely breaking some guideline or rule out there. 

“Uh, Josh- I guess he’s my friend- he’s the quarterback on the football team, my friend Topper from my hometown, my younger sister and, uh, that’s pretty much it.” He rambles quickly as I jot the names down in my notebook, writing question marks next to each of their names in hopes that I’ll fill in more information later down the line.

“Topper? Who names their kid ‘Topper’.” I snort and a bright smile spreads across Rafe’s lips and he shrugs, head shaking. Who names their kid Rafe, though? “Fair enough. So, younger sister, huh? Any more siblings?” His spine straightens at my proposition but he’s quick to squash my dreams of talking about more, his lips straightening into a fine line and his forehead creases.

Over the weeks I’ve seen Rafe, he’s gotten increasingly better at calling bullshit when it comes to my subtle prying, quickly setting our conversations back on a track that he’s comfortable with. My coworkers did not give his intelligence enough credit.

“I said I’d talk about important people.” He urges, fists clenching in his lap and just like that, he’s agitated and rebuilding the walls he has built so high around his mind. So he has other siblings- check.

“Also fair enough.” I huff, letting it go. He’s nearly impossible to sway, more impossible to argue with so giving into his temperamental attitude and his moodiness is sort of always my best and only option. I wonder where that defense mechanism came from. “No girlfriend?” My voice raises at the end and so do his brows, head tilting as a sudden playful vibe takes over his expression.

“Not that I know of.” He folds his hands in his lap, a small smirk spreading across his lips as his eyes flicker to the floor. I can see the question he’s begging to ask, the infamous ’why do you want to know’ or ‘care to fill that role?’ but he doesn’t, just snaps his mouth shut with a shit-eating, tight-lipped grin.

“Interesting.” Picking up my pen, I write no girlfriend and I bite at the inside of my cheek to hide a cocky smile as Rafe leans towards me, trying to get a good view of the paper in my hands. 

“Wha- Why is that interesting? What are you writing?” He asks, reaching out to tip the edge of the book down, neck craning to read the few words I have written. “Really? The notebook thing is really passive aggressive, doc.” He taunts, snatching the book from my hands before tossing it onto the table between us. 

“You’re a jock with anger issues. Isn’t dating around supposed to be your man-whore thing right?” 

“I don’t know, is it?” His head tilts cutely at me, brows furrowed. 

“Touche.” I whisper, feeling so suddenly small in his gaze, blue eyes flickering over my nervous expression. I’ll never admit to him that I find him intimidating- not because of his violent actions or mood swings, but because of the way he looks at me, the depth behind his eyes, the ways his pupils expand and blue hues darken- like a predator stalking a prey.

I’m definitely not the one in a position of power in this scenario. 

“Am I allowed to ask you questions now?” He asks, tone dropping again as his jaw clenches.

“How is that relevant?” My voice squeaks and he grins, taking advantage of my meek and nervous demeanor like he always does, and he quickly takes control of the conversation to benefit his own comfort. He leans towards me, lips turned down in a nonchalant frown and shrugs.

“You want me to talk, I want to pass time. Might as well make this interesting.” Like this isn’t extremely interesting as it is? His proposition makes my brows tick up, wondering the weight behind his words and if he truly just wants to ask me innocent questions. The look in his eyes says otherwise. 

“Bold of you to assume I’m interesting.” I meet him halfway, leaning towards him with a teasing look, eyes flickering back and forth between his. The silence that swarms around us is deafening, the blood in my body rushing to my head and pumping loudly in my ears as a slow grin stretches across his lips. “Fine, you can ask me a couple of questions- use them wisely- but I get to know more about your younger sister.” 

“Fair trade.” He claps, mirroring me and folding his legs beneath him as he thinks, finger tapping his chin playfully. “Is this on or off the record?” His question makes me laugh, adoring the fact that he takes school counseling seriously enough to think that he could possibly get in more trouble for asking me simple questions. 

“There’s no record, dude. I get paid either way and you’re not going to listen to me anyways.”

“At least you’re self aware.” He grins. “Favorite color?”

“Seriously?”  I ask, remembering how much shit he gave me for asking his favorite color so many sessions ago. He hides his smile behind his hand, chest rumbling in quiet laughter as I gawk at him. “Really, Rafe?” 

“See how stupid that question is now-”

“Yellow, asshole. Next question.” His eyes light up with mischief at my attempted insult but he just nods, accepting my answer. He ponders for a few seconds, blue eyes seemingly inspecting my frame, down to the smallest of details; the color of my eyes, the necklace around my neck, my hands.

“I don’t see a ring so I assume you’re not engaged or married.” He nods towards my ring finger with a curious, boyish smile. What I want to ask is ‘why do you care’ or ‘why is this important’ but then I realize that he wasn’t asking.

“Is that a question?”

“More like an observation.” He shrugs, fingers tapping against the expanses of his thighs. It takes everything to avert my eyes from the repeated movement, almost as if he’s trying to draw my attention away, to catch me off guard like I’ve been trying to do for weeks now. 

“No secret fiance or husband.” I reply simply, heart aching painfully in my chest. “I live alone with my two cats.” My eyes flicker down to my lap, cheeks warming bashfully because I can only assume how sad that sounds to anyone other than me.

I’m fine and content with my two fur babies, in my perfectly decorated and organized apartment, no man- or woman- there to mess anything up or disturb the peace I’ve created. 

But that doesn’t necessarily mean I’m at peace with the loneliness I feet at two in the morning when I’m curled under a blanket, the sound of the TV going in one ear and out the other as I wait for my phone to buzz with any notification- a text, a call, a snap, anything.

“That’s sad.” My head snaps up to look at him, eyes thinning to slits as I scoff, watching his brows furrow, smile faltering at the realization that hurt my feelings.

“And you’re in mandatory counseling. What’s sadder?” The words leave my lips faster than I can control, his words hitting a bit too close to home- too close for comfort. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for self deprecating comments and mutual teasing but sometimes I can’t take it as well as I dish it.

“Fuck, you’re mean-”

“And you’re stalling.” Snatching my notebook from the table, I place it back in my lap, opening it to a fresh page and getting my pen ready. His eyes widen briefly at my subtle threat to psychoanalyze him- his favorite activity- and his hands raise in surrender.

“Fine, fuck.” He huffs, urging me to return the notebook to its previous position on the table but I keep it close, hugging it to my chest as he sighs. “Do you enjoy bullying me?”

“Yes, I enjoy bullying you. You’re an easy target.” I say plainly, waiting for him to speak but he just scoffs, teasing eyes flickering back and forth from me to the clock on the wall.

“This is a toxic therapeutic environment. Is there a Title X form I can fill out?” I bite back a laugh at his painfully ironic joke, my cheeks puffing out as I try desperately to avoid laughing at his perfectly timed joke.

“I’ll give you that one. That’s good.” I crack, ignoring the obvious flutter in my stomach. “Ask me a question, hot shot.” I offer, watching his eyes light up at the chance and I can tell that he’s going to try to use it wisely. He bites at his lips as he thinks, eyes squinting briefly as if he’s the one analyzing me and his gaze flickers back and forth between my eyes.

“If everyone comes to you to talk, who do you go to?” His question feels like a punch to the gut, heart aching behind my ribs, but I maintain the professional smile on my lips, hands shaking in my lap as I press them into fists. He waits patiently but there’s no ounce of malice or mischief behind his eyes. He’s truly curious this time and, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he actually cares. 

“That was oddly personal.” I laugh awkwardly, setting my pride aside for a second and taking a deep breath.

“You want me to talk about my sister? Then you’ve gotta earn it.” 

Fuck he’s right. 

I wrack my mind, trying to come up with something vague, something simple to offer him so he doesn’t worry or have any more prying questions. If he thinks that he doesn’t like to talk about those closest to him then he hasn’t heard my extremely short list of people that I interact with on a day, let alone the people I actually enjoy talking to (other than him).

But I have to give him something if I want to know more about his past and his support system.

“My list of ‘important people’ is even shorter than yours. I do fine, though.” I hold my breath, hoping he’ll accept my sad excuse for an answer but he just nods slowly, leaning back into the couch with a cocked head, lips fanning out into a small smile. A moment or two passes as the sound of my breathing slows, Rafe’s eyes moving to look over at the lava lamp. 

“I call my younger sister Wheezie.” I fight the urge to reach over for my notebook, realizing that he’d probably shut down if I tried to document anything he’s telling me. Guess my memory will have to do. “She’s 14- maybe 15 by now. I haven’t seen her in a while.” His tone saddens a bit but his eyes glimmer as if he’s remembering something fond, deep eyes full of sudden adoration. “I was such a jackass to her when I was younger. Now that I’m away from home, I want to talk to her more- text her more.” He sounds guilty, eyes closing briefly before he returns his gaze back to me, waiting for me to digest the information and respond accordingly.

“That’s good.” 

“She’s way more smart than I am- such a fucking spitfire.” He grins with a scoff, shaking his head and I can only imagine a shorter, girlier version of him, commanding those around her and teasing everyone in site. I bet her and I would get alone nicely.

“I can see who she learned that from.” He grins shamelessly at my teasing, cheeks reddening briefly before he flashes his eyes at me, fingers prying at the strings on his sweatpants. 

“Yeah, I wasn’t the best influence.” His once reminiscent and happy expression turns sour suddenly, lips tugging down into a guilty, frustrated frown.

“Wanna talk about it?” Don’t forget to do your job, Y/n.

“Not really.” He sighs, reaching up to run his fingers through his unruly hair, eyes flickering briefly up to the clock as I, too, notice our lack of time. We’ve talked more today about the things I’m mandated to talk to him about than all of our meetings combined and, sure, that’s a good thing but I can’t begin to ignore the weight- the tension- that’s suddenly filled the room at the mention of his sister and the possible wrong-doing he’s committed against her.

“Do you need to talk about anything?” I ask with an uncomfortable sigh, anxiety sitting on my chest like a twenty pound weight. 

“Do you?” He dodges but not to avoid the question I asked but because, yet again, he’s more interested in talking about me.

“We’re not here for me.” I smile kindly but he’s being completely sincere.

“Well, I am.” He shrugs, his confession making my heart skip beats as he continues. “If I really hated you, I wouldn’t be here.” There’s a sense of fondness in his voice that makes me grin like an idiot and he realizes almost instantaneously the weight behind his words.

If I really hated you, I wouldn’t be here. 

“Oh, I’ve definitely grown on you.” I gawk, lips parted in proud shock.

“No, but the lava lamp has.” He denies with a click of his tongue, jutting his thumb in the direction of the bright object, the glowing orbs bouncing up and down as a sort of pendulum.

A few dazed moments pass and Rafe is still stuck looking at the lava lamp as if he’s entranced, a small smile on his lips and the clock ticks louder and louder behind us as minutes pass. I feel antsy to ask him more, knowing that it’ll be a whole weekend before I see him again and a part of me almost feels sad.

I don’t feel like diving into the ‘why’ that is. 

“I’m assuming by the lack of text messages and urgent calls that you’ve been behaving?” His lips quirk up at my instigation and he gives me a playful shrug.

“If behaving means no suicidal or homicidal thoughts than yeah, sure.” I can’t fight the eye roll that passes across my expression but his smile turns sheepish as if he was trying to be genuinely honest. I fight the urge to ask about both topics mentioned- homicide and suicide- wondering if there’s actually any weight to them or if he’s just messing around. Both are equally concerning. 

“You can text or call if you feel like you need to talk about something, ya know.” I offer gently but he starts nodding sternly before I can even finish my sentence.

“I know. You said that.” 

“I know- I’m not trying to press…” My hands raise in simple surrender, backing off immediately before he cuts me and this meeting short. “But, you’re here for a reason. I get it’s mandatory but like you said, if you really hated me- hated this- you wouldn’t be here.” He ponders for a second, lips turned down in a playful frown.

“Gives me something to do other than ace tests and apparently be a so-called ‘man-whore’.”

“So you are a man whore? God, I’ve been dying to know if that’s true or not.” I tease, cupping my cheeks in my hands as I lean towards him, watching mischief flicker through his eyes. “Do you need the safe sex speech?” I gasp, holding a hand to my chest in feigned shock, like I needed any confirmation that Rafe could get around if he actually wanted to.

I mean, look at him. 

“Oh my god- this is painful. How much time do we have left?” He pleads and his brows knit together in pure disgust, his voice scary close to a whine.

“I’m messing with you. I know you’re not getting around- the faculty gossip more than the students.” His eyes widen at my implication that he’s being talked about behind his back and he scoots to the edge of the couch eagerly.

“What have you heard about me?” He asks out of pure amusement, eyes glimmering in the light of the lava lamp.

“Depends on what I’ve chosen to believe.” I shrug, folding my hands in my lap as I think of the very few nice things I’ve heard actually come out of my coworkers mouths. “Before I met you, I heard the words ‘neanderthal’ and ‘Juvenile delinquent’ but everyone raved about your grades.” 

“And now?” He quizzes, hair falling in his eyes as his head tilts dumbly.

“I don’t particularly believe the ‘neanderthal’ part- maybe the delinquent part- but the good grades, charming, way too smart for your own good.” The wink I throw him has him almost giggling, his chest rumbling and shoulders shaking in bashful laughter. “Handsome.” The word leaves my mouth as a sort of intrusive thought- literal word vomit- and my lips part in quiet shock as he gives me a similar, stunned look. His cheeks redden almost immediately and all cockiness from him vanished, just left with boyish, bashful, wide eyes.

“Are you flirting with me?” He asks, voice cracking pitifully.

“No, because that would be inappropriate and obviously I do everything by the books here. I’m only speaking on behalf of my colleagues.” I clear my throat, giving him a half-assed nod but he sees right through it. 

“Anything else you’ve- I mean, your fellow colleagues have said about me?” He asks, shit-eating grin evident once more and it only makes flames ignite in my belly.

“You have an issue with authority and apparently talking to older women.” I snap with a smirk and he scoffs, eyes rolling and he claps his hands.

“Alright, I don’t like you anymore.” He juts his finger my way, clicking his tongue with a tired look.

“Awe you’re in denial- that’s cute, really Rafe.” I whisper, reaching out to rest my hand on his knee- feigning support- his whole body aflame beneath my touch. He looks at me and my hand, back and forth, with wide, frantic eyes but he’s not nervous or awkward- no, there’s something far deeper to the way his pupils dilate, tongue sweeping out helplessly over his cracked lips. 

“Fuck.” He mutters, dragging his fingers across his jaw as I slowly retract my hand from him. His body deflates as soon as my touch leaves him, his head hanging back against the couch shamelessly. 

“Time’s up buddy.” His eyes flicker up to the clock and an almost disappointed smile spreads across his lips, brows furrowing as he reaches down to check his own phone with a frown. 

“Really?” He asks, more to himself but stands nonetheless, soothing his hands over his thighs. I stand too, following closely behind him as he stops in front of the door, waving his phone in the air. “Can I, uh, text you?” He asks bashfully and a wide smile spreads across my lips.

“I said you could.” 

“I know- I just mean…” He trails off, eyes fluttering to the ground briefly.  “Like, off the record.” My stomach flips at his words, not knowing what he actually intended to get across but based on the look in his eyes alone, I know he literally means off the record conversations.

“There’s no record, Rafe, and we’ve already leveled about the fact that I live alone with my cats. My life after work is not glamorous.” I giggle, reaching past him to open the door and he looks out into the hallway with a heavy sigh.

“Alright.” He nods, hand raising to send me a simple wave and a smile. “See ya, Y/n.” 

