#fighting the anxiety tooth and nail today so I finally finished this up enough to pin it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maybedefinitely404 · 4 years ago

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For You Became My Lighthouse

Genre: angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort

Pairing: romantic Prinxiety

Content: food/wine, Patton and Logan offscreen, anxiety attacks, argument, crying, fear of breakup.

Word count: 4k

Note: Not proofread. We die like men. Also part two is coming soon~

5:24

It definitely wasn’t every day that Virgil spent the early evening dancing around the kitchen while making dinner. But today was no ordinary day, and he was just too damn excited to stay still.

Figaro sat on the floor in the bedroom doorway, licking his paws and glaring disdainfully at the speaker system that had disrupted his nap. Virgil spotted the dark cat and grinned, dancing over to scoop him up. He hummed along to the music, bopping the disgruntled cat to the beat (much to his chagrin). Once upon a dream, Figaro might have fought tooth and nail at being used as a dance partner, but living with Roman for years had worn down his resolve. And after Virgil had entered their lives, he’d completely given up fighting their excuses for attention. Instead, the cat just yawned and went limp.

“Aw, did I wake you up, Figgy?”

The cat did not answer.

Virgil let him hop from his arms onto his scratching tower and went back to slicing spinach on the counter, humming along to the music. He wanted it louder, loud enough that it numbed the excited tremble in his hands and drowned out his internal butterflies, but he wasn’t in the mood to deal with noise complaints. Again.

Instead, he opened the drawer in front of him and ran his fingers over the small box he’d placed in there hours ago. As he’d done countless times since, he opened the lid to make sure that the ring inside was still there, still perfectly centered and shining as brightly as it had been when he’d picked it up earlier that morning.

Roman would never expect him to propose. Ask anyone who knew them and they’d agree that the romantic, outgoing, type-to-propose in their relationship wasn’t Virgil. Plus, he’d dropped no hints. Any time he met with Logan to plan, or went to the jewelers, and the million other things he’d had to do before this, he’d chalked it up to ‘having a bad day’ or ‘needing time alone’.

He felt… a little bad, knowing in the recent months many of Roman’s attempts at dates had been turned down, only half the time due to actual bad days. But it would all be worth it in the end. The plan was to start with dinner; the meal they’d had on their first real date, followed by Virgil suggesting a walk. As they put on their jackets, he’d sneak the ring box into his pocket, and innocently lead them past a cafe for dessert, “coincidentally�� the spot where Roman had asked Virgil to move in with him. Finally, the park, strung up with fairy lights and electric candles Logan and Patton had set up just before. It was their perfect mix of solitude and ‘extra’. Virgil would propose, and Roman would hopefully say yes, and everything would be perfect and amazing and-

The oven timer beeped. There was fifteen minutes left for the dough to set; time to make the filling for the ravioli. But he’d barely started cooking the spinach when his phone chimed, alerting him of a text.

Hey V, dinner and a movie tonight? You can choose.

Virgil bit his lip and sighed, thumbs hovering over the keyboard for a second. As old as the excuse was getting, he needed to side step Roman’s plans one more time. Just one last time.

not feeling well. anxietys been all over the place. sry.

He laid the phone back on the counter and returned his attention to the frying pan, flipping the greens and watching them wilt slowly. One eye on that, he pulled out his other ingredients from the fridge. He’d rather be ahead of schedule than behind.

Ding ding.

Yeah, shocker. What else is new.

Virgil felt his heart drop. That wasn’t… at all in character for his boyfriend. Yeah, he’d used the excuse more often lately, but was it that much? He stared at his phone, hardly breathing, trying to think of some way to answer that, when a burnt smell reached his nose.

“Shit,” He hissed, trading his phone for a spatula and turning the spinach once more. It was just on the brink of being overdone, just the edges turning a tad too dark, but nothing he couldn’t save. He scraped the pan’s contents into a bowl to cool and dumped it in the sink. The hiss and steam of the hot pan in water made him wince (he’d been told a million times it was bad, but he couldn’t recall why), but he left it on the bottom of the sink to fill and soak. Scrubbing dried spinach off it tomorrow would really put a damper on the ‘recently engaged’ mood.

“Mrow?”

Virgil shut off the water and turned to the trill, cursing when he realized Figaro had abandoned his tower in favor of sniffing the food on the counter.

“Figgy, no! Get down!” He plucked him away from the bowl just as he looked ready to pounce inside, much to the cat’s annoyance. “You would just spit it out, you big baby. Don’t look at me like that.” It probably wasn’t safe to keep cooking with the cat around anyways, so he went to their room and left him on their bed with a soft order to behave. Figaro blinked once at him with indignation before the door was closed, and Virgil hurriedly pulled out his phone.

Real mature, not answering.

Virgil took a deep breath to push down the rising anxiety. He’s… probably just playing around, right? It’s probably meant in a lighthearted way but he was just misinterpreting the text harshly. It’s not malicious. Right?

sry, put figgy away

He paused for a moment, before shooting another quick text.

ur not actually mad right?

The typing bubble appeared.

And went away.

And popped up again.

And vanished.

That was enough confirmation to get Virgil’s heart pounding, all hope that Roman was just fooling around out the window. He was typing again, and this bubble was staying for longer, but now it was too long to be a simple affirmation.

I don’t know, Virgil. You used to actually contribute to this relationship, and now I’m the only one really trying. We barely ever go out, for like a couple months now. You always dodge my plans. I miss the old you, because right now I feel like I barely know you. I’m getting sick of it.

Now Virgil properly couldn’t breathe. That sounded like the beginning, if not the entirety, of a breakup if he ever heard one. Fuck. Fuck! Fuck his stupid ideas, his stupid plans, fuck all of it. This is his fault, and Roman’s about to dump him, because he took his overdramatic proposal too far and it was about to end their relationship.

I’ll be home late.

Okay, that wasn’t… a breakup? Unless, of course, he was going to do it in person, and needed time to plan how it was going to go.

Cognitive distortions, is that what Logan had called them? Magnifying? Is that what was happening right now? There was a solid chance that Logan would agree with him, say that he wasn’t actually sure what Roman planned, and it would probably be okay, but it was very hard to be objective when he was in the middle of it.

how late?

Another deep breath. He placed the phone next to his mixing bowl, screen up so he would be sure to see the notification, and absentmindedly added in the ingredients he’d pulled from the fridge earlier. Shit, did they have thyme?

Of course they did, he’d gone shopping for all the ingredients like two days ago. He needed to get out of his own head.

The final timer went off, signaling the dough was ready to be used. Before he unwrapped the ball and got his hands covered in the stuff, he checked the lock screen on his phone. Nothing.

It was fine, it was fine.

Rolling out the pasta into one thin sheet took far more effort than he would have thought, and it took embarrassingly long before he was able to lay it out on the big ice cube tray he was using in place of an actual ravioli mold. He checked his phone. Nothing.

Once he got the hang of filling the molds without making a huge mess, it was actually an easy process. He finished three and a half trays-worth before running out of dough and filling simultaneously, but that’s more than enough for the two of them. No answer yet.

ro?

He set a pot on the stove full of water but didn’t turn it on; it would just be one less thing to do when he was ready to cook the ravioli. For now, he placed the pasta in the fridge so it didn’t dry up. Roman generally got home from work at six, which he had prepared for, except on late rehearsal days when he was held back an extra hour. That’s what Virgil consciously chose to believe; he meant he’d be home late because it was a longer day. He wasn’t answering now because he was on stage. Technically it all made sense, but it wasn’t enough to relieve the icy grip around Virgil’s lungs.

romans gonna be late. push back an hour?

Logan sent back a thumbs up followed by his ‘-Logan’ sign off. Virgil sent a quick apology but didn’t bother to check the response when his phone lit up, focusing back on his plate of raw ravioli.

So, at five to seven, he’d boil the pasta and warm up the tomato sauce. It had been finished that morning and had been waiting in the fridge all day, because Virgil was a firm believer that it would taste better having had time to sit. Plus, he’d been excited, and had needed something to do with his hands.

