#its making me nauseous and all my head bones hurt

[arreish]

Hubs said something stupid so I told him "no one says that." And he goes "I say that, what are you on?" And without thinking I just say "not enough."

[ibetonlosinghuskies]

hiiiiii! Some one shot requests for Pazzi! I love seeing Paige hurt and azzi comforting so anything like Paige being sick and Azzi there for her, Paige getting hurt in practice and Azzi worried, Paige getting benched and Azzi supporting her❤️

hi hi, thank you for all the reqs!! i swear sometimes you guys live in my brain, one of the other two will be present in the upcoming chapters, but here’s this for now 🤭

fever dreams (bonus chp)

summary: paige is sick so azzi takes a surprise visit to uconn to comfort her.

cw: just fluff

a/n: sry this is so short, i wrote this at the beach so it’s not really formatted or spell checked sry!!

paige's pov:

my head spins as i open my eyes, immediately regretting my decision. an ache throbs in my head, my throat feels like sandpaper, and every muscle in my body feels tender.

i hadn't been feeling good after practice yesterday, but i had attributed it to the usual pains of conditioning. i knew it was gonna take some getting used to, but this was a different kind of pain.

i swept my sheets over my legs, trying to take my first step. my foot hits the ground, and i become aware of how warm my skin is. a chill runs through my skin, my bones ache at the weight of my body.

i can't ignore it anymore, i'm definitely sick.

a sharp dread works its way through my stomach, relentless and unforgiving. i feel nauseous at the thought of telling coach i had to miss practice already.

it's only been a few weeks into summer workouts with the team, and i'm already gonna get benched. coach is going to kill me. i squint at my phone, the brightness sending a searing pain through my head.

a few missed calls from mom, a couple of insta dms, a handful of texts from my teammates. but my heart sinks when i see no messages from azzi.

my first instinct is to call her, to let her voice soothe my sickness through the phone. just the thought of her soft cadence coats my mind like cough syrup down my throat.

god, i wish she was here.

it's only really been a few weeks since i left minnesota but i couldn't help but feel like we were drifting day by day. she'd called me the first few nights, but things felt different. we were still us, just muffled through the static of my phone.

i know i should've told her i'm sick, but part of me hopes she'll reach out first. i shoot a quick text to geno then close my eyes, hoping to drift away from the pain.

i fall asleep quickly, heavy with sickness. my sleep is light, burdened by the fever and chill of my body. my fever makes me kick the sheets off, just to immediately put them back on after my skin chills.

a soft knock pulls me from my feverish haze, and i blink slowly. all the light in my room has dimmed as the sun cast it's final warmths from outside. i drag myself to the door, every step a conscious effort.

when i open it, i squint in disbelief. azzi stands there, or at least i think she does. worry flickers through her expression as she scans my body. my head feels fuzzy, the edges around her features softened, blurred.

am i dreaming? this can't be real.

"azzi?" i whisper, my voice barely audible. "what-" my throat aches, voice cracking at the first syllable.

even in my dreams, i'm still nervous around her.

i reach out, half-expecting my hand to pass right through her. my fever must be worse than i thought, conjuring up the one person i've been longing to see.

please be real. please be mine for a day.

my hand reaches her forearm, solid and warm. a rush of gratitude wades over me, and for a moment, the pain ceases.

she's here. she's actually here.

"oh honey," she calls out empathetically, "is it that bad?" she pulls me in for a hug, squeezing at my waist. the cool touch of her fingers against my back is soothing, like she carried acetaphetamine under her fingertips.

i didn't realize how much i needed this until now.

i lean into her, resting my cheek on her shoulder. i turn my head, burrowing myself into her neck. i take a deep breath, inhaling her scent. a sweet familiar vanilla and something else uniquely her. my voice muffled by her skin as i speak, "are you real?"

i feel her laugh at this, "yeah, paige. i'm really here," she says, her voice soft but clear. "your mom called me. she said you were sick and all alone."

my heart races at the thought of my wellbeing being her catalyst to come all this way. i imagine her packing a bag, careful and deliberate. reading on the plane, asking my mom for directions, knocking at my door.

she came here for me. she dropped everything and came to see me.

"let's get you back to bed," azzi says softly, wrapping an arm around my waist to hold the weight of my body. she sets me down on my bed, her eyes carefully scanning my movements as i tuck myself in. i pull the sheets over my chin, looking up at her.

she's so pretty, so kind.

she reaches the back of her hand to my forehead, pressing softly for a moment. "you're burning up," she says empathetically. "i'll be right back okay?"

i almost want to reach out and pull her close, tell her she’s the only thing i need. but i let her go, she grabs something from her bag and walks towards the bathroom.

when she returns she places a cool cloth on my head, holding my cheek in her hand. the cloth is nice but it’s her touch that’s really soothing. her careful, loving hands both soothes and brings a new ache to my body.

i worry i’ll never be cured from the ache of needing her.

“thanks az,” i whisper, giving her a soft smile. “mhm,” she hums, “do you want some tea? it should help your throat.”

“oh you don’t have to-” i start, but she’s already heading for the sink.

“do you want lemon or no?” she calls out from the kitchen. i’m impressed, she really thought of everything.

“sure,” i croak out, trying not to strain my voice. in the few short minutes she’s gone, i feel my eyelids grow heavy. i lay my head down, slowly drifting back to sleep.

azzi’s pov:

i pour the hot water into the cup, letting the tea seep. i wrap my hands around it, taking in its warmth.

i walk out towards her, talking to myself, “i brought green tea too but it has caffeine and i figured you should sl-”

she’s already passed out, her blonde hair thrown lazily over her shoulders and face. i watch her chest rise and fall, her eyelashes flutter slightly. even in the dim light of her dorm, she glows.

she’s so beautiful.

i’m almost grateful she’s so deep in sleep she doesn’t catch me staring. i set the mug on the nightstand quietly, climbing into bed with her.

despite my best efforts, she feels the bed shift and takes a few sleepy blinks. once i lay down, she puts her head on my shoulder curling into my body.

it’s a rare moment of stillness for paige, who’s usually so full of life and energy. a wave of tenderness washes over me.

i want more of this, of us.

the depth of my feelings for her scares me, but in moments like this, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

her breathing has evened out now, a gentle rhythm. it brings me peace to know i might have brought her some sort of comfort.

the weight of her head on my shoulder sends a wave of sleepiness through me. i wrap my free hand around her back, stroking my thumb across her back. holding her tight, i let myself sleep.

…

when i wake a few hours later, i realize she’s interlocked our hands. her messy hair scatters across my chest.

we’re so close i’m afraid my breathing might wake her. i pull my other hand to feel the cloth on her head. i should change it, it’s already grown warm. plus she probably needs to take some medicine before she sleeps for the rest of the night.

i run my hand down her back, trying to wake her. “paige,” i brush some of her hair out of her face. she’s a deep sleeper, she probably can’t even hear me.

i shake her shoulder a little rougher now, “okay sleepy, time for some medicine.” she blinks slowly, looking up at me, “hm?”

“i bought allergy meds and cough syrup,” i say, starting to sit up.

i reach for my bag pulling out both. i start with the allergy meds, putting two pills in the palms of my hands.

“here,” i hand them to her, reaching for her tea.

she examines the pills in her hands, rolling them around. “these look big,” she complains, mumbling.

"paige, you cannot be almost twenty years old and not know how to swallow a pill,” i tease.

"i can swallow a pill. it’s just that these are bigger than the normal ones,” she protests.

"above average," i put the pill in her hand. "now, swallow."

"that's what she said,” she coughs, laughing.

i feel a smile flicker across my lips. "not to you," i quip, poking her side.

her jaw drops for a moment before closing to pout her lips. "be nice to me, i'm sick," she mumbles.

god, she’s cute.

hearing the rasp in her voice softens my expression “i know, honey. i’m sorry, i just want you to feel better.”

she nods, finally taking the tea from my hands. she winces as she swallows. i put my hand on her back, stroking softly.

“good job,” my hand lingers for a moment too long before i pull it away.

“do you wanna watch a movie? i have love and basketball downloaded on my laptop,” i ask, reaching for my laptop.

"how you gonna come over to take care of me then play your favorite movie?" she croaks, her voice still raspy.

"see you’re already feeling good enough to argue with me," i smile, putting on the movie anyways.

like always, we fall into a comfortable silence. i hold her close, tracing the lines on her palms with my fingertips.

it isn’t long until i feel her start to fall asleep again. she closes her eyes, “please stay,” she mumbles into my shoulder.

of course, i’ll stay. i’d stay here forever if i could.

“i’ll be here when you wake up, okay?” i take her face in my palms, kissing her forehead. “get some rest.”

“promise?” she asks, her soft blue eyes stirring up emotion deep inside me.

i wanna kiss her again. like really kiss her.

“i promise,” i whisper back, running my hand through her hair.

as i watch her drift back to sleep, i come to a realization. i came all this way to take care of her, but being here, holding her in my arms, feeling needed- it’s healing something in me too.

maybe she’s all i need.

[that-one-riddles-bitch]

Prefect Patrol ~ Mattheo Riddle

Paring: Mattheo x Fem!reader

Summary: It was a late night, being a prefect had its perks but roaming the castle for hours at night seemed like hell when you had to be up the next morning. Yet, of course, Mattheo Riddle just had to spice up the last bit of your prefect patrols. 18+

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, fingering, dry humping, mature language, piv, unprotected sex, oral f!receiving, angst, praise and degradation, overstimulation, creampie. (I think thats all)

THIS IS MY FIRST SERIOUS FANFIC/ SMUT SO BEAR WITH ME. Also I didn’t proof read this soooo, lets hope for the best

Word count: 2k+

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

30 more minutes. Thats all that passed in your mind, consuming your very being as you trailed down the empty dark corridors of the clock tower. It was nothing new, nothing special, a late night prefect patrol that you’d mastered and paved the path of. Though, as you found yourself counting your steps, rhythmically walking with the cranking gears of the clock.

Lost in your thoughts, your boredom and the sound of the gears consuming you to an absolute mindless creature, a snicker echoed through the empty hall; ricocheting like a stray bullet bouncing off the bone of your skull. You quickly turn towards the noise, and in the gleaming ray of moon light stood him, Mattheo Riddle.

It wasn’t odd to find him in the corridors late at night, in fact he had joined you on many patrols, talking your ear off as if it would be the last time he talked to you. But tonight, something in his gaze was different, animalistic.

“Mattheo…?” You mutter, your throat dry as if being a prey caught by its predator as you slowly approached him.

“Did I scare you?” Mattheo says with a grin; the same grin that seemed to entrance every girl in his path. It was pathetic, you were pathetic, that grin only drew you closer to him as you shook your head no. The air felt different, it felt suffocating.

“No…” you mutter out, looking up into his gaze as he stepped closer to you, making you almost trip and fall backwards as you tried to maintain a distance. “What are you doing?” you mutter in a soft tone, your gaze never leaving his as he looks at you like he might devour you.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Mattheo says in a sultry tone, stepping closer to you as you continued to back up until the cold jagged edges of the stone wall pressed through the back of your shirt. There was no escaping, even though there was no reason to, no reason to run, he had never hurt you, never been rude, never made a move. “I’m just checking up on you, like I always do” *He says with a cold calloused hand caressing your cheek.

Your breath hitched, your body stiffened like a board under his touch. He chuckles softly, leaning down and putting his lips right next to your ear.

“What’s wrong, are you nervous…do I make you nervous..?” He whispers, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. You shake your head no and he looks at you with a frown. “Words, use your words, do I make you nervous…?” *He says as he looks into your eyes.

You felt nauseous, his gaze was dark, like he could pounce on you at any moment, but you wouldn’t admit that. You would never admit that pit in your stomach that told you this was a bad idea. You shook your head again, a soft, breathy “no” trailing from your lips as he grinned.

“What are you doing Mattheo…?” You mutter out again, your unsuccessfully authoritative words coming out hoarsely as you tried to maintain control of anything that was coming out.

Mattheo groans, leaning in so his lips were next to your ear again. “You already asked that…do you really not know what I want?” Mattheo says in a soft whisper. You shake your head ‘no’, even though the look in his eyes, the pure animalistic nature of him, all lead to one conclusion. “Let me spell it out for you princess…I’m seducing you…” he says as he presses soft kisses down your neck, eliciting a soft gasp from you.

It was all too much, he wanted you. Mattheo fucking Riddle, wanted you. The man who had every girl wrapped around his finger wanted you, the one girl who he hadn’t taken yet. You wanted to protest, to not fall under that list of used and forgotten girls, but it was no use, you were absolutely entranced by him.

“Do you want me to have you…?” Mattheo murmurs against your neck, his hand gripping your hip as his thumb rubbed soft circles through the fabric of your skirt. You just simply nodded, as he looked at you and frowned again, “Words princess, I need to hear you, to hear that you want me…” He murmurs as his free hand cupped your cheek.

You felt like you wanted to say no, but that growing feeling in you had your mind in a daze as you looked into his dark eyes. “Yes…yes I want you Mattheo…” you mutter pitifully as he grins. It all happened so fast, your simple yes was his right away as he kissed you harshly. There was no sweetness, nothing gentle about it as his tongue pressed through your lips, exploring your mouth as his taste intoxicated your senses. His leg slid between yours, his thigh pressed against your cunt as you let out a soft gasp.

You knew it was a bad idea, Mattheo Riddle was a bad idea, doing this on your prefect patrol was a bad idea, but that didn’t matter, all that mattered was him. You let out a soft whine, his grip on your hip roughly guiding you on his thigh. There was no room to speak, nothing to be exchanged, just you and him in this moment.

It was embarrassing, so embarrassing how he could make you feel like this, so embarrassing that he’s probably made half of the school feel like this. You roll your hips against his thigh, completely intoxicated by him, by his taste, his scent, the way he touched you, everything about him.

You moan softly, your hips stuttering as he grins against your lips. He pulls away, your soft moans filling the air as he kisses down your neck, his hand moving to quickly undo the buttons of your shirt, ripping it open as he looks at your breast. “Fuck…” he murmurs, kissing the soft skin as you moan softly.

“Mattheo…” you whine, it was nauseating, it was overwhelming how good he made you feel and he barely even touched you. Then it hit you, the overwhelming growing knot in your stomach, the release you wanted, it was right there. “M-Mattheo…w-wait…” you manage to mumble out to which he stills your hips with grip strong enough to leave bruises. He looks up at you, he knows he’s already making a mess of you and its fueling all of his desires.

“Already tapping out? But those noises…the way your body reacts…it was so pretty, princess…” *He murmurs and kisses at your chest again. You cant help but let out a soft moan as he pulls down your bra, looking in awe before taking your nipple into his mouth, his hand kneading the other. “Do you want me to stop…?” he murmurs against your tit.

“N-no…” you mumble out. No matter how much you didn’t want to be on the fuck and forget list, you were already too far gone. He grins, kissing down your body as he holds you against the brick wall. One of his hands dip under your skirt, a low growl escaping his throat as he feels your dampened panties.

“God you’re soaked and I haven’t even done anything…” he murmurs. You let out a soft whine as you feel his fingers press against your cunt through the fabric of your panties. You rock your hips desperately to which he grins. “Such a needy slut aren’t you…?” He says cockily before kneeling down, lifting your skirt. His movements were quick, your panties quickly pulled down as his mouth watered at the sight of you dripping.

He gently kisses the inside of your thighs before licking up through your folds, moaning at your taste. The feeling was intoxicating, your hands immediately gripping at his hair, hips grinding against his tongue as he slid a finger into you. You didn’t care who heard, nothing mattered but Mattheo. Strings of moans left your mouth as he licked, bit, and sucked on every part of your cunt, worshiping every part of your body. He slowly slides another finger in, eliciting a loud moan from you that only makes him quicken his pace.

He knew you were close, and it only drove him to please you even more, his fingers pressing against that perfect spot that made you moan every time. You were his fuel, every moan, every whimper, it only drove him mad. Your legs grew weak, it was to much as you moaned loudly, hands gripping his hair as your thighs tightened around him. It was pure ecstasy as your orgasm hit you, the world went blank, all that mattered was him and how good he made you feel. You look down at him, panting heavily as he grinned, licking at you once again and groaning.

“You taste so good…try it…” he murmurs, standing up and pulling his fingers from you, grabbing your jaw and pushing them into your mouth, making you taste yourself. “Clean them” he commands as you lick his fingers clean. “Good girl” he says pressing you against the wall.

“Mattheo please” you whine, hands gripping at his belt as you try undoing it.

“Such a needy slut” he hisses, “but I’ll be nice tonight, and give you what you want”. His hand quickly removes his belt, letting his pants fall as his boxers looked incredibly tight. Your hand palms him, stroking him through his boxers as he moans, pressing his face into your neck. “Fuck…gods I need to feel you now, you’re driving me mad” he says against your skin, his hand pushing yours away as he quickly pulls down his boxers.