——

Unknown Number: I thought of another question. 

My eyes widen as I stare down at the text, shocked that Rafe actually meant it when he said he was going to text me, my mouth drying at the confirmation that he does want to talk to me, just not about the things I’m mandated to talk to him about. But at least he’s talking now. A win is a win right? 

Alright, shoot. I type back, thumbs shaking against the bright screen as I add him as a contact, my cats purring beside me as I flip over to the other side of the bed, curling into a ball as I watch the three bubbles appear at the bottom of my screen.

Rafe: Are you typically this chill with other students?

“What should I say, Winston?” I ask, showing my cat the text as he sniffles, looking between me and the bright screen, eyes squinting in discomfort. “Should I tell him that I find him incredibly attractive? So much that it makes it very hard to do my job?” Winston just looks away from me with a quiet meow, tucking his head under my hand that holds my phone.  “They told me I need to connect with students on a personal level- to use my age as a tool to connect and develop interpersonal relationships- to get people to trust me.” I snort, typing the first response that comes to me before I type something that I could possibly regret.

Not really. I could just tell that I wasn’t going to get you to open up if I acted my role. My answer isn’t necessarily a lie, but there’s something about him- though cocky and sometimes unbearable- that just makes it so easy to be myself. He’s done such shit in his life so maybe he’s just not that judgemental cuz he’s done worse, but there’s just something open about him, even if it might be unintentional. 

Rafe: Cuz I have an issue with authority?And older women apparently. 

My cats jump as I laugh out loud, cheeks warming as I press my face into my pillow momentarily, hating the smile that spreads across my lips. I feel like a middle schooler who’s finally getting attention from a cute guy, blood pumping and mind running with thoughts.

Yeah, I wanted to make it easier on you- more comfortable. 

Rafe: That’s kind of nice. 

Well, I’m a nice person. “Duh, Rafe. I’m a nice person.” I whisper to myself while typing.

Rafe: I can think of twelve things you said to me today that were the opposite of nice.

It’s as if he knew what I was going to say because the minute I send my text, his text comes flying back in return. He’s not wrong- I did mess with him all day, and the thought of me teasing him so much forces a proud grin on my lips as I type. 

I figured it out pretty quickly that you deflect with humor. I happen to be remarkably funny. 

Rafe: Got me figured out, huh?

He has no clue how much I’ve already figured out about him just from the fact that he keeps deflecting and avoiding talks about his family. I can assume his younger sister is the only family member he hasn’t had a negative encounter with and looking at his academics versus his social life, it almost seems as if he doesn’t actually want to be here, like it wasn’t his decision but he has to maintain the grades but not the image. That maybe his outbursts, like keying his professor’s car, was a last ditch effort to get out, not stay.

You could say that. Men are pretty easy. I respond simply, knowing it’ll get a ride out of him.

Rafe: First you call me a man whore and now I’m ‘easy’?

You had the chance to ask me questions and you didn’t. 

Rafe: I did, they were just stupid. I couldn’t really think of anything. I was too preoccupied.

With? I bite at the excess skin on my nail as I wait for his reply, tearing my eyes away from the phone for a moment to look down at my cats who both stare at me, probably wondering how I’ve managed to stay awake this long. If only they knew and could fathom ‘a crush’.

Rafe: Well you called me handsome and I think that’s the last thing I remember.

Oh shit, I did, didn’t I? I pause, actually considering the fact that my comment actually stuck with him enough to take him off guard. It’s common knowledge that Rafe is a good looking guy, tall, built, kind eyes and a silver tongue. I’d have to be blind or dead to not see him.

You’re all talk. I type, biting at my nail as the dots appear and disappear, Rafe choosing his answer wisely. It makes me laugh to think of him in a similar position as me, laying in bed, typing back a reply with a blush on his cheeks- or maybe I shouldn’t think about him in bed?

Rafe: I’m not, you’re just all by the books.

Am I? I know that I’ve joked about being by the books and dying on the hill that I’m such a rule follower, but if I was seriously a stereotypical counselor for him, I would think that I wouldn’t enjoy conversations with him so much- so much that I stay up way past midnight just to continue a vaguely flirty conversation with him.

Har. Har. Doesn’t seem like you’re having an issue talking to older women now. 

Rafe: Cuz you’re not here staring at me and judging me.

The thought of him finding me as intimidating as I find him is exhilarating, the air in my lungs seemingly evaporating as I gasp in a breath.

Rafe: Writing shit down in that passive aggressive notebook. What have you even written in there?

You don’t wanna know. I giggle, picturing the dopey, confused look on his face, a kind smirk. In person, he would pry and stare at me until I break, taking advantage of my weariness when it comes to him. But right now, so far away from him, I don’t let up, continuing the torment and teasing that he subjects me to during the day.

Rafe: Is it just a bunch of ‘Mrs. Cameron’s’ written over and over again?

“Rafe, what the fuck!” I yell out, sitting straight up in bed as I hear the neighbor bang on the wall behind me, chastising me for my shouting. I slap a hand over my mouth, typing back a shaky response. 

Asshole. Go to bed. I’m not actively trying to get rid of him, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to see where this conversation would go if I did indulge him and give him a taste of his own medicine. He’s a tease but he’s an intelligent tease; he knows how to rile a person up, maybe from experience or maybe it’s just his personality. Either way, it works too well.

Rafe: You’re no fun :(

I am, it’s just above your pay grade. I don’t even know what I’m implying with this whole ‘paygrade’ joke, maybe I’m implying that there’s more under my surface that goes beyond a flirty college counselor. Maybe I want him to see under the surface and I instigate because I know he likes the chance and the taunting. Maybe it’s just fun to get him going.

Rafe: Again with the fucking pay grade. How do I get promoted?

Why do you want to be promoted? What do you get out of it? My stomach drops, my heart pounding in my throat as my fingers type against the screen, the typos only a testament to how nervous he makes me. 

Rafe: Tell me how to get into that head of yours and maybe I’ll let you know why I care so much.

I screech out loud once more, reaching out to comfort Winston and my other orange tabby Clementine with a quiet apology for continuing to wake them up repeatedly. Forgetting my mission, my head snaps back to the clinical benefits from this conversation, needing him to finally open up to me about his own problems if we’re going to get anywhere. He needs the clearance from the school, I need the praise from my boss, and- the most important- he needs to heal from whatever’s eating him up inside. 

I’d tell him anything if it meant that I could help him.

Tell me where your anger issues stem from and why you won’t talk about your family or hometown. I press send before I can contemplate it, worrying that the interjection into our playful conversation might make him mad because it’s typically his response to me prying into his personal life. But instead, he surprises me.

Rafe: I’ll think about it.

It’s not what I was expecting at all but I’ll take any progress that I can get. A month ago, he’d threaten to leave the room if I tried to bribe information out of him but now he seems willing. Maybe he thinks that if he tells me things, that I’ll open up. But if that’s the case, then we’re playing the same game and it looks like both of us are going to ultimately get what we want from each other. In more ways than one apparently.

Rafe: So you hang out with your cats and you go to work at the campus. Is that all you do?

If I give him the answer I want to reply with, he’ll know where to find me outside of school. He’d have the opportunity to see me outside of our sessions, to talk to me literally off the record and have the freedom to say or do whatever he’d like. To weigh the odds of a pros and cons list would take too long so my fingers type quickly enough to not give my brain a second to think or argue.

No, I work as a bartender too at a bar on Grant. Again, the bubbles on the bottom of the screen appear and disappear, Rafe obviously deciding carefully on what to say. I know that he’ll take advantage of it, even if I ask him not to but maybe it’ll be what he needs- to see me in a scenario where he doesn’t have to talk to me. Maybe it’ll happen naturally on its own if he chooses to interact with me, to talk or open up.

Rafe: Oh, that’s kind of badass.

A girly grin takes over my face, Clementine’s quiet meows spooking me out of my giddy mood, her paws digging into my boobs as she flops down on my chest. I let out a quiet ‘oof’ and she looks at the bright screen of my phone, meowing once more as another message comes through.

Rafe: I know you’ll ask me not to come visit you but I make no promises.

[moonsapprentice]

helllooooo !! you obviously don’t have to do this if you don’t want to do no pressure but i have autism + adhd and i was wondering if you could write headcanons for each of the boys x a reader with autism / adhd ( you dont have to do both you can just pick one if you want ^^; )

this was my first time requesting something so it was a little hard AHHH but if you do this tysm !! :) also thank you for trying to revive the tags bc this is a very big hyperfixation for me and it sucks to never see writing for it lol

Yess!! Omg ahhh this is my first ever request! I’d be happy to do it :)

⋆ ✶ ✷ 𝔐𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔣𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔞 𝔰/𝔬 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔰𝔪/𝔞𝔡𝔥𝔡 ✷ ✶ ⋆

𝔈𝔡𝔡

✩ honestly he’s probably neurodivergent in some way himself

✩ definitely really understanding

✩ finds it adorable when you fidget, but also hates it when he’s drawing you and you keep moving 😭

“No, no, wait move back the way you were”

✩ SPEAKING of drawing, if you’re hyperfixating on something he’ll draw it for you

✩ he just wants to see you happy. 😞💚

✩ if you get overstimulated he’s probably the best out of the 4 to go to

✩ if it’s loud noises, he’ll help block it out by covering your ears, if it’s because a place is crowded he’ll keep you close to himself, etc

✩ helps you re-focus by nudging you lightly or saying your name quietly

✩ if you have a hyperfixation he 100% binges it so he knows everything about it

✩ lets you rant about anything with him

✩ if he’s out at the store and finds something relating to your fixation, he’ll show it to you all exited

✩ if you’re hyperactive, he tries to match your energy and be hyper with you

✩ however, if you need a moment of quiet to just recoup, he’ll be silent and wait until you’re ready

✩ if you’re having a panic attack or overstimulated he rubs your head and whispers comforting things. He’ll take you somewhere private until you’re okay

✩ if you like them, he’ll get you fidget toys

✩ if you stim by bouncing up and down or making repetitive noises he finds it the CUTEST THING EVER

✩ tries really hard not to baby you though

✩ if you go non-verbal, he’ll get those lil card things and try to figure out what you need

✩ for the most part, perfect

✩ but he’d probably get stressed out when you’re upset and he can’t figure out why

𝔐𝔞𝔱𝔱

✩ to be honest he wouldn’t really know what it is 😭

“…adhd..? What does that stand for? A dang hot dude? That’s me!”

✩ once you explain he still doesn’t really understand but he tries his best

�� always asks you if you need anything

✩ if you go nonverbal he kinda panics, he frantically googles until he finds out what’s happening to you

✩ he kinda just hugs you until you’re okay

✩ same thing goes for panic attacks and stuff

✩ he’s perfect to be around if you’re hyper, because no matter what he’ll get hyper and match your energy too

✩ doesn’t really know what stimming is but he copies your movement/noises

✩ probably has his own collection of fidgets that he lets you borrow

✩ if you randomly start focusing on something unrelated to whatever you’re doing, he’d probably join in 😭

✩ my man is NOT neurotypical ‼️

✩ probably relates to you in a lot of ways if you have ADHD

✩ will definitely indulge in your hyperfixations

✩ super silly

𝔗𝔬𝔪

✩ theme park dad energy

“Don’t touch that. Or that. Y/n!”

✩ because of his temper he’d probably get frustrated easily

✩ but he’d try to hold it back because he cares about you

✩ he’s perfect if you just need some quiet time

✩ as I’ve said before, a great listener

✩ if you wanna rant about your hyperfixations, or you just wanna be silent, he’ll listen either way

✩ really good at reading you when you’re non-verbal

✩ if you keep getting off track, he nudges you until you listen

✩ lets out quiet chuckles when you stim

✩ not in a mean way, he can just find it amusing and cute

✩ if you’re bouncing your knee or something he’ll lay his hand on it and rub it

✩ I don’t really think he’s neurodivergent so it’s hard for him to relate to you

✩ but he’d do a ton of research so he’s prepared for any situation

✩ would never admit that though

✩ loves seeing your eyes light up when you see something relating to your hyperfixations

✩ If you’re overstimulated he holds you, letting you bury your face in the crook of his neck while he either covers your ears or strokes your back

✩ would not baby you

✩ he’d be comforting, but if something happens he’ll give you the truth on what he thinks you should do

✩ he’d be soft with his wording, but my guy does not sugarcoat

✩ likes to see you fidget with stuff, he finds it cute

𝔗𝔬𝔯𝔡

✩ might get confused at some of your habits

✩ after doing a little research he’d be super understanding though

✩ loves it when you fidget with his fingers or his hoodie strings

✩ finds your stimming adorable

✩ like, he can’t help the grin that crawls on his face when you bounce up and down or make repetitive noises

✩ the first time you stimmed infront of him he literally scooped you up and spun you around

✩ gets super protective if you’re overstimulated

✩ he does literally anything he can for you to feel okay

✩ murmurs sweet things into your ear if you’re panicking

✩ if you go nonverbal he internally panics, but he’s calm on the outside

✩ despite his slight panic, he can read you really well

✩ might accidentally baby you, but if it bothers you he tones it down

✩ loves talking to you about your hyperfixations

✩ just generally finds it adorable how you act

✩ likes to sit you on his lap and play with your hair, letting you rant about whatever the hell you want

✩ snickers when you loose focus on whatever you’re doing

“Love, c’mon. We can look at that later…”

✩ very sweet and understanding

TYSM for the request!!! I’m so sorry that it slowly gets worse my tumblr is lagging so bad it’s hell to write 😭 other than that this was super fun to write!!

- xoxo, Artemis

[mango-bango-bby]

Hi Mango, how are you?Can you write Sugawara with a pregnant reader? I'm just wondering how he's going to act with his paternity fuss.I miss reading Sugwara reader posts 🥰 Sorry my native language is not english. I love you.

♡ Pregnancy ♡

(A/N: Wahhhhh I feel like it’s been so long since I’ve written anything for Haikyuu and it feels so nice to write for them again 💖 I hope you like because I’d love to more for Haikyuu!!!)

Content Warning ⚠️: Yandere, domestic yandere, pregnancy, childbirth, AFAB!reader, children

Summary: Pregnancy headcanons with Sugawara! (Yan!Sugawara x AFAB!reader)

Masterlist ➸ ♡

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

♡ Sugawara really wanted a family with you. He had honestly been dreaming of having a family with you. He’d love a traditional family, although he would always put you before his wants. But when you told him that your period was late and that you wanted him to get you a pregnancy test. He was incredibly excited so he did get the test.

♡ You are either upset about being pregnant or you’re excited. Either way, Sugawara is very excited to start a family with you. If you’re upset, he’ll still comfort you but there doesn’t mean he’s not excited and won’t try explaining the positives to you. And if you’re excited, then he’s even happier! He hug you tightly but he’s already pulling back so he doesn’t hug you even though you’re barely showing.

♡ He gets very, very protective over you. And he isolates you even more. He just is so worried about you, there are so many things that could go wrong in pregnancy and there are so many complications that could happen. He takes you to the doctor a lot, even though he’s still protective of you, he still brings you to the doctor because he’s so nervous. He’s also scared for the baby for the same reasons.

♡ Sugawara reads up a lot of pregnancy and parenting so that he is fully prepared. He is at your beck and call honestly, he’s just so in love with you. He needs to make sure you’re comfortable and not stressed at anytime because it’s bad for you. Also definitely makes you food that you want because he doesn’t want you cooking because he sees as dangerous.