But now he needs something to do with his hands again, but instead of excitement, it’s a tingling discomfort spreading through his limbs and curling in his stomach. Convinced that there was nothing else in the kitchen he could do, he untied the apron and pulled it over his head, pleased at the stark black button up he’d successfully kept flour-free. The satisfaction doesn’t last for long.

Now that he’d acknowledged his shirt, it was impossible to ignore the way it wrapped far too tight around his neck. It’s fine, he thought as he unbuttoned the top button, I still look okay.

He may as well set the table. Patton, similar to Roman in regards to going above and beyond, had insisted Virgil go all out for the dinner. Stark white table cloth, silverware set perfectly next to the plates, and a tall, white candle as the centrepiece. Virgil had cringed a bit at the idea, but after being assured that Roman would love it, he’d reluctantly agreed. It wasn’t his style but, well, the night wasn’t supposed to be about him, no really.

Watching TV did nothing to relieve the knot of uneasiness in his stomach, even when he unrolled his weighted blanket from the side basket and huddled into it. It brought a calm familiarity with it, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could pretend that someone was holding him. Patton’s soothing words, or Logan’s gravity, or Roman’s warmth or Roman’s safety or Roman’s gentleness or Roman-

6:53

Time to throw in the ravioli. He shut off the television, he hadn’t been watching it anyways, and turned the water on to boil. As it heated, he scuttled back to the table, some of his excitement returning. Sure, things had been tense on the phone, but Roman would be home any minute, and the rest of the night could go as planned. He pulls a small crinkle out of the white fabric and recenters the candle, stepping back to admire his work. It’s okay. If Roman had done it, it would probably look better, but who cared. It was fine.

7:01

Virgil sighed, looking over his final creation once again. A part of him was cringing with the cheesiness of it all; the lit candle, food already plated, a bottle of wine fresh from the fridge. Getting a new wine may have been too much of a giveaway, so the feature was a half finished bottle from their last date… a few months ago. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure if it would pair well. He didn’t even like wine. But it was Roman’s favorite, so it would have to do.

He’d bitten three nails down to the nub by the time he figured he could add the tomato sauce over top. Roman was never later than seven, so the pasta wouldn’t even have the time to get soggy.

In a combination of unfortunate events unlike any Virgil had experienced before, the tomato sauce bubbled the moment he grabbed the handle, dozens of pinpricks of heat burning his hands. He yelped and dropped the saucepan in favor of grabbing his scalded hand, jumping back as the pot hit the side of the counter and sent tomato sauce flying directly into the open drawer next to it. In his search for a match to light the candle, he’d left open the drawer containing the ring box, and in moments, the velvety exterior was coated in a fresh layer of marinara.

“Fuck!” Virgil shouted.

Heat be damned, he grabbed the box from the steaming puddle around it and rushed it to the sink. Running it under water would just be asking for the situation to be worse so he tried to scrape off the mess with a dishcloth. Was this even salvageable?

No, it turned out. The white velvet had stained a shitty orange in a way he definitely couldn’t play off as the original color, and even though the interior (or god forbid the ring) hadn’t been touched, he found himself trying to fight off tears. This wasn’t fucking going well, and now…

7:28

Roman was never this late, not without telling him. Virgil checked his phone and, nope, only the previous message from Logan and a newer one, asking if they could set up yet. He sent a quick:

no, hes not home yet

Panicking was not a move he wanted to make right now, despite how his brain was trying to convince him otherwise. Roman was probably stuck in traffic, right? And Virgil was always getting on him for texting and driving, so that could be why he hadn’t said anything. Sure, the route from the theatre to their house was barely ever busy, and yeah, it was way too late for there to be real holdups, but there was a first time for everything.

He made quick work of cleaning up the disaster of marinara sauce, surprised that a decent amount was salvageable. Apparently in his panic he’d righted the pot before it had all spilled, so there was maybe just enough for the meals. The inside of the drawer was a stained, orange, mess, and the area under the burners was caked in dried sauce, and that was just too much work for right now. He slammed the drawer shut and threw a towel over the element. Out of sight, out of… well, not out of mind, but maybe it would take a backseat on ‘worries for the night’.

Might as well get a head start on dishes, he thought, since the thought of texting Roman is daunting and his whole body is aching for something to do. One second more of standing still and he may very well have combusted. He couldn’t even summon up the will to turn on music, the mood from before totally vanquished. If he could just get that burnt pan done, perhaps the tension in his chest would ease up a bit.

But he cleaned the pan, and the rest of the dishes, and scrubbed the sink, and Roman still wasn’t home. At some point when he’d decided to just finish all of the dirty cookware he’d rolled up his sleeves, which he quickly lowered and rebuttoned around his wrists. The dishes were drying; nothing left to do there.

He swallowed thickly. How was the shirt still too tight around his throat?

Virgil unbuttoned the next one down, hoping to ease the ball of fear in his throat. It didn’t help.

The food was lukewarm, at that point. It was still edible. It was microwaveable. It was fine. Again, the thought crossed his mind to text Roman, but what if he was driving? He might check it and get pulled over, and that would not help the uneasiness in their relationship right now. What if the phone’s light distracted him and he got into a car accident? He couldn’t lose Roman, not when their last words had been so strained, and it would be his fault on top? Not a chance. He’d be home any second now. He had to be.

Virgil quickly found himself under his weighted blanket once more, watching whatever sitcom was on with dissociated interest, arms wrapped around his waist in a vice grip and feet bouncing under the covers. This time, though, the television worked less as a distraction and more as grating noise in his skull and he muted it, but that didn't stop the sudden stream of noise. Water was running through the pipes under him, some of his neighbors were shouting, and the fridge was humming and the lights overhead were buzzing and it’s all so loud-

His sound blocking headphones were also in the basket next to the couch and he shoved them over his ears. The world went quiet except for the sounds of his shaky breathing; breathe in, and out, and in, and out…

8:07

With the thick padding over his ears, the only sound he could hear was his breathing. It was somewhat reminiscent of Darth Vader’s, seeming far too loud, but also a steady foundation for him to ground on. Without the outside distraction, it was far easier to focus on his breaths, to slow them down, to get into a rhythm of long inhales and longer exhales. Bit by bit, the swarm of butterflies that had clasped around his heart gave way, allowing the anxiety to morph into numb sadness.

If Roman had come home on time, would they be in the park already? Would they be engaged? Maybe they’d already be back home, sharing the news to their families. Roman would probably already be gushing about wedding ideas as Virgil nodded along in amusement. They probably could have convinced Patton and Logan to come home too, and they could have had a great rest of the evening, finishing the bottle of wine and reliving the past and…

Were they even going to get engaged at this point?

He fumbled for his phone and sent a text to Logan.

plans off. sry

The headphones were overly effective in silencing the world, now amplifying his thoughts too much, so he slid them off. He took a deep breath, the sound now camouflaged in the rest of the apartment’s noise. A lump formed in his throat as he took in the arrangement of the dining room, and the more he pushed it down, the harder it was to stem the tears that were steadily filling his eyes.

Virgil didn’t like feeling helpless, but that was all he felt at that moment.

Fuck.

Without forethought, he rubbed at his eyes, and instantly froze.

He drooped his head with a sigh that bordered on a groan, reluctantly lowering his hands from his face. Mixed in with his intercepted tears were the smudged remains of his makeup smeared across the web of his hands.

Might as well; everything else went to shit anyways.

Usually, Virgil didn’t spend more than a minute removing his makeup. But that day, he spent an inordinate amount of time scraping off every streak of color until his face felt raw, watching his hard work be erased. He’d spent forever getting it perfect.

Even after he finished, he couldn’t get himself to move. That familiar weight of anxiety was settling again into the pit of his stomach as rushes of adrenaline, but he found it impossible to tear his eyes away from the mirror. As he stared into his own eyes, he vaguely remembered reading somewhere that looking at yourself in low lighting could trick one’s brain, causing the face to morph into something totally different, oftentimes not human; monstrous. Something about the brain trying to find faces everywhere, and creating them where it can’t see one properly.

This didn’t happen to Virgil.