He lifts you up, kissing you harshly and without warning thrusting into you, letting out a low groan into your mouth. You moaned loudly, if it weren’t for Mattheos lips muffling your moans, the whole damn castle would wake up and hear you. He thrusted roughly into you, this wasn’t sweet, it was rough and primal. His hips clashing to yours quickly. “You feel so good…such a good girl, letting me fuck you like this” Mattheo groans, “This is mine, all fucking mine, you’re mine” he says possessively. You couldn’t even respond, he had you seeing stars as moans and whimpers left your lips.

“Fuck baby…gripping me like a fucking vice” He murmurs, his tip brushing against your cervix with every thrust. “You’re fucking perfect” he says as he kisses your neck, leaving a dark hickey, leaving his mark on whats now his. You’d fallen into Mattheos web, and he wasn’t letting you go.

“M-Mattheo” you managed to finally stutter out, your walls clenching around him making him groan.

“You gonna cum? Cum for me” He says as he fucks you harder and faster, biting and kissing at all the skin he could. Your body trembled, it ached for that release and it hit you like a train. Screaming Mattheos like a prayer on your lips as your orgasm washed over you. His quickly following as your walls pulsed around him, he let out a low moan into your neck before kissing you as he filled you with his seed.

All of his movements came to an end, all that was heard was the soft breathing and panting shared between you two as his forehead pressed against yours. “You’re perfect…” he murmurs before slowly setting you down, and you half expected him to leave, to be done with you after fixing his clothes, but he didn’t.

He watched you dress yourself, his eyes glued to you, completely entranced before the clock hit midnight. The loud clanging bringing you both to your senses. “Looks like your prefect duties are over” Mattheo says looking back at you.

“Yeah, they are. I’ll see you around Mattheo” you mumble, waiting for him to treat you like a one time thing.

“Without me?” He ask with a soft chuckle.

“What? Wasn’t this all you wanted..?” You ask softly, ready for him to agree.

“No. This isn’t all I wanted. I want you, it’s always been you…and maybe, we can continue this in your dorm if you want” he says with a hint of sarcasm but truth as he takes your hand. You didn’t know where this would lead. If he would actually want you and only you, but as he walked you to your dorm, it felt like maybe, he did only want you.

[chrissv4mp]

tornado warnings 🌪⚠️

warnings: vulgar language, maybe gets a little sexual but not real smut, getting back with an ex (don't do this seriously its the WORST decision you'll ever make)

author's note: GUYS i am so obsessed with sabrina carpenter so i js HADDDDD to make a matt oneshot based on one of her songs!!

edit: yall are getting this early bc i couldn't wait to post it & i also just hate having stuff in my drafts!!

_____________

"matt," you laughed, stumbling over your own feet as you tried to make your way to him.

"c'mon, just a few more steps. don't fall now, darling." he joked, and you swear you felt nauseous at the thought of it.

your eyes glanced to the ground, and you forgot how high up you were. was the alcohol just making it seem higher?

you took the last few steps with caution, and right at the last one, you stepped on your shoelace, causing you to stumble forward.

"shit," matt gasped, grabbing your forearm tight but gentle enough that it wouldn't hurt. he pulled you back, the both of you falling on your asses on the roof.

matt laughed at your shocked expression, acting as if you hadn't almost broken bones. he was always like this, never feeling anything. and even if he did, he would just find it funny.

"what the fuck?" you gasped, and before you could even yell at him, you started to laugh. his laughter was contagious, everyone would agree.

his hold on you didn't last long, quickly pushing you out of his arms and getting to his feet.

your smile faded as you watches him crawl back into the house through the window, leaving you by yourself.

what kind of boyfriend does that?

you shook your head, fending off the bad thoughts and quickly thinking of how many other guys were worse. matt wasn't even a bad boyfriend.

he just... was a little scared of relationships. it was the commitment, he always said.

_____________

sighing, you stared up at the ceiling of the office, the only sound in the room being a pen writing on paper and your quiet breaths.

"so, back to what we talked about last session, your boyfriend?--"

"ex." you corrected, looking back in your therapists direction.

"oh, i'm sorry ms. y/l/n. uhm, you said you felt unwanted, but that you still believed he had a good heart, is that correct?" the man asked, looking down at the paper in his clipboard.

"yeah, yes, that's right." you breathed, fidgeting with your hands as you looked around the room.

"you also said that you planned to breakup with him, cut off all communication. have you spoken to him since said breakup?" he tilted his head, looking up from his clipboard.

shit.

"no, no i haven't. never saw him. never kissed him." you said, your voice growing quiet as you said the last words.

if he didn't see it, it doesn't exist. he doesn't have to know.

the man sighed, taking his glasses off before placing them on a table to the side, "ms. y/l/n, this is a safe space, you know that. we've been doing these sessions for a little over 7 months now, and i'm sure that you know everything you tell me in here is private and is never spoken of outside this office."

"i know, i do feel that this is a safe space. and i swear to you i'm telling the truth. im over that son of a bitch. he's the worst." your lips curved into a reassuring smile, and unsurprisingly it hadn't helped your case.

"okay," he sighed.

_____________

you glanced at the clock on the wall, sitting at the island in your kitchen as you finished up some work on your computer.

your phone was left untouched next to your mouse pad and you silently prayed that it remained silent.

the screen lit up, and an array of messages suddenly blew up your phone.

great, just what you wanted!

you didn't take your eyes off the computer screen, but as soon as you saw matts contact name in the corner of your eye, you couldn't help but grab the phone.

matt🫀: 'can i come over???'

matt🫀: 'nvm im already On my way!'

matt🫀: 'bringing snacks btw, we should watch a movie if ur down'

matt🫀: 'was gonna ask what u wanted but u take centuries to reply soooo coke and kit-kats it is :)

"what?" you whispered, chuckling quietly at his texts.

no, you can't laugh. none of this was funny, and he knows that he's crossing your boundaries right now. why does he always do this?

you: you js keep gaining red flags every day, we're not playing capture the flag, ykw that right?🚩

matt🫀: we're always playing capture the flag, the only flags i collect r green tho!💋

he couldn't be serious. was he even real?

you: sassy man apocalypse has started yet again😱

matt🫀: you take the man out of the sassy apocalypse, not the sassy out the man🤷‍♀️

you: your the worst

matt🫀: you're*

your thumb hit the power button, and not even a minute later, the doorbell rung.

having forgotten about your laptop, you quickly jumped to your feet and ran to the door. a smile was plastered on your lips, and you couldn't seem to get rid of it.

why must you always fall for his tricks. he's such a dick.

"hey, darling," he smiled, his backpack hanging off one shoulder and a plastic grocery bag hanging off the other.

his pet name caught you off guard, and you swore your knees almost gave out. no man has ever made you as weak as matt has.

who does he think he is?

"hi, matt." you smiled, and he didn't hesitate when he leaned down to kiss you.

your hand went to his chest, pushing him back and moving your head to the side even if your hand kept him back.

he scoffed in fake offense, pulling away, "you're no fun, y'know?"

"i'm fully aware." you laughed before moving to the side to let him in.

he went straight to your room, having known your house so well since he had been living with you for a while before.

all doubtful thoughts were thrown out the window as you made your way to the bedroom. you caught matts eye as you made you walked in.

"c'mere," he smiled, gesturing you over with a wave of his hand, "what movie should we watch?"

you couldn't help but smile, almost forgetting all the prominent red flags that he had. he was the worst.

or maybe he wasn't as bad as you thought. maybe it was just you.

he was good for you. he kept you on your feet, kept you grounded.

"baby." he said, his voice breaking you out of your thoughts, "come here,"

matt smiled as he patted the empty spot next to him, and you wasted no time in getting on the bed and situating yourself beside him.

his hand grazes your thigh as he reaches over you for the remote, turning the TV on before scrolling through endless amounts of movies.

"superhero movie?" he asked quietly, looking over at you as you shook your head.

"wow, surprising." he joked, clicking through some more movies that didn't catch either of your eyes.

matt ditched the remote on what used to be his nightstand before he rolled over to face you.

his eyes were still that deep blue that you loved, and the smirk on his face didn't help as you tried to look away.

"i missed you," matt muttered, his voice soft as his fingers danced along the skin of your arm.

your breath hitched as his hand found the hem of your shirt and went under it, that stupid smirk on his face making it impossible for you to deny him.

"matt, we can't--"

"shh," his lips were dangerously close to yours now, and you didn't even want to question how he got so close to you in just a few seconds.

"there's not a rule that we can't, and we both know you need this. just let me relieve your stress, yeah?"

what the fuck is matthew sturniolos secret.

his hand traveled further up your shirt until it landed on your breast, and you couldn't help the gasp that escapes your lips as he squeezed it.

with his free hand, he propped himself on top of you, knees on either side of your body as he leaned down to your lips.

you couldn't resist him, not now that he was corrupting all your senses. all you knew was him now.

"no, matt." you muttered against his lips, your hand gentle against his chest as you tried but failed to push him away.

you couldn't do this anymore. it was killing you. he didn't want anything more than just a fuck-buddy and you both knew that.

so why was it so hard to push him away?

"matt," you gasped as you felt his lips on your neck, his smell intoxicating as your eyes fluttered shut.

no, you wouldn't do this anymore.

"matt, get off." your gentleness was gone now as you pushed him with real strength, he didn't give a single fuck about you, really.

the boy didn't hesitate to stop, quickly climbing off you before plopping right back next to you on the bed.

"shit, i'm sorry, baby." he muttered, real worry in his voice.

you shook your head, sitting up as you covered you face with your hands.

"please, just leave. we can't do this anymore. seriously." you sighed, tears pricking in your eyes.

"but--" matt tried, but you cut him off just as he was about to start begging.

"get out, matt." your hands went back to your sides, but you didn't dare look at him.

he would only reel you back in.

the boy sighed, frowning as he collected his stuff slowly.

he stopped when he reached the doorway of your bedroom, turning back to look at you, and this time you looked back.

"i do love you, y/n." he said quietly before leaving, shutting the door gently.

your lips parted as you took in the words that had just left his mouth.

no, it was a lie. it always was.

it wasn't true, right?

this was just another red flag to add to the list. all the lies he'd say.

fuck, he drives you crazy.

. . .

[braineater444]

To Be a Princess

Chapter 1

Start/Next

fem!reader x kokonoi

TW: Violence, Kidnapping, Abuse, Death, Blood, Strained Mother/Daughter relationships (other trigger warnings to be added)

Synopsis: What is a good relationship without its ups and downs? You and Hajime have never had a serious down until now. You can run away, but it's never that easy.

“My mother texted me,” Exasperation coats your vocal cords. A smirk paints your face when you see Koko roll his eyes, still looking down at his paperwork. You should be in bed, but the multiple sharp dings of your mother's messages forced you awake. Now, you can’t go back to sleep.

His eyes settle on you, a fond smile brightening his features. “Well, good morning to you, too.” His attention is on you as you make your way further into his office and sit on his desk to peek over at the papers he’s going through. You could count every crystal in the chandelier above you through its reflection in his eyes as he gazes up at you.

“Good morning.” You giggle when you lean down to kiss him. His chin rests in your palm as you guide him towards you. The moment your lips meet, you feel all the tenseness leave his body.

“What did she say?” He rests his head in his hand.

“Something about reconnecting and wanting to see me. I don’t know, I didn’t really read it.”

His brows furrow, and he leans back in his chair. You take him in. He smells of Bibliothèque by Byredo he bought a while ago, a recent favorite of his. The fruitiness and woodiness add an air of maturity to his already put-together demeanor. It makes sense for someone so beautiful. He shakes his head. “But if you want to, I won’t stop you.”

You smooth over your silk nightgown and shrug. You consider his face for a moment. His red eyeliner isn’t on. His skin and eyes look dull. His hair is pulled back into a half bun, half ponytail fusion. He yawns.

“How long have you been up?” You remember going to bed with him last night. When you woke at three to get water and crawled back into bed, he was there and pulled you back into his chest to cuddle. You know he’s slept, but for how long?

“I don’t know...” He taps his phone to check the time. “Maybe since five or six? My boss called and asked me if I could rush some stuff.”

His workaholic tendencies make your head hurt sometimes. You’ve told him before that you think he’ll die at that desk. “And when he called, you just got up and started working?” He rolls his eyes. “Koko, did you even eat?”

“No.”

“You’re going to have a heart attack in this office.”

“But I’ll leave you so much.” He smiles playfully, but none of this is funny.

“It’s not funny! Let’s go out for breakfast.” You hop off of his desk and head towards the door. You look back and see that his head is in his papers again. “Now!” With that, he’s moving.

✮✮✮

“Mom?” You try to sound composed over the phone as tears stream down your cheeks. You’re unsuccessful, and she starts to scramble and beg you to tell her what’s happened. You can’t. Your throat hurts and you still can’t process what’s going on. “I’m- I’m at a ho-hotel right now,” You sniffle and cough and wipe away snot. “I’m going to take a trai-n and be there tomorrow.”

You grow nauseous as your mom pleads with you to tell her what’s wrong. You hang up and collapse into a ball on the floor. Sobbing doesn’t help, but it’s the only thing you can do right now. It’s the first time since you left that you’ve had time to break down.

You fall asleep like that.

The next morning, you wake up in pain. Your eyes burn, your mouth is dry, and your bones ache. This is the lowest your life has been since meeting Hajime and possibly the worst it could be. Rock bottom. And as much as you miss the feel of your bed and his kisses on your cheeks telling you it will be alright; you know better than to return.

“It’s not his fault.” That’s what you’d thought when you came into his office last night to see the guest, you’d let in slumped over in a chair with a bullet through his head.

There had been no commotion until the sound of the gunshot. You had run to check on Hajime only to find out he was the assailant. You hadn’t even known he had a gun. Why would he have a gun? And why would he kill a random client of his? They came over all the time and nothing like this had happened before. It couldn’t have been him. Why would he do this?

You hadn’t even reacted when you saw it. You only felt your heart drop and your body tremble. Brain matter, blood, and little bone fragments covered the room. The man’s eyes were glossed over with no life inside of them. Your heart was on track to beat out of your chest and maybe you were going to pass out, but you had said little to Hajime in the moment. You stood in shock for a second before he opened his mouth to say something you didn’t quite hear, too busy processing the scene.

“Do you need help to clean?” Were all the words your mouth could form. Neither of you had expected that to be the first thing to find its way off of your tongue. Mouth agape, he nodded slowly and confused.

You left to go rummaging through the cabinets with unstable hands. You’d grabbed as much as you could hold. Never had you been prepared to clean up so much blood. There was no thought as shaky hands grabbed at glass cleaner and air freshener. When you’d come back, Hajime was staring at the body in disbelief.

“Is this the first time?” You’d asked.

He’d come clean about everything. Words spilled like water from a broken dam. He was an executive in a high-profile gang. Bonten. You’d heard of it, but only on the news. They’d been less of a gang and more of a terrorist organization. Selling drugs, dealing weapons, killing people and so much more. Hajime didn’t seem like the type, but he said it wasn’t his first time killing. He clarified that it’s not a hobby of his like it is for other people he knew. Tears filled his eyes as he told you, but they didn’t fall in that moment. He was pulling himself together as best he could. He’d never intended for you to find out. Hajime just wanted to keep you safe and take care of you. He promised.

You listened silently while scrubbing the walls as he said something about not wanting you to leave. How he couldn’t stand to lose someone else to a life like this. He’s sorry, but this is all he’s known since he was a kid. He doesn’t know how to get by in any other way. You have to believe him. He loves you. He can’t stand the idea of you leaving him.

His propositioning became a blur when he began to break down. You stopped hearing him when the tears started to fall and the look in his eyes changed from sorrow and guilt to something unhinged. His hands came up to pull at the roots of his hair and you’re sure he was screaming apologies and begging you not to leave. His mouth moved like he was begging you to say something, but all you could was scrub the wall and look at him. You don’t remember the time cleaning after that.

For the first time, you feared him and felt alone all over again. He’d become another stranger. Your heart was sitting in your lap and you were watching it beat as you figured out what to do.

While he showered, you packed a bag for when you’d make a run for it in the dark hours of the morning. You took some jewelry to pawn, comfortable clothes to make the trip in, and some of the fancy hygiene products he bought you. Then you hid the bag in one of the spare rooms, before climbing into bed to wait for him. With the state he was in, surely, he’d hurt you if he knew you were going to leave.

His kisses felt like sandpaper against your cheeks. Every time his lips touched your skin was a silent question of whether you still loved him. You did, but you couldn’t stay. Not like this. When he fell asleep, you took some cash and ran as far as you could. It wasn’t very far at all. An okay hotel near the train station about an hour away.