♡ He is already planning on spoiling the baby! He’s already spoiling you so much, he can’t wait to spoil the baby. He buys so many toys, play mats, clothes, everything! He just can’t wait, he’s very excited. Of course, he helps you decorate the nursery as well, whatever you like!

♡ Sugawara definitely brings you to a doctor. He’s very protective over you but he could not handle seeing you and you being in so much pain, so he definitely brings you to the hospital to give birth. He’s holding your hand the whole time, he is supporting you the whole time. He’s encouraging and definitely tells you how proud he is of you because you really are incredible.

♡ He lets you hold the baby first, then he holds them. He cries when he first holds them. Even when you all get home, Sugawara holds them while just relaxing with you. He ‘nurses’ you back to health, you just gave birth, he needs you to relax. So he takes care of you as well as taking care of the baby when you can’t.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Thank you for reading, darling!!

[munson-blurbs]

Hey, I love your writing so much! If you’re taking requests I’d like a short fic about reader mourning the loss of their dog? I just lost my girl Sasha and would like a comfort fic , Eddie or Steve, either is cool with me- phantom

Hi, love 💚 I'm so sorry to hear about your loss, and I hope this fic helps you through the grieving process. I went with Eddie for this one.

TW: death, loss of a pet, grief CW: 690

--

It feels like it should be raining. 

The sun hangs high in the sky, a gentle breeze blowing every so often. The weather gives no indication of any impending storm, not even a hint of gray in the white clouds. But to you, there’s a darkness that even the brightest light can’t repair. 

There will be no more wagging tail and excited barking to greet you when you come home. The realization cleaves your heart clean in half. 

Tears burn at your eyes and you let them fall, sliding down your cheeks and plopping unceremoniously onto the concrete stoop beneath you. 

“Hey.”

You look up and see Eddie standing in front of you, a cellophane-wrapped bouquet of daisies in his grasp. 

“Hi.”

The wrapping crinkles under his fingers as he sits beside you. He scoots close enough so you can rest your head on his shoulder. An ugly sob escapes you in a dramatic heave, but he refrains from commenting. In fact, he doesn’t say anything at all. 

You bask in the comforting silence, no expectations to talk or bare your feelings. Eddie presses a kiss to your forehead and sighs. 

“Can I say something?” He asks, and for the first time, you notice that he’s been crying, too. When you nod, he softly says, “She was a really good dog. The best, actually.”

“Mhm.” You don’t dare open your mouth for fear of starting up the waterworks again. 

“I keep thinking about the time I brought over burgers from Benny’s,” he continues, “and I left them on the counter for two seconds, and she tore into them.”

You scoff lightly. “It was more than two seconds.”

“Okay, well, I didn’t time it or anything. But it was fast. Like, lightning speed.” He taps his toe, knee brushing against the flower stems. “These are for you, by the way.”

Taking the daisies from him, you hold them to your nose and inhale. Fresh, new, alive. The juxtaposition has your chin wobbling embarrassingly. “Th-Thanks, Eds.”

Another pause, then: “Y’know, I lost a pet once, too.”

You swivel around, eyebrows pinched together. “I didn’t know Wayne let you have a pet.”

“He didn’t. I had to keep it a secret.”

“How did you manage to keep a dog a secret?” It’s not as though he and his uncle lived in a mansion; the tiniest Chihuahua could be easily spotted in their trailer. 

Eddie grins. “Who said anything about a dog?”

“A cat?”

He shook his head, giving the same response for your guesses of rabbit, lizard, and bird. 

“Do I even wanna know?”

He presses a hand to his heart in feigned offense. “I can’t believe you don’t remember Ant-chovy.”

You burst out laughing despite the weighty grief bogging you down. “Are you seriously comparing the death of my dog to the death of an ant?”

“He was my friend!” Eddie retorts. “And he was murdered right before my very eyes!”

You knock your shoulder into his with a playful shove. “Weren’t you the one who stepped on him?”

He scowls and plucks the bouquet from your hands. “I bring you flowers in your time of need, and you mock me?”

A smile tugs at your lips. “My deepest apologies. And my condolences for the loss of your dear friend, Ant-chovy. Who certainly was not an ant and who you definitely knew for more than five minutes.”

“Thank you.” Eddie gives you back the daisies; this time, he leans his head on your shoulder. “You’re gonna get through this.”

“Feels like I’ll be sad forever.”

He nods. “I know. But you won’t be. And I’m not going anywhere until you tell me to fuck off.”

You take a deep breath. “Is it okay if we talk a little bit about her? Like, share memories of her? Just for a little bit?”

“Course it’s okay.” Eddie smiles, coaxing the emotions from you without even trying. “You wanna go first?”

You do. With each word, the sunshine doesn’t sting quite as harshly; the blue sky seems less out of place. And should the rain start to fall, you will always find shelter in Eddie. 

--

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive

As we’re facing the next COVID surge (brought on by holiday travel), I thought I might try a different kind of COVID post. You can skip to here for some easy to do tips and tricks you might have missed, or you can read down for my discussion of why this is important.

I have recently been writing and thinking a lot about why so many of my friends and family’s actions on COVID are so different from mine. Namely why so many people I know no longer seem very interested in either preventing themselves from being sick or, importantly, not spreading sickness to anyone else.

In my own case, the experience of staying home to stop the spread in 2020 forced me to strongly reconsider my behavior up to that point. Why had I ever thought it was OK to go to work or ride the subway with the flu, unmasked and taking no precautions, knowing that the flu certainly hospitalizes and kills people each year? Even if the flu was no big deal for my body, my behavior had limited other people—particularly disabled people—from comfortably being in public during flu season. I had knowingly spread around an illness. I radically reconsidered a lot of my behavior, and in particular, 2020 pushed me to focus more specifically on disability justice in my activism. A disability justice framework pushes us beyond thinking about individual access to consider how ableism limits us all from liberation.

Getting back to why this reconsideration didn’t happen on a mass level, understanding disability justice also means understanding that ableism is the current social order. And if it’s the order of the day, like other oppressive ideologies, that means we are all drenched in it and it is impossible to avoid ever doing something ableist. Furthermore, most people are going to act in ableist ways, most of the time. None of this are exempt from this, but not even trying is definitely worse!

I am also well aware that good COVID information is hard to come by, especially if you are not on the regular lookout for it. And if you do go looking for it, it can quickly get overwhelming. So I’d like to offer here a very short, distilled list of things people might have missed since 2020. (I’ve not taken the time to track down citations for all of these things; you’ll have to trust me that I got them from trustworthy sources or you can verify on your own. I’m happy to give more info on any of these too.)

Some of these things are easy enough to do. I’m offering this list because from a “stop the spread” mindset, each specific thing you do is helpful. This list is not meant to be comprehensive, and it’s hopefully not overwhelming. You don’t have to be perfect or avoid COVID 100% of the time or make this part of your identity, but I’d like to ask everyone reading this to take one step up in your mitigations for the holiday season, since this is reliably a time with huge increases in virus transmission. With around a thousand people still dying every week from COVID in the US, you don’t know whose life you may save by being a little more careful.

Masking This is the biggest bang for your buck, precaution-wise. If it’s hard for you to mask all the time in public, consider masking in places that disabled people really can’t avoid, like the pharmacy, the grocery store, and on public transportation.

I’d also suggest that if masks are uncomfortable, try different kinds of masks! The Aura is my favorite mask – it’s tight to my face so my glasses don’t fog and head straps don’t hurt my ears like ear straps do. Wellbefore sells masks in different sizes and colors, and Armbrust has sampler packs. Just try a bunch and see what works for you!

Finally, know that if at all possible, you should wear an N95 or KN95 mask. This is a change since spring 2020 because the current variants of COVID are more contagious.

Mouthwash Washing your mouth out with a mouthwash containing CPC (cetylpyridinium chloride) before or after seeing people, or just regularly, will kill some of the virus in your mouth and keep you below the threshold to get sick and/or shed the virus to others. This is a really easy one; CVS brand mouthwash has CPC.

Sip mask These valves will allow you to drink without breaking the seal of your mask. This is great for airplane travel, crowded conferences, or other risky spaces that you need to be in for an extended amount of time.

Airplane The most dangerous time on an airplane from a virus transmission standpoint is the time sitting on the runway (because of the way they circulate and filter the air onboard). Even if you don’t mask up during the flight, this is the best time to mask. (And if you do mask, this is the worst time to have a snack or drink – try to keep your mask on for all of this period.)

Space out risky or crowded events Don’t go to a wedding and a concert in the same weekend! Illness takes 3-5 days to develop after exposure, so give yourself time to know if you got sick from the last thing before potentially spreading that to the next thing.

Air purifiers work! This is a great one for places that you can’t avoid, like school, work, or daycare. You can make your own Corsi-Rosenthal box, but there’s also a variety of high quality air purifiers you can get for $70-100. You want to make sure it has a HEPA or Merv13+ filter on it, and check how quickly it changes out the air in a room. Since COVID is airborne, there can be COVID in a space even after the person has left it. Setting up air purifiers and/or opening windows until enough air has circulated before you remove your mask is a great way to make a space COVID safer

Test before going to events, even if you don’t feel sick Rapid tests (the kind you’re used to getting from the government and at the drug store) False negatives from these are rampant but a positive test reliably means you have COVID. The accuracy of these tests also increases a LOT if you take two of them 48 hours apart.

Better home tests are now available Metrix and Pluslife are both testers you can buy that offer a similar level of accuracy to a PCR test (that is, very accurate!). These devices are expensive, but so is another COVID infection: think of the missed work, cost of Paxlovid, and potential for Long COVID to keep you down even longer.

It’s a good idea to get an updated vaccine 2x a year too; like the flu shot, these vaccines are updated to try to fend off the particular variants that are circling. Be mindful though that vaccination will not necessarily stop transmission, especially of asymptomatic cases. Handwashing is also good for general prevention, but it doesn’t really stop COVID transmission. In the early days of COVID, researchers guessed that it was spread by physical droplets. That’s why we were instructed to wash our hands and groceries. But now we know that COVID is airborne; it spreads more like cigarette smoke than spit!

Of course, no single thing works perfectly. The best model is still the Swiss cheese model, but that also means each thing you do helps. If you’re reading this, please consider doing *one more thing* to take care of yourselves and others. I love you

[demigoddessqueens]

First of all I just wanted to thank you for letting me know your requests were open. It makes me so happy to see people still giving Ezio the love he deserves! I don’t usually go for a lot of the more cliche lover tropes but I can’t stop thinking of Childhood best friend Ezio x reader.

What comes to mind is reader and Ezio having a strained relationship prior to his family’s execution due to readers newfound romantic feelings for Ezio and his infatuation with Christina. But once Ezio’s world is flipped on its axis after the murder of his father and brothers that he would seek reader’s help and comfort as he escapes Florence and trains to become an assassin.

I think at first he would be too shaken up and focused on revenge but after a while he would come to realize that he likes the reader. Maybe he would confess then, or perhaps after he kills Uberto.

It’s up to you to decide how you want to write all of this and what format (if you choose this request at all). You definitely don’t have to use my ideas if you don’t want to either, honestly I’d just love to see any type of Ezio x childhood best friend reader content. Thank you so so much for opening requests and for reading this 💗

Speaking my language with the Ezio angst!!! I need moar 💕💔

MASTERLIST 10

You cared for Ezio so much and it hurts. Growing up close with the Auditores was filled with the happiest memories of you, Frederico, Ezio and Claudia together, welcoming Petruccio, but your feelings always ran different with Ezio.

It left you dismayed at the unrequited feelings, and you felt your heart shatter when you heard of his late escapades of getting chased out with Christina.

Yet nothing could prepare you for the tragedy that struck when you heard of what happened to Giovanni and his two sons, your closest friends. There wasn’t time to grieve as you would have liked now that targets were on you and your family’s back, and you had to leave much of what you knew behind.

Only you didn’t expect to see Ezio at the same place of refuge at the end of things. He mentions that he was able to send a final goodbye to his father (with the help of Christina) but you ignore the pangs at your heart. You mourn along with him at the loss of the life you once knew together.

Being friends of friends (or family) of Assassins come with the perks of protection, but nothing you know of is ever the same again. Getting adjusted to your new life leads to unexpectedly wielding a blade, despite the constant wounds

Still, Ezio is there to see you grow and change as you both reach your respective milestones well into adulthood.

When Leonardo comes to see you both, it’s a much needed reprieve you didn’t realize you needed. A sense of normalcy despite all the heartbreak, and you realize how much you miss Ezio’s smile whenever you laugh at each other’s jokes.

Things feel…different. Upheavals so young and facing through them together does bring you closer. You and Ezio talk of the nightmares, seeking revenge, but try not to forget the good times as well.

In his quest against those who wronged him and his family, Ezio still thinks of you. You bring a tether and one close to him who knows what he’s feeling, going through.

There was one time you swore you felt him kiss you when you fell asleep at one of the desks, but you never brought it up since

Still, you heard of the visits he had with Christina and you didn’t think it would still affect you but jealousy works in mysterious ways. The day he lost her was the day you saw something shift in him, beyond the grief and pain from before.

He’s more urgent, stringent on whenever you go on missions or gather intel, and always wants to be by your side. Even Claudia begins to notice the change in her brother

It starts to annoy you at first, Ezio always hovering around you and whenever another person (let alone man) talks to you

“Ezio, this has gone on far too long now! Why are you always hovering near me?!”

“BECAUSE I WONT LOSE ANOTHER! Not those I CARE about!”

Speechless.

You don’t have anything to retort, especially since he still has more to say

“I’ve lost more than enough in one lifetime, and I can’t lose you too. I care for you…maybe even more than that.”

You can only hug him for now, but come the next day there’s still more to say

[friendlyengie]

I would love to hear ur hcs about the mercs sleeping habits (including ur OCs ofc)

ive always wanted To draw something for this but ive never had the like. Idea to do it in a way that would land the punchline. But basically on their days off I think Engineer is up until sunrise and Demo sleeps until sunrise and they sometimes catch each other in the middle but otherwise they wont see each other until theyre forced to start waking up at the same time again for work.

Anyways . Specifics. Hm.

Medic- trying to write this out for him I’m torn between “despite the way he is, Medic’s sleep schedule is shockingly consistent” and “he surgically removed the need for sleep out of his brain when joining Mann Co. and now sleep is like a recreational activity for him.” I genuinely think it could go either way.

Sniper- sleeps a solid 8 hours and still manages to pass out standing up during mission briefings. I don’t think his sleep is particularly pleasant, easily startled due to spy anxiety. But during his inappropriately timed naps? He could sleep through the base exploding probably.

Scout- Shockingly well put together morning person if he gets to sleep on time. Usually the second person up after Soldier to go on a morning run and shit. But if his sleep schedule is thrown an hour off track it all goes out the window. Drag his out of bed and he goes right to the couch and back to bed.

Heavy- With the way he lived growing up I could see him really having trouble with sleeping. Not easily startled, but very restless. Type of guy to occasionally have a “Something is Very Wrong” instinct kick in at 3 am and is perfectly aware that trying to get back to bed afterwards is a lost cause, so he’s learned to commit and has a handful of things that he does to pass the time instead.

Engineer- great at giving well thought out advice on why sleep is important, follows it unless he doesn’t. Celebrates his ability to keep himself on a good sleep schedule for a few weeks by letting himself go multiple days with no sleep if he feels like it’ll be “useful” for whatever he’s working on. Started to cap himself off at a 72 hour maximum after a 5-day streak resulted in the genius decision making that went into getting drunk and lobbing off his hand (And then remembering he probably should’ve had Medic around, or a proper gunslinger prototype built before doing so.)