All he saw in the mirror was someone who had messed up his hope for a future.

Huh. So maybe a ‘monster’ wasn’t too far off.

He laughed humorlessly and finally flicked off the bathroom switch, reentering the living room. The candle was still burning strong on the table, a good half way down. Virgil blew it out.

9:12

The state of apathy Virgil had sunken into was violently replaced with sharp anxiety when he finally bothered to check his phone, realizing it was past nine o’clock. Once more he considered asking Roman if everything was okay (heh, as if anything was okay) but he was quickly reminded why he hadn’t in the first place. Light distracts a driving Roman, bad things happen, it’s all his fault…

Instead, he replied to Logan’s response.

Why? Virgil, what happened?

-Logan

we had a fight

His feet led him by their own will, pulling him to the wall so he could flip off the lights, dousing the apartment in darkness. Using the light from his phone screen, he stumbled to their room- or was it just Roman’s now? Would he have to move out? Oh god… where was he going to live?- ignoring Figaro’s mewls for pets.

What did this fight regard?

-Logan

idk. a bunch of stuff.

He stripped out of his formal shirt, hands shaking so bad he could barely undo the buttons, and exchanged it for his favorite hoodie. It may be too hot to sleep in, but he felt the need for comfort more than he was concerned about heat.

Virgil dropped onto the bed next to the clothes, finally relenting to Figaro’s complaining and stroking down his back. In the stillness of a silent apartment, it was suddenly harder than ever to not completely break down. At least he wiped off his makeup.

This was over dinner?

-Logan

no. over text. he never came home.

He allowed the first tears to fall.

Maybe this had all been building up for a while and Virgil had just been too dumb to see the signs. Was this the night he lost everything? Would the one person he never grew tired of, the only person he had truly loved, leave him? He didn’t know what he’d do without Roman and somehow, he didn’t think he’d have a hope of ever finding someone like him again.

The tremors and blurry vision made it difficult to type.

i think romans going to break up with me

It took barely half a second after it sent for his phone to start ringing, Logan’s name showing up on the caller ID.

Later, Virgil wouldn’t even remember pressing the answer button. The moment he heard Logan’s voice over the phone, his unusually concerned voice overlapping with Patton’s questions, the dam broke. He sobbed his way through an explanation the night, the text messages they’d swapped, and his snowball of anxiety.

To no surprise, the two on the other line immediately offered to come over, but Virgil declined. There was still the tiniest part of him, the littlest hope, that Roman was still going to walk through that door any second. If (when, when, when) he came home, they would need to talk, and it would complicate matters if Logan and Patton were there.

When he eventually yawned in the middle of a sentence, he was encouraged to go to bed. He really didn’t need to be convinced; he was more than ready for this evening to be over. After promises that he’ll update them first thing in the morning, and multiple reminders that Patton loved him, he was left alone in the apartment once again.

He curled into a ball on his side of the bed and cried himself to sleep.

Part two HERE!

#lywrites #sanderssides #sanderssidesfanfiction #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #angst #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #virgil sanders #roman sanders #romantic prinxiety #prinxiety

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draconivn · 5 years ago

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008 | In His Arms

Summary: I made this fic mainly for me, so I stuck my name in it. Due to some things, I’ve been feeling super down lately, and after talking to @lordbunshin, it really got me thinking how Masamune would comfort me if I was feeling down. If you do decide to read this and find it relates to you, just mentally insert your name in where it says ‘Minju’. Pairing: Masamune (Ikemen Sengoku) x Reader Warnings: Angst, fluff, low self-esteem.

Everything hurt.

Everything felt like I had been hit by a horse at full-speed before getting dragged through town. I felt alone, I felt hurt.

I felt nothing but pain and an ache in my heart that told me I wasn’t good enough. Everything I did wasn’t good enough, and I had to work myself that much harder. That no matter what I did to learn how to survive in the Sengoku period, I was far from the princess type that Nobunaga saw in many of the princesses within his clan. That one day, the man I love would find someone much prettier, much cuter and with the most perfect smile of love without having to worry about the pain inside.

I felt ugly. I felt disgusted. I was small, and had been caught in the centre of one too many rescue missions before Masamune came barreling in with his sword raised.

The lucky charm name that Nobunaga gave felt like a pathetic excuse to keep me around and under watchful eyes, after I had just appeared out of nowhere to scoop him up and save him from his assassin. I was just thrown there into a world that was no longer the history I knew, and the frantic pace of war drove my beliefs to act out. It was the only way I was safe, how I somehow gained the attribute of being ‘brave’.

I was afraid and in the end, I knew I was nothing.

I was no princess.

I was no brave lass.

I was a scared insecure fool, who only knew how to run and push, but never how to actually fight my own battles. I never had the right ammunition to protect me, and that was no different to how I saw my looks.

My feet dragged themselves, a placid expression on my face the entire day as my own little invisible rain cloud followed me. The walk from manor to manor allowed me to get some fresh air, but the sun felt much too bright for me. The castle felt like it was probably the best place for me to be, hiding behind corners, until I found somewhere that I could just curl up.

All of my thoughts felt overwhelming, overpowering and dragged me into an internal abyss.

“Hey, Hideyoshi.”

“Oh. Masamune. Did you already see Lord Nobunaga?”

“Yeah, I was just coming back from there and was going to look for Minju for a late lunch. Have you seen her?”

No, please go away. Please don’t find me.

“Uh… not since this morning. She’s been acting a little weird today though.”

“Weird, huh?”

“Yeah. I don’t know if her head’s in the clouds or something, but she wasn’t too happy. She didn’t even respond when I said good morning to her! Mitsuhide said she looks like she’s been avoiding eye contact with everyone.”

I didn’t want anyone to look at my eyes. If anyone so much as sat me down, I knew I would burst into tears. I kept my head down as the two talked, making sure I was out of sight and in my little corner. My eyes were already pricking with tears, my shoulders hunched over and trembling.

“Hm… thanks for that, Hideyoshi. I’ll see if I can find her.”

I thought they had both walked away, sniffling quietly as I gripped my hair, knees pulled up to my chest.

“Kitten…?” Masamune’s touch came gently to my shoulder, but I still jumped and jerked away, raising my head to look at him. “Hey.”

I looked away immediately, not knowing what to say.

“What’s wrong, kitten?”

Even if I couldn’t see his face, I could hear the frown in his words, and he moved next to me to take a seat on the floor. My hair draped over my face, shielding my expression from him, so he wouldn’t see me.

“Hey, kitten. Hideyoshi tells me you haven’t been feeling too good. Want to tell me what’s wrong and why your whiskers aren’t twitching with happiness today?”

“I just want to be alone.”

“Minju.” His hand reached over to cup my chin and tilt my head towards him, even though I kept avoiding his gaze and his free arm wrapped around me to hold me close. “What’s wrong?”

I felt more foolish in telling him everything that I felt the whole day, every single thought and worry that I had pent up inside me, but in broken sentences. I wasn’t too good at being verbal, and more so better at writing, even though I was still learning bits of the Sengoku Era’s vocabulary. When I looked up at him, I could see the frown that my words brought to his lips. I hated upsetting people, and I hated it even more when I was the reason for it.

Yet Masamune still held onto me, making sure to listen to every word I said. “You’re wrong about that. You’re not ugly… you’re the cutest and most beautiful when you smile. There’s no one else I could love other than you. And all those things you’re thinking? Those aren’t true. You’re amazing, kitten, whether you realize it or not. Sure war isn’t for you, and it’s not something anyone should go through. You’ve come here from a different time, and had to learn how to survive. You had no idea what to do, but that shouldn’t have to mean you’re pathetic. You did your best to try and survive, and you’re doing it every day you’re here and choosing to stay instead of going back home.”

I didn’t know how to feel about that. My personality had been constructed since day one under my parents’ guidance, set to their expectations and make sure that no one was upset as a result of my actions. I kept busy to avoid their lectures and dodge the yelling they gave me when I was a teen, and I had to fight tooth and nail just to be able to live on my own in a city far away from them, only to be thrown into a life 500 years in the past where I found my love in a whirlwind of freedom.