Twice now you’ve thought about calling the police and having him locked away forever. Once last night and now as you step out of the shower and see an accomplice in the hotel mirror. You can’t bring yourself to do it. Your head aches at the thought of him behind bars, in a small room, taking communal showers. You don’t want that for him. What you want is the normalcy back. You want him holding you. You want him telling you that you had a nightmare. You want this nasty breakup over with.

Your eyes become faucets of emotion again as you mourn. You cry and heave naked over the sink. For the first time in a long time, you’re alone in this life. Hajime cannot come to comfort you when you cry. You are at your lowest.

It comes up faster than you expect. Your stomach. Milky vomit splatters into the sink. You run the water over it as your body tremors. The sound calms you.

Your hand dips into the stream and comes up to your mouth. You gargle and spit twice. Then you splash water over your face. You’re fine.

There’s no time for this. You need to leave.

Pulling on your clothes has you thinking about other things or at least trying to distract yourself.

“What’s worse, living with a murderer or my mom?” You halfheartedly laugh to yourself. It’s too much to think about right now.

You haven’t worn a sweatsuit in quite some time. Koko hated what he called “lazy clothes” and insisted you are too beautiful to wear them. Of course, you still had some, but you could never do more than look at them. Not until now. You’re sure your mother would be just as disapproving for similar reasons.

You laugh again at the thought of neither of them liking this outfit. A soft yellow sweat suit and white sneakers. It’d break both of their hearts.

A soft knock at your door interrupts your thoughts, and you stiffen.

“Room service.” Says a gruff, masculine voice on the other side.

Just room service. You unclench.

“No, thank you!” You shout as you grab your bag and ready yourself to leave.

“It’s important.” The voice sings back. “You left something at the front desk. I need to return it to you.”

Oh?

You crack the door open just enough for your foot to fit through. The man is tall and angular. Dress shirt. Tie. Black slacks. Loafers. Expensive Prada Loafers. He reeks of cigarette smell. Acrid and off-putting. Nothing in his hands but the rings that adorn his scarred fingers. Your eyes travel up to his face.

Slicked back black hair. Prominent streaks of grey in thick stripes. Massive scar across his eye. He doesn’t work here. Your heart jumps to a start.

You scramble to close the door, but he’s strong enough to just push his way in and have you falling on your ass in the process. The door swings shut, the lock clicks, and a gun is pointed at you. His finger comes to his lips to hush you before you can think of screaming.

“It’s early. I’m tired. And I don’t want to be here.” He reaches his free hand out to help you up off the floor. You stare frozen in fear, labored breathing, unable to think until you notice his gesture and offer a hand so he can pull you up. “Can you just come with me so I can drop you off to Koko and go about my day?”

Your saliva becomes glue holding your mouth shut. You can do nothing but stare into his eyes.

“Hello?” He waves his gun in your face and you flinch away.

You offer a slow, cautious shake of your head. Your feet carry you a couple of steps back. He follows.

“You have to.” He asserts, shoving the gun’s muzzle under your chin.

For some reason, you're embarrassed by your trembling. You try to stop it, but can’t. Your eyes are blown wide and your hands shake as you grab the man’s wrist to pull the gun from under your chin.

“I can’t.” You barely manage. Tears fill your eyes as you back away again. The man doesn’t move with you. He looks more confused and irritated than anything. He’s nothing but furrowed brows and hard eyes.

“Listen…” He groans as he watches you wipe away tears as they fall. “I don’t know what the hell this is about, nor do I care, but my boss told me to get you and bring you to Koko,” He steps closer and shoves the gun into his waistband. “I’m not a fan of brutalizing attractive young women, but I will if I have to. Then I’ll carry you out of here and take you to him.”

You understand you’re leaving with him either way.

✮✮✮

He’s enough of a gentleman to have grabbed all of your stuff for you and thrown it into his backseat, but not enough of a gentleman to not kidnap you. Enough of a gentleman to open the door to his SUV for you, but not enough of a gentleman to not point a gun at you.

When his car starts, the feeling of dread sinks in. This is happening. This is not a dream. Your ex is a man powerful enough to have you kidnapped. 

You try to suck it up and stop your tears, but you keep sniffling. Hajime is a sick bastard to send a man with a gun after you. How could he?

“What’s your name?” The man's voice interrupts your thoughts. You say nothing. “Fair.” He brushes you off. “I understand it. I’m human too.” 

Hard to believe.

“My name is Takeomi.” He looks away from the road to shoot a halfhearted grin. “I’ll have to learn your name later, right?”

“Please let me go.” You demand through sniffles. You try to toughen your act as the tears dry up. Still, you feel pathetic.

He ignores you.

“I thought he was gay.” He doesn’t turn to look at you this time. “You know, I thought I’d be picking up a man.”

Oh?

“…but you’re incredibly beautiful so, I understand if he suddenly changed his mind.”

What?

He doesn’t say much after that, and just drives. You stare out of the window and hold back tears.

By the time you arrive, you’ve calmed down. You linger in the car as Takeomi grabs your things and calls Hajime, but the moment he opens the door it’s a march of death. 

Takeomi waits with you at the elevator. He can’t stand this, you can tell. Even without moving, his stance is impatient. You can hear the hum of the elevator moving. The closer it sounds the more your heart races.

DING!

No. No.

You take a step back as the elevator doors open. You look at Takeomi who looks back at you and shrugs.

No.

You’re half ready to run when a hand guides you into the elevator. You keep your head down. Hajime mutters out a thank you and you see them exchanging your luggage. They don’t say goodbye.

The penthouse is the same. Same sweet smell. Same shiny wooden floors. Same warmth. But it’s not your home anymore. It’s your new gilded cage. 

Hajime drops your bag and suddenly you’re surrounded by a familiar warmth and scent. He’s everything you can sense. His floral conditioner. His musky cologne. His well-trimmed nails against your scalp.

“Hajime…”

He pulls away. There’s a darkness in his eyes when you finally look at him. His hair is a mess. He hasn’t brushed it like he usually would. His makeup isn’t done. He is still in his pajamas. It’s been less than a day and already he’s in disarray.

“Why did you abandon me when all I do is take care of you?” He stresses. “I do everything to keep you safe and beautiful and you run after one mistake?”

“Mistake?” Your voice shakes. “Killing someone is a mistake?”

“I was doing my job.”

“Fuck you.” An immediate slap to your cheek blurs your vision. 

First, it’s shock, then it’s anger, then it’s tears. Koko doesn’t seem remorseful though. With furrowed brows, he says, “I love you and you abandoned me. I took care of you when that bitch of a mother threw you out and you crawled into Tokyo from the shithole you came from. But fuck me?”

Crazy. He’s actually crazy.

You slap him back and the look on his face changes from seething anger to hurt. Before he can react, you dart from the doorway all the way to the bedroom unsure of if he’s chasing you. Immediately you lock it. Finally, you can breathe, but the air is full of him.

[davidjordanphoenix]

It is SO FUCKING HARD to figure out what "working hard" looks like when you're disabled.

I want to be a hard worker. I want to learn work ethic. But I HAVE to remember it's going to look different from someone who doesn't live with chronic pain, chronic fatigue, chronic anxiety. There's a difference between laziness and real limitations.

I am in pain all the time. Everything hurts. I have headaches and migraines. My muscles are constantly sore even when I've not exercised. I have constant nerve pain in certain parts of my body that is constant 100% of my waking hours. My feet always hurt. I have a deep tissue skin condition that causes pain. I am always, always, always hurting.

I am tired 100% of the time and honestly? The fatigue is worse than the pain. I would rather have MORE PAIN if it meant I was somehow less tired. The fatigue is so bad I panic when I feel exhausted. When I feel my fatigue getting worse it causes anxiety because I have flashbacks of the days I had to sleep for 2-3 days in a row with no food and only the water I brought with me before crashing. I FEAR exhaustion. Pain is miserable but you can learn to tune it out mostly if you're focused enough on something else. You cannot tune out fatigue. No amount of distraction can pull you away from the despair of being trapped in a body that cannot move the way you need it to because you are simply too exhausted to make it move. Fatigue pulls all focus because you don't have the energy to focus on anything else. When I say I'm exhausted, I don't mean I want to take a nap. I mean that down to my bones, every muscle fiber, down to my fucking eyelids feels soupy and heavy and sapped of whatever life juice keeps them functioning. Exhaustion feels like wakeful death. And sleep doesn't fix it.

I get sick. Constantly. I always either have a fungal infection, or a sore throat, or a nauseous stomach, or a migraine, or SOMETHING. I get sick if I push too hard, even if I had fun. I just went on vacation and spent about 3 days after feeling like I had the flu. My tonsils were red and swollen, I could barely swallow, I had a wet cough, migraine for a week, could barely choke down food. Nobody else got any symptoms. I just get sick because I decided to do something.

On top of the pain, fatigue, and sickness, my brain is a nightmare of anguish. I have a "very severe case" of major depressive disorder that has been treatment resistant since I was a teenager. My head feels like there's constant screaming. I am anxious and fearful of EVERYTHING. There is always noise in my head, screaming in pain and screaming at me that I'm not doing enough, I'm not good enough, I'm an idiot I'm worthless I'm garbage I'm better off dead. I think about suicide obsessively. My brain is a place of torment I am constantly trying to escape.

And then I wonder why it's fucking hard to exist.

Here's the thing: I so, so, so badly want to learn how to work hard. I want to learn how to pour the energy I have into something beautiful. I want to learn how to work hard and take the time and effort to create things that I'm proud of, that can help people feel seen and loved and ease their suffering just a little. It's creation from others that brings me so much joy every day and makes life worth living. I want to create too!

I want to exercise to be physically strong and as able bodied as I can be. I want to be able to cook meals because I love cooking. I want to be able to go for a hike with my dog. I want to spend hours working on something beautiful that makes people feel joy. I want to live a full life. I want to be free.

I have to remember my freedom will still have its shackles. I cannot have a life without chronic pain. I cannot have a life without chronic illness. I cannot have a life without a broken mind.

But if I learn how to work hard, despite all that, maybe I can have something worth it for me.

[ghost-skull-trash]

Within this hell, tear out your heart to survive.

Within the rusting hell that was the Hadal Blacksite, An inventor waits for their friend to return safely, they wait and wait but… they haven’t returned. Now they journey through hell to find them, meeting those who want them dead along the way. Happiness has to be fought for after all.

So with some of my friends encouraging me to try and put some of my fics here! This one came to mind JUST as I was about to fall asleep, thus its very messy, hell I expect like three people to even see this so don't expect the next house of leaves, OK? Anywho I hope you enjoy! :D

The only clock in the room was broken, a mess of components and broken black plastic, picked clean of what’s useful and what left to gather dust, like the rest of this hellish site. .

.

.

Rain held her stomach in pain, hunger pangs  making every breath feel like torture, her eyes were dull, staring into nothing, too exhausted to focus on anything in her makeshift room, sitting below her “bed” the fairy lights gave a soft glow, illuminating her thick dark hair, partially kept up in a half-assed bun and making her dull orange gorka pop out from the shadows.

In Front of her sat a cup of self heating noodles boiling away, having to restrain herself from eating them raw and risking a myriad of illnesses.

the only clock broken she counted down in her head when she could eat, she felt it kept herself sane, but that’s hard to prove when you find yourself rambling for hours on end to nobody and not even realising you're doing it until your throat is red and hoarse.

Distant gunshots and the facility groaning with the noises of death made her nauseous and worried… worried about getting hunted down by her employers or some poor sod they sent in their place… or they would end up hurting her partner, SEVER who was still out trying to find supplies or some way to get the both of them out of this iron coffin.

SEVER was the only thing keeping her going at this point, early on she would've laid down and let the cold metal be her grave, being her last thoughts be that of the warm grass of home, or her late father, but SEVER was too kind, they stuck by her even on her worse days, before she re-grew her heart and chose to care again and to show her love, asking her quizzically about her large collection of movies and music, being intrigued by her stories of home and dancing with her on those lonely nights, it made this box feel like home.

Rain slowly ate the oily noodles, little clumps of chicken floating in the lightly chilli flavoured broth… normally she wouldn’t even eat this even as a dare, but when you are slowly wasting away with the risk of starvation to boot, it made them palatable … she would rather eat expired lasagne mre’s though…

The only entrance to the room was a partial crushed door or as an emergency, the site spanning ventilation shafts, on the day the site went into chaos something crashed into the door just as it was about to close, jamming it inwards and leaving only a small gap to crawl through, even still that gap is mostly hidden with boxes or shelves whenever SEVER goes out on a supply run.

Crunched the empty cup under her boot, sitting at her desk and reading through whatever she could, files, instructions manuals , anything, that if she and sever got out of here she could use it as blackmail or evidence against this hell.

Picking up a book from one of the many piles of junk and garbage that made up her room, she gave it a look over, it was a maroon coloured book detailing recommended purchases for the site, such as canteen supplies, vending machine stocking and printer ink, it goes of this tediously detailing the history of when such orders started, any interest on potential suppliers and cost reduction.. It was 637 pages of near microscopic records and mind numbing drivel, even when it was describing how an employee was crushed flat like a pancake, bones to powder from a dropped shipping container made Rain yawn in boredom.

It was hard to focus, she always found it hard to focus but now it feels impossible, like she is chasing after one letter at a time before the word makes sense, closing the manual and ripping up the empty noodle cup, she used a dry bit as a bookmark and tossing it back into the pile.

Sitting back on the floor at the foot of her bed her mind once again wandered, thinking of everything she made in this hell.. one such mistake was a robot, the Z-809 Casket, originally tasked with smaller mineral collection, to pick up debris from larger automatons latter used instead to find convicts trying to escape, whether barely alive or dead, the robot would pick them up and shove it into its compartments, limbs often sticking out, sometimes moving, sometimes accompanied by screams.

Another machine she made was the Z-730 The MacroMiner. A bacteriophage styled automaton suited for high pressure exploration and building, with a specialised compartment in its chest designed to be able to be filled with supplies to then walk along the seabed to its destination.

Rain had a plan to implement a back door into its code so she could utilise them for sabotage against the company, but it was never completed,, surely there is some code leftover she could use but…

Her thoughts dwindled as her eyelids grew heavy, she has been struggling to stay awake, spending most of her time sleeping or laying in bed, she feels so weak.. And SEVER still hasn’t come back yet..

Rain looked at the busted door, judging her options, she knew she was going to die.. but wasn’t sure as to when or how.

Her poor condition clouded her better judgement as she crawled under the broken door in order to find SEVER.

 peeking out from behind a box, her eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness, the emergency lights having been broken or burned out, Rain felt something else in the room, something with many arms that reached out like octopus legs, grasping and cold, her orange goggles developing frost as Rain swears she saw white glowing eyes floating around her.

Staying close to the floor she felt along the cold concrete walls for another door, her hand brushed against its metal frame as the door shot open, blinding her with the light from the other room, rubbing her eyes, the room she was in felt empty once again, the twisting shadows disappearing.

The other room was a mechanical bay, scientists would test out whatever Geneva Convention breaking toys they had on test dummies, engineers used it as a glorified storage unit for their junk, and occasionally a tall serpentine man with a third arm and an angler fish light would come by for spare tools and materials, he looked dead inside, Rain never said hello to him and neither did he, she could feel the hatred emitting from him anytime he looked at her, as if he was cursing her out in his head perhaps calling her a monster under her breath.. she didn’t blame him, she would hate herself too.

The only thing not taken was a bulky red wrench, used for fastening bolts on the outside of the underwater base, inconvenient to use traditionally but otherwise a great weapon.

Rain kept walking, room after room, the dull buzz of the electrical system going haywire, distant screams from what she can assume were either her former co-workers or “expendables” that were sent down to grab whatever they can, either way Rain decided not to take her chance with meeting either.

Her walking came to a stop, the room was pitch black, something she was used to by now, but that wasn’t what made her pause, there was furniture everywhere, overturned or broken, and riddled with smouldering bullet holes.

[the-artof-starting-over]

I wanna see your face and know I made it home - Chapter one

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Chapter title: Tried to open up my eyes, I'm hoping for a chance to make it alright Pairing: Buck and Eddie Words:1690 Title: painting flowers - all time low read on AO3 if you like

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"I want to go with Eddie" The words were stumbling past his lips before his medicated mind could catch up to what he was asking for.

Silence fell between the trio, even the annoying beeping from his monitor and the hustling outside of his room had seemed to fade into oblivion as he caught sight of Maddie's crestfallen look which caused the shame to spiral and wrap its tight vice around his chest.