Pyro- probably sleeps but always seems strangely and immediately attentive if you go to wake them up.

Demoman- respects his sleep schedule and expects you to as well. Fuck your all nighters, he knows how comfortable his bed is and he’s taking it. Hours vary depending on how much he’s been drinking, which will also determine how well he participates in the “guy who can just kind of fall asleep anywhere” club.

Spy- I feel like the only thing worse than sleep paranoia about spies is being a Spy trying to have a proper sleep schedule. Less as a result of his current job and more as a result of the many jobs hes taken in the past, I’d think Spy’s developed serious paranoia to letting his guard down in most regards, sleep included. Smoking supposedly “helped” the issue way in the beginning, most definitely just exasperates the issue now. Usually walks around the base with clear intent as to not be heard by anyone, so he’s probably got most of them convinced he sleeps pretty routinely.

Soldier- Consistently, on the dot, like clockwork. Not always the first to bed, but always the first to wake up. Wouldn’t wake up if you launched a bomb through his window but if you tried to gently nudge him to wake him up he would attack you like an enemy combatant and now you have to fight him and win.

[testingthewatersss]

What it felt like Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, torture, fear of the dark etc. Just unapologetic cuddling and comfort. Bucky Barnes x F Reader Oneshot 4500 words fluff, angst, comfort. 18+ MDNI Reader is Tony's sister, a non-enhanced shield agent who reappeared after TWS. What could possibly go wrong after movie night?

“That looks like it hurts”

Y/N’s voice cuts in above the din of the action movie that’s playing on the television, making Bucky tilt his head so that he can look down at where she’s nestled against his chest.

“What does, doll?”

“That” she scoffs, gesturing towards the movie, where some poor schmuck lying on the ground, taking kicks to the face.

“It’s not so bad” he shrugs, “You stop feelin’ it as much after they’ve gotten the first couple of licks in— It smarts for awhile after though, poor guy has no idea what’s comin’”

The way he says it is so lighthearted that it takes Y/N a minute to process what he’s actually said. By the time she has, the moment has passed. The scene on the screen has changed, and Bucky is back to stroking her arm, happy to let the silence between them continue.

And it does continue. It continues until the end of the film when the credits are rolling;

“Well that was somethin,” Bucky says, beaming as Y/N turns to face him, “Not sure I’d watch it again-”

“No” she agrees, reaching up to stroke his cheek, “It didn’t make my top 10 either.”

“You have a top 10?”

She laughs then, soft and tempered before sighing and deciding to take a moment to really look at him.

He really is beautiful.

Even in the dimly lit room, she can’t help but admire the gentle curves of his face. She lets herself reach up to stroke his jaw with her fingers, tracing the bone until she reaches the edge.

And then, she can’t help but think about what he’d said before.

How he’d so nonchalantly described the feeling of being kicked in the face.

The thought of hard leather boots crashing into him makes her cringe-

“What are you doin’, doll?”

She’s stroking his face, running her thumb across his bottom lip now, trying not to focus on the mental image of it splitting open-

“Nothin” she replies, reigning herself back in and offering him a tight-lipped smile as she lets her hands fall away, “You ready to turn in?”

He nods, still wearing an awfully curious expression, even as they both start to head towards the bed they’ve started to share.

By the time they’ve started the process of undressing, Bucky has decided that he must’ve done something to upset his partner.

He doesn’t know what, yet- but he’s sure that she’s avoiding him, and he can’t think of any reason for her to do that, other than him having done something wrong.

This relationship isn’t exactly new, but the concept of being in any relationship as a is something he’s still very much practising.

And considering the way he’s just spent a lifetime being barred from socialising at all, it wouldn’t be unexpected for him to mess up, sometimes. Even though Y/N has always maintained that there’s nothing he could do to make her like him any less, he thinks that she’s definitely acting off.

Every time he turns away he thinks he can feel her watching him, but every time he catches her eye she looks away.

She’s not talking much, either. Which is very out of character. Normally she fills the quiet between them by saying- well, anything, really. She’s a Stark, like her brother, and he’s grown quite accustomed to her monologuing.

So accustomed in fact, that he misses it now.

And then, he looks up and sees her on the bed, wearing a big t-shirt and nothing else and he goes to smile at her, but she looks away, fussing with a glass of water on the nightstand to her right, and he feels his heart drop.

Something is definitely wrong.

He finishes the task of getting ready, and then he silently paces over to her left. Mechanically folding himself up onto the mattress beside her.

Y/N can feel the stiffness in his posture. It’s awkward and unnatural, so she turns her body towards his;

“Are you alright?” she asks, “Tired?”

“Not really, doll” he says, “Tired, I mean- I’m alright.”

She chuckles at that and nods, kicking her legs under one of the many blankets they keep on the bed.

Quiet swells between the pair for a few more minutes, until Bucky decides that he can’t physically bare the tightness in his chest any longer-

It’s always better to just know. To face up to whatever he’s done and get the consequences over with.

And on the bright side, he’s sure that Y/N won’t hurt him. Not physically anyway, and if she does hurt him with her words, he knows that it’ll be justified, that she wouldn’t ever be cruel or unjust.

“Are you upset with me, Y/N?”

His question takes her totally by surprise. She puts the book she’d been fussing with down, and turns to face him properly.

She looks confused. So confused that Bucky can’t help but wonder if he’d spoken in a foreign language by mistake.

Wouldn’t be the first time, he thinks dryly, maybe she didn’t-

“No-Why would you think that?”

Oh, she did hear him then.

“I don’t know-” he admits, suddenly feeling very exposed, “-You’ve just been real quiet”

“I have?” she interrupts, quirking a brow, “I’m sorry, Buck. I’m just thinkin’”

“So it’s not…” he begins, relief starting to creep in, “It’s not because I said somethin’ or-”

The second he says that, her face shifts. The whole expression shifting as she averts her gaze to her lap;

“I did” he says, certain, “I said somethin’, that upset you didn’t I?”

“No” she repeats, tone softer, “Not exactly.”

Not exactly, he thinks, mind echoing her words—

“Buck, it’s fine” Y/N insists, “I’m not upset with you, don’t worry”

“What did I say?” he asks, tone edging towards desperate, “Please, doll- I didn’t mean to-”

“Bucky,” she says, tone firmer now, “I told you- It’s not like that”

“Then” he gulps, “what it is it like?”

Y/N sighs again, focusing her attention very deliberately back on his face for a moment, before surrendering to his wounded expression and rolling onto her side, beckoning him towards her;

“C’mere” she murmurs, patting the space by her chest, “You really wanna know?”

“Yeah” he whispers, shifting into place, letting his head rest in the crook of her bent arm, “I do”

Y/N looks at him thoughtfully for a beat before nodding, settling down and bringing her free hand over to his brow.

She starts to stroke the skin gently, trailing her fingers across his hairline, and then dipping them down to his temple, before starting the circuit all over again.

“You didn’t say anything wrong…” she clarifies, “…but when we were watchin’ the movie and I made that comment about that guy gettin’ the shit kicked out of him and how I bad I thought it must’ve hurt?…” she pauses, thumb brushing the bridge of his nose, feeling a dip in the bone from where it’s obviously been broken and re-set over the years, “…You weren’t imagining when you answered— You knew what it felt like and that- That made me sad…”

Her hand is back on his brow, so he looks up at her, guilt sitting heavily in his chest;

I made her sad being the only thought that he’s able to focus on as he readies himself to speak

“I’m sorry,” he tells her, swallowing thickly, “so sorry, doll-”

“Bucky” Y/N scoffs, edging her front closer towards him, “You’re not hearin’ me- You didn’t upset me, there’s nothin’ for you to be sorry about…”

“I made you sad” he counters, metal arm reaching out to stroke her waist, “I should’ve thought ab-”

“You didn’t make me sad,” she tells him with a smile, “The fact that you ever had to find out what bein’ kicked in face feels like makes me sad. The fact that anyone ever hurt you, makes me sad, Bucky… It’s not your fault.”

Oh, god…

He loves her. He loves her so much.

“I think sometimes I forget” Y/N hears herself drawl, “maybe we all do, huh? Me, and Steve and the others… I think we all forget how rough you had it before.”

“I forget too” he admits, “Sometimes… Sometimes when we’re together I’m so happy, Y/N— So happy that I can’t imagine ever not bein’ that way…”

And then she’s beaming at him, leaning in and pressing a kiss against his brow, where her fingers had been just a moment before.

“I think that’s why it hits so hard when I do remember”

That confession makes Y/N's mouth quirk unhappily. She corrects quickly, feeling obscenely grateful that he hadn’t been able to see her lapse in self-control.

“You make me feel safe, Y/N, really safe.” Bucky tells her, meeting her eyes the second he can, “I know it’s more complicated than that” he allows, “I know it’s because I’m out, too, because I’m not there anymore, but it… it really is better with you, and I think that’s why— I think that’s why when I remember, when I think about it all too much, or when I have a dream that I don’t forget— I think that’s why it’s so hard for me to deal with, because it feels like the two worlds aren’t connected, like they can’t exist at once”

“Bucky” Y/N murmurs, fingers working at carding his hair back now, “What can I do, huh?”

What can she do? he thinks, awed-

“You do more than enough already, doll”

She just shakes her head smiling.

“Listen…” she says softly, “… it sounds like keepin’ everythin’ so separate, actin’ like they don’t go together— like they can’t, go together— might be makin’ everythin’ harder for you than it needs to be.”

He doesn’t disagree with her, so he doesn’t try. He just keeps watching her face as she curls her fingers across his face. He feels like he could drown in the affection. Like that would be a wonderful way to go.

“So” she continues, “how do we make it easier? How do you think we could start to bring the two together a little?”

“Do you” Bucky gulps, “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

She raises a brow in questioning;

“Bringin’ them both together” he clarifies.

“What I think,” she says, “doesn’t mean shit, Buck. It’s what you think about it that counts.”

He can’t help but laugh at that. A real, true chuckle escaping his chest as he turns to press a kiss against her wrist.

“I” he sighs, “I haven’t thought a whole lot about that”

“Maybe it’s time you do” she suggests gently, “Now you’re somewhere where you can, y’know?”

“Yeah” he agrees, “Yeah, I think you’re right, doll- and I know I- I know I shouldn’t just pretend it didn’t happen, I know that’s not the healthiest, doll, but I’m- I’m worried…”

“Worried?” she presses, fingers costing under his eyes now.

“Mhmm” he hums, loving the contact she’s giving him, “I- I don’t want to make things weird”

That’s fair. That’s very fair. She just nods, understanding and waits for him to carry on;

“If… thinkin’ about me bein’ kicked makes you sad, darlin’ — then I—”

“Of course it does” she sighs, “Are you tellin’ me it wouldn’t make you sad if I told you about all the bad things that have ever happened to me?”

Okay. Okay, she’s got me there, he thinks.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be able to talk about things that happened” she tells him, with the same adoring tone as before, “You can always talk to me, Buck… You can always tell me anythin’… and if it makes me sad? Then that’s okay. I can handle bein’ sad if it makes things better for you in the long run.”

“But…” Bucky gulps, “…I don’t want you sad, doll”

She laughs at that, sweet and quiet as she rolls her eyes.

“I don’t want you sad either” she agrees, “but that’s not realistic— that’s not how life works, and I’d rather be sad for a minute, knowing that you’re healing, than have us both pretending that everythin’s okay.”

“…I..” Bucky concedes, “..I guess I could talk about some things, some more? I could try to anyway…”

“That might be a good start” she agrees, “It might help with the disconnect, which might make it less of a shock when things…crop up..”

And then, he feels himself nodding. He feels her fingers running across his hairline again, and as he looks up to meet her eyes he feels a layer of bravado fall away.

“I never liked it when they’d hit my mouth…” he admits, “or my nose— I mean, I didn’t like any of it, but- there was always somethin’ about when they’d go for my face that I really… I really hated.”

Y/N is stroking his cheek, now. She’s watching his eyes as they glaze over as he thinks back to a time he’s tried very hard to repress;

“It… it hurt, but- but it’s like I said before, after the first few blows it just, it just all burned the same, I- I think the noise was worse. The sound, and the taste- the taste of blood, and not, not being able to hide, just havin’ to take it— and not knowing when they were goin’ to stop… I- I hated it.”

Y/N nods, palm settling over the hinge of his jaw in a way that feels awfully protective.

“and after- whenever they did stop, it— got worse real quick, it- it would all swell up, and throb somethin’ fierce and, god, doll- Sometimes they wouldn’t even let it mend before they’d put that goddamn mask back on and it’d feel like I couldn’t breathe…”

On the topic of his breathing— it’s getting shallower by the second.

Y/N makes a mental note to watch that, to monitor him for signs of hysteria while he practices the kind of openness she’d been encouraging just a moment before;

“and when… when they did leave me after, I- I’d just be layin’ there, tryin’ not to move— just feelin’ it, until they came back, and I- I never knew how long it’d be, I- I never knew how long it’d take for someone to come and make it worse…”

His expression is still strangely vacant, even though she thinks there’s a definite layer of red in his cheeks now.

“…sometimes…” he murmurs, tone dropping now, “sometimes when it’s quiet, when nobodies touchin’ me, or I’m fallin’ asleep, I- I feel like it’s about to happen. Like someones about to hit my face. It’s… it’s hard to explain, but it’s the same- it’s the same feelin’ of bein’ there, waitin’ for the blows to start, and I- I never know what to do”

Okay, now he’s hysterical. Or his breathing is anyway.

“You don’t know what to do?” she asks, voice calm.

“No” he admits, “No, Y/N…”

She just smiles, smoothing his hair back gently as she hums.

“Does anythin’ make the feelin’ stop?” she asks, “Or make it less?"

“When” he swallows, “When it happens at night- when I’m fallin’ asleep, then I— I reach out for you, doll, I- I’m sorry, I- I don’t mean to do that, but I- I can’t help it—“

Y/N hushes him, shaking her head to dispel his obvious concern;

“Does that help?”

Yes, he thinks instantly, Yes, god, it helps so much-

She watches him nod, shame making the blush in his cheeks burn hotter than before;

“You just need to feel someone there, huh?”

“Not someone” he counters nervously, “Doll, it’s… it’s you- it’s only you- It’s because you’d never- because you’d never hurt me…”

“Nobody in this building would ever hurt you” she reminds him calmly, “Bucky, you’re safe here”

“I know” he agrees automatically, “I know that, but- it’s… it’s hard to explain…”

“Want to try?” she offers her fingers back to playing with his hair as he nods, retreating inwards to try and produce a way of rationalising his thought process.

“I trust Steve” he begins, “I really do, doll- I love him, too.”

Y/N knows that, so she nods, waiting for him to expand;

“but he… he hurt me, when- when I wasn’t me…” he says, shame making his throat tight, “I know it was my fault. I know I fought him too, doll, but- there’s part of me, that… that doesn’t care about that— that’s just scared, and when he comes up behind me, or pats my shoulder without me expectin’ it, then it’s real hard for me not to forget where I am.”

That’s sad.