“Minju… kitten…” he called to me softly. “You’re not in a world of grades anymore. There is no classification for the hard-working and wonderful person you are. The only one left holding any expectation for yourself is you. All we want is for you to be yourself, but you should do things for yourself and not for others.” His fingers combed through my hair, beckoning my trembling body closer to him.

I was a crybaby, and in the middle of those words, I had already felt tears start to leak bit by bit until he finished speaking. I wanted to please everyone, work hard until I gained some sort of approval. I never thought about myself.

Masamune stayed with me the entire time I cried. I felt guilty, trying to wipe at the hot tears to get rid of them, but he would do it for me every time. My head was running blank until I cried every last tear I could.

“I-I’m sorry… I’m keeping you from your work…”

“Hm? You don’t have to apologize. You’re important to me, kitten, and I’m not going to let you stay in a corner by yourself.” He looked at me for a moment. “In fact… I’m going to make sure you stay with me, no matter what.”

“Huh…?” I was pulled to my feet, our fingers laced as he pulled me through the halls of the castle, in the direction of the castle gates. “Where are you taking me…?” I could see Hideyoshi and Nobunaga coming and I couldn’t help but hide as Masamune came to a stop.

“Masamune,” came Nobunaga’s booming voice. There’s a pause, like Nobunaga was throwing a gaze behind him, trying to see through him. “See to it that our fireball is smiling by the morning, or for however long it will take.”

“As you command.”

I kept my head down. I felt guilty that I couldn’t greet them, but it seemed like Hideyoshi had told Nobunaga about my mood today.

Not choosing to linger any longer, Masamune was gentle in guiding me to his manor where I stayed close to Masamune until we got to his room. The door shut behind us, and he sat down, tugging me into his lap. He smiled gently, nudging my cheek with his finger and he turned to peck my lips gently. We had been caught in this quiet mood when something furry brushed up against us, paws climbing over both of our laps until Shogetsu was settled in and nuzzling my chest. “Hey. Have you come to make her smile too?”

Shogetsu meowed at us, cuddling and curling up with a purr.

I hesitated, not wanting to transfer my anxiety over to the cub, but he looked at me expectantly until I finally started to pet him. It was the warmth of Masamune’s arms around me, and Shogetsu cuddling up to us that allowed me to calm down and ease the tension off my shoulders.

“I got you something while I was in town today,” Masamune murmured softly. His fingers reached into his kimono, pulling out a rectangular package and handed it to me.

With shaky hands, I took it and carefully unwrapped it. It was a new brush set.

“I noticed you were using your brushes quite a bit lately with your drawing and writing lately, so I thought you would like this.”

Quietly, I kissed his cheek in a silent ‘thank you’. I could feel the tears start to warm my tired eyes, touched that they would both try to cheer me up in every way possible. I couldn’t bring myself to write, not when thoughts like these dragged my mind and my performance down. Like everything was the worst in the world, and I had no right to be a part of–

“Hey…” Masamune’s voice pulled me back before my mind went back down that path, my slight startled expression meeting his serious expression.

I swallowed quietly, a sniffle as I reached up to wipe a stray tear.

He caught my wrist, leaning in to kiss the tear away for me. “I’m here, kitten… you don’t have to hurt anymore. I’m not going to leave you.”

My voice was quiet, breaking as he was tender and gentle with me. “I envy you, Masamune…”

He looked at me with a questioning expression. “What do you mean?”

“I’m so closed up like this, so scared at times… yet you live so freely. I wish I could be like the strong person you are… with your strong convictions and living without fears like the ones in my head.”

“No one is perfect, kitten. This is all still new to you. I’ve lived a lifetime of this, but you’ve been here for months. You can learn how to have it, how to use it, how to keep your beliefs while doing so… but learning how to keep every conviction without fear is something that isn’t going to be done overnight. But I’ll help you, so you can live a life without fear, if that’s what you want.”

His words soothed me, calmed me in my fears and was drawing me out of my slump bit by bit. My words hung in tongue-twisters, trying to find the right thing to say, but all I could muster was a simple, “Thank you.” I wasn’t completely better, but I was starting to feel it. My little rain cloud was evaporating and the sun didn’t seem too bright anymore.

He smiled his warm smile, thumb brushing over my lips. “There’s the smile.”

I hadn’t noticed that my smile returned to my lips, though I must’ve looked silly with puffy eyes and a smile. “I love you.”

“I love you too, kitten.” His lips were warm and gentle against mine, kissing me with love as he pulled me close until Shogetsu yelped between us, breaking our kiss to meow in protest at us.

For a moment, we looked at him as he leapt off us to curl up in the corner then at each other, our smiles formed anew.

“C’mon, kitten. Let’s go test out these brushes and see if I have to go marching back for my money,” Masamune joked. He never did let me go the entire time that I did try my new brushes, his arms around my waist and his chin on my shoulder.

I felt safer this way. I couldn’t cry or show my writing to anyone else except him, his words complimenting in my ears at the work I produced on the paper with my brushes.

Because we are vulnerable to no one but to each other.

#fanfic: in his arms #minju fanfics ;#IkeSen fanfics #ikesen masamune #ikesen masamune date #ikesen masamune fanfic #ikemen sengoku #fanfics ;#fanfic: ikesen

41 notes · View notes

rena-rain · 5 years ago

Text

...Smile the Brightest

The saddest people…

It’s that friend you never thought you’d have to worry about. The one with the infectious laugh. The one you don’t know is hiding the most pain.

Marinette realizes she should have been watching closer.

ao3 link

----

Marinette was struggling to keep her eyes open. Hawk Moth had decided three AM was an excellent time to release an akuma. The fight was over by three-twenty, but the adrenaline and nerves and general anxiety kept her awake much longer. She woke up frustrated and dead on her feet.

She was late for school and kept tripping over low walls and her own feet and fire hydrants she didn’t see because of her falling eyelids. It all culminated when she miscalculated where she walked and slammed her shoulder into the locker room door. She heard a stifled gasp. Marinette froze on instinct, listening. There was a moment of silence followed by a sudden series of hard, shuddering gasps.

Somebody was crying, and holed up in the locker room to hide it. Cautiously, Marinette turned the corner.

“Oh my god, Adrien!” She rushed to his side, knelt where he was curled up against the lockers with his face buried in this knees, and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

He didn’t reply, just cried harder. Heart in her stomach, Marinette wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Adrien tucked his head into her neck and gripped her tight. His body shook against hers. Hot tears spilled onto her skin.

Marinette had no idea how long they sat there on the cold ground as Adrien sobbed. It hurt to see him like this. But the only thing she could do was stay and stroke his hair, letting him cry himself out.

Once the tears petered out and his breathing became even, Adrien’s hold on her loosened. His form went slack. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Marinette looked down at him in shock. “Sorry? Don’t be silly - not, not that you’re silly! I mean - you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m here for you when you need me.”

Adrien closed his eyes. “Thank you, Marinette.”

A few minutes passed with neither of them moving. Finally she asked, “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It made you cry.”

“I’m just tired.” Adrien pulled away and gave her a wan smile. “I didn’t sleep much last night and I just got set off easily today.”

He stood and pulled her to her feet, too. Marinette fiddled with her backpack strap. “Adrien...you don’t have to tell me. But if you ever want to or just need someone to listen - ”

The school bell interrupted her. Did they just miss all of homeroom?

Adrien surprised her with a quick hug. “I appreciate it, Marinette. Really.” Students filed in to get their books for their next class and Adrien released her and walked away, leaving Marinette frozen in her hailstorm of emotions.

“ Girl. ” Alya jolted her to her senses. “Did I just see Adrien hugging you? Did you and Adrien skip class together? Oh my gosh, tell me everything, spare no details.”

Oh, shoot. Alya thought she’d walked in on a … romantic overture. “No, no, it wasn’t like that. I was late and Adrien was already here…” she trailed off. It wasn’t her place to tell anyone Adrien had been upset. He obviously wanted to keep that on the down low, and he’d never trust her if she blabbed about walking in on him in tears , even if it was just her best friend, who was his best friend’s girlfriend, so Nino would probably find -

“Then what was it?”