"You have Jee to look after, you, you don't need me in the way" he gives the excuse in an attempt to hide the whole truth, the ones that screamed that he feels safest and most at home with Eddie, that the warmth that spreads through his chest when Eddie smiles at him would be enough to melt away the chill lingering in his bones. The words are the truth but not the whole truth, he doesn’t want to get in Maddie's way, she has enough to handle with a toddler running around. But neither of the people in the room or anyone else had to know the whole truth. It was safer if he just kept that to himself.

“You are never in the way Evan” he could hear the exasperation clear in her voice watching as she ran a hand through her hair.

His eyes flickered over to Eddie, standing with his arms crossed at the foot of Buck’s hospital bed, his own eyes focused on Buck. He couldn’t name the expression on Eddie’s face but somehow it was harder to look at than Maddie’s disappointment. Hers was an expression he was familiar with, he had seen it many times. Too many times really. Every time he had gotten hurt, Maddie had ended up with the same expression, it was familiar, and it was safe somehow. But Eddie, his expression isn’t one of disappointment as he expected, but he can't figure out what it is. He finds that it doesn’t matter because all he wants is for Eddie to come closer, he’s been standing at the foot of his bed since he showed up today, staying out of reach. He knew he wouldn't allow himself to reach out even if Eddie did come close enough. But he was closer yesterday, sitting in what looked like an uncomfortable chair next to him, his arms resting on the bed when Buck woke up confused and in pain. Seeing Eddie had calmed him and slowed his heart rate enough to realise he had made it out, that he must be safe now.

He looked back over to Maddie, seeing the tears gathering in her eyes and it was all too much, he didn't want to be hurting anyone, he just wanted to go home. He clenched his eyes shut, as he brought his non-injured arm up and tried to rub away the headache that was building behind his eyes.

“Buck, you okay? Do you need the doctor?” Eddie’s voice was laced with worry so Buck shook his head and forced himself to open his eyes to the harsh light. He felt warmth spread through him as he saw Eddie now standing right next to him, one hand hovering above where his injured arm lay strapped to his chest in the sling. Reaching out but not quite touching. A gap preventing him from feeling Eddie's hand calloused with labour connecting with his own damaged skin

“No, uh, I’m okay, I’m good” the words came with a forced smile that he hoped would do the trick at easing the worried crease present between Eddie’s brows.

The crease remained and Buck could feel his gut twist, he was just trying to help, he was trying to do something good, and somehow he ended up here with the ones he loves the most worrying about him. Again. That would have made him feel good at one point, he knows that. Now it makes him feel nauseous. He wishes they would both just leave, as much as he never wants either of them to, it’s bound to happen. The looks they are sharing, clearly have a silent conversation about how he is all too much and that they would be better off leaving him here. He never should have asked to go with Eddie, he was only offering so that Maddie wouldn't have to, and Maddie was clearly doing the same for Eddie. They both had their families to take care of. He couldn't force himself on either of them. He thought of the loft, the space that never once felt like home, and resigned himself to recuperating there, on his own. It wouldn’t be fun, but nothing about this was, and at least this way he wouldn’t be taking up too much of their time, he wouldn’t be adding anything more to their plate. He wouldn’t be exhausting them.

“You know, I’d be okay going home on my own, I’m okay honestly” as if to prove his point Buck pushes himself to sit up straighter, using his uninjured arm as leverage as his ribs protest loudly. He fights to control his expression, hoping the pain doesn’t shine through.

“Now you’re just being ridiculous, you can barely move, and you’re not going home to your loft all alone, there is no chance that is happening,” Maddie said. Her voice was direct and he knew she was right, even though he didn’t want her to be. He had taken care of himself for a long time, but Maddie had also spent a lot of her time taking care of him, he didn’t mean to add to that time.

“Maddie is right, there is no way you’re going to your loft alone.” Eddie’s tone is somehow soft but firm, and he knows there is no room to argue when he sounds like that.

“You know I kind of hate it when you two gang up on me,” Buck said, hoping the laugh he forced did the job of convincing them that he wasn’t about to fall apart.

“Well maybe if you stopped self-sacrificing then we wouldn’t have to” as the words left Maddie he heard a sharp inhale from Eddie and Buck felt the heat rising in his chest, burning its way through his skin as he blinked up at his sister.

“I, uh,” unable to find the right words he settled on “I’m sorry” whatever meds they gave him were making him too fuzzy for this. Too fuzzy to really try and explain why he ended up here, too fuzzy to focus on making things right again. He knew he would have to do that at some point, but for now, his head spun and forming more than basic thoughts felt like he was trying to navigate through a head that was stuffed full of cotton wool.

He watched as the fight drained from Maddie’s face leaving behind sadness as she sat down next to him on the bed. Her hand reaches out and he feels her cup his face, forcing him into the eye contact he’s been trying to avoid as she wipes at his cheek with her thumb. It’s only then Buck realises that he must have been crying.

“I love you, if you want to stay with Eddie then you can stay with him, right?” He watches as Maddie’s eyes glance over at Eddie looking for confirmation.

He follows her line of sight to watch as Eddie nods and meets his eyes “yeah, of course”

Struggling to find the right words, Buck offers him a small smile, hoping, praying that it will convey just how grateful he is. But he knows that it’s going to fall short, as he always does. Somehow consistently too much and never enough all at the same time.

“Chris will be happy to see you” Eddie adds and he couldn’t stop the warmth that spreads through his chest at the thought of seeing Chris, even if it is quickly disrupted by the worry that maybe Eddie is only offering his home as a safe place to recover for Chris’s sake.

Pushing that thought down as far as he can, he plasters a smile on his face before saying “I will be very happy to see him too.”

“He has been asking if he could come to see you every day” Eddie admits, and he longs to be able to reach out and soothe the worried crease in between his brows. This is an expression of Eddies he knows all too well, caused by guilt and the fear he’s been making the wrong decisions for Christopher.

He wishes he knew how to reassure Eddie that he made a good decision and that bringing Chris by to see his lifeless body as he tried to heal enough to be able to wake up would have been probably too much for the boy who had already been through too much loss. He aches to offer that reassurance, but his head is clouded by fog and all the words he wants to say are spinning around just out of reach.

"It would have been a lot for him if you had brought him," Maddie says the words he had been trying to say as she fights past a lump in her throat "it was a lot for all of us."

Clenching his eyes shut to fight against the tears threatening to fall he lets out another stumbling apology “I'm sorry, I wasn't, I was just, I'm sorry.” Frustrated he couldn't find any of the words he was looking for through the cotton wool stuffed into his brain.

He feels a steady weight press gently onto his shoulder on his uninjured side and his breathing even out a little. He takes a few steadying breaths before he belatedly realises it’s Eddie who has his hand resting on his shoulder. He bites the corner of his upper lip as he forces himself to open his eyes, immediately finding Eddie staring right back, and he’s back to feeling like he can’t quite catch his breath as he receives a small smile and hears Eddie’s calm voice telling him “We’re just glad you’re okay.”

.......................

Hi, its been a while. This has been sitting in my google docs for a long time. I haven't had the energy to write lately but I'm trying to get back into it. Decided to post this with the new episode coming so soon! i am so not ready for it! its gonna destroy me!

I have been meaning to write a second part to this, where the Diaz boys take care of Buck as he recovers in their home, so hopefully, by posting this part I can motivate myself to write that!

[haven-gum-rockrose]

me doing the mental math of should i eat like oh its late and probably dinner time but oh thats hard to cook but also im gonna make instant ramen(safe food) because i have a bowl that lets me make it easy but also ill have to wash it(water based sensory issues) immediately after because i dont trust any dishes or utensils once my brother has 'washed' them but thats fine because its just one thing but also the sink is full which means ill be hovering over it and i dont know what those things were and thats draining so maybe i just wont eat tonight cuz thats so tiring but also i havent eaten at all yet today so i should because technically ill need the energy if i dont want to be head and stomach hurting at work tomorrow so maybe ill eat in the morning but i cant do that because if i do ill get nauseous and in pain all day because my body just fucking hates food i guess. god my ramen just finished too which means im actually gonna have to wash the stupid fucking bowl in the stupid sink with the stupid dish clutter with the stupid water and the stupid nasty ass sponge and its gonna get all over my hands and i wont be able to touch anything for awhile and im gonna feel like detergent and its gonna get inside my bones and yada yada yada my noodles have been done so long the sooner i move the sooner i have to wash the stupid bowl and stand over my brother's stupid nasty failed attempt at clean dishes like im not germophobic i love germs i literally put my hand in my mouth on the regular and would lick the floor if someone made the insinuation of a dare but that shit specifically is disgusting like omg get that away from me im gonna actually kill myself

i should go eat the noodles now

[riotseas]

Cid's tears are of many things—love, fear, gratitude. He cries for Clive, something he hasn't done in a long time, especially not for someone else. He weeps, silently now as he tries to figure out just what to do.

It's hard for him to put into words, to show in a way that wasn't full of sacrificials and acts of service when the night is young. But Clive has completely and utterly changed his life. He restrung every damn string that sewed his limbs and heart together, without breaking a sweat, without realizing it himself.

That was how he was. Clive was so human it was hard to look at, but then he goes and does things like this that make Cid wonder if he was but a figment of his imagination all along. An otherworldly being that belonged elsewhere, that was only tethered to this earth via Cid's selfishness.

Maybe he was, yet Clive cries as though he can stay. So he believes him.

An unfamiliar companion makes its way, seeping into Cid's bones-helplessness. Never one to be so pessimistic, the feeling is so foreign he gets dizzy trying to make sense of it all.

Clive is talking. He's talking, breathing, saying something that the tears blur and Cid can't hear. He can't hear, he doesn't want to hear because he isn't being told what he wants to. It's awfully childish, unbecoming of someone his age but it's not fair. Why is he saying these things?

Stop saying these things.

❝ What ? ❞ Cid says, after an eternity.

He stares, almost at Clive, in his direction but he can't really be sure. Then he throws himself Cid's way, the same as he, and he doesn't understand. Nauseous, he swallows the bile threatening to come up. It burns, kickstarts his heart and the blood in his ears ebbs away. All that's left is Clive in his arms.

There's fingers at his back; real, genuine, and the only thing worth for Cid to beg the Gods for. He's cursed at them, used their names in vain and still foolishly decides to beg for forgiveness. They won't, nor can't, it doesn't matter which—it's not for him, not really. He preaches for Clive because that's who matters, who can decide whether or not Cid is worthy, something he hasn't been in a long time.

Slowly, desperately, he reaches to thread his fingers through Clive's hair. Dark and ashy, but soft like the light of the sun. He combs through it, presses his cheek against his head and breathes in the smell of fire. It's almost boyish, in a way; simpler times where they needn't worry about such trivial matters.

❝ You beg for my love, yet think I'd be better off without yours ? ❞

Cid trembles as he talks. It hurts—everything hurts in ways he never thought possible. Could he ever hope to be redeemed? Is dedication what they seek? The will to fight could only ever have a chance at surviving if Clive is there with him, what's the point if he's not?

❝ You say I wouldn't have this pain, but I would. You act like it's some—some obligation, a burden to love you and it's not. ❞

He tightens his hold on Clive the longer he talks. Cid cries, voice breaking with every word. Was this failure? Was that why it stung so bad? Had he failed Clive?

❝ You have... ❞ He shakes, swallowing a yell. ❝ no right to tell me anything. Not when you—you walk into my life just to try and leave. Like I wouldn't follow you to the ends of the fucking earth. ❞

The uncertainty of Clive's fate is one he hadn't truly considered until now. He'd always felt there was a place ready for him once this was all said and done; a place they could come home to. But it feels so out of reach now, a fantasy he spent so long chasing he forgot it wasn't real.

He doesn't understand. Less so, now.

Now, he whispers, breathes into the cusp of Clive's ear, muffled by his skin.

❝ Don't do this to me. ❞

Cid wants to forget, he doesn't want to think about the inevitable.

❝ Don't leave when I still have so much left to give you. ❞

Stop.

The simple demand makes anything else he was about to say catch in his throat and all that comes out now is a pained sound, awful and devastating as it catches in his throat. A choked sob. Has he lost Cid for good? Did he tell him stop because he doesn't want to hear anymore?

Clive's preparing himself for the inevitable end of what they have. This beautiful love that he never let himself dream of before meeting Cid, overwhelming wonderful love, is going to vanish because of his mistake. Because of what he's done.

What was that saying?

It's better to have loved and loss than never to have loved at all.

But Clive doesn't want to lose. He doesn't want to lose the love of his life because of one stupid mistake. Before Cid, Clive has never put any thought into soulmates but Cid feels like his and right now his soul is crying out at the thought of losing it's puzzle piece.

But instead of stumbling back and taking off, Cid smooths thumbs over sore shoulders and Clive isn't sure if that is good or worse. If Cid doesn't want him anymore, he wants the bandaid ripped off, no matter how much it may hurt.

You've always been my Clive.

Oh how he wants to whine and throw himself at Cid's feet for even the slightest hint of forgiveness. He wants to be worthy of being Cid's, even when he feels like he's not worthy at all. Like right now.

You won't get rid of me that easily.

For a second, there is a flicker of hope in those blue eyes that this can be saved, that he can salvage their relationship and earn the love Cid has for him back. But then Cid speaks again and that hope only turns into pure and utter sadness. The tears flow fast, no longer able to hold them back.

It's not fair. Not at all.

How could he hurt Cid like this? How could he possibly hurt him when he has vowed to love and protect Cid for as long as he shall live?

It isn't his goal to die, not anymore, even if he knows by the end of this it's a real possibility and there are days where he feels like dying. Moments like now where all he can think about is how better of everyone would be if he was dead. But he's not actively seeking dying. Not intentionally, at least. Even if he's careless with his life sometimes, he's not seeking that end.

Though, Clive understands why it must feel like he is.

"I-It's not fair. Nothing about this is fair. You'd be better off without me." Don't leave me. "You wouldn't have this pain." But I will. "I feel like I keep saying it so much that it is losing it's meaning but I am sorry." Please don't leave me, Cid.

He wants to lie to Cid and reassure him that there is nothing to worry about and Ultima's essence in side of him will die with him, along with the rest of the magic in the world, but Clive can not be certain.

He should have thought about that before taking this power. This power and guilt that is eating him from the inside out. At the time, he'd thought it was worth it in order to protect others he loved. Now, he feels like he's sold his soul.

"I-I don't know." How could he lie to Cid? He wants to but he's never been good at lying to him. "I assume so....it's as if this is like an eikon and with Ultima's demise, it's possible it will go away but.....I can't be certain."

He falters for a moment, taking in a deep breath. On the exhale he suddenly throws himself at Cid this time around, arms wrapping around him, face burying against his chest as fingers curl around the fabric on his back.

"Forgive me. I will beg if I must. If that is what you need to keep loving me, I will beg you and try to earn - to be worthy of - your love and trust for an eternity."

Just don't leave me. I cannot do this without you.

[hoe4hotchner]

hi i’m having a bit of trouble with my eating habits lately, and it just makes me wonder what hotch would do if he had noticed you hadn’t been eating much. especially when you get back from a case and he knows you’re exhausted and probably starving . <3

Hey, I'm sorry to hear that you're struggling, I hope you feel better soon :)

I wrote a "longer" fic of this concept a little while back called A concerned colleague. I don't if you've already read it, but here's the link if you haven't

But that being said:

Please eat

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Word count: 794 Warning: ED mention

Hotch notices everything, he is a brilliant profiler after all. He'd watch you out of the corner of his eyes, poking your fork around in the salad that you ordered while out with the team during lunch. You barely ate more than three fork fulls of the dish. During work hours he rarely sees you nurse anything but a cup of coffee. He took it as a stress-related reaction from working too much at first, but he didn't want to interfere, after all, he wouldn't want to hurt you by accidentally profiling you, although he'd already done it, several times.

When he noticed that you start looking ill during a case, that's when he steps in. Aaron comes to your hotel room late at night, knocking on the door once the rest of the team has gone to bed. When you open the door in your, sort of, revealing set of sleepwear, Hotch's heart breaks in pieces. He can see the outline of your hip bone through your shorts, more prominent than it's supposed to be. You looked frail, like a gust of wind could snap you in half like a twig.

A little groggy from the light sleep you'd indulged in, Aaron pushed past you and into your room and dumped a paper bag full of Mcdonalds onto your bed, before he gently placed the drinks on the nightstand. You looked at him, a blank stare on your face as you nervously wrap your arms around your waist.

"(Y/N), You need to eat!" He gently scolds, a tone of concern tainting his usually stoic voice. You could tell that he was frustrated, but not at you, it was like he was beating himself up for not taking care of you enough. "I'm not leaving before you do." He patted the spot on the opposite side of the bag, waiting for you to sit down while he grabbed a burger from the top of the stack. "I'll even eat with you if it makes you feel better." He suggested, shaking the burger, still wrapped in its paper.