It’s terribly sad, but not totally irrational, which Y/N thinks makes it worse somehow;

“You’re the only person that makes me feel safe like that” he continues shyly, “Sometimes the noise is too much, sometimes the quiet is too much, and I can’t know what’s going to be too much until it’s too late, but you… god, doll you’re the only thing that helps me catch my breath when I feel like that…”

“Well…” she exhales, letting her thumb brush across his nose, “…It’s lucky I’m here then, lucky that I’m not ever gonna’ let anyone hurt you ever again”

“I’m sorry I’m puttin’ all this on ya’, Y/N…” Bucky hears himself say next, tone thick and sincere, “I love you, I- I really do, and I’m sorry I—”

“Shhh, now” she whispers, shaking her head a fraction, “I love you, Bucky, just as much as you love me. I want to help you”

“But I really don’t want to upset you” he says, although Y/N thinks he sounds defeated before he’s even finished, “I know you don’t like thinkin’ about what happened, just like you said—”

She presses a gentle kiss on his cheek to quiet him, before letting her lips coast upwards to his temple.

“You’re just gonna have to indulge me a little after we talk, baby,” she says, “We can always talk about anything you want— You can always come to me when you’re not feeling right, okay? but, after, I’m gonna need you to work with me”

And he’s blinking at her, confused but adoring. And she’s cupping both of his cheeks in both of her hands, now, and god, he…he loves her so much it hurts.

Absentmindedly, he considers asking about exactly what she means by working with her afterwards.

She’d said indulge, too, he remembers dreamily, I’d let her do anything, anyway- so it doesn’t really matter…

“You look confused” Y/N purrs, thumbs stroking his cheeks, “Where did I lose you?”

“Workin’ with you” he admits, “Somethin’ about indulging, doll- I, I can’t think of what you mean.”

She laughs at that, soft and gentle as she continues her act of tracing his face with her fingers.

“I mean” she sighs, “That if I’m being honest I don’t think I could handle you just droppin’ somethin’ heavy on me and then disappearing… I’m gonna need you to let me smother you a bit…”

“Smother me” he echos, awed by the concept.

“Mhmm…” Y/N hums, “Like this-” she says, making a point of exaggerating the way she’s touching him, “- baby, just let me keep you close… let me love on you…”

“Oh, god”

Bucky can feel himself practically melting under her consideration.

Being smothered by her is all he’s ever wanted.

He can’t think of anything that would make the idea of opening up and healing more tolerable than Y/N keeping him close while he does.

“You’re so precious to me” she whispers suddenly, “Bucky, and sometimes you’re goin’ to have to let me show it…”

“I don’t…” he replies voice barely audible, “…I don’t think I can think of anythin’ nicer…”

“Well then…” she chuckles, rubbing her nose against his, “…that’s settled…”

“When can we start?”

The question bursts from his lips before he even realises what he’s saying.

Y/N just smiles, thumb running in circles across his cheekbone;

“I think we already have…” she replies, voice soft, “…can you think of anything else you wanna talk about right now?…”

A considerate crease forms between his brows as he thinks about her question.

Suddenly, there are thousands of things he wants to tell her.

Countless horrible situations that he’s been forced to live through are vying for his attention, fighting for the opportunity to be addressed. To be acknowledged as real—

and then in an unexpected moment of clarity, Bucky knows that he can’t open the door to them all now. He knows that doing that would be more than he can handle, even with Y/N taking care of him so thoroughly.

If he’s actually going to do this, he’s going to do it right.

He’s going to have to be careful, methodical and aware of his own limitations; but even having decided that he realises that there’s one more thing he wants to tell her tonight-

“Just that” he gulps, “They- They kept me alone most of the time, doll and I don’t just mean, on my own… I- I mean in the dark, with- nothing… just, just— totally alone… and- and that… god, that was always worse than the pain, I- I was so damn scared, I- I just want you to know that if… if I ever hold onto you a little too tight, or- or if— if I wake you up because I have to put a light on, I- I’m not doin’ it to- I, I just need to remember where I am…”

Y/N had decided as soon as he started speaking that she wasn’t going to interrupt. That she was going to let him finish his train of thought, no matter where it led, but now that he’s actually grown quiet, she’s not sure how to reply.

She settles for pressing a kiss against his lips, stroking his face with her fingers as he lingers in the moment for a little longer than normal.

At some point their bodies have shifted, their fronts being drawn together like magnets. Bucky seems to love it. He’s relishing in the closeness, and based on the new information he’s just given her, Y/N thinks that it’s hardly a surprise.

“You think you can fall asleep with the lamp on low?” she whispers, mouth still grazing his, “It’d save you havin’ to turn it on if you come round in the night…”

“I can” he replies, “I used to, until we started sharin’… even, even as a kid I used to keep candles burnin’…”

“You’ve never liked the dark, huh?”

His head shakes a fraction and she can’t help but sigh;

“You could’ve told me”

He knows that. He offers her a tightlipped smile that looks awfully embarrassed;

“I wasn’t the most slick when I was young” he admits, “I’d suck my thumb a bunch too, it used to drive my old man crazy, but my- my ma never minded… she’d sneak me into their room until I got too big to bunk”

The laugh that triggers is soft. It’s light and musical and Y/N is stroking his jaw, again;

“What did you do after that?”

It’s Bucky who laughs then. It’s equally tempered, but it’s laced with a nostalgia which makes her chest ache dryly,

“I’d share with Steve sometimes…” he tells her, “…He always got sick if it was cold, and he was real scrawny so it made sense, especially after he moved in. We didn’t have a whole lot of space so we topped and tailed until I got drafted, and he got his own place.”

“And when you got drafted?”

“I had a dozen bunk mates, doll… even when we were in transit we were all packed together like sardines in a can…”

So the first time he’d been alone had been in a cell, either when he was being tortured in some cell or when he’d woken up after the fall.

Even when he’d arrived at the tower, it must’ve been terrible. Being on his own in a room, no matter how nice they’d designed it to be.

“Did you ever think about slippin’ in with Steve again?” she wonders, “after you got here?”

“No” he replies honestly, “No, I- I knew how different things were… and I- I was used to it by then, figured I was lucky to have a blanket, let alone a room, and a bed, doll… I wasn’t goin’ to push it, especially after everything that happened with him, y’know?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs, “Yeah, I know…”

“But then I met you,” he says dreamily, “and you let me curl up with you on the couch… you never made it a big deal, darlin’- even before we were us”

“I remember jokin’ about you bein’ part cat” she recalls, “the first time you passed out with your head in my lap, Steve walked in with Natasha and I thought he was goin’ to burst into flames he went so red.”

“I was mortified,” he tells her, “I was sure that you were goin’ to say somethin’, Y/N, I- I couldn’t believe my luck when you just asked if I wanted to grab dinner”

Again, her laugh is like music. Like the sweetest song he’s ever heard.

“What could I have possibly said, huh?” she asks, “you were always exhausted… I was just happy you’d managed to get some rest.”

She sounds so adoring that Bucky finds himself lost for words.

He’s just blinking at her, flushed and precious while she strokes his cheek with her thumb.

“We’ll keep the lights on tonight” she tells him after a beat, “See how it goes, and take it from there…”

“Only if you’re sure, doll”

She nods, smiling calmly.

“I’m sure…” she swears, “I’m very sure…”

After a flick of her wrist, the room is illuminated with a dim, warm glow.

It reminds Bucky of being in a room with a fire. It feels nice, homely, even. And even though nothing else about their position has changed, bar the way Y/N has hitched the covers up higher, covering them both more thoroughly, he can feel his pulse starting to slow. His posture relaxing as he breathes, relishing in the comforting lull of her fingers in his hair, tracing his brow and tucking curls back behind the ear he’s not lying on.

“Oh, yeah” Y/N whispers, a few minutes later, “Yeah, this is a winner, huh? I haven’t seen you this settled in a real long time…”

His lashes flutter, eyes opening dreamily to stare at his love again. He hadn’t even meant to close them; He really is tired, now.

“Can I do anythin’ else?” she wonders, pressing another kiss against his lips,

“You’re spoilin’ me already” he replies, knowing the attempt at protesting is lame at best

She just rolls her eyes, beaming at him in silence.

“Can we stay like this?” he asks, cheeks heating up, “Please? I’ll try not to smother you”

“Sweetheart” she sighs, “Of course we’re stayin’ like this…”

Masterlist

[serenefreakgeekao3]

Ever in our favour

CHAPTER TWO

[Table of Contents]

Summary: The process of healing and dreaming

Warnings: descriptions of blood and injuries

Author's Note: I wrote this part instead of a part of another fic that I should've been writing- and sure it's only been a day since I posted chapter one but y'know whatever, it's peeta, and he's sweet so there

You must’ve fallen asleep. You open your eyes slowly, blinking against the harsh light filtering in through the opening just ahead of you. Your head is still pounding with a migraine, the light accentuating the pain, shooting daggers through your eyes. You groan low, then looked down at your side to see multiple leaves and moss pressed against your wound. It hurt, but it looked to have stemmed the bleeding for a time now. You draw in a long breath, pushing yourself to sit up and wincing at the pain it caused, pushing back to lean against the wall behind you.

Now with the light, you could see the little cave that Peeta had found was barely big enough for two bodies, as long as they were hunched over. You heard the rushing river just outside the opening of the cave, and you could just see the edge of where the river flowed downstream. You heard some splashing coming from that direction, and hoped it was Peeta coming back and not someone else about to stumble upon you, defenceless.

You continue to hear splashing every so often as you wait. Silence, then boots splashing through water, then silence again. You reach down to press against the leaves on your side, pulling them back to finally get a look at your wound. It definitely needed to be cleaned, and you couldn’t tell the extent of the damage until you’d done so. You gently press the leaves back on, then start inspecting your pockets. You don’t have a backpack, so you could only hope you managed to grab something before you hit your head.

Your pants had multiple pockets, though half of them were empty. You felt something metal in your front right pocket, pulling it out to reveal a knife that folds outward. You tested it against your thumb and drew blood easily, then closed it and put it back in your pocket. There was a bundle of thin cords in another pocket and some sort of metal circular container. Shoving the cord back into your pants, you twist the lid on the metal container to open it, revealing some sort of translucent ointment on the inside. You lift it to your nose, smelling a strong antiseptic mixed with alcohol smell.

“Oh, you’re awake!” You look up to see Peeta ducking his head into the cave, a large smile gracing his face as he looked at you. “I was worried, actually. I think I remember someone telling me that you’re not supposed to fall asleep after you’ve hit your head, but I didn’t want you to have to stay awake in pain this whole time.” He drops his backpack on the floor near the entrance, leaning a long, crooked wooden spear against the wall.

“How long was I out?” You screw the lid back onto the container and watch Peeta’s eyes track the movement.

“Through the whole night, and most of the morning. From the sun’s position, it might be close to noon, but I can’t really tell.” He makes his way next to you, plopping down and stretching his legs out. He holds a hand out toward you and you acquiesce, passing the metal container over. “I tried to spear some fish for food, but turns out I’m not quick enough.”

“I found that in my pocket, must’ve picked it up when the games started.” You nod toward the container. “I also have a small knife and some cords. If I’m able to get out of this cave anytime soon, I could set up a snare for some small game. I don’t exactly have practice with fishing either, though.” You watch Peeta raise the opened container to his nose, sniffing it and pulling a face. His nose scrunched up, and you couldn’t help but find the gesture cute.

“This seems like some sort of first aid ointment,” He gestures toward your side, “We could try to treat that with this? If you feel comfortable with it?”

“I’d feel more comfortable if the damned thing was labelled,” You muttered, then nodded. You stretched out lower, extending your side and turning to face the cave wall. “But if you have any spare cloth, might want to clean it first. I can’t even tell where the wound begins and what’s just blood everywhere.” He nods quickly, screwing the cap back on the medicine and setting it down to crawl back to his backpack. He digs through before pulling a long strip of cloth out.

You begin the process of removing the leaves and moss, setting them aside as Peeta leaves the cave to drench the cloth in water. When he returns he begins muttering something under his breath before making himself comfortable next to you. The first press of the drenched cloth against your side causes you to hiss from the cold, goosebumps appearing across your flesh. He’s gentle as he cleans your side, wiping any blood from the top of your shirt before eventually pulling it up and out of the way. His pace was slow and his touch light, as if worried to hurt you. As if you could be in any more pain already.

Once you felt him finally lift the cloth away, you look down to finally get an idea of what you’re working with. It looked like a large gash had hit just below your ribs, though from this angle you couldn’t tell how deep it went. If you were to guess, the hatchet that 3 had lost could easily explain this injury. Peeta brings his hand over, and you watch as he gently begins dabbing the ointment onto the cut. The ointment brought another wave of cold through your body, causing a shiver that pulled concern across Peeta’s face.

“So,” You breathe out, finally laying your head down and letting Peeta get on with it, “How many days have we been here?”

“Yesterday was the first day.” Peeta’s voice was low and mumbled, and he sounded concentrated. You huff out a self-deprecating laugh, shaking your head. At a sudden touch to the side of your head you flinch, then let out a breath as you feel Peeta’s gentle fingers glide across what was likely the injury that caused your memory loss, your hair beginning to feel sticky from the ointment.

“Of course it was the first day. Can’t miss any part of this hellhole, can I?”

“You’ve forgotten the techniques you learned during training, and the plans we made together.” Peeta finally withdraws his hand, and you twist to look him in the face once more.

“You could always go back over them with me?” He sighs in response, and you hear the clinking of metal as he puts the lid back on the jar.

“Honestly it’s kinda pointless now, with your injury like this. I say we just take it one step at a time.” You smirk, raising your arm to rest your head on.

“Oh yeah? Did you learn that from your baker parents? ‘One step at a time,’ like a recipe?” You heard Peeta’s chuckle in response and your smirk slowly formed into a full grin. You tried to resituate to get comfortable, the pain in your side lessening from the ointment, yet once you’ve touched an unused spot of the cave stone you could feel the cold seep into your skin causing another shiver.

There was movement behind you and you waited for a response from Peeta. When none was forthcoming, you requested from him, “Tell me about yourself.” You felt Peeta get even closer to you, realizing that he must’ve laid down right behind you. He began scooting in before eventually wrapping an arm carefully around your waist to pull you in. He felt abnormally hot against your skin, though that could just mean that you were abnormally cold.

“What would you like to know?” His voice was low and right next to your ear. You shivered once more, though from his proximity more than the cold. You could only hope that he thought it was the latter.

“You’ve said a few things already,” You couldn’t help but point out, lowering your own voice to a whisper, “That you’re from District 12. That you are a baker’s son, and you went to school. Did you win any trophies from your wrestling jaunt?” You felt his laughter against your back and his arm tightened his hold on you.

“No, I wasn’t that good.” You lay in silence for another few moments before you huff indignantly, annoyed that he didn’t feel the need to continue.

“Alright. Then what’s your favourite colour?” You felt more laughter bubble up from the boy behind you. His head was shaking before finally coming to rest, pressing his forehead against the centre of your back.

“Orange.”

“Orange? Like-”

“Not bright, or flashy like what the people in the Capitol wear. Orange like the colour of the sunset on the horizon.” You hum in response, closing your eyes to picture it. District 9 always had the most beautiful sunsets.

“Are you going to ask what mine is?” You could feel him shake his head against your back, tightening his hold once more as if afraid you were trying to escape.

“No,” He mumbles, and you’re confused until the rest of his sentence catches up to you. “You told me already.”

“Peeta?” You felt more than hear him hum, relaxing back into his hold. “Are we going to make it?” It’s quiet afterwards, the sounds of rushing water just outside the cave powering over any other sound that could be heard. You wait for a response from Peeta- whether positive and hopeful or realistic and pessimistic- but as more time passes it seems he isn’t going to answer.