“I shouldn’t say. It’s kind of private.”

Alya’s face fell for a moment. It wasn’t in her nature to just let things go, especially stuff involving her friends. Then she shrugged and grinned. “I get it. I’m happy you guys are getting closer, at least.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“I’ve got notes from Ms. Bustier’s class this morning I can send you. Did you hear about the akuma last night? I slept through the whole thing, I’m so bummed…”

It was hard not to get excited when Alya was excited; her enthusiasm was infectious. Marinette loved having her as her best friend.

Marinette’s phone went off at eight that evening. It was a text from Adrien.

Adrien: Thank you for staying with me this morning.

Adrien: Is your offer to talk still on the table?

Marinette: Of course.

He didn’t respond for a while. The text bubble appeared and disappeared several times. Marinette bit her tongue anxiously.

Adrien: It’s stupid. As I was leaving the house this morning I heard my father yelling in his office. I think he was on the phone or something. Usually I can just ignore it and I thought I did but then Chloe yelled my name this morning and I just kind of lost it.

Marinette: This happens a lot?

Adrien: No, I normally have better control of myself.

Marinette: No no I meant the yelling.

Adrien: Sometimes I guess. Not like all the time but enough that it shouldn’t catch me off guard like that.

Marinette: It’s not stupid at all! Hearing your dad like that must feel awful.

Another five minutes passed before he responded. It only took two for Marinette to start spiralling.

“Oh my god, Tikki, did I say something wrong?”

Tikki looked at the phone. “Doesn’t look like it to me.”

“What if I accidentally offended him? What if he thinks I’m a bad friend and he never talks to me again?”

Her phone chimed.

Adrien: It does.

Adrien: It really does.

The next day Marinette met her friends to find them all cheery as ever. Adrien was laughing with Nino and Alya, looking like nothing could ever get under his skin.

He gave her a one-armed hug in greeting and her entire being immediately lit on fire. Alya smirked at her knowingly.

She kept one eye on Adrien for the rest of the school day. She noticed he seemed a little subdued when he had to go home for lunch but otherwise he seemed fine. Good, even. He laughed, he bantered with his classmates, he helped Rose study for their physics exam, he listened to a new mixtape Nino had made.

Maybe his bout of crying had been a one-time thing after all. Maybe she shouldn’t be worried.

He texted her again later that night.

Adrien: Can I ask you something?

Marinette: Yeah go ahead, anything

Adrien: How often do your parents eat dinner with you?

Marinette blanched at the question.Where did that come from?

Marinette: It kinda depends on how busy they are with the bakery.

Marinette: Like a lot of days, tonight was just me and my mom. But I get both my mom and dad a few times a week.

Adrien: I wish I had that. I’m lucky if I see my father two days in a row.

Marinette: Well, I’m sure my parents would love to have you over sometime if you’re eating alone.

Adrien: I don’t want to intrude

Marinette: I’d have to ask them first, but I don’t see them saying no.

Adrien: I doubt he’ll let me go out. But we’ll see.

Adrien: You’re an awesome friend, you know?

Marinette: That means a lot coming from you.

A couple things changed from then on.

First was a slight shift in Adrien’s behavior at school. He made a habit of touching her in a dozen small ways every day. A hand squeeze. A friendly side hug. A brush of fingers when he hands her a pen. Sitting next to her with their thighs lightly pressed together. Bumping her shoulder when he makes a silly joke. The contact flustered her at first, but with each day that passed she drew more comfort from his touches. Adrien was only touchy-feely with his friends. Marinette hoped this meant he trusted her.

Second, Adrien texted her every night without fail. Sometimes he just sent her a fashion-related meme that made her giggle and said goodnight. Usually they talked about their days, teachers and homework, Marinette’s projects and Adrien’s extra lessons. After some coaxing, he sent her a recording of an original piano piece he was composing. It was a little rough but the melody brimmed with emotion and it brought tears to her eyes. She saved the audio file and told him it sounded beautiful.

Marinette: I’d love to hear the later versions as you work on it

Adrien: Absolutely! I send you another recording once it’s finished.

Marinette: Would you be willing to play it for me in person?

Adrien: :) we’ll see

The more they talked, the more convinced Marinette became that Adrien wore happiness like a mask. She caught glimpses of sadness in his texts; she inferred he wasn’t happy at home. It wasn’t surprising. Whenever Adrien talked about his dad it was about his absence or his making all of Adrien’s decisions for him.

One late night he really opened up to her.

Adrien: I think I might hate him

Marinette: Your dad?

Adrien: Awful, right?

Marinette: Definitely

Adrien: Yeah. I feel like such a shitty son. I shouldn’t hate my own father.

Marinette: Wait no no no no no!

Marinette: I didn’t mean YOU were awful!

Marinette: You’re wonderful Adrien it’s just that you hate him is awful

Marinette: Ugh

Marinette: I meant the SITUATION is awful. I thought that’s what you meant. It sucks that you’re in this position.

Adrien: You’re right. It sucks.

Marinette: What brought this on now?

Adrien: Maybe hate isn’t the right word. More like resent. I’ve had to fight tooth and nail for every ounce of freedom he’s given me. I have to make an appointment with his assistant just to talk to him.

Adrien: Yet he controls every second of my day and I never even see him

Marinette: Is that why you snuck out to see your mom’s film last year?

Adrien: Yeah. We ended up watching it together at home. I remember he said I should’ve trusted him.

Adrien: He’d told me to schedule a meeting time with Nathalie. He couldn’t stop working for five minutes to hear me out

Adrien: It was just “not now, go practice your piano, Adrien”

Adrien: How exactly does that give me the opportunity to trust him?

Marinette: It doesn’t.

Adrien: I want to. My mother’s gone. He’s my only family.

Marinette typed a response. Then deleted it. Started a different response and backspaced halfway through the message. She wanted to make him feel better. She wanted to throw a Lucky Charm in the air and magically fix everything wrong in his life. A memory perked up, something her dad had told her.

He’d said, “You can’t fix all your loved ones’ problems. Sometimes the most important thing is to affirm that the situation is bad and let them know they’re not alone.”

Marinette: I’m so sorry, Adrien. That must be really hard.

Adrien: I’m sorry for unloading all that on you.

Marinette: No

Marinette: Thank you for trusting me.

On Friday morning, the bell rang, signalling all the students to move on to their next class. Alya turned to Marinette as they got up and packed their school supplies. “Hey M, wanna do a sleepover tonight?”

“Oh I’d love to!” Marinette replied happily. God knows she could use a break with her best friend. “Your place?”

“Actually, can I come over to yours this time? I could use a night away from home.”

“Something wrong?”

Alya chuckled as they walked into the crowded school corridor. “Nah, just too many sisters. It gets crowded and noisy and girl, I cannot watch the Ladybug cartoon again. ”

Marinette giggled. “Because of you, I savor being an only child. Let me call my mom and dad, I’ll leave them a message.”

Truth be told, Marinette could use the distraction. Adrien’s dual personality made her worried sick. He acted like the same Adrien he always had, though they’d become closer now. He was helpful, and quiet, and funny, and bright...a ray of sunshine that made her feel warm whenever he was near. At night when she struggled with the homework he called and talked her through the assignment. He texted her screenshots of animal memes all the time. (Her favorite was a picture of a squirrel that looked like it was water-bending. The one of a Labrador holding a glove by the middle finger had made her spit out her water in shock.)

But some nights...some nights, everything he kept dammed up inside him trickled through the cracks. He couldn’t even admit he was annoyed without two apologies and a self-flagellating monologue.

She felt like a bad friend. But Marinette needed one night of complication-free friendship.

After school Alya went home to pack an overnight bag then came straight back to the bakery, looking ready to chill for hours. But Friday or not Friday, Marinette insisted they get as much homework done as they could before dinner. Alya complained that they had the whole weekend and she felt exhausted but Marinette knew if she didn’t start now then she wouldn’t start until Sunday night and she refused to get grounded again and besides what if Hawk Moth chose that exact moment to set loose an akuma on the city?