Reluctantly, you sunk down on the bed, watching him for a moment. Aaron got impatient with you, nodding his head towards the Mcdonalds bag, waiting for you to grab something. He didn't know what you liked, but he figured that getting the few stable items that they were famous for probably would be the easiest.

His lips twisted into a smile as he watched you lean over, your bones cracking from the lack of nutrition. You grabbed the box of four chicken nuggets, thinking that was the easiest to get down to make him go away. You didn't want to disappoint him, you liked Aaron, but eating had become hard for you. It started by simply forgetting during cases where there was so much work to do, that you rarely had the time to eat. And then you simply stopped feeling hungry and just didn't eat. You felt nauseous every time you tried to consume anything. It was a curse.

Aaron of all people knew what it was like to overwork himself and forget to eat. He knew how important it was that there were people out there willing to help. He waited for you to take the first bite, looking at him for reassurance.

"It's okay." He whispered, knowing just what you needed to hear. The savory taste of the fried piece of chicken felt like heaven in your mouth as you took the first bite. Soon after, Aaron followed suit and started eating too. "There you go." He praised after you'd finished the first one. It didn't take long before you'd eaten the whole box of nuggets.

Almost promptly, he handed you the drink of soda, watching you twist your face up, almost like you were going to throw it back up. And maybe you were. Your body was reacting to finally getting something down and it didn't know how to. You smiled, taking the cup and washing it down with a few small sips.

At the end of the evening, you'd moved towards the headboard of the bed. Your body slumped against Aaron's as he held you with one arm, while the other one lightly scratched at your scalp. You were barely able to hold the cup between your fingers as you were drifting off in his arms. Aaron noticed, placing the drink back in its holder on the nightstand. He wrapped his arms together around you, feeling the exhaustion from eating more than half of the contents of the bag himself.

Although you hadn't eaten much, it was still a start, and he was ready to make sure that you kept recovering from the disorderly habits you'd turned to while working for him.

[crumbledcastle28]

Chapter 1: a tug

Warnings: PTSD, sadness, depression, panic attack, mentions of violence

Author’s note: this is part one of my series called “Burning Red.” This is kind of boring because it is a set up for the main storyline, but I hope you enjoy it! Any constructive criticism and support is greatly appreciated. And if I missed a warning, please let me know!!

After everything you’ve seen, everything you’ve done, everyone you’ve hurt, it felt good to just lay low.

A mechanic on tatooine was not what you imagined, but it did the trick.

No one saw you for who you truly were, and that made you happy.

Well, except for Peli.

You came to her sick and angry and alone, and she nursed you back to health. You would be rotting in the desert if it wasn’t for her, and you felt you owed her a little something.

So, you used your “uncommon” set of abilities to help her with her mechanics in any way she needed.

This included: cooking, cleaning, repairing, negotiating, and most importantly, defending.

Peli was no dummy. She knew you had more experience in that field than she did. So she recruited you, and paid you back with whatever she had laying around. A new outfit once and a while, a warm bed, a hot dinner, and a couple of credits so you could go shopping and get out of her hair.

You couldn’t blame her. You were a hell of a lot of trouble to be around.

Constant nightmares, paranoia, and regret surrounded your aura like a fog. Any normal person wouldn’t notice, but someone like Peli could. And it pissed her off a good majority of the time.

“Stop moping and help me clean this oil off my droid,” and sentences like this one, were said pretty frequently around your place.

Was it even your place? All you did was survive. Is that enough to say you lived there instead of just survived there?

You really liked Peli. She gave you a base. A “home” of sorts, and for that you were forever indebted.

But something in you always called you back to your real home, and that scared you more than Peli’s tough love. More than you could even describe.

~~*~~

It was a pretty normal day on Tatooine. The wind howled, the sand covered everything in its wake, and the heat. You would never get used to it.

You were eating your breakfast when a ship landed on the landing pad, and you could already tell it was a doosey just by the way the left engine was sputtering.

If this ship explodes, we better get a damn good pay, you think to yourself.

The ramp starts to open and you take that as your queue to start the walk to your makeshift room. It was really a storage room, but you didn’t mind.

When you get there, you squat down to the ground behind your door and grab your apron and set of tools. You knew Peli would need some help with this ship.

You hear the ship’s ramp hit he ground and you feel it.

A tug.

Not even a tug, a lurch. It felt like a rope had been tied to your soul and pulled you back into your old self.

This was a tug you hadn’t felt in so long. So long, it almost knocks you off your feet.

I closed myself off from this, you think. I shouldn’t feel this. I don’t want to feel this.

You already feel a headache coming on from the shock and ache in your bones, so you start walking back to the landing pad to tell Peli you aren’t feeling too well.

If I get recognized, we are both dead.

You’d rather get a scolding from Peli than a scolding hot gun wound in your chest.

“Hey,” you hear Peli shout at the client, and you pick up your pace. Your heart is hammering in your chest and you feel the panic ooz through your body.

It’s been so long since you’ve felt this, but you hate how it makes you feel alive.

You finally make it to Peli and you see her speaking very loudly (she doesn’t like to use the word “yelling”) at what seems to be your client.

But this is no ordinary client. This is a Mandalorian.

A very broad Mandalorian who, no offense to Peli, could knock her out in his sleep.

You had heard legends of their kind. But worst of all, you had fought them. And damn were they good.

You hadn’t seen any since the purge. You had heard rumors of them hiding under ground, but they had always been peaceful people. You hated how they got dragged into a war.

“You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it,” Peli says, and you really wish she would use a more peaceful tone.

The last thing you want to do right now is fight a very impressive looking Mandalorian covered entirely in beskar while your entire body is tingling.

Is he the one who is force sensitive?

“Just keep them away from my ship” he says, and you are surprised at how well he is taking Peli’s annoyance.

“Yeah? You think that’s a good idea?” Peli responds in a tone dripping with sarcasm and you take this as your moment to try to sneak away.

This however, was unsuccessful.

“Come on y/n. Let’s take a look at his ship,” she says and the Mandalorian turns his helmet towards you.

You probably look like an absolute mess. Your chest is heaving, you are sweating, and you are not at all prepared to do any sort of repairs. You are basically in your pajamas. The Mandalorian’s gaze has you nervous enough, but this familiar feeling in your stomach has you dizzy and nauseous.

Just hold on......

You start to follow Peli to the ship while still looking at the Mandalorian. You learned very early on in your life to never take your eyes off a predator. He follows your form and you try your best to mask his incredibly strong force connection gripping your chest.

This man isn’t even trying to hide it? It’s almost as if he is reaching for me?

You make it to Peli where you finally take your eyes off of him. You can see why Peli was so mad now.

“Oof! Look at that,” she says as she scans the ship with her eyes. “You’ve got a lot of cabron scoring up top. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in a shoot out.”

Oh my God, he was in a shoot out.

This is really not good. This man could have been followed and you could be surrounded at this very moment. You were a skilled fighter, but those kinds of odds were almost unbeatable. Especially when you were still trying to hide your identity.

You are so tense you feel like you could snap. You still feel his eyes on you, and you are praying to whatever is out there that you can just stay alive. That’s the only thing you’re good at.

“Name’s Peli Motto. That’s y/n,” she says as she points to you with her wrench.

She did not just tell him your NAME.

“This is my operation. You’re not gonna find a better mechanic on the planet,” she says as she leaned in closer to the engine.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to rotate that. You’ve got a fuel leak. Look at this, this is a mess. How did you even land?”

All you wanted to do was scream.

He is a MANDALORIAN who was just in a SHOOT OUT. He is probably being FOLLOWED and we could be dead because of ME.

“That’s gonna set you back,” she says.

She is concerned about MONEY right now?

Peli is a smart woman, but she was walking you into a trap. You didn’t want her blood on your hands. You didn’t need any more of that.

All of this is happening while you are still on the verge of a panic attack.

This Mandalorian is strong with the force. It is squeezing your lungs and your feet and your hands and your brain. All rational thinking is out the window. You had to get out of here before he manages to suffocate you.

God you hate this feeling. A few years ago you lived with this constantly. It became a part of you. Something you enjoyed. But now...

“I’ve got five hundred imperial credits,” the Mandalorian says.

Imperial credits. Great. How did he get his hands on those?

“That’s all you got? Well..” she says and looks back at you.

“What do you think,” she asks in a teasing tone.

You try to plead to her with your eyes. You are sweating beyond belief and your brain is about to explode.

She tightens her brows in confusion at your state, but continues to bargain.

“That should at least cover the hanger,” she says and you feel your jaw almost drop to the floor.

How can she not see it?

“I’ll get you your money,” the Mandalorian mumbles and you try to take a deep breath. Passing out in front of one of the fiercest warriors in the galaxy who may be here to kill you would rip off the last bit of pride you had left. If you are going down, you are going down with a fight.

“I’ve heard that before,” Peli responds and looks at you in a joking way. Like she was trying to coax you into laughing with her.

You try to chuckle back, but it just comes out in a low breath.

You sound insane.

“Just remember—,” the Mandalorian starts

“No droids. I heard ya,” Peli finishes.

“Why do you think I keep this girl around,” she says chuckling with a pat on your back.

You muster up the strength to smile and feel holes burning in your head from the Mandalorian’s gaze.

He really knows how to stare.

The Mandalorian leaves the hanger, and it takes everything in you not to pass out right there.

You thought with him leaving it would die down, but it’s only getting worse.

“Are you ok,” Peli asks and helps you lower yourself to the ground.

You are breathing frantically now and your hands are clutched to your chest.

“He has it,” you say and you know Peli knows what you mean.

She looks at you with wide eyes and you see the realization on her face.

“Oh my god.... he was in a shootout,” she says.

“Uh huh,” you breathe out. The desperate force connection is starting to fade and you feel your lungs fill up with air once more.

“He could have been followed! Or he could be here to—“

“Kill us,” you say. Peli hates when you finish her sentences, but there was no point in caring right now.

“Ok. Get inside. If I need you I will call for you,” she says and you nod, slowly getting to your feet.

You start to walk back to your room, with Peli’s arms guiding you, while taking deep breaths, but you freeze when you sense something else coming out of the ship and you snap your head to the ramp.

“What,” Peli says as she follows your gaze.

Your heart flutters. The force is slowly starting to ease its nasty grip on you.

If you didn’t sense the creature, you would miss it.

A little green baby, wrapped in what looked like a potato sack, was strolling down the ramp, looking directly at you.

“It’s him,” you say.

“He has it.”

[thatonecoryosimp]

The Devil's Mercenary pt.3 Technoblade X reader

Hey y'all, this is part 3. Probably not the last part tho, I have some ideas for this story, but I would love some help on ideas for 4. This was wanted by the beautiful 🐍 anon. I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: Cursing, suggestive.

Series Masterlist

Pt. 4

Do I regret agreeing to the deal? Yes and no. I would have never said yes if this wasn't to save my ass, but at the same time, I'm glad that he gave me this opportunity.

Technoblade and I started off the next morning, giving Wilbur some bullshit excuse about going to get resources. I guess it wasn't a complete lie, but it most definitely wasn't a full truth.

The walk to the portal was relatively quiet, but oh gods was it boring. He had insisted on a portal somewhere only he knew, it was ridiculous. Not to mention the clothes I had on were not something to wear into the Nether.

We made it to the border of a glade. The sight was almost breathtaking, it had rolling hills and beautiful flowers. There were spots of ponds dotting the grassy fields. Bees buzzed overhead, and bunny's hopped along through the narrow tree patches.

A smile tugged at my lips as I followed the blood god through the greenery. I was in a daze as the ocean appeared in front of us. The coral-filled water was clear and unfiltered. The breeze was fresh, untouched by the people on the server.

The waves crashed as Dolphins rushed above the water, swimming in small packs. Fish danced in schools as they swam. If you looked close enough in the beautifully decorated area, you could see the colors of an axolotl or two.

The sight was enough to distract me from my evident demise, but only until it was rudely interrupted by the man it would be caused by.

"We're here," he huffed out. I turned to him. He was stalking off along the edge of the beach, there was a tiny shack where the woods began. I started to follow him soon after, my feet sloshing in the sand as I listened to the life around me.

The building would certainly be a blink and you'll miss it, that is if it didn't have the ghostly noises ringing out from inside it. That in itself was enough to catch anyone's attention.

The door thudded open as Tech pushed it. The hinges squeaked, and the floorboards cried out in despair as the hulking man stepped onto them. The eerie sounds only got louder as I followed him in, and it sealed my fate as purple particles came into view.

Technoblade didn't seem to care that I had frozen behind him, that or he didn't notice, which I doubt. He sat the bag he was carrying down on an old chair that looked like it would give way any second.

"We have food, water, and weapons," he stated as he turned to me. My eyebrows furrowed.

"Don't you need armor?"

"Sweetheart, the day I need armor to go into the Nether is the day Tommy's voice stops cracking."

I slightly chuckled at that, it was nowhere near as close to the feeling of calm the water gave me, but it was something.

"Well, I guess we should just get it over with then." Tech nodded as he looked at me.

"You have a sword on you, right?" I patted my hip.

"Yup."

And that was that. He stepped in first, leaving me in the dark shack all on my own. I could run away now, leave everything behind, Wilbur, Tommy, Techno... this stupid bet... and... Dream. I sighed. I couldn't do that, I've already betrayed my friends, the least I could do is face karma as I should.

I made contact with the purple and a shiver shot down my spine. My feet rested on the obsidian below me as my body started to fade out of the world I knew. My eyes closed and a nauseous feeling fell over me.

I gasped, almost falling forward before catching myself. He stood before me as I leaned on the portal's edge. I will never get used to how that feels.

"There's a fortress right near here, it's only a little ways North."

I shook my head and stood up straight, my swords felt heavier than they ever had as I walked towards the brick building. My heart was hammering as my boots thumped. The Nether was cast in its usual red hue as we walked. The heat was close to unbearable, and my skin felt like it was melting.

The fortress was in a Soul Sand Valley. Of fucking course it was. He did say he needed a bunch of Wither skulls.

"We'll split up, that way we can get in and out, meet back here in an hour, if you're not here, I'll assume your dead and tell others as such, got it?"

I didn't really have the time to argue with him, nor did I feel like it. I just want to get this over with.

"Yeah, whatever."

Then he walked away. I started to make my way through the Nether Brick walls, there was a staircase leading downwards, that's probably my best bet. The clicks of my feet were very apparent as I walked downwards. My eyes caught onto the black bones of almost 6 skeletons. I unsheathed my swords from the belt and smirked. This was gonna be fun.

~~~~

It had been about forty-five minutes. I sighed heavily as I picked up the last skull I needed. I had a full stack, if that wasn't enough then I don't know how to please this man.

My body and clothes were covered in black dust, my hands hurt, and my swords needed to be cleaned. Thank the gods I knew which way was out, otherwise, I'd be completely screwed. The familiar stairs came into sight and I smiled. Finally.

I leaned against the wall where Technoblade told us to meet, my eyes shut and I finally had a chance to breathe. There was sweat dripping from my face, and my shirt was transparent as it hugged my skin.

My eyes shot open as I heard heavy footsteps making their way towards me. I unsheathed one sword and stood there. Eyes scanning along the area. Pink hair became visible and I relaxed.

Technoblade saw me and raised his eyebrows, "I really thought you'd be dead."

"Thanks for having faith in me," I grumbled with a roll of my eyes as I chucked the stack of skulls at him, "Let's just get the fuck out of here."

"Some mouth you have their sweetheart."

"Don't call me that," I stated flatly.

"You sure didn't have a problem with Dream calling you that."

"Well you're not Dream, are you? You're most certainly not attractive enough to be. Looking like some knock-off barbie doll with that hair."

"Oh, alright high and mighty. You think you're some spectacular view?"

"Oh come on, I'm sure you'd just love to fuck me against the wall, huh Blade?"

His eyes turned to slits, "I'm sure you'd enjoy that, y'know, since you seem to be such a cock hungry whore, to the point where you'd betray the people that took you in, helped you, loved you."

I huffed. That sad thing is... he was right. Not about him, of course. But about me, everything he said about me was true in some aspect. My eyes trailed to the floor and I embraced defeat.

"Let's just go."

I stormed out, making my way back to the portal. Technoblade followed close behind me. Eyes glued on my back. I was gonna kill him. One day, I'm going to shove my sword through his heart and watch the Blood God crumbled to his knees.

But that day wouldn't be today...

And that day would never come. Because unbeknownst to me, fate had another idea. One that didn't involve hate, or plunging a sword through his heart.

I stepped into the glowing portal and fell through into the overworld.

~~~~

"There's a shower in the other room, but the water won't stay warm for both of us, the plumbing is shit."

"Well ain't that just lovely," I looked around the room, it was getting dark out, which didn't make much sense, but time is weird in the Nether, "I guess we're staying here tonight?"