Then you hear it: just a tiny little snore originating from behind you, and something swells in your chest. He had fallen asleep, that’s why he hadn’t answered. You began to wonder about this all. Had he been awake throughout the entire night? Was this the first sleep he was getting since being shoved into the arena? And- had he purposefully moved to protect your back before falling asleep?

You try to stay awake and keep an ear out in return, but it becomes increasingly difficult over time. Not only was the pain in your side finally fading away- likely due to some sort of numbing agent in the medicine- but the warmth of Peeta’s body heat against your back lulled you into a sense of comfort and security. You don’t even remember closing your eyes.

You were sat in a circular open field surrounded by tall stalks of golden grain, swaying gently in the light breeze. The sky above was cloudlessly blue and the world seemed so quiet it was almost as if time had stopped. You wish time had actually stopped, because here soon you were going to be fetched and put into your family’s nicest outfit, and you’d be shipped off to the long lines of children waiting to be reaped.

You were currently weaving a few dead strands of grain together into a sort of crown. Your friends from school had shown you how to do this, though they used the pretty weeds that grew around the school building during recess and called them flower crowns. They also haven’t made them at all in the last five or so years, but you kept up the habit on your off time.

‘Y/N!’ Your name was called by your parent, and you finish tucking the last piece into place. You carefully walk through your family’s fields, approaching your home. Your outfit was the same as it was the last four years, though you weren’t really complaining. You only had to wear it once a year as it was, and this was the last year you’d be forced to dress up for the Reaping. You placed your crown of grain against your head once you’ve finished getting ready, and were rewarded with a light laugh from one of your parents.

You didn’t bother saying goodbye to your family after dinner, just waved like it was any other day and left to enter the large cloud of kids migrating toward the Justice Hall. Your finger was pricked alongside everyone else, and the sharp red colour of your blood contrasted brightly against the muted colours of your district. They play their video- the same video as every year, and really, were they ever going to update it? And then they drew the names.

‘Y/N L/N!’

You jerk awake from the sound of a cannon, gasping and looking around wildly. Behind you, Peeta had also been awoken, sitting up straight and scanning the area, breathing heavily. You both try to calm yourselves, listening for anything nearby that could be heard over the sounds of the rushing water. It’s silent for a few minutes, and during that time you manage to sit up and push yourself back against the wall. Peeta follows your movement once you’ve settled.

“So,” You begin, trying to tame your racing heart, “How many is that now? How many died during the bloodbath?”

“If we didn’t miss a cannon while we slept,” He paused, scrunching his face and considering it, “Which I really doubt we did considering we both shot awake for that one- then that would’ve been the ninth dead.” He rests his arms against his knees, rubbing his face before dropping his hands back down. You watch him try to widen his eyes like he’s trying to wake himself up, then turn to look outside. If it had been around noon before- and with it still being light outside- then he likely hadn’t slept much at all.

“Sorry I fell asleep,” You begin, intending to offer him more sleep before he suddenly interrupts you, placing a hand on your arm.

“No, don’t be. You’re injured, you need the rest.” He rubs your arm, tilting his head thoughtfully. “You feel a lot less cold than earlier, though.”

You hum, then realize something you feel like you should’ve noticed sooner. Your side didn’t hurt at all anymore. You look down, lifting your shirt to show it. It was mostly healed, closed at the very least, with a long and ugly line running across your side. It wasn’t red or itchy, so you knew it couldn’t be infected, but if it wasn’t already finished healing then it would be soon. And it would end up being a very obvious scar, that much was for sure.

You hear Peeta gasp beside you and he reaches forward to place his fingers gently under the line. He traces it lightly, and then you both lock eyes. “It looks- that’s like, a miracle or something.”

“Or something,” You mutter, running your own fingers down the line of it, brushing against Peeta’s hand. “It doesn’t hurt at all anymore.”

“That’s incredible.” You study him for a moment, chewing the inside of your lip before reaching over and lifting his shirt, scanning his abdomen. You feel him chuckle against your hand, and you meet his eyes once more. “Can I help you?”

“Were you injured?” You stare directly at him, and he tries to hold your gaze until eventually he looks away. “I may not remember you very well, but I have the strange feeling you’d ignore any of your own discomforts to tend to me first.”

Peeta shrugs casually but doesn’t push your hand away. Narrowing your eyes, you push yourself to sit directly in front of him, lifting the shirt higher. There, you notice a smattering of purple and blue bruises along his ribs and you sigh in response.

“You think that miracle ointment would help with bruises?” His voice was mumbled but sounded mostly dejected. You huffed, looking around until you spotted where he placed the metal container, leaning over to grab at it. When you return to your position, his hand shoots out and grabs your wrist. “No, I doubt it’ll actually work. You need to save it for some other, worse injury.”

“I’m not using all of it,” You mumbled back, gently dislodging his hand from you and opening the container. “But I am putting this on you. We’ll find out if it works or not.” You dip your fingers into the ointment, leaning over him and raising his shirt once more. You try to touch as lightly as possible, but Peeta still winces as it’s applied. Your chest begins to hurt in response but you power through, hoping that this would help at least minimize the bruises if not fix them completely. “Once this is put on you’re getting more sleep.”

“As long as you stay with- stay here.” He changes course halfway through his sentence, clearing his throat and wincing again at another pass of ointment. He felt solid and real beneath your fingers, and you begin to wonder blandly whether this is the closest you’ll get to him. Either way, feeling his body underneath your hands was grounding, taming something that had been free-floating through your head.

“No,” You begin, then raise a finger to interrupt him before he could argue, “You’re going to stay here and rest like you let me do last night. And I’m going to take this cord in my pocket and set up a few snares. Hopefully, we’ll have something to eat before the sun goes down.”

“It’s too dangerous out there,” Peeta whispers, raising a hand to brush against the side of your head, gently testing the area where you had bled. You didn’t hurt at the touch, so you figured it healed the same as your side had. “There are other tributes. There could be traps or-”

“If there’s a tribute I’ll hide, and if there are traps then I’ll be alerted to them much sooner out there than in here. I’ll be able to come to fetch you, and we can run together.” You finish, pulling his shirt down, then begin to scan his face. You raise your finger up, gently pressing whatever ointment was leftover against the small split on his bottom lip.

Once finished, you reach over and wipe your hands off on the cloth still soaked and bundled into a ball nearby. You closed the metal container, then crawl over to the entrance of the cave where Peeta had dropped his backpack. Unzipping the small pocket, you slide the container inside and close it back up. Meeting Peeta’s eyes, you could tell he wanted to argue with the action but held himself back.

“Lay down,” You tried to keep your voice gentle, smiling toward him, “Get some sleep. I’ll wake you if I find us some food.”

[siiren-romqntics]

HELLO TUMBLR sorry I haven’t been around in forever, I’m actually being suffocated by school💔

I just thought I’d check back in, I want to some asks plsss let me yap

Also I haven’t been doing nothing in my time away, I’m currently working on this vinijude fic and thinking of 50 more ideas for them…

***

“Jude it’s ok, you know, if you are still adjusting.” Vini reassures him with a soft smile, throughout all of this his thumb has continued its ministrations to his neck and Jude knows if this intimate moment goes on any longer he’ll embarrass himself further. So he grabs the hand at his neck and takes it off but he still holds onto it. He knows he’s blushing now and probably looks a tad bit pathetic but he can’t help but appreciate the care Vini is giving to him. “Oh my God, you're so cute.”

“Shut up, respect me, I don’t need to be called cute.”

“But you are Judey, I’ll have to make sure to scent you more if it means you’ll react like this.”

Jude groans at the nickname as he rolls his eyes heavenward but he’s smiling. He won’t say it out loud now but he’d definitely be up for more scenting from Vini. This is another feeling Vini brings out of him, the desire to be doted on. It’s fresh, something he only let a few people do for him, mainly family, maybe two friends, and just one person at Dortmund.

“What’s this I’m hearing about scenting Jude more?” Rodry squishes his body into Jude’s from behind, knocking Vini’s arms out of the way and wrapping around Jude like a greedy little koala. Jude snaps out of the trance he was in and remembers they’re in the middle of the dressing room and it’s not just him and Vini existing.

“Rodrygo, I was scenting Jude.” Vini’s brows furrow as he tries to take his spot back but Rodry’s already on his tippy toes and rubbing his neck against Judes.

“Well it’s my turn now, stop hogging.”

“I was here first though!”

“We’re scenting Jude? Wait, let me in.” Cama chirps as he grabs Jude’s face in his hand and pushes Rodrygo’s face away with the other. Bickering like children over who gets to scent him. Jude can’t believe them.

“No way I’m sharing with you too.”

“I think I’m entitled y’know? Me and Jude are both omegas!”

“What the hell does that matter? And get your hand off my face.”

“Omega solidarity dumbass.”

Jude is just about to tell them to stop being stupid and warn them that they might fall over with all this wrestling over a damn scent gland before another body is joining in the mess.

“I haven’t had my Jude scenting session either.” Aurelien murmurs as he grabs one of Jude’s wrists and brings the scent gland to his.

“Fuck off, no puedo tener nada con vosotros, chicos.” Vini groans as they all push at each other while trying to get closer to Jude at the same time.

“Alright that’s enough stop, all of you get off of me.” Jude says but he can’t keep serious and is giggling at their stupidity. Even if he’s still grappling with being a normal omega and understanding what behaviour is expected of him, he’s glad these lads are the ones he’s going through it with. It doesn’t matter if he feels inadequate or awkward, knowing there are people who will love him until he’s comfortable makes everything seem easier.

When Jude hops into his mother’s car drenched in his teammates' scents he can only blush at her raised eyebrow and knowing look. She doesn’t press him on why the cinnamon and jasmine in his scent is practically unnoticeable because she knows what this means for Jude. He hasn’t said or done anything to show her he’s struggling with his dynamic being public but she knows, she always does. So if Jude needs to be smothered by his teammates to feel better, more whole, then so be it.

[presidenthades]

Once again, I am doing a series of my behind-the-scenes thoughts for The Golds while I do light edits for formatting, typos, and continuity. Here’s Chapter 7!

My original expected chapter count for this fic was 7 (one stanza of “The Song of the Seven” for each chapter title), but as I started increasing the number, I realized I needed to get creative with chapter titles. For this chapter, I picked the penultimate lyric “close your eyes, you shall not fall” because much of the chapter consists of Aegon helping Jace not “fall” into a further downward spiral, and there’s a certain amount of faith required by all parties that everything is going to be OK in the end.

Originally, Jace’s road to recovery was going to be even rougher than in the final version. She refuses to eat or drink anything, and her family gets pretty desperate to the point of doing stupid things to get her to eat. But I felt like that was unnecessary angst and trauma, and she’s already been through enough, so I dialed it back.

Similarly, she was going to have bad perinatal depression up until and after she gave birth, and there was a sequence where she refused to even hold Cheeseball for some time after he was born. But again, it made me feel like I was whumping on Jace and Aegon for unnecessary pain, so I focused more on the “comfort” rather than the “hurt” part.

This chapter is in Aegon’s POV because it was originally supposed to be the second half of Chapter 6 before I realized it was way too long. After I cut it in half, I debated rewriting it in Jace’s POV, but she’s stuck inside her head a lot this chapter whereas Aegon has a lot more action and growth. We return to Jace in Chapter 8 when she’s feeling more like herself but still recovering.

Orwyle is not a popular character in the fandom, which is understandable. He only gets like one minute of screen time, but that one minute made me think a lot about his character. When he’s a junior maester, he suggests a new poultice to try on Viserys instead of the traditional leeching method, and he shows a bit of doctorly compassion to Rhaenys when Vaemond’s body is being prepared. In the book, Orwyle’s defining trait is that he’s cowardly (he literally rewrites history to make himself look better to the Blacks, and he flees from the ship taking him to the Wall). But I was intrigued by how he ends up working at a mid-level brothel and teaches the girls there to read (how he gets caught later). He didn’t have to teach them how to read, but he chose to anyway (to his own detriment).

Overall I consider Orwyle as someone who’s very talented at his job (healing and teaching), and is actually a pretty empathetic person (good quality in a doctor), but he’s not strong-willed and is willing to cave on his principles to stay alive. Not exactly a villain, definitely not a hero either. So he’s going to do his job and do it well, regardless of his patient (especially in this AU verse where there’s less conflict).

After three years in the Stepstones, I’d be shocked if Aegon didn’t learn first aid (same with Aemond). He’s not necessarily interested in healing and such, but he’s capable of basic combat-adjacent medical tasks. So he knows how to clean and bandage wounds, and he can recognize common healing herbs.

I don’t think I need to explain that Westeros has a pretty poor understanding of mental health and doesn’t know what therapy is 😅. For most people who’ve undergone trauma, they would probably be told “carry on, as you were, etc” and they have to just “get over it.” But Jace is a princess who doesn’t have to worry about earning a living, has an overprotective husband, and is pregnant with a very important baby so her health and comfort are of paramount importance. So she luckily has a supportive environment dedicated to her recovery.

As is stated later in the chapter/fic, Jace fires her remaining LIWs because she’s convinced herself that it’s her fault they were injured/killed, and sending them away from her service will keep them safe. Irrational to be sure, but Jace has always been prone to blaming herself for things. She’s also worried that firing the LIWs will reflect poorly on them, hence her trying to compensate them monetarily. But the offer is insulting to Rhaena, who acts as a LIW primarily out of love. If Jace were more herself, she would’ve realized the implications of her offer equating Rhaena’s love/loyalty with a monetary value.

Initially, Jace’s list of “safe people” is very short: Aegon and Luce. Aegon is self-explanatory. Of all her sisters, only Luce makes the initial list because a) they’ve always been very close and b) Luce was there when they found Jace at the Garden, so there’s an added feeling of security. Although Aemond was also at the Garden, he isn’t on the list because their prior relationship wasn’t nearly as close as the other two.

When Rhaenyra touches Jace’s face while trying to feed her, Jace flips out because the Tyroshi grabbed her face when forcing down the dreamwine and later during his attempt with moon tea.

A little irony in Aegon offering to be Jace’s taste tester, when you think about how he dies in F&B 😢.

During Chapter 7 of the Handbook, Luce picks up three dragonglass daggers from the blacksmith. I mentioned them in the Handbook commentaries, but I’ll reiterate that she intended for Jace, herself, and Joff to each have one, as the three full-blooded daughters of Rhaenyra and Laenor. Jace clearly hasn’t been using her dagger, except to display it on her mantel maybe.

Daemon has decided to develop an emergency protocol in case any of the Targ girls are kidnapped again. I’ve been debating writing a oneshot about it.

Castle kitchens are hot, loud, messy places, and a princess would have no reason to ever go there. In a castle as large as the Red Keep, there are probably multiple kitchens. I imagine the Holdfast has a king’s privy kitchen and queen’s privy kitchen solely for prepping their food, and probably other kitchens too. I imagine the largest kitchens to be in the main part of the Red Keep, and that’s where Aegon puts Gyles and Ronnel. It’s a longer walk to get the pies to Jace and Aegon, but Gyles and Ronnel have a much wider social circle of other servants. It’s also where Aegon has his little office of petitions, and he likes being able to run out and grab pies whenever he wants.

Gyles and Ronnel are used to Aegon, so they’re relatively chummy with him. But they’ve never met Jace before, have only ever seen her at 1000% gorgeousness during her wedding parade, and have heard plenty of Aegon’s stories about how perfect she is. Of course they treat her with more respect and awe than they treat Aegon 😛.

I like to think that Ronnel does become a knight one day, and he wins a tourney in Jace’s name 🥰. And he’d probably take on a house name like Baker to honor his father.