Predictably, when Tom called them down for dinner Alya leapt out of her chair and vanished through the trapdoor before he could finish speaking.

Despite what she’d said earlier that day, Marinette sometimes wished she had a sister or a brother. She loved her parents, but the dinner table always felt a little fuller and livelier with a friend there, too. For a moment, she felt a pang of sadness when she saw her mom kiss the crown of Alya’s head before sitting down; it made her think how much Adrien probably needed that.

(She still thanked God there were no screaming babies or toddlers waking her up in the middle of the night.)

The girls did the dishes since Tom and Sabine had cooked - not to mention worked in the bakery all day - and spent as much time scrubbing as flicking soap bubbles at each other.

Out of the blue, Alya asked, “Marinette, have you ever played poker?”

“Umm...no?”

“Wanna learn?”

“Girls.” Sabine chose that moment to walk into the kitchen with her tea. “I’d advise against it. Gambling can be very addictive, I don’t want you to get in the habit of betting away your money,” Sabine admonished. “Marinette, you’re allowance is for you to practice managing your finances.”

“I mean, we can play without putting precious euros on the line.” Alya’s eyes lit up. “Hey Mme. D-C, how many leftover pastries does the bakery have today?”

Alya was a genius. She dealt the cards while Marinette divided up the sweets into their pseudo-currency. Marinette couldn’t shuffle for the life of her; the one time she tried it turned into a game of 52 pick-up. But her eye for strategy translated into cards as well as video games. After she won four hands in a row Alya pouted at her about beginner’s luck and “I’ll beat you so hard when you’re not new anymore,” making them both laugh.

Saturday morning, Marinette woke up to find herself as Alya’s new teddy bear. The blatant, subconscious affection warmed Marinette’s heart. With winter approaching and the weather getting colder, Alya’d gotten more cuddly the last few sleepovers.

She batted her hand around until it found her phone to check the time. Two messages glowed from her lockscreen, from 9:15 and 9:26 last night.

Adrien: Hey, are you awake?

Adrien: Sorry, you’re probably sleeping, I hope I’m not bothering you.

Marinette squeaked, then slapped her hand over her mouth. Alya thankfully didn’t stir. She unlocked the phone and started typing.

Marinette: God, I’m so sorry Adrien! Alya slept over last night and I just wasn’t paying attention to my phone - I promise I’m not ignoring you!

Adrien: No worries, it’s cool. Did you have fun?

Marinette: We stayed up too late watching old movies and playing blackjack. Right now she’s still asleep and has me in a death grip.

Marinette: Did your evening go okay?

Adrien: It was fine. Not as exciting as yours :)

Did a smiley face emoticon mean he was actually smiling? Or was it just a simpler smile to hide behind over the phone? God, she’d do anything to make Adrien smile.

Days passed. A week passed.

Nino and Marinette managed to snag Adrien on one of his evenings off. According to him, convincing his father to let him go to dinner with friends had been like pulling teeth, even though they never ate together anyway. But in the end he’d relented, so Adrien spent the evening being smothered by Marinette’s parents while Marinette watched with a red face and Nino sang praises to Tom Dupain-Cheng’s cooking. She’d rarely seen him so animated before. Something in Adrien just came alive. He shamelessly entertained Tom with horrible, horrible puns (that left Nino, Marinette and Sabine) groaning into their food. He talked to Sabine in Mandarin while she gently corrected his pronunciation. He even loosened up enough for Nino to shoot a grape into his mouth, though Nino was quickly admonished for encouraging childish behavior at the table that should really be reserved for the kitchen.

The only thing that could have made that night more perfect was if Alya could’ve joined them, but she’d been home sick with the flu.

Two weeks passed.

Marinette wasn’t sleeping well. She had nights like that, when no matter what she did she just wouldn’t drift off. Adrien hadn’t responded to her texts, so she hoped he was just asleep. She was passing the time bundled up in a warm coat and blanket on her terrace, knitting a new sweater for her mom.

She startled at the movement in her peripheral vision. A certain leather-clad superhero was perched on her railing, tail swishing agitatedly. He leapt to the floor and landed on his feet.

“Chat Noir? What are you doing here?”

“I...I…” he swallowed. “Alya Cesaire’s your best friend, right? The ladyblogger?”

That was incredibly low on the list of things Marinette expected him to say. “Yeah.”

“I saw her jump off a building tonight. I caught her at the last second and took her to the hospital, but she has some bruises and a broken rib.”

They stared at each other in silence. Moments stretched into minutes.

“She jumped?” The words were hardly a whisper.

Chat nodded.

“She tried to...to kill herself? No. No no no nonononono…”

Marinette yanked at her pigtails. She wasn’t looking at Chat Noir anymore but she did hear his soft voice. “If I weren’t there...I wouldn’t believe it either.”

“ Why? Why would Alya…” Chat seemed to understand what she needed. He held her tightly to his chest, arms around her waist and back while she muttered and stared at nothing in shock.

It would not surprise her if they’d stood like that for hours, smushed together and silent, while Marinette slowly came to terms with what she’d heard. It didn’t make sense. But this was Chat Noir. Her partner whom she trusted implicitly. He would never lie to her, he would never just make this up.

“You’re sure she didn’t just fall? She definitely jumped?” Her voice cut through the silence like a dagger.

“She jumped.”

But Alya would never do this. She was too…

...happy.

Alya was too happy.

The realization hit her like a bullet train. Whatever was going on, she’d been hiding it from the world this whole time.

For the first time Marinette sobbed. She pounded her fists on Chat Noir’s chest. “I’m her best friend! How did I not know? She should’ve told me she felt so bad, she - I can’t believe - I’ve been so blind, why didn’t I notice anything? Why didn’t I NOTICE anything? She needed me!”

They sank to the wooden floor of her terrace while she cried.

And cried more. She cried so hard at some point she started screaming. Her parents, well-attuned to their daughter’s distress, burst through the trap door.

“What’s happened? What’s going on? Marinette, oh dear, what’s wrong?”

Chat Noir gently transferred Marinette to her mother. “It’s delicate, Mssr. and Mme. Dupain-Cheng. I caught a jumper while I was on patrol tonight, and, um. It was Marinette’s friend, Alya Cesaire. She’s alive and in the hospital.”

Marinette heard Sabine gasp.

“I apologize for dropping this on her so late at night. I should’ve waited.”

When he let out a surprised mew, Marinette peeked over her mom’s shoulder. Tom had scooped up Chat Noir in a hug. “You saved my little girl’s best friend. Thank you, Chat Noir.”

Chat Noir looked miserable. Marinette tried to imagine being in his shoes, if she were out patrolling as Ladybug and spotted someone - a teenager her age, no less - try to jump to their death. She wouldn’t want to hear thanks after catching that person, either.

Nino did not take the news well.

Mme. Cesaire had called him and told him Alya was hospitalized. The next morning, at school, he was in a right state, frantic that his girlfriend’s mom sounded so upset and so cagey on the phone and no one was telling him anything.

Marinette bore the burden of sitting him down and explaining. It was a tough choice: she wanted to respect Alya’s privacy, but Alya keeping to herself got them there in the first place. He was her friend, too. She couldn’t leave him in the dark and let not knowing drive him mad.

Maybe not knowing would have been better.

Nino buried his face in his hands. “I should’ve known, I should’ve known, I should’ve known…”

Marinette and Adrien patted his back. “None of us saw it coming, bud. She hid it really well.”

“That’s just it though! I knew something was wrong. And you know what I did? Nothing. Jack lotta good I’ve done as her boyfriend.”

“Nino, please don’t blame yourself,” Marinette pleaded.

“Marinette, she’s been, like, pulling away from me. I thought she was getting ready to dump me, but I got too scared and selfish to see she needed - ”

Marinette grabbed his cheeks and forced him to look at her. “It’s. Not. Your. Fault.”

Nino shook her off and walked away. “I need some air.”

Marinette looked at Adrien desperately. “He shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“Honestly, some space might help.” Adrien leaned forward on the bench, elbows on his knees and fingers knitted together. “It’ll give him time to process things.”