Tech nodded, "It's the smartest idea, it's a long walk back, and there's two beds."

Well, ain't this just great? A night with the Blood God. Just what I needed.

"What about the shower situation?" He looked at the door, which I could only guess was the bathroom, "We could shower at the same time."

My eyes widened, "Do you expect me to shower with some pervert?"

He rolled his eyes, "Do you wanna shower in the cold?" I shook my head. "Didn't think so."

"Couldn't one of us just shower in the morning?"

"It'll still be cold, it takes almost two days for the water to warm up, it's never been much of a problem since I don't come here too often."

I sighed, "Fine, just don't be lookin at me." He nodded.

I should have just died in that fortress.

~~~~

Not too sure how I feel about that, but it didn't end up too bad. As I said earlier, I would love some ideas for part 4. Love you babes <3

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part VII

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni)

Warnings: dramatics, gaslighting, pining pining pining, drinking, attempted drugging, blacking out, vomiting, Nile and Hitch hook up, did I mention pining, one Greek word (thank you again, @cynnyc .)

It’s nearly ten PM as you climb the steps to the PKA house. The brisk October air makes you pull your jacket tighter around yourself and move toward the door faster. You probably should’ve texted your target first, checked to see if he’s even here, but you’re not about to stand outside and wait for a reply, not when you can just knock and ask a living soul.

 It’s Reiner who answers, looking extremely tired with dark circles under his eyes. You idly wonder if he and the other new kids are being kept awake as another stupid fucking hazing ritual, but you don’t really have the time for small talk. 

 “Erwin here?”

 The blond nods and steps out of the way. “His room. Might already be asleep.”

 Shrugging, you walk inside, mumbling, “Just gonna have to wake his ass up then.”

 Which you do, climbing up to the third story after Reiner tells you which room he’s in now. You knock on the door a couple times and almost feel bad when Erwin answers, clearly rumpled in pajama pants and bedhead. 

 He squints at you, and you snort. “Sleep before ten? You some kinda nerd or somethin’?”

 “What do you want?” He gruffs, voice a little scratchy. 

 You can see part of the room behind him, looks pretty similar to the one from last year. That had been the only time you’d really gotten a close look into his space, and it had not ended well. You hope this time will be different. 

 “I needed to talk to you about something.”

 Erwin scrubs a hand down his face then rests his head against his doorframe. “I’ll take a wild guess and say this is about Mike.”

 You push your lips out in a pout and respond, “Maybe.”

 He lets you into his room, catches you off guard when he asks, “Door open or closed?” 

 “Depends. You gonna come onto me again?”

 He chuckles and shakes his head. “I learned my lesson last time.”

 “You can shut it then.”

 Taking up the chair at his desk, you watch as Erwin just crawls back under his covers and fixes cerulean eyes on you. 

 “Why haven’t you been talking to him?”

 Something in your stomach flips, eyes growing as you splutter, “I haven’t been talking to him? He hasn’t been talking to me!” 

 Erwin frowns. “What? He’s been bitching to me incessantly.”

 “And, I’ve been bitching to Hitch incessantly.”

 Groaning into his pillow, Erwin holds out his hand, and you hear a muffled command, “Give me your phone.”

 You do without hesitation, rattle off the passcode then sit and wait as Erwin scrolls through what you assume to be your settings or contacts. The thought that you should be a little scared crosses your mind—you do have some compromising photos in an unlocked folder—but judging by Erwin’s current mood, he doesn’t seem interested in anything except sleeping. 

 “That motherfucker,” he grunts.

 “What?”

 “You blocked his number.”

 “What?” This time is much louder and panicked. “No, I didn’t! I swear I didn’t.”

 He tosses you the device back and gestures in a ‘see for yourself’ manner. “Someone did.”

 Your blood begins to boil as you stare down at your short list of blocked contacts, Mike’s name right on top.

 “Are you fucking kidding me?” You quickly tap to remedy the problem, hands beginning to shake. “I don’t even know how—”

 “My money’s on the shitty boyfriend,” Erwin mumbles.

 You want to text Mike, but you have no idea what to say. Sorry we haven’t talked in over a month. Zeke figured out my phone password and blocked your number haha. You doubt that would fly.

 If you had just come to Erwin sooner, most of this could have been avoided. You don’t know if you’re more upset at Zeke or at yourself.

 Zeke. Definitely Zeke. That is some wildly possessive behavior. That’s isolation. The idea makes you nauseous. This is just another instance of him showing what you believe to be his true self. Between all the fighting and grudges, you’re at your wit’s end. Just the other day, the two of you had gotten into yet another argument when you happened to get a glance at the Tinder icon in his app list. 

 “Why do you still have that?” You’d asked with a frown. You really hadn’t planned on it turning into an ordeal. 

 “Have what?”

 “Tinder.”

 “What are you talking about?”

 Then, right in front of your eyes, he had deleted the app. You saw it, but that didn’t stop Zeke from looking at you with a straight face and telling you, “I think you’re just confused, babe.”

 That’s when it turned into an ordeal. That’s when you got defensive and incredulous. That’s when he just kept telling you that you were wrong, that you were just seeing things, and after a good thirty minutes once you were nice and high strung, he actually had you halfway convinced. 

 Because he always sounds so sure of himself, always makes it so that his word is law. You had doubted yourself—you’re still doubting yourself. 

 “Jesus, I can’t believe this,” you breathe, leaning back in the rolling chair and staring up at the ceiling. You can believe it, actually, you just hadn’t expected him to sink that low. “What do I even say to Mike?”

 Erwin finally pushes himself into a sitting position and stretches. Seems like he’s just resigning himself to being awake. “Whatever it is, you should probably talk it out in person.”

 “Probably.”

 “Might be a little difficult now, though.”

 Heaving a sigh, you mutter, “Yeah, I assume he's pretty pissed at me.”

 Erwin hums, but his voice comes out a little unsure when he says, “Well, that, but also…”

 You're suddenly sitting straight up. “Also what?”

 Making a face, the man across from you enlightens you to the fact that, “Mike is kind of seeing someone. I think.”

 You blink at him, trying to process what he’s telling you. Mike is… With someone? You feel sick.

 But, you shouldn’t because he’s allowed to branch out. You surely did, and you hurt him in the process. 

 “It, uh… It gets worse.”

 Swallowing, you try to hide the lump in your throat when you rasp, “How?”

 Don’t cry. Do not cry. You have no right to cry. 

 “I’m about ninety-nine percent positive it’s Zeke’s ex.”

 Every muscle in your face suddenly relaxes, but it isn’t in a good way. Instead of frowning, your brow softens into its normal position. You release the tension in your jaw, the teeth that were just clenched falling away from each other as your lips part. Erwin moves in and out of focus as your gaze becomes blurry, hot tears gathering at your waterline, and now you don’t even try to stop them from falling. 

 Fucking Rhi. She had been nothing more than an annoyance before, a peppy little annoyance trying to grab your boyfriend’s attention. But, now… Now, you’re ready to fight. Parking lot brawl, throwing fists and pulling hair, and screeching—you want to destroy her. 

 “Oh.” You sniffle then wipe your nose with the back of your hand. “That’s good. I mean—” a quiet cough, “—that’s good for him. I’m glad.”

 Erwin snorts. “No, you’re not,” his volume rises a bit. “So, don’t pretend like you are. God, why are you guys so bad at this?”

 You let out a humorless laugh and shrug. “‘Cause I have shitty timing, I guess.” You bite your lip and look back to the ceiling, trying not to weep too openly, but your lungs are burning, preventing you from breathing, and your heart is bruising your ribcage, and you think your bones just might shatter inside of your chest. 

 There’s a rustling on the bed, and when you look back at Erwin, you find him laying down again but holding the blankets up in front of him. 

 “Come on.”

 “W-what? Erwin, that is literally the last thing we—”

 “I’m not trying to fuck,” he says, eyes heavy as he stares at you. “You need to relax, and I need to sleep, so just come on."

 You consider for a while, looking from Erwin to the mattress. You’re really not that close, would barely even call him your friend, but you did come to him tonight. You had chosen to confide in him. He makes some pretty questionable decisions sometimes, but you still believe that ultimately he’s a good person. 

 “Fine, but put a shirt on.”

 “Then, grab one. Second drawer. Make sure it’s soft.”

 You roll your eyes but do as you're told, running your hands over a few t-shirts until you find one that he should be pleased enough with. He tugs it on then collapses back on the bed, and you kick your shoes off then slip out of your jacket and under the covers.

 You’re facing him, trying to keep a few inches between yourself and his chest, but as you think about the position you’re in—why you’re in it, the tears start flowing freely again, and you’re holding back little whimpers, shoulders shaking at the effort. Erwin breathes in deeply then uses the arm he isn’t laying on to pull you to him, shushing you as he rubs the space between your shoulder blades with a warm hand. 

 “We’ll get it sorted out,” he promises, voice quiet as he starts to doze. 

 It’s not how you expected to end the night, but you suppose there are worse ways.

*

 Mike learns a lot of information in a very short amount of time. Nile meets him outside of the fitness center to give him the scoop, trying to look casual as he walks, but Mike can tell he's nervous. 

 He starts by asking if Mike has talked to you at all recently, and no, he has not. So, Nile tells him that you broke things off with Zeke and apparently it got messy. 

 "Something about him being a manipulative bastard," Nile waves a hand. 

 "Doesn’t surprise me. Took her long enough."

 You've been hanging around the Pike house again, sometimes by yourself and sometimes with Hitch—"Who's really fucking cute, by the way." Obviously Nile and Marie are in the 'off' portion of their relationship cycle. "And, you would know all this if you would just start coming around again. It's stupid to pay dues and not actually engage with the frat, dude."

 "I've just been busy with school," Mike tells him. It's only a half lie. His senior courses are kind of kicking his ass, but he's also been busying himself with Rhi who is… tolerable. 

 "Whatever. Halloween party is in, like, a week. If you don't show up, I'm gonna be real pissed."

 "I'll be there, Nile."

 "Okay, then lemme prepare you for one more thing."

 Mike stops walking and looks at the smaller man who inhales deeply then blows air out through his teeth. 

 "So, uh, she's hanging around again, right? And, you're not there, so it seems like she's sort of, uh, latched onto…" He makes a face, and Mike leans back. 

 "Don't fucking tell me."

 Nile cringes. "Yeah. I don't think they're fucking or anything. I haven't heard them in his room like I used to hear the two of you."

 "She goes into his room?" Mike has to flex his hand by his side, but the brick wall of the library they've stopped in front of is looking mighty nice. Break a few bones, bleed a little, it'll feel good. 

 "Yeah, but, like, they're nowhere near as close as you and her."

 "How close we used to be. It's been so fucking long since we've even talked, dude. And, any time I try to catch her on campus, the dickbag is with her—"

 "Well, at least you don't have to worry about that anymore."

 "Yeah, now I just have to worry about her fucking my best friend. Fuck, she just—" Mike growls in his throat, contemplates turning to go back to the gym because he needs to get this energy out somehow. "She drives me fucking crazy."

 "Yeah, I know, man. I just didn't want you to be surprised at the party when you see 'em all buddy-buddy."

 "I'm gonna punch him," Mike states. "Just lay him out in front of everyone."

 "Please don't," Nile sounds genuinely worried. "Maybe use the party as a way to, I don't know, talk to your girl? Like an adult?" 

 "Obviously not my girl, and I've been screwing around with Rhi anyway. Maybe it's just time we went our separate ways or whatever." 

 It physically hurts to even suggest, but he's trying to put on a brave face for his friend—act annoyed rather than fucking crushed, but god, he is aching. His stomach has opened up into nothing, his chest feels void of everything that was once inside, and he knows he's being dramatic, but fuck fuck fuck, first Zeke and now Erwin? What is it that Mike doesn't have? What can't he provide you with that they can? Just tell him, and he'll fucking fix it. 

 "Yeah, I think we both know that's not gonna happen. Plus, you do realize Rhi is probably just using you to make Zeke jealous."

 "I'm not fucking stupid, Nile, of course I know that." But, Mike is really tired of his love life revolving around that asshole, like he has to wait for Zeke to call all the shots. "I'm using her as much as she's using me, so—"

 "As a distraction?" 

 Mike lets his head loll to the side, peering down at Nile from the corner of his eyes. "What do you think?" 

 The other man gives him a light punch to the shoulder and once again suggests, "Talk things out. Just pull her aside at the party." 

 It's easier said than done. When Halloween rolls around, it's a little insane. It's too big and too loud with a flashing strobe that hurts Mike’s eyes. There are all sorts of costumes, making it hard to recognize anyone. The jungle juice is a mystery, one Mike doesn't plan on touching but that many people will. He has a feeling that more than a few party-goers are gonna end up sick, probably passing out in various locations of the house. 

 Mike has opted for an easy costume, the tacky tourist complete with his pink Hawaiian shirt, a straw hat, sunglasses, and a fanny pack. It's so awful, it actually made him laugh, but Rhi, clad in a spandex tiger suit, is not nearly as amused. She probably wanted him to go the sexy cop route or something equally as cringey, but Mike just doesn't have it in him tonight. 

 Nile is a shirtless cowboy, Hitch is a Catholic schoolgirl, Gelgar is Freddy Krueger with a pompadour, Reiner is a werewolf, the list goes on and on. Sexy, bloody nurses, superheroes, Harry Potter, and so on. 

 When his eyes land on you for the first time that night, Mike comes close to drooling his drink. Lola Bunny in her skimpy basketball uniform and a rabbit ear headband. Your face is painted, and you're carrying around one of those foam balls kids use to dunk into Fisher Price hoops, and he has no doubt the prop will be lost by the end of the party. 

 Mike thinks back to Spring Break, to you wincing at his movie choice then trying to sleep through it. You had woken up to him flipping through the photo album, then chose to finally open up to him. 

 So, why this costume? Why "torture" yourself like this? 

 And, speaking of torture, you're sticking to Erwin just like Nile said you would. The blond is in a tailored suit, his face painted like a skull. It's both classy and creepy, and Mike hates him for it. In fact, it calls for another drink. 

 Rhi finds him in the kitchen after making her rounds, taking up her former place on Mike's arm as he uses the counter to pop the lid off a fresh bottle. They watch the game of beer pong playing out in front of them, but Rhi doesn't seem content to just sit. 

 She has to stand on her tip-toes and shout into his ear, "Wanna walk around some?" 

 No. He really doesn't, but he can placate her, especially if it means getting laid later tonight. 

 They trek back to the main room, observing the debauchery taking place. People are grinding and stripping to Monster Mash. Several couples are spread out in the chairs or up against the wall getting pretty close to full on exhibitionism. 

 They stop to talk to "Officer" Marie for a while then move on to Nile and Hitch to whom Rhi spills everything she just heard from the busty redhead. They joke with Gelgar and his catch of the day, some of the pledges—Jean, Reiner, and Eren—who are just trying to survive, and then at last… you and Erwin. 

 Mike sees the way your chest rises with a deep breath, how your fingers tighten around the little basketball. Your eyes flit from Rhi to Mike, flashing when Rhi greets you. 

 Oh, you don't like her. 

 "Love the costume," she tells you. "Who are you supposed to be again?" 

 Mike chokes on his drink, and you suck your teeth before replying, "Lola Bunny. The Loony Toon."

 "Oh, is that, like, Bugs Bunny's girlfriend?"

 "Kind of?" You try. 

 Rhi looks to Erwin who visibly cringes when she asks, "Why aren't you dressed as Bugs then?" 

 Mike wants to turn around, to put as much distance between all of you as possible. 

 Erwin clears his throat. "Because that would be a couple's costume, and we're not…"

 Mike knows his expression is skeptical, cold even, and when he settles it on you, you give him a little shake of your head that he doesn't really believe. 

 "Oh, alright," Rhi concedes only to chime, "'Cause I heard—"

 "Wrong," Erwin cuts her off. "You heard wrong, Rhi." A hard, blue stare lands on Mike, unforgiving when he tells him, "I think it's time you two talked."

 "I don't think that's really—"

 "Oh, fuck," your swear gets everyone's attention, and Mike takes in the shock written all over your face then follows your line of sight to the entry way where Zeke god damn Jaeger is making his way through the crowd. 

 "What the hell is he doing here?" Erwin spits. 

 "You and Nile decided this should be an open party, dumbass," Mike reminds him with a roll of his eyes. 

 "Oh, so we're name-calling now? Jesus Mike, grow up. You're just assuming shit!" As he rants, Erwin takes hold of one of your arms and pulls you behind him, snatching the furry headband from you so the ears don't stick out. 

 For a split second, Mike thinks he's trying to protect you from him, but then he nods to bring Mike's attention to the approaching figure behind him, and Mike understands. 

 He turns his body to face Zeke who's walking over, fragmented by the strobe, his icy eyes piercing straight through his glasses. Mike, despite his anger toward you, feels the primal urge to protect you. 

 "The fuck do you want, Jaeger?" 

 "Woah, calm down, bud. Just looking for a brat—about yea high, spreads her legs for any athlete she comes in contact with. You guys seen her?" 

 Mike steps toward him, but he's stopped by a hand that fists in the back of his shirt. 

 "Ah, there she is," Zeke smirks, and Mike looks over his shoulder to see you now in front of Erwin with your fingers clutching the pink material across his back. 

 "He's not worth it, Mike."