I was trying to figure out how orange juice was made before things like juicers were invented. England had cider presses for apples, but citrus wasn’t really a thing for them back in the Middle Ages. Eventually I stumbled across the citrus reamer, which is definitely something they could’ve carved/created back in the day, but I COULD NOT get over how phallic it looked 😂. Naturally, Aegon finds it hilarious. I’m debating whether Gyles truly is innocent or if he’s messing with Aegon and has a great poker face.

I lingered on the details of how the pies are made because it’s important that Jace sees the process for herself and internalizes that pies are safe foods, they aren’t drugged, Gyles is trustworthy, etc.

I wanted to make sure that Jace wasn’t in a depressed, traumatized torpor all the time, because that isn’t how it works. She can have “good” moments when she’s moving around and seems normal, and then there can be “bad” moments when something triggers her, or she’s having an off day, and she spirals. The important thing is that she’s overall making progress, and it’s OK if she has days when she takes a few steps back.

We got more info in Chapter 8 on what Jace and Luce talk about in the garden. Luce is thinking about her upcoming nameday, which is the earliest date that Rhaenyra will allow her to be betrothed. But then there’s another year until her sixteenth nameday, when Rhaenyra will allow her to get married. Luce is pretty impatient, so she wants to figure out how much canoodling she can get away with during the year in between. So she asks Jace, because she’s positive Aegon didn’t keep his hands entirely to himself before the official wedding 😏.

Aegon is now very loath to ever let Jace out of his sight again, unless he’s 100% sure she’s safe in their room. The Joff incident in Chapter 9 probably doesn’t help.

Luce always haggles, even if it’s about how much distance Aegon has to stay behind her and Jace.

Aegon immediately gets bored of guard duty. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had some form of ADHD: Impulsive, restless, moody, hyperfixation (usually on Jace, but he can get really into his sleuthing).

Hypersexuality sometimes occurs after trauma/sexual violence, hence Jace’s uncharacteristic behavior after the garden scene. And knowing Jace, she’s probably (wrongfully) blaming herself somehow for “leading on” the Tyroshi.

Luce heard the Langward knight gossiping about Jace and got upset, then Aemond beat up the knight to make her feel better, as one does.

Court life means people are always going to gossip and run with the most salacious rumor possible, and it reignites Aegon’s desire for a private life, where he and Jace can live according to their own devices without worrying about what other people think. Unless he pulls a Maegor, he can’t do anything to stop the courtiers from acting like courtiers. So he comes up with the Dragonstone solution, but it’s only a temporary solution. As Otto says in Chapter 10, they are inextricably a part of the game, and Aegon and Jace can only hide away in Dragonstone for so long.

When they were kids, Aegon came up with many plans that got them all in trouble, so Luce recognizes the face he makes 😝.

Aegon has a very soldier mindset of “just pack some clothes and leave,” without thinking about how complicated it is to actually pack a princess’ household. Luckily Luce knocks some sense into him!

I don’t know what winter roses are supposed to look like except that they’re blue, but I liked the idea of petals close together huddling for warmth. And I completely made up Valyrian roses. Not sure if they actually came from Valyria or if it’s named just for the appearance.

Despite everything that happened, Jace is STILL WORKING 😭. What else do we expect from a girl who worked on her wedding night, I guess…

KL has a well system (it’s a big deal during Jaehaerys’s reign), but I imagine the public wells and fountains get real dirty real fast, especially in poorer parts of the city. When Jace was at the Garden, I imagine the girls had limited clean water to offer her for drinking and washing because they have to walk pretty far for good water. So Jace is thinking about that as she writes her well cleaning proposal.

I’ve been thinking a while about writing an Otto POV fic, and one of the ideas I jotted down for myself was that Otto is secretly a nerd about public infrastructure and sanitation. Oldtown seems to be a much cleaner and better run city than KL. I like to think about Otto adopting pet projects that make the capital less smelly and dirty. So Otto is naturally a supporter of a well cleaning project, and I’ve mentioned before that he likes Jace. Also he’s very invested in the pregnancy being successful, so he’ll do his part to reduce stressors.

Once again, the key to influencing/manipulating Jace is not by appealing to her own desires, but by appealing to the happiness and well-being of her loved ones. Aegon knows this, and it’s a good thing he adores her too much to use this power for evil.

Aegon’s household is basically just Gyles and Ronnel, so his departure preparations are quick. I’m sure he has personal servants assigned to him who handle his laundry and such, but he probably bribed them years ago to leave him alone so he can have privacy and sneak out. And he became rather self-sufficient in the Stepstones (although as royalty, he would’ve had servants there too for menial stuff), so he doesn’t want anyone helping him dress or shave or bathe or whatnot.

Aemond is such a bro, holding down a knight so Aegon can beat him up 🥲. Aegon knows Jace would disapprove of him breaking someone’s jaw for gossiping so he’s careful not to leave any evidence on his person.

Aegon also knows how to push Aemond’s buttons, so he easily convinces Aemond to join the Dragonstone vacation. Aemond would probably have invited himself anyway once he found out about the guest list.

While Jace has been reducing the governing work she does during pregnancy, Rhaenyra has been doing more of it. In canon, Rhaenyra seems content to isolate herself with her family at Dragonstone, so I carried over that attitude of savoring domestic bliss into this verse. But here, Jace is an overachiever, and I think her example kickstarts Rhaenyra into being more active too. So Rhaenyra has work obligations, and social ones as she’s been ingratiating herself at court again. It would be difficult to pack up her entire household (much larger than Jace and Aegon’s) and disappear to Dragonstone for 2-3 months, so she can’t immediately leave like the kids can.

Like Aegon, Rhaenyra is a bit paranoid now about letting Jace out of her sight. She’s also had a longstanding petty grudge about Jace picking Aegon as her #1, so she strongly disapproves of Aegon’s plan to take Jace away, even though Dragonstone is very close and technically her castle.

Aegon is not what I’d call emotionally mature, and he’s a troublemaker by nature. So he deliberately responds to Rhaenyra with things he knows she’ll hate hearing. And in the end, he forces Rhaenyra’s hand by telling Jace “of course Rhaenyra would love for us to go to Dragonstone” 😇.

Poor Daeron is too pure for Daemon’s Torture 101 class. Meanwhile Joff has an avid clinical interest in human anatomy, and Daemon is having the time of his life. Targ family bonding!

The Tyroshi put a collar on Jace, so Daemon put a collar on him to make things fair.

The Tyroshi knows he’s never going to escape, and he’s already endured an awful amount of torture/mutilation. At this point his goal is to die swiftly, so he tries to provoke Aegon into killing him.

I haven’t 100% decided the Tyroshi’s backstory, but I’m imagining him coming from one of the powerful conclave families in Tyrosh. There was absolutely no need for him to go to Westeros and make money through usury and slavery; he chose to because he thought it’d be fun to “get one over” the Targaryens by conducting a trafficking ring in their own capital (I imagine Tyrosh having an ancestral hatred of Valyrians, even though a lot of their culture was inherited from them as a result of being part of their empire). Just in case it wasn’t clear what kind of sadistic sociopathic person he is.

Joff has been brooding a lot about Laenor’s death ever since they found Old Willow, and now her guilt is carrying over into recent events with Jace.

We will learn more about the wet nurse in Aegon’s memory in future fics 👀. She calls him “Uncrowned One” because in this verse, he’ll be another Aegon the Uncrowned.

“Three children you shall have with your wife, black or green or something in between.” In canon, Aegon has three kids with Helaena. In this verse…well, I feel like I’ve dropped a lot of foreshadowing about him and Jace 😊. “In between” refers to how there isn’t a strong black/green divide in this verse, but there’s a new faction (gold) that includes people on both sides.

“All of them shall break like your legs and wings.” In canon, all of Aegon and Helaena’s children die terribly, and Aegon and Sunfyre end up crippled. In this verse, there is a close call during Cheeseball’s birth; if the maester and midwives had chosen to save Jace, the process for extracting a stuck baby is really gruesome.

“Unless you keep this little shadow close to the sun.” Jace has gotten a lot of sun imagery in this fic, and Joff is kinda obviously the shadow. It’s because of Joff’s intervention that the birth ends well. So there’s a way to avoid the “broken” part of the prophecy, but the condition must be met.

Aegon is a skeptic when it comes to witchcraft and prophecy, but there’s a reason his subconscious brings to the memory at this moment. Don’t leave Joff behind!

Aemond finds it extremely undignified that Vhagar, the largest dragon in the world and a veteran of multiple military conflicts, has been relegated to delivering baggage.

The stained dancing slippers that Jace finds in her room at Dragonstone are the same slippers that someone (Luce) accidentally ruins in Chapter 3 of the Handbook.

Valyria is strongly inspired by Classical Greece and Rome, so I decided to give them Roman-style bathhouses, which were often decorated with mosaics and has a hot room, warm room, and cold room. The Targs (or whoever built the castle) imported this to Dragonstone, and the volcano means they can get hot water very easily. Aegon was in the guest quarters last time he visited so this is his first time seeing the family bathhouse.

Some commenters suggested that Luce and Aemond are probably canoodling during their trips to the Dragonmont. There might be some of that going on, but Aemond is a huge dragon nerd, so I can imagine him geeking out about exploring the Dragonmont while Luce is disgruntled about him being oblivious to her attempts to make out 😂.

Gerardys is hoping that Jace will be OK with him and the midwives helping her by the time it’s time to give birth. But in case she isn’t OK, he decides to put one of the Targ girls on a midwifery fast-track. He picks Baela because she’s the strongest of the bunch, and acting as a midwife can be very physically exhausting.

Meanwhile, the mysterious bangs in the tower are Joff and Daeron trying to figure out ways to light the glass candle. This involves blowing up some stuff along the way.

Hyrkoon the Hero is part of ASOIAF lore, one of the potential alternative names for Azor Ahai. I decided that he’s the main character in quite a few fairy tales/myths, and every hero needs a sidekick. I invented the sidekick Santus the Swine by combining a half-pig character in Chinese folklore and Don Quixote’s Sancho Panza (whose name is supposedly derived from the Latin Sanctus), and it wasn’t until afterwards that I thought about the Pink Dread (which never happened in this universe because Jace stopped Aegon). I guess Aemond really can’t escape the pig references in any universe 🐷.

Anyway, Aegon’s really lucky he didn’t get himself and baby Jace killed when he shoved their wagon down their stairs. And Jace not being cut by the Iron Throne is a sign, maybe??? 👀👀👀 And yes, there is much symbolism in little Aegon helping baby Jace climb up the throne 🥺.

Chapter 8 commentary here

[ibijau]

Papa Mia pt7 / On AO3

Nie Huaisang fanned himself nervously, glaring in the direction where Lan Xichen and Nie Fuyun had disappeared, and expanding incredible mental energy to ignore the people currently with him. None of those three men were who he would have preferred as company when he was so distressed. But when had the heavens ever shown him any mercy?

To make it worse, Wei Wuxian had definitely guessed the truth and was now trying to comfort him, as if they were still friends.

“You did what you had to do,” Wei Wuxian told him with such sincere pity that Nie Huaisang wanted to strangle him. “Once she's calmed down, she'll understand it was for her own good that you kept it from her. Sometimes lying is the kinder thing to do.” 

“I don't remember asking for your opinion,” Nie Huaisang scoffed. “I don't need anyone's approval, least of all when it comes to that girl.”

“Aiya, if you told her with that attitude, no wonder she took it badly!” 

“Took what badly?” Jiang Cheng asked.

Wei Wuxian shot him a surprised look. “You haven't figured it out? Well… It's not really my place to say, then…”

Nie Huaisang scoffed, almost amused in spite of himself that Wei Wuxian hadn’t realised the others hadn’t caught up yet. At the same time, he couldn’t help but appreciate that finally, Wei Wuxian had learned some manners. If only he’d had the same respect back in that cursed temple, maybe… but it was pointless to think of the past.

“Wei-xiong is talking about the fact that Fuyun is my daughter,” Nie Huaisang announced, a wave of nausea hitting him as he said the words with affected casualness.

Lightning did not strike him to punish his long hidden secrets. Black-clad assassins didn’t emerge from darkness to run after Nie Fuyun and torture her to death before his eyes. Nothing at all happened, except for Wei Wuxian staring at him in shock, Lan Wangji raising a quizzical eyebrow, and Jiang Cheng frowning.

“Wait, yours?” Jiang Cheng asked. “The way she looks, I’d assumed she might have been Mingjue’s.”

“My brother would never have taken someone to bed without marrying them!” Nie Huaisang objected, offended. “He was a good and honourable man! Me, on the other hand… you may all be aware that my youth was… a little wild, at times.”

Wei Wuxian cackled, amused and almost looking proud of his part in Nie Huaisang’s wild past. Jiang Cheng nodded along, apparently so unbothered that it was still impossible to guess if he knew about that because he’d played a role in it, or just because he knew Wei Wuxian had. As for Lan Wangji his ears turned bright red and he looked down, overcome with a shame that Nie Huaisang shared. Out of everything he’d done at that time, getting drunk with Lan Wangji was the only thing he sincerely regretted.

“Wait, she’s only half yours,” Jiang Cheng realised, staring at him with wide, shocked eyes. “The other half… the other father…”

Nie Huaisang grimaced and shrugged, not daring to look at any of them.

“I have several options, I can’t know which is the right one. She really does look like Da-ge more than anyone else, doesn’t she?”

“And because you didn’t know who the other man was, you didn’t tell her about it?” Jiang Cheng guessed. “Is that why the kid is angry at you?”

“Partly. The other part, of course, is that… she didn’t know she was mine, either.”

“Why not?” Jiang Cheng asked.

Nie Huaisang glared at him. Come to think of it, for all that he’d privately cursed Wei Wuxian’s curiosity in the past, Jiang Cheng could be very annoying too, given half a chance.

“It was to protect her, of course,” Nie Huaisang stiffly replied. “I feared someone would harm her. My position here has never been perfectly secure, you know.”

“And you also made a few enemies on top of that,” Wei Wuxian teased. “It must have been tough.”

“It was, actually! You wouldn’t believe what stress did to my health! And also…”

Before Nie Huaisang could throw himself into a lamentation to distract them, Jiang Cheng interrupted him.

“You could have told her, and ordered her to keep the secret.”

“Little children are terrible at keeping secrets,” Nie Huaisang objected. “You wouldn’t believe all that Jin Ling has told me when he was very little.”

Jiang Cheng glared at him, understanding the discrete threat. Anyone else would have known to give up, but of course Jiang Cheng wasn’t just anyone. Like a starving dog who’d found a bone, it was impossible to make him let go.

“When she was old enough to understand, then. Jing Ling told me that she’s clever, surely she could be told to be quiet about it. Or do you not trust your own daughter?”

“What sort of a man would I be, putting her into danger?” Nie Huaisang objected, horrified at the very thought of it. “And if she knew, she’d have been hurt that I couldn’t be close to her. It’s better to have kept her in the dark. She’s a happy girl, you know. If that mess with the Ouyang boy hadn’t happened, everything would be fine.”

“You’re practically a victim,” Wei Wuxian agreed, in such a tone that it was impossible to know if he meant it or was mocking Nie Huaisang.

“You’re an asshole is what you are,” Jiang Cheng countered, startling the rest of them. 

Nie Huaisang tried glaring at him, but it was a vain effort. Nobody could outglare Jiang Cheng.

“I’ve done my best,” he still protested.