“No, Adrien, Nino is a prime akuma target right now. That is the last thing he needs today.”

“Oh. Oh shit. Yeah, I’ll go keep an eye on him.”

After school, once he’d made sure Nino wouldn’t blow his lid if he left him alone, Adrien went with Marinette to the hospital. The front desk accepted that they were family without pause; it made Marinette antsy about the security around here.

She turned to Adrien. “Why isn’t Nino coming too?”

“He’s still really upset,” Adrien said. His eyes were sad and kind of hard. “He needs to process and get his head on straight before he tries to talk to her.”

She didn’t reply, just kept walking.

Nora stood outside Alya’s hospital room like a bouncer. “Nope.”

“If she’s awake, it might help her to see a friend.”

“Alya’s extremely sick right now, pigtails. She’s probably asleep anyways.”

Marinette stood her ground. “I know why she’s here, Anansi.”

Nora snorted. “In a hospital? Gee, I wonder.”

“No. I know what happened. I know what she tried to do.”

Nora’s eyes narrowed in obvious fury. She looked between Adrien and Marinette. “Who told you? Did that mangy Mr. Whiskers go blabbing about my little sister?”

“No! No, Chat Noir isn’t like that. I’m the only one he told - last night when he landed on my terrace. Plus, this is the psych ward. What did you think I was going to think?”

Adrien backed her up. “No one should be isolated when they’re feeling like this.”

“Be honest, you two. Did you have any, even a minuscule suspicion that Alya was depressed?”

Shame-faced, they both shook their heads no. Molten coal burned in Marinette’s stomach and her face.

“Then what do you possibly think you could do to help? Please, just leave.”

“But Marinette is - ”

“Adrien, let’s just go.” Marinette gently tugged him away and down the hall. She whipped out her phone and sent him a text.

Marinette: Could you cause a distraction so I can get inside?

Their eyes met. He nodded slightly. He went back while Marinette kept going and turned a corner.

She didn’t know what he did, exactly, or at all. Marinette heard a squeak, some yelling, the pounding of running footsteps, then more people running. Nora appeared, being dragged by two security guards toward the exit. Her face was maroon with fury.

Marinette jogged back to the hospital room door. “What did you do?”

“She was already on edge. It didn’t take much to get her to make a racket.” He shrugged. “I’m not proud of it.”

Marinette reached for the handle. She didn’t turn it. Her fingers hardened into marble around the metal.

A warm hand covered hers (completely covered - his hands were so big!) and Adrien helped her turn the handle and push open the door. She looked at him to find their faces inches apart.

“Good luck,” he breathed. Marinette’s heart ached. She tore her eyes away from his and went inside.

Alya looked like hell. She was buried under a pile of white blankets, lying in a white bed, wearing a white hospital gown. The only color was the red in her hair. Her glasses were gone.

“What are you doing here, Marinette?”

Marinette paused. “I’m not sure. I want to help?” Alya snorted. The sound was sharp, derisive, mean, alien coming from her throat. “I know I can’t. So I guess I want to ask why. Why did you do it? How long - ”

“I didn’t plan it, not really! It’s not like I got up and decided ‘Today is the day I’m going to off myself.’ Something about last night - I ran out of options, I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Marinette had no idea what to say. She felt so out of her depth. Alya was experiencing something she couldn’t ever imagine, and that was the understatement of the century.

Alya decided to keep talking, her voice a little quieter now. “I couldn’t sleep so I went out for a walk. I’ve wanted to die so many times, I can’t even count. Usually,” Alya took a shuddering breath, “usually I just ride it out and the wanting kind of passes and I can tolerate it all again. But for some reason I followed through this time.

“I’ve felt like I’m going crazy, Marinette. I can’t make sense of it.”

Marinette peppered Alya’s forehead with kisses. “Of course it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t have to make sense. I love you.”

Alya scooted to her right and patted the bed. Marinette climbed in next to her. Alya took a deep breath then started talking.

“It’s like I’m empty. I feel like everything’s been drained out of me and there’s nothing but a vacuum left inside. And it hurts. Did you know feeling nothing hurts? Everything’s numb but it’s horrible pain like getting slowly crushed under a giant rock.

“In a way I already feel dead. Like I’m a body pretending to be the person I was, just going through the motions. I need it to end, Marinette. I’m so sick of just feeling nothing. The worst part is after finally talking about all of this, I don’t feel any better.”

Marinette held Alya close. “We’ll get you help. This feeling can’t last forever, and we can get you help. Just please, please be patient. And for now I’m just...I’m here. I hear you.”

She’d planned to stay as Alya fell asleep, but Marinette ended up drifting off. When she stirred, her best friend was still breathing.

71 notes · View notes

ilovemygaydad · 5 years ago

Text

title: thievery and trickery

the unneeded sequel to yeah, no

summary: (again, a totally cursed crack fic) as deceit’s things start to go missing, he must venture into the light side to retrieve them. unfortunately, a former acquaintance is finding it the perfect opportunity to make him uncomfortable

pairing: one-sided roceit

warnings: spoilers for dwit, deceit, remus (once), ambiguously sympathetic deceit (it could go either way tbh), lots of sexual innuendos, suggestive language, swearing, frustration, yelling, anger, teasing, intentionally making someone uncomfortable, virgil is a major asshole, caps, implied sexual attraction, embarrassment, and possibly something else

@royallyanxious, since you asked to be tagged

special thanks to @fandomsandanythingelse for being my consultant on this

consider buying me a coffee (god knows i need it after this)

---

Deceit didn’t entirely remember why he had needed to venture into the lighter side of the Mindscape in the first place. It had been something to do with Virgil, that much was sure. Probably retrieving something that had been taken to the Light Side without permission that Deceit had tasked himself to retrieve. He couldn’t remember.

He did remember that he had entered the Light Side and immediately went to the nearest door to find good old Anxiety, only to find the room devoid of the side. Naturally, Deceit had gone further in, hoping to catch Virgil to complete his task. As he walked down the long hallway to the stairs, he checked the game room and the memory vault in case Virgil, for some unknown reason, had decided to skulk around like the emo disaster that he was.

Still nothing.

Deceit had sighed. He loathed having to go into the Light Sides’ common room. They were all, quite frankly, very rude to his person, and Roman was always there being his usual, pretty annoying self. However, he had a goal that needed to be fulfilled, so he trudged down the stairs with only a bit of a pout.

And the second that Deceit stepped into the commons, he knew that he was absolutely, royally fucked.

Because of course Roman chose this day of all days to drape himself on the couch like a god damned living painting. Sure, Creativity was in his normal outfit, but that didn’t make Deceit’s mind go any less haywire. For the briefest moment, Deceit’s mind flashed with all of the other, much better places that he’d like to see Roman in that position, but he put a harsh clamp over them faster than he could say his own name. He’d been assaulted by Remus enough for merely flirting with Roman in the courtroom doing his job; there was exactly zero way in hell that his ass wouldn’t get kicked if any of his stray thoughts ended up in Remus’ hands.

Not to mention that in the corner of the room, staring right at him was Virgil freaking Sanders with the same shit-eating grin that Deceit used to love seeing. The sickeningly sweet smile that foretold mischief.

Yeah.

Deceit was fucked, and he wouldn’t even have finished whatever the hell it was that he’d come to the Light Side to do!

“I don’t need something from you, Virgil,” he said regardless of his forgetting. There needed to be a reason for him to come here, or the others would get suspicious. Lying was what he did best, after all.

“No, of course not,” Virgil said. “You need it from someone else.” His eyes flicked subtly to Roman, who wasn’t paying any attention to the conversation, and back.

Deceit flushed. “That is what I meant.”

“No? I suppose it wouldn’t have been a need so much as a want, right?” He smirked; darkness glinted in his eyes with every word. “My mistake.”

“Oooh!” Roman said suddenly, looking up at the two. “Virgil messed up?”

“Wha—Do you only ever listen to make fun of me, Princey?” Virgil’s smirk turned into a scowl.

“I was merely surprised that you admitted to a wrongdoing. That’s a rare feat.”