 Mike thinks he is, though. He feels like he keeps getting whiplash, going back and forth between who he wants to hit at any given moment because it seems to change by the second.

 He's just been so incredibly frustrated for the past few months. Lacrosse doesn't help, and  the gym doesn't help, and fucking Rhi doesn't help. Mike has just been stewing, letting everything fester during the radio silence between the two of you. He's mad at so many people including himself, and all he wants to do is shove his way out of this stupid fucking party and take off his stupid fucking fanny pack and be alone in his apartment under his dumb fairy lights. 

 He shrugs out of your grip, figures the best thing he can do right now is get away from all of you. Zeke stumbles when Mike shoulders into him forcefully. He's not even a little surprised when Rhi doesn't follow him, choosing to vie for Zeke's attention instead. 

 It doesn't matter. All that matters is that Mike gets another drink in him. 

 He tries not to watch the way the heated conversation turns out, the way you bow up to Zeke and Erwin has to once again put himself in between you and the other blond. He tries not to smile at the fire in your eyes, that blaze he's seen so many times (usually when you're annoyed at him), and yes, there's that pain again, barely overshadowing Mike's anger. 

 You yell something at Zeke. He yells back. Erwin feels the need to add his own opinion, but the music is too loud for Mike to be able to make any of it out. Whatever is shouted makes Zeke huff and walk away. Rhi prances after him, and Mike resigns himself to the fact that he probably will not be fucking her after this shit show. He could always find someone else, but that takes effort (not much, but still), and then they usually get clingy afterward, and he just can't be bothered with all that right now. Mike can't be bothered with anything right now. 

 So he drinks. 

 He keeps an eye on Zeke who doesn't actually leave the party, and he drinks. He stares at you from across the room, bunny ears back in place, and he drinks. Somewhere between Boom and Beer Pong, he loses the fanny pack, looks down at some point and finds that it's just no longer there. All he had in there was a lighter and a couple condoms, so he isn't too broken up about it, but he does wonder—

 Mike isn't sure what makes him look over at the counter where all the different drinks are set out, but he does, and it's just in time to see Eren hunching over the bowl of jungle juice like some shady motherfucker, and when Mike makes his way over, world spinning just a little bit, he sees the younger Jaeger brother emptying a little plastic bag of green pills into the punch. 

 "What the fu—" Mike has him by the collar before he can even finish his own question, tosses the kid away from the counter so that he actually falls to the floor. It causes a few people to hop out of the way, their drinks sloshing and spilling on the tile. "What the fuck are you doing?" 

 Eren looks up at Mike with wide, panicked eyes, like he's scared and waiting for someone to save him. 

 "I—I don't know what you think you saw, man—"

 "I know exactly what I saw, you little creep!" 

 Everyone in the kitchen is looking at the two of them as more people trickle in. 

 "What even was that? You trying to roofie the whole fucking party or something?" 

 "No!" 

 "Just one person, then? That one special girl," Mike hisses.

 He walks back to the counter and grabs the large bowl of juice, carrying it over to Eren who's still on the ground. The kid covers his face just in time for Mike to empty the contents over his head, drenching him so that red drips from his hair and trickles down his arms. 

 "Drink up, bitch," Mike snarls before throwing the bowl so that it bounces off Eren's head. 

 Naturally, a bigger crowd has gathered, and Nile shoves his way through, shouting over the music, "What is happening?" 

 Mike leans over to yell in his ear, "Saw him pouring pills into the punch."

 "Are you serious?" 

 Mike nods but steps away when Eren pushes himself off the wet floor and nearly throws himself at Nile. 

 "I didn't do it! I don't know what the fuck he's talking about!" 

 Nile arm-bars Mike when he tries to move toward the little twerp, lips pulling back from his teeth because it has been a shitty night. A shitty week. Shitty month. And, now his fury has shifted yet again. 

 "Did anyone else see it, Mike?" Nile asks. 

 "Probably not since everyone is fucked up—"

 "Including you."

 Mike looks over at his friend in genuine surprise because it's starting to sound like Nile doesn't believe him. 

 "Why the fuck would I lie about something like this?" 

 "Maybe because he's Zeke's brother," Nile suggests. 

 Mike is heated. He can feel the blood underneath his skin cooking his god damn insides, frying his brain so that all he can think about is throwing a punch or two (or twenty). 

 Jaw sliding, Mike shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath to steady himself, to stop his hands from shaking as he tries to figure out when his friends started looking at him as some unhinged freak. 

 "What are you doing—the fu—dude, stop!"

 Opening his eyes again, Mike sees that Gelgar has inserted himself into the situation and has Eren pinned against the counter as he shoves his hands in every one of his pockets. He's growling something at the younger man, keeps shoving his face down against the linoleum any time Eren squirms, and after about a minute of people watching and gasping and making crude remarks about the position the two are in, Gelgar straightens up with a plastic bag identical to the one Mike saw Eren emptying into the jungle juice. 

 "It's just Adderall, I swear!"

 Gelgar scoffs. "This is definitely not Adderall. Believe me, I'd know." He tosses the pills to Nile who takes a long look at them before glaring at Eren. 

 "Get the fuck out before I call the cops."

 He should call them anyway, Mike thinks, but he understands Nile's hesitance. There's a lot going on at the party—underage drinking, party drugs in various rooms, etc. Eren wouldn't be the only one taken into custody if the police showed up. 

 Another voice rings out, asking the same question everyone else has, "What the hell is going on?" and Mike comes close to hurling the closest bottle at Zeke as he makes his way to his brother. "Why are you…" He gestures nebulously as his eyebrows pull together. Rhi is close behind him, and further still, you and Erwin are peeking into the kitchen. 

 "They think I drugged the jungle juice!" Eren looks at Zeke with puppy eyes that probably worked when he was a kid, might still work judging by the way the blond whirls around to face Mike and Nile. 

 "Have any proof, or are you just trying to—"

 "Pipe down, Jaeger," Nile cuts him off, holding up the bag and explaining, "Mike saw him dropping these in the punch."

 Zeke is silent for a few solid seconds before rounding on his brother again and grabbing him by the shirt right where Mike had previously held him, and everyone watches in rapt attention as he steers Eren through the crowd, shouting at him the entire time. 

 Having both of them leave is a relief, but Mike is a little disappointed that he didn't get to fight either of them. It would have been nice to feel a nose break under his fist, but he supposed it's better this way. 

 "Hey, thanks for catching that, dude," Nile says, slapping Mike's back. 

 It doesn't make him feel good. If anything, it pisses him off. Mike would understand if his friend had been skeptical of one of the pledges or second years making the accusation he had, but Nile is one of his best friends. They were inducted at the same time, were hazed side by side. Mike never would have thought Nile had such a low opinion of him, that he’d believe Mike’s little broken heart would cloud his judgement to the point of slandering someone without cause. 

 "Whatever," he shrugs before grabbing another drink. 

 He should just go back home. He isn't having a good time. He's angry at just about everyone he looks at. When Rhi decides he's worth her time again, Mike actually tells her to fuck off. He's lost the accessories to his costume, and he's about to lose his mind. 

 It's getting late. Mike isn't sure how late because as the night progresses, he gets steadily inebriated. He tries to avoid anyone and everyone in his fraternity, hanging out with people he knows from lacrosse or his classes instead. They play a few drinking games, take body shots off some sorority girls (or maybe it's the same one, he can't tell anymore). The music becomes bearable, and the strobe light stops hurting his head, and eventually, Mike just… forgets. 

 He forgets about Nile's lack of faith. He forgets about the fuckhead Jaeger brothers. He forgets about you and Erwin walking around and laughing together oh, ha ha we're so close now. He is finally spared from all of his negative thoughts. 

 Mostly because somewhere between shot number seven and beer number who knows what, Mike pukes into a plant (maybe?) and blacks out.

 *

 "God dammit. Erwin," you tug on his jacket sleeve and point to the corner that is home to a fake ficus that Mike is currently throwing up in. 

 Erwin groans, "Oh, Jesus Christ," and starts making his way over with you hot on his heels. 

 A few people are making faces as they glance at Mike, moving away as he coughs, straightens, then bends over again. 

 "Mike, come on, buddy," Erwin pats his back, waiting for Mike to pause in his retching so that he can duck under his arm and support him. "Gotta get you to a bathroom."

 "No bath," Mike snorts. "No green there, no…"

 You take a place on his other side, not that you can help much in getting him down the hall and in one of the downstairs restrooms, but you at least support his other arm and steer him in the right direction. 

 "Why is he talking about green?" Erwin grumbles as you both lower Mike to the tiled floor in front of the toilet where he promptly pukes again. 

 "The leaves maybe? I don't know, dude. Just…" You cringe as you notice the way Mike's shaggy hair hangs down into the toilet bowl, subject to all kinds of splash back. "Do you have a hair tie on you?" 

 "Literally why in the fuck would I have a hair tie on me?" Erwin asks incredulously, and you laugh because a couple weeks ago, he never would have used that word in this context since it's wrong, but the more you spend time with him, the more he picks up on your vernacular, and that really doesn't matter right now because—

 "Water," Mike croaks, voice echoing off the ceramic. 

 "I don't think you'll be able to drink any right this second, man," Erwin tells him, squatting beside him. 

 Mike shakes his head. "Wanna feel—feel water. Cold."

 "He sounds like a fucking caveman," you snicker. 

 You're really just trying to stay calm, masking the sick feeling in your stomach with amusement, but you've been watching Mike all night as he downed beer after beer, mixing various liquors as he took shots and licked salt off some chick's stomach. You figured he would get sick, but there wasn't really much you could do about it. He had made it pretty clear he isn’t interested in speaking to you. Still, you had purposely remained mostly sober just in case something like this happened (also because you make bad decisions when you get fucked up at frat parties).

 "Yeah, he definitely won't remember any of this."

 "Waterrr," Mike tries again, and you look at the way his arm is dangling over the side of the tub, the faucet on the opposite side, and glance at Erwin at a loss. 

 He shrugs, eyes darting around until he sees the plastic cup upside down on the shower rack. He grabs it, turns the water on and fills the cup, then dumps it over Mike's hand. 

 Mike groans, slowly wriggles his fingers under the stream, and drawls, "Thaaaank."

 You shake your head and motion for the cup, talk loud enough to be heard over the faucet, "I can handle this. You go back outside."

 "What? No."

 "There's no reason both of us have to be in here. He's just gonna puke his guts out for a few hours and then pass out." 

 Erwin doesn't seem sold on the idea. 

 "Come on. You've gotta go back. You're vice president or whatever."

 "So?" 

 "Erwin."

 He stares at you for a while then deflates. "Fine. Do you have your phone on you?" 

 "Always." You gesture to the elastic waistband of your shorts, phone pressed to your hip as it hangs on the inside of the material.

 "Text me if you need help, alright?" 

 "You got it, boss."

 He leaves just in time for Mike to violently retch into the toilet, one hand clutching the bowl as his spine curves. You fill the cup back up, pour it over his hand once again, and repeat the action over… and over… and over.

 His face and hair are gonna be a mess, probably his shirt too which is actually a blessing because you'll finally have a legitimate reason to burn it. Pepto Bismol pink and sketched palm trees stare at you as you sit on the edge of the tub, and all you can think of is the first time you saw Mike wearing the terrible shirt, how that had ended up, how you left with it the following morning. 

 How had the two of you gone from that to this? Sure, you weren't super fond of him at the beginning of it all, but he grew on you. A lot. He's your best fucking friend. Through the last couple months, through this weird fight you're having, he is your best friend. It's why you're here right now taking care of his drunk ass. 

 It'll pass. This phase will pass, and you'll make up, and you'll get your chance to be honest with him, to tell him how you feel about him. It may have taken you a little too long to arrive at your destination, so to speak, but better late than never. Soon, you'll both be able to look back on this and laugh. 

 People knock on the door here and there, and you scream at them to go away, eventually getting tired of it and just clicking the lock into place. 

 Any time you stop pouring water over his hand, Mike whines and attempts to say something, choppy words that don't make a ton of sense. You wonder if you need to call an ambulance, look for the signs of alcohol poisoning, but he doesn't feel cold, his breathing is even between bouts of vomiting, and his arms aren't curling in that tell-tale way. 

 More than likely, he just made himself sick. He knows better, too. He's been partying for a long enough time to be well aware of the mixing rules. Beer before liquor and all that shit. He may have just not cared tonight, though. From what Erwin has told you, Mike has just been in a generally bad mood for a while now (and Erwin has not tried to be subtle about why). He's barely around the Pike house anymore, he keeps getting called for personal fouls in lacrosse, and he's sleeping with Rhi which is nobody's business but is also strange considering her history—some kind of mutualistic symbiotic relationship that nobody is a real fan of. 

 Not my circus, not my monkeys, you think to yourself, emptying another cup from your place on the floor now. The ceramic was starting to hurt your ass, and you know your arm will probably be a little sore tomorrow, or later today since it's nearing three. 

 Fatigue is beginning to set in, and you know Mike is exhausted because he keeps dozing off on the toilet seat so that you have to nudge him back awake. Until he can speak in mostly coherent sentences, he's not allowed to sleep. 

 Sitting in the bathroom gives you ample amount of time to think. You go over some mental flashcards for a while, notes you took with the help of Mike's magic textbook. Then you think about going to your mom's for Thanksgiving and how much you aren't looking forward to it. Then you think about Zeke showing up only to have to escort his shady brother from the house. God, you had not been happy to see him. You'd been a little afraid, if you're being honest. 

 After figuring out that he had, in fact, blocked Mike's number on your phone, you had stomped into his apartment and initiated a screaming match. You got loud, he got louder, called you a stupid bitch and punched a hole in the drywall. You had decided that was a pretty good time to leave, both the apartment and the relationship. He's been lurking on campus around your most frequented spots—the science building, the library, but you've been doing a good job of camouflaging yourself in groups of other students. Even if he can see you, he can't do much about it. 

 You've thought about reporting him to campus police, but you know nothing will come of it. The golden boy can do no wrong. It's why you've been spending so much time at the PKA house again. You know most of them have your back, and you are absolutely not above asking any of them to walk somewhere with you to fend off your angry ex. 

 You can't wrap your head around what his fucking deal is. Surely he didn't treat Rhi like this after they split. There's no way she would still be so infatuated with him if he had. Is it just because you're the one who dumped him? He had to have seen it coming once you started putting the pieces together, the way he constantly tried to make you feel guilty, isolating you from your friends, invading the privacy of your phone to not only block Mike but also to turn your fucking location on so he could track you (you had found that out after that first trip back to the frat house to talk with Erwin. It had not been pretty).

 It's hard to believe you put up with it for as long as you did. It was only five months, but that's still five months too long. 

 Mike is quiet for several minutes, and you sigh when you see that his eyes are closed once again. He makes a noise of displeasure when you use your foot to gently shake him, grumbling, "Sto-o-op."

 "Nope. Gotta stay awake, Miche. Can't have you fallin' into a coma or something'."

 "Nooo. No Miche."

 "Yes, Miche," you laugh. 

 He scrunches his face up, shakes his head, but the motion seems to make him sick again. 

 When he finishes gagging into the toilet, he lets out a deep, "Gu-uuh," then sniffs. "No Miche. Jus' she—she—...Jus' her."

 You can figure out the rest, but you can't decide if you want to smile or cry. Only you can call him that. Well, you and his mom. You miss her. And his dad. And Scout. You hope to see them again. 

 "Okay. Just Mike then."

 He hums in confirmation then shakes his hand in the tub so that you'll douse it once again. 

 "You're a needy drunk, you know that?" 

 Mike doesn't respond to that, just takes a few deep breaths as his eyes close yet again. 

 "Sleep now," he mumbles. 

 "No, no sleep now."

 "Sleep now."

 "Oh my fucking god."

 His mouth drops open a little, and the first thing you think to do is splash him in the face with the cup of water. 

 He spits and splutters but doesn't shift much, still wrapped around the toilet. You try not to look inside when you stand and reach to flush what's already gathered, trying to shield some of Mike's face from any flying droplets. Then you wash your hands and sit back down. You figure you'll be here for at least another couple of hours. The sun will be coming up soon. Thank god it's a Saturday. 

 Both Erwin and Nile knock on the door for an update, and you yell that you're okay. Mike isn't throwing up as often, and when he does, nothing is coming up anymore. He's gonna be in a world of pain when he returns to his normal self. 

 So fucking stupid. He's so fucking stupid. 