“No, you’ve done what was convenient to you,” Jiang Cheng retorted. “You didn’t have the guts to give her up to a family that could have raised her as their daughter, but you also were too much of a coward to be more than a distant figure in her life. I bet you told yourself some very nice lies about being there for her if she ever needed you, and that you’d tell her the truth if it became necessary, and how really you were just protecting her.”

His face burning, Nie Huaisang looked away. He couldn’t deny any of that. To make things worse, when he could have protected her from this stupid wedding by revealing their true link, he had failed to do so. But it wasn’t his fault. He still had enemies, old allies of Jin Guangyao hiding in the shadows…

“Poor kid, you’re lucky she didn’t run away or stab you when she found out,” Jiang Cheng added. “It messes you up, finding out someone kept vital information from you because they think they know better than you what’s good for you. Makes you relive every moment of your life trying to guess if there were clues you missed.”

Next to Nie Huaisang, Wei Wuxian tensed.

Since he wasn’t too close to them these days, Nie Huaisang hadn’t been sure how things were between these two until that moment. He was aware that certain important secrets had been revealed after Wei Wuxian’s return to life, because Jin Guangyao had mentioned things that fateful night in the temple. But truly, Nie Huaisang just hadn’t cared enough to find out the details, nor had he bothered to check if these two had reconciled or not. He already had enough trouble dealing with the mess that was his own life.

But hearing the bitterness in Jiang Cheng’s voice, seeing the awkwardness on Wei Wuxian’s face, Nie Huaisang had a vision of the future. This might be him and Nie Fuyun someday, torn between affection and pain, unable to communicate clearly even when they desperately wanted to love each other as family.

Nie Huaisang couldn’t erase twenty years of mistakes, but he could avoid setting them up for another two decades of regret and resentment.

“I have to go check on her!” Nie Huaisang announced, and he started running, ignoring Wei Wuxian’s laughter at his reaction, Jiang Cheng’s complaints that he couldn’t just flee from conversation like a child.

Without his head giving any input, Nie Huaisang’s feet took him to the training grounds, certain that his daughter would be blowing off steam over there. To his displeasure, he arrived there only to find that Lan Xichen had found her first.

Nie Huaisang’s steps faltered.

Lan Xichen and Nie Fuyun were standing together, not as close as friends or family would do, but still closer than strangers. Nie Fuyun looked calmer than her father had seen her since this mess of a marriage was announced, a smile colouring her lips here and there. As for Lan Xichen, there was an air of quiet determination to his features, making him look more like the man he had been in his youth. As they chatted together, Nie Huaisang was overcome by a desire to join their conversation, to hear what had nearly made Lan Xichen smile, to agree with whatever praise had Nie Fuyun beaming that way.

It should have been that way, Nie Huaisang realised with a longing so sharp he couldn’t breathe. Him, his daughter, the man he loved, it should have been his life. He’d never wanted anything else. The burden of leading a sect, the duty of avenging his brother… those had been forced upon him, unwanted tasks acquired through pain and loss.

What a life he would have had, had fate not hated him. Mornings in bed with his lover, interrupted when their daughter jumped among the blankets, laughing loud and wild as she sometimes did. Lan Xichen taking Nie Fuyun on Night Hunts, teaching her everything Nie Huaisang couldn’t, watching her progress and freely complimenting her with every step. And Nie Huaisang too could praise her, unafraid of showing how proud of her he was, how much he loved her.

If life had been kinder…

If Lan Xichen hadn’t rejected him…

The warm longing pressing down on Nie Huaisang’s chest coiled onto itself, turning into icy rage. What right did Lan Xichen have to talk to Nie Fuyun and smile at her that way? She probably wasn’t even his child, she was too clever for that. Let her be Wei Wuxian’s daughter, Jiang Cheng’s, Lan Wangji’s even, anything but to have to share her with Lan Xichen.

Nie Huaisang surged forward, startling the two of them. Nie Fuyun tried to speak to him, but Nie Huaisang grabbed Lan Xichen’s sleeve and started pulling him away toward the nearest building, a small place where they kept training material. Lan Xichen tried to resist at first, purely out of instinct, but quickly gave in and willingly followed. Nie Fuyun trailed behind them but Nie Huaisang closed the building’s door to her nose.

“Er-ge, you have some guts, trying to corrupt my disciples,” Nie Huaisang snapped once they were alone.

Lan Xichen threw him an exasperated look, not unlike those times he’d had to deal with Nie Huaisang’s imagined problems over the years. It certainly was a change from the air he’d most often had lately, which had brought to mind a pathetic puppy.

“What corruption?” Lan Xichen asked. “I told you I would talk to her and see if reconciliation was possible. I have made all the progress I can toward that, the rest is now in your hands.”

“And we both know how much I can ruin any situation,” Nie Huaisang scoffed, furious that Lan Xichen had succeeded in calming Nie Fuyun after all. “Oh, but I suppose I’m meant to be grateful? Thank you, great Zewu-jun! I truly don’t know what I’d do without you. What a shame none of my other problems could be solved by your immense wisdom!”

Lan Xichen opened his mouth to reply, a faint frown on his brows, but closed it again and shook his head.

“No, I won’t take the bait,” he said after taking a deep breath. “Not this time. I want to talk to you, not argue with you.”

“Zewu-jun is always so reasonable, and I never am,” Nie Huaisang retorted. “But there is a flaw in your logic: I do not want a conversation with you. However you are lucky, I also do not care for an argument. In fact, I want nothing to do with you. You were not invited here, and you’ve overstayed your welcome, so I’d be pleased if you’d leave.”

“I will not leave until we’ve talked,” Lan Xichen replied. “I will not let you leave, either.”

“Is that meant to be a threat?” Nie Huaisang mocked.

“If you wish to take it as one, it can be.”

Laughter died in Nie Huaisang’s throat as Lan Xichen stepped between him and the door. There were no other exits, only windows so small even a child couldn’t have fit through one. By giving in to his rage, Nie Huaisang had trapped himself with a man who surpassed him in nearly everything. It was unlikely Lan Xichen would truly harm him, but Nie Huaisang hadn’t survived all these years by assuming the best of people.

“Do you really fear me so much now?” Lan Xichen asked, sorrow piercing through his voice.

“Don’t think yourself so special,” Nie Huaisang spat. “I fear everyone. Go on, then. Speak, if you must. I can imagine what you want to talk about.”

There was only one thing left to discuss between them: whether Jin Guangyao had moved or not, that night in Yunping. A question that must have haunted Lan Xichen, but to which Nie Huaisang had sworn he would never give an answer. He would not let Lan Xichen find peace, even less absolution. No, he would have to live with doubt and horror over his own actions, as Nie Huaisang did.

“I want to talk about what happened when we were young,” Lan Xichen said instead, startling Nie Huaisang.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Nie Huaisang said, pulling out his fan to hide his reddening cheeks.

“I think you do. The way things ended between us…”

“There’s nothing to say about that, Zewu-jun.”

“Isn’t there? Huaisang, the way things are now… How did it end up this way? Back then…”

“Back then, you were the one who decided we could not go on the way we were,” Nie Huaisang cut him. “Or will you pretend I imagined that?”

“Those were my words,” Lan Xichen agreed. “But…”

“Then how can you ask how we ended up this way, when it was your own decision?”

“I was only…”

“I gave you everything I had to give!” Nie Huaisang said, shocked to find himself still bitter, when he’d convinced himself he was quite over that heartbreak. “I realise it was not much, of course. I used to think my company pleased you well enough, but I was deluding myself. It was only ever company in bed you were after, and even then I couldn’t satisfy you enough to…”

“We couldn’t go on the way we were because I hated to keep things secret and wanted to marry you!” Lan Xichen shouted.

Hearing him raise his voice startled Nie Huaisang so much that he dropped his fan. Never in his life had he witnessed Lan Xichen losing his calm that way. That alone shocked him so much that for a moment, he couldn’t even comprehend what he had just heard.

“You’re lying,” Nie Huaisang whispered when the words made their way to him.

“I have committed many faults,” Lan Xichen dryly retorted. “I suppose I can’t blame you for expecting the worst of me. Still, I am not lying. I wanted to marry you, but as soon as I tried to talk to you about it, you became angry, kicked me out of your bed, and professed that you would never speak to me again.”

Nie Huaisang could hardly breathe. He remembered his rage at the time, thinking that Lan Xichen had grown tired of him, something he’d always believed would happen. It wasn’t wrong to say he hadn’t given Lan Xichen a chance to explain himself. He’d been certain that Lan Xichen would try to soothe the blow, but none of the kind and empty words he might have offered could have helped Nie Huaisang’s aching heart.

“I held on to hope for a while,” Lan Xichen bitterly confessed. “But you refused to see me, you sent back my letters unopened, and when finally your brother dragged you to the Cloud Recesses, you found a way to sleep with Wangji!”

That little misadventure with Lan Wangji had never been Nie Huaisang’s proudest moment. Whenever he’d thought back on it, crippling shame had seized him, so intense that he never knew how to deal with it. His only excuse had been the unexpected strength of Emperor’s Smile, and that was hardly an excuse at all.

Although at the time Nie Huaisang had hoped Lan Xichen would find out and feel the blow as the insult it was intended to be, within a week he’d prayed to any god willing to listen to never let Lan Xichen find out. For the better part of twenty years, the hope that his misbehaviour would remain secret had been a meagre consolation.

But Lan Xichen knew. He knew, and he had said nothing. He knew, and he’d never betrayed that knowledge even once until that day.

“How long ago did you… find out?”

“Wangji was very ashamed of himself for drinking alcohol and having such a dalliance, against our sect’s rules,” Lan Xichen explained. “So ashamed he dared not go to our uncle. Instead, faced with a difficult situation, he thought to confide in his sect leader, his older brother. He told me what happened, and I had to console him and tell him he’d done nothing wrong, while grieving the fact I had truly lost you.” He paused, and took a deep breath to calm himself. “Out of everyone in this world, Huaisang, did you really have to involve my brother?”

Nie Huaisang looked down. He hesitated to go grab the fan that had fallen on the floor, just so he could hide himself, but his leaden body couldn’t move.

“Do you want to hear the worst part of all this?” Lan Xichen asked, so gentle it made Nie Huaisang feel worse than screams would have.

Nie Huaisang shook his head. All this was awful enough, anything worse and he might die of shame and regrets.

“The worst is I would still have forgiven you,” Lan Xichen sighed. “If you had come back to me, I would have welcomed you with open arms. I still missed you enough that I pretended none of this had happened, just so I could be at your side as a friend when Da-ge died. Even when I learned what you had done to avenge your brother, my only true regret was that the love we once shared prevented you from turning to me for help.”

Clenching his eyes, Nie Huaisang tried to fight tears. A losing battle, he found out.

He couldn’t even tell Lan Xichen that he was wrong about that last part. There were many reasons why Nie Huaisang hadn’t asked him for help, but the humiliating memory of Lan Xichen telling him that they couldn’t go on as they were had definitely impacted his decision.

It wouldn’t have changed anything, had Nie Huaisang better understood Lan Xichen. He still would have refused to involve someone so entirely under Jin Guangyao’s spell, he still wouldn’t have wanted to put Lan Xichen at risk, whose honourable heart wouldn’t have understood the need for secrecy and hatred.

It would have changed nothing.

It would have changed everything.

Would Lan Xichen have been so susceptible to Jin Guangyao’s cunning friendship, had Nie Huaisang stood at his side? Would Da-ge have survived, if Lan Xichen had had a reason to visit the Unclean Realm, instead of wishing to avoid it?

And what of poor Nie Fuyun? Would she have been born at all, Huaisang’s brilliant daughter? Would she have grown up between two parents, loved and treasured as she deserved to be, too important to ever be married off to some boy from a lesser sect? Nie Huaisang recalled that moment earlier, Nie Fuyun and Lan Xichen standing together with a smile as if it were their fate.

They could all have been happy, if he’d only been less stupid.

“I’ve ruined things,” Nie Huaisang hissed, unsure if he meant their failed romance, or every other action he’d taken after that.

A hand came to rest on his shoulder. When Nie Huaisang did not react, the hand moved to his face, tenderly cupping his cheek before moving to his chin, lifting it to force him to look at Lan Xichen.

“I’ve ruined things as well,” Lan Xichen noted, his eyes shining as if he too might cry. “You cannot take all the blame to yourself, when my attempt at a marriage proposal was so disastrous you thought I never saw you as more than a body to warm my bed.”

“You did a pretty bad job of it,” Nie Huaisang conceded, a nervous giggle escaping him, which soon turned into hysterical laughter.

So much time wasted, so many lives ruined, all because they’d been foolish and clumsy…

Without warning, Lan Xichen pulled Nie Huaisang into his arms. In a fit of selfishness, Nie Huaisang allowed it. In the years since Nie Mingjue’s death, it had happened a few times for Lan Xichen to comfort him with a hug, but Nie Huaisang had avoided it when he could, instead pestering Jin Guangyao. A revenge against his brother’s murderer in forcing him to deal with the annoyingly whiny consequences of his actions. A revenge against Lan Xichen, he’d thought, forcing him to see that Nie Huaisang was perfectly capable of finding affection and support somewhere else.

But there were no second thoughts this time. Nothing but the strong warmth of Lan Xichen’s arms, supporting Nie Huaisang as his laughter turned once more to tears.

All along, they could have had this.

With every inhalation, Nie Huaisang steeled himself to pull away from Lan Xichen. With every exhale, he lost his resolve, desperate to cling a moment more to something he did not deserve. He couldn’t have said how long they remained that way, closer than they had been in years. But the world continued turning around them, and the moment ended. Outside, someone knocked on the door, and Nie Huaisang heard his daughter’s voice. It was muffled for him inside, but she must have been speaking quite loud for it to reach him as she explained that Nie zongzhu wasn’t available right then, and she wouldn’t bother him for lesser problems.

Nie Huaisang finally escaped Lan Xichen’s arms, though the other man only allowed it with great reluctance. But it was the day before Nie Huaisang’s daughter got married, and he still had so much to do. He couldn’t abandon her, not again.

“I will see you later,” Nie Huaisang said as he bent down to pick up his fan. “Or not. I won’t blame you if after this, you decide you don’t want anything to do with me and my sect.”

“I will stay,” Lan Xichen replied, discreetly wiping his eyes with the hem of his sleeves. “I think we still have more things to discuss.”

Nie Huaisang only hummed in reply. What more was there to say? Unless Lan Xichen demanded to finally get honest answers about the things Nie Huaisang had done to avenge his brother. Maybe he would ask again if Jin Guangyao had truly moved. After everything else, Nie Huaisang would have no choice but to answer every question as honestly as he could, and Lan Xichen would truly hate him, and…

Perhaps it would make things easier. Maybe if Lan Xichen got angry at him, Nie Huaisang would finally be able to move on.

“You don’t need to look so nervous,” Lan Xichen remarked with a thin smile. “Is it so hateful, talking to me?”

“It might be, depending on the topic,” Nie Huaisang sighed.

“Then I’ll be careful in selecting it,” Lan Xichen promised, so earnestly gentle that Nie Huaisang could almost pretend nothing dreadful awaited. “Come here before we head out, let me wipe your tears. People will think I was mistreating you, if they see you like this.”

Nie Huaisang huffed, but obediently stepped closer, and allowed Lan Xichen to clean his face. Another familiar gesture, done a hundred times as Nie Huaisang exaggerated his helplessness, feeling different now that he wasn’t playing a role.

What a mess it had been.

What a mess it still was.

But there was no time to delve on it, not when his daughter was getting married in the morning.