“Dude, whatever.” Virgil stood up and walked to the stairs. “I’m gonna do some activities to work out my newfound frustration.” Then, just as he passed by Deceit, he winked and whispered innocently, “Maybe you should, too.”

“I will never understand him,” Roman sighed as he watched Virgil climb the stairs. “I do hope that he paints today, though. His pieces are always more interesting when he’s worked up.”

“Yeah,” Deceit laughed weakly. Without another word, he turned and left.

---

Life had a really fucking funny way of messing with Deceit. Hilarious, one might say.

To him, it was genuinely devastating.

Not three days after his little incident with Virgil, he was forced to go back to the Light Side because another one of his things went missing, and the first still hadn’t been returned. Undoubtedly, Virgil was making some attempt at payback for the courtroom by stealing his precious belongings (you didn’t just steal a guy’s heated blanket--that was cruel). Deceit just wished that he’d get his fill of revenge in a more tasteful way like salt in the sugar bag or bugs in his pasta.

Once again, Virgil wasn’t in his new room, and Deceit was forced to go to the commons. Where, once again and just to his luck, he was greeted by Virgil and Roman. Creativity was sitting on the floor, flipping through a book of jungle animals, and Virgil was next to him, pointing at the ones that looked cool.

Deceit was unsure if either had noticed his presence until Virgil placed his hand on a page with a yellow and black snake. “What do you think about snakes, Ro?”

“Oh! I think they’re rather magnificent creatures! A truly misunderstood and beautiful animal indeed.”

“Uh huh. Y’ever touched one?”

Roman squinted his eyes, obviously trying to scan his memory for a time that he might have. His eyes seemed to have finally noticed Deceit, and he sent a small wave over before replying, “No, I don’t believe that I have.”

Deceit moved to the kitchen. He didn’t want Roman to think that he was staring or being weird.

Virgil looked over his shoulder at Deceit with a smug expression. “Do you want to touch one?”

Deceit had never been so close to dropping dead on the spot.

“I mean, why not?” Roman said, starting to flip pages again. “Their scales look so smooth, and I’m sure that they’re lovely to hold. Oh, and they do that little blep thing, which is just terribly adorable.”

“I’m sure that snakes would think that you were adorable, too.” The smile on Virgil’s face held a saccharine sweetness as he mouthed ‘Don’t you?’ at Deceit.

Roman cooed, and the anxious side turned his head at the exact second that Roman glanced back over at him. “Aw, Virgil! That’s so sweet of you to say.”

“It’s no big deal,” he muttered, feigning embarrassment.

“No, it’s really nice of you to say. Even Deceit would agree, right?” Creativity turned an eager smile to Deceit, who nearly flinched at the sudden attention.

“No. It isn’t nice,” he managed to choke out.

“See! You’re a nice guy, Virge.” Roman turned back to his book once more.

“Yeah.” Virgil innocently grinned at Deceit. “I guess that I am.”

---

The other things, Deceit could cut his losses and live without. He had extra blankets, and he had extra socks, but this? This was just plain criminal.

What the fuck kind of a guy stole someone else’s snake?!

And it wasn’t just the snake herself! Virgil had taken the entire terrarium, all of Deceit’s supplies, and the entire freezer’s worth of food. If he weren’t so fucking pissed, Deceit would have been proud of the scheme.

“Virgil,” he growled as he pounded on the anxious side’s door. “Don’t give her back.”

The door opened, and Deceit almost lost it when he saw Virgil with Daisy on his shoulders, smiling softly. “What’s that?”

Angry venom dripped from Deceit’s words. “Don’t. Give. Her. Back.”

“Oh,” Virgil said. “Yeah, of course.” He snapped his fingers, and all of the snake stuff that had been littered behind him disappeared.

Deceit was infinitely jealous that the laws of reality didn’t hit as hard in the Light Side as they did in the Dark Side. The only one who could summon things while in the Dark Side was Remus, and no one wanted to ask him for things. It had taken Deceit three weeks of fighting tooth and nail to get Roman to give him Daisy. It had been the worst three weeks of his entire life.

“And the snake?”

Virgil shook his head, softly. “Yeah, sorry. I thought you’d want to take her home with you, so I didn’t snap her with.” He gently lifted Daisy from his shoulders and placed her in a small heap in Deceit’s hands.

Deceit knew that he should be happy. His baby had been returned with little resistance, and he could go back to some normalcy, but at the same time, something was up. Virgil hadn’t been this cordial in... well, ever.

“Right...” He looked at his wrist as Daisy slowly curled her way into a sentient serpentine bracelet. “Well, I’m gonna--”

“Oh my goodness! Is that the snake I summoned for your room?”

Virgil gasped, but Deceit could see the mischief in his eyes. “You summoned this cutie? I was just about to ask Deceit where he got her.”

No, you weren’t, you lying bastard.

“I almost forgot about her. How is she? Does she have a name?” Roman’s voice was gleeful, and it just made Deceit want to run away.

“Her name isn’t Daisy,” he said as he turned to speak to Creativity. “And she’s doing terribly.”

“Wow.” Roman looked completely starstruck. “Wow. I’ve never held a snake before; can I hold yours?”

It was subtle—it could barely be construed as something even minutely sexual—yet Deceit saw Virgil’s surprised smile at the unknowing bait. With full intentions to rush away, he stuttered, “Oh, um, I don’t know...”

“Hush,” Virgil drawled, pushing just a bit too hard on Deceit’s shoulder to be considered friendly. “Let him hold your snake.”

“She’s just too cute, Deceit! Please?”

Slowly, the side in question nodded and slipped Daisy off of his wrist. With the utmost care, he placed the coil in Roman’s hands. It honestly couldn’t get any worse.

Daisy lazily slithered her way up and around Roman’s arm, raising her tiny head right in front of Roman’s. Her little tongue darted out and touched his nose. Roman let out a tiny giggle.

The moment was swiftly ruined for Deceit by Virgil saying, “You know, I’ve never seen her like that except in Deceit’s hand. She just isn’t that perky on her own.”

“Ha ha,” Deceit said with fake enthusiasm. “Virgil, you are so funny! May I please have Daisy back so that I can go back to my room?”

“Of course,” Roman murmured as the snake was taken back. “She’s beautiful. May I visit her some time?”

Virgil latched his arm around Roman’s shoulders. “I’m sure she would be very happy if you did! Right, Deceit?”

“No.”

“Perfect!” Virgil began to lead the prince away. “Goodbye!”

“Bye...”

—-

“Roman, I need to be honest with you,” Virgil said a few minutes later. They were on the couch watching reruns of Parks and Rec, and Roman was still being very happy about his new snake friend.

“What about?”

“Well...” Virgil didn’t exactly know how to break the news. “The last few times that we’ve hung out, I was using you—“

“What—“

“Just to get back at Deceit! It was just so I could make him uncomfortable, okay?”

Roman’s eyebrows furrowed. “Make him uncomfortable how?”

“He has this massive crush on you, and I found out about it right after the courtroom thing, so I’ve been using you and your pretty, unaware face to form, uh... innuendos? I was stealing some of his stuff so he’d come to our side of the Mindscape, and I made sure to be with you.” Virgil laughed awkwardly, hoping Roman wouldn’t hate him forever for his evil scheme.

“You... you’re kidding, right? Deceit is thirsty for me? I mean, I know that I’m a snack and a half, but him?”

“Yeah.”

Roman looked at Virgil with a disbelieving expression. “And you used me to get into his head?”

“Mhmm. A couple of well timed questions here, your idiocy sprinkled in every so often... Poor guy was outie in less than five minutes.” Virgil smirked, resting his head on the back of the couch. “Thanks, by the way.”

“Man,” Roman laughed. “I can’t believe we vanquished Deceit so quickly, and all it took was him having a simple crush on me!”

“SO HE DOES WANT TO FUCK YOU?!” Remus screeched from his new perch on top of the kitchen table.

The two sides on the couch screamed. Well, nothing was truly a perfect solution...

#ts spoilers #ts deceit #ts remus #roceit #one-sided roceit #m writes things

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