 He mutters nonsense on and off. Sometimes you can translate what he's trying to say, but other times not so much. 

 "President… dumb boyyy."

 "Hy-poc-risy an' jealous… Hypocrite… I…"

 "Hand… wanna hold…" but when you grab it, he just gurgles, "Waterrr." 

 There's really no pleasing him. 

 "Why-y-y… dick… Erwin."

 "Volcano books… n' space jam… come an' sam… an'... to the jam."

 You laugh too loudly, and Mike cringes at the noise, but the corner of his mouth still lifts. You don't think he knows what he's doing or saying yet—isn't downloading any new memories—it doesn't matter because you will remember this for the both of you. 

 "You're fucking ridiculous."

 Mike pushes himself back from the toilet to sit against the wall, hissing and clumsily rubbing his chest. His shirt is wet and disgusting, and he must know on some level because he says, "Shower," and starts pulling himself over the tub. 

 "Jesus Christ, Mike."

 He's too tall, dangling an arm and a leg over the side and sinking lower. 

 "Water, pleeeease."

 He apparently isn't aware of the faucet that is still on. Whoever has to pay these bills… You feel sorry for them. 

 "No, dude. I am not letting you drown."

 Mike fucking giggles, "Lifeguard," then tries to take his shirt off. He doesn't have the motor skills to handle buttons and looks to be confused by them anyway, so his next solution is to just rip the material down the middle. 

 "Yeah, okay, I guess that works."

 The showerhead is turned on, and you sit on the edge of the tub again, shivering when the cool spray blows toward you while keeping an eye on Mike. Reaching over, you turn the temperature up a little, knowing that the alcohol has dropped his body temperature some. You're almost tempted to slide under the water with him, but there's no room, and you're not about to just make yourself comfortable on top of him.

 So, you just sit and stare and think about how tired you are. Physically and mentally and spiritually tired. You just need some time to not exist—just a few days. It feels like this semester has been nothing but drama so far, and it is exhausting. Maybe that's why Mike did this to himself. Maybe he just needed to not exist. 

 He starts to sit up a little in the tub, but his hand falters and sends him sliding back down. "Fuck."

 Not caring about getting wet at this point, you simply stand up between his spread legs, the shower drenching you immediately, and grab his hands to tug him upright. 

 "ευχαριστώ."

 "Come again?"

 "Means thanks," he mumbles, slumping forward. 

 You think of his family again, how he and his mother had just fallen into Greek as soon as you'd stepped into the house, leaving you surprised and impressed and warm in several different ways. 

 Squatting, you tilt your head to catch his half-lidded gaze. 

 "You back with me yet?" It's been nearly four hours—Fuck, why is there music playing still—but he might need more time. 

 "Dunno."

 "Can you tell who I am?" 

 Mike does his best to roll his eyes. "'m drunk, not a amnes—amnesic—"

 "Amnesiac," you supply with a smirk. Smartass.

 "That," he nods, pointing at you with a finger gun. 

 He can actually understand you now, so that's good, don't have to worry about him dying anymore since he's making progress. 

 Opening his mouth, Mike catches some water in it, swishes and spits. You expect him to tell you that you can leave. He can take care of himself, doesn't want to see you, all manner of hurtful things he has every reason to feel. 

 Instead, he blinks at you, extends his arms, and makes grabby hands. 

 "Can I help you?" 

 He doesn't say anything, just keeps reaching for you. He could grab you without issue. His fingers are already brushing your knees, but he either doesn't notice or wants to wait for you. 

 "Mike, I can't get any closer," you laugh. 

 Switching tactics, he pats his chest. 

 "Oh, no. I am but about to put myself in the line of vom just 'cause you wanna cuddle or some shit."

 Truthfully, you would also like to cuddle, to feel Mike's body against yours again, trace your fingers over his skin and listen to his heartbeat, but…

 Not like this. 

 "Please. No more vom. Promise."

 "I don't think you're in a state to make promises like that."

 He says your name followed by one more, "Please," and you give in, letting out a long breath and grunting as you find a way to lay between his legs with your head on the lower part of his sternum. You're curled a little awkwardly, one foot up against the ceramic while the other is curled beneath you. It is not by any means a comfortable position, but it's what Mike wants. 

 A few months ago, laying like this would inevitably lead to other things. Talking and joking would lead to giggling, maybe some well aimed prods to your ribs. You would bite in retaliation, his shoulder or, if the angle was right, his nipple, until he pulled you up further to sit in his lap, hot mouth finding yours, and so on and so forth. 

 This is different on every possible level. Neither of you are speaking. Your hands are unmoving on each other's bodies. There's no heat save for the water that's pouring down on both of you, plastering your silky costume to your skin. 

 Still, it's enough to lull you into a drowsy state, the ache in your eyes urging you to close them, but as soon as you do, Mike speaks. 

 "'m mad at you."

 Your stomach drops. His words don't come as a surprise, but they still sting. 

 "I know," you sigh. "I'm mad at me too."

 Your head moves with his chest, a gentle up and down that could—and has—put you to sleep. 

 "Still love you."

 You bite your lip, fingers lightly digging into Mike's warm skin as you remind yourself that he's drunk, and he hates you, and he probably won't remember any of this when he wakes up anyway. There's no reason to get emotional over it. No reason. 

 "I love you too, Miche."

 Silence closes in around you once more. You drift in and out for about half an hour until a loud knock jolts you awake. 

 You scramble off of Mike and hop to the door, leaving puddles and drops behind you. Both Nile and Erwin look panicked in the hallway, the shorter man nearly shouting, "Is he fucking dead in there?" 

 "Not deeeead," Mike calls from the tub. 

 Erwin peers over your shoulder at him, then at you, then takes on a disappointed expression. "You didn't. Come on, he's so drunk."

 "What do you—" You frown as you piece together his implication, then squawk and shove Erwin with two wet hands. "I didn't fuck him, you perv! What is wrong with you?" 

 He chuckles and bats away your hands. "I never know with you two! You can't blame me!" 

 "You're disgusting."

 "Look who's talking. Have you seen yourself in the mirror?" Erwin raises his eyebrows. "Less bunny and more… I don't know, ghoul?"

 God, you had completely forgotten about the face paint. 

 "Shut up, yours isn't much better." His black and white paint is smeared in several places like someone ran their fingers through it. The collar of his shirt is stained, and his hair is tousled. You can't tell if it's the result of getting frisky or falling asleep. 

 "Stop flirting in front of meeee," Mike whines loudly, sitting up and pushing the shower knob a little too hard to shut the water off. 

 "We're not—" You and Erwin start at the same time.

 Nile interrupts with a drawn out, unconvinced little note and informs both of you, "You guys get a little flirty sometimes. Sorry to break it to you."

 You frown at the blond and he frowns back, then you both frown at Nile who shrugs. "I'm just saying. There's a reason people are thinking things."

 It's not important, and you'd rather not dwell on it because you know the truth, and Erwin knows the truth, and Mike will if he'll just fucking listen, but he's fucked up right now, so that's a problem for another day. 

 "Whatever, we'll work on it, but for now…" You watch as Mike tries and fails to pull himself out of the tub. 

 "He looks like the girl from The Ring," Erwin snorts. 

 "Yeah, if she was giant. And, a guy," you add. 

 Wet hair is hanging over Mike's eyes, still sopping wet and dripping. He's all awkward angles as he hoists himself up, kicking a leg over and swearing. 

 "We should probably help him," Nile says, fighting his own smile. 

 "Probably."

 Between the three of you, you manage to transport Mike from the bathroom to Erwin's room on the third fucking floor which is no easy feat. Nile waits for his friend to be dumped onto the mattress, then announces that Hitch is waiting for him to come back to bed. You don't know how long that will last, but your friend falling into the same frat boy trap you did is mildly hilarious. 

 It leaves you and Erwin to make Mike comfortable. You wrap his head in a towel you found poking out of the hamper, murmur, "Hope this doesn't have anything gross on it," to which Erwin responds with an unamused look. 

 You peel the ruined, tacky shirt from Mike’s shoulders and toss it into a corner but you let Erwin take care of the rest. You've seen everything Mike has to offer, but that doesn't stop you from feeling weird about seeing his dick when he can't really stop you. So, like Mike did last year when he spilled water on your shirt, you turn your back to allow him some privacy. 

 There's some rustling and grunting, but when Erwin tells you it's safe, you look to find Mike in a pair of gym shorts, hair still wrapped, looking more disgruntled than you've ever seen him. 

 "'m still wet."

 "You sure are, big guy," Erwin agrees, slowly guiding him to lay down on his side and explaining, "You need to sleep like this, alright? Otherwise you might choke and die."

 "Erwin!" You throw your hands up in the air. "Why would you even—?"

 "Know how it works, dumb… butt."

 "Oh, dumb butt. That's a good one," Erwin grins. "Very creative."

 "Don't panotrize me!" 

 You have to cover your mouth to keep from cackling, and Erwin shakes his head, corrects, "Patronize, Mike. Patronize."

 "That's what I said!" 

 It takes a while to get him relaxed again. Apparently, Mike's favorite thing to do while drunk is run his mouth to Erwin, so while he's busy dealing with that, you raid Erwin's closet for a shirt and then his dresser for boxers. Once you are mostly dry, you snatch the towel from Mike's hair to wipe your face and toss it away, then step up onto the bed near the pillows, urging Mike to shift so that you can sit against the headboard. 

 He immediately rests his stubbled cheek on one of your thighs, then wraps both arms around the other, his fingers melting into the fat just below your ass as he grunts, "Mine."

 "All yours, buddy," Erwin assures with a grin before glancing at you. "I'm gonna pass out in the chair—" he gestures to the one in the corner of the room, "—if you need me for anything, just wake me up, okay?" 

 "Yeah, thanks." Then, "Hey, Erwin?" He hums in response. "Don't tell him about tonight, like, me staying with him."

 "Why?" 

 "I don't want him to stress out about what he may have said or done. 'Cause I know he will."

 "Whatever you say," Erwin shrugs, collapsing in the chair without even changing or washing his face. All three of you are gonna look like characters from a horror movie whenever you wake up, and the thought makes you smirk as you card your fingers through Mike's damp hair. 

 It's getting longer. He could probably put it up if he wanted to. He's been letting his beard grow a little too. You aren't sure if it's laziness or just trying a slightly different look, but whatever the case, it's hot. 

 He keeps your leg clutched tightly to him like some kind of stuffed animal until he drifts off to sleep. It's nearing five, and you know you probably won't get any quality rest while you're here, so you figure you'll just doze for a while until you can safely extract yourself from Mike's grip. He probably won't appreciate waking up like this anyway. No matter what he's said to you and Erwin—declarations and staked claims—it'll all be worthless in just a few hours. 

 A symphony of snores plays through the room, Erwin splayed out in his chair like he's passed out in a cheap Vegas hotel while Mike drools on your thigh, and if it was anyone else, you'd be disgusted and shove him away, but since it’s Mike, it’s weirdly endearing. He can slobber on you all he wants, it won’t bother you in the slightest. 

 Eventually, the sun shining through the window becomes too bright for you to even fall into a light sleep, so just as you planned, you gently untangle yourself from Mike, pausing when he grunts and frowns, but when he doesn’t stir any more than that, you manage to slip out of the bed. 

 Grabbing your phone and costume, still a little wet and cold because of it, you leave as quietly as you can. Your shoes are still in the downstairs bathroom along with Mike’s shirt, and you have a legitimate mental debate over whether you really should just toss it, but as much as you hate it, you decide against it. 

 You have to step over several bodies to get to the front door, more than usual which is concerning since the punch Eren spiked was thrown out (or really, thrown all over him), but you’re able to make it out without tripping.

 The drive to your dorm feels too long, sun beaming right into your itchy eyes the entire way. You nearly cry in relief when you finally fall onto your mattress, already well aware that most, if not all, of your day will be spent under the covers. You’re more than fine with it, allowing yourself to just not exist for several hours exactly how you wanted to.

[cuddlesslut]

Part FOUR : Chance Encounters

Atsumu x fem reader, Suna x fem reader, Hinata x fem reader

Tags: slight NSFW, Heavy Angst.

A/N: so this will NOT be the last chapter there will be more. Just like there are more choices now lol, don’t be shy to tell me who you route for. Also let me know if y’all want more NSFW I’m chill with writing it . ALSO slight canon divergence the timing on when Hinata comes back from Brazil is different, obviously in the Manga he’s only gone for two years. In this story it is longer. Hinata isn’t on MSBY yet. Also we are only caught up on 5 months since the dreaded birthday.

Part Three: Memories

Part Five: Friends

You spent your birthday in some hotel room. Sitting on the plush bed still in your dress not bothering to change your curl in to a fetal position as sobs raked through you. Your whole world crashed down on you everything you knew was a lie. Your phone lit up with one last birthday message from some distant relative. You see the time it’s now one in the morning you’ve been laying here for hours you can’t understand how you have any liquid in your body left to cry but still tears trail down your cheeks as you look at your lock screen. It’s a photo from three Christmas’s ago. Atsumu held you close from behind as you pose in front of a festive Christmas tree. Your eyes are shut tight from laughter as the setter places a kiss to your cheek bone, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. This was your favorite photo of the two of you, it always showed the realness in this candid shot. You remember laughing so hard from some cheesy joke he had just whispered in your ear. Your heart twists at the photo, a moment of anger slices through you. Was any of it real? You fling your phone at the wall effectively shattering the screen. You scream into the pillow. You wish you could feel numb to all of the emotions. But no ones that lucky. You aren’t sure when you feel asleep but you wake to find the remnants of tears stuck to your face. You move to the bathroom. You look like death. Your face is pale and eyes swollen and red. Your body aches from the fitful sleep you had. You grab a quick shower before putting on your comfiest pajamas and lay back down. All the energy is drained you look for your phone before remembering your fit of rage last night groan. You switch on the TV for some form of distraction but the gods must really hate you as it opens to a sports channel and you see him in all of his intensity standing on the volleyball court. Part of your brain pleads to change the channel but you must be a masochist as you watch him in all his usual glory. He commands the stadium as he goes up to serve. He looks perfectly fine like you hadn’t just walked out of his life. Like he hadn’t just ripped your world to shreds. You're finally turning the television off sitting in the silence thinking of the memories of your home. You ordered some takeout trying to settle the ache in your stomach. The food tasted bland, everything has lost its edge. The bed offers no comfort. The sunlight offers no warmth. It’s not long before you fall into another depression nap.

Waking up late in the evening you can’t stop your mind from making a stupid decision. But you miss him. You just want to see him. That’s how you end up outside of the door that leads to the home you shared with him. Trying to work up the courage to enter. His car was in his usual spot so you know he's here. A bitter thought run through you at the thought that while you were here he couldn’t be bothered to be home before two am at the earliest, yet the first night gone and here he is at home at ten o’clock. Silently you open the door. It was a mistake. You don’t make it even completely through the threshold before you hear the obnoxious moan and grunts, the sound of skin slapping. It makes you sick “OH Miya-San!” You hear some woman bellow out. You feel nauseous. You hurry out the door trying you best not to cause any noise to interrupt the activities in the house. You bend over you feel as though you’ll throw up right there on the spot. After calming yourself you make a way to a convenience store picking up a bottle of wine before heading back to you hotel room. There’s no way you’ll make it through the night sober.

The next morning you clean your self up before heading to the bank and clear out your joint account. Normally you’d feel bad taking the money but this cash was saved for your wedding and that would never happen now. You stopped by the phone store getting your own account not wanting anymore strings attached to the player. You spend the rest of your morning looking for a small affordable apartment. Luckily you were able to find one with in distance of your school and a reasonable price. It’s now the afternoon and you have to rush not wanting to be late for your class. Although it probably wouldn’t have made a difference if you had missed today, you barely pay attention. You find yourself back with the hotel walls.

You feel completely and utterly alone. You want nothing more to call your best friend or stop by Samu’s shop and cry on his shoulder while you eat some comfort food. But there is hesitation Suna was Atsumu's friend before he was yours, and you'll probably break down in tears just looking at Osamu he was his damn twin for heavens sake. What were you to them you wonder. You only got close to them because of the setter. Part of you wanted to believe that they cared about you and all of those friendships would still be there but you couldn’t. How could they want you around. You really question your place in their lives. It’s hard to trust in anything you had also believed Atsumu loved you and would never hurt you, yet that much was proven untrue. It's hard to trust in anything you feel or know. Another reason is your afraid of all of the memories you shared with them Atsumu ever present in those moments. You don’t want to think about him any more. You don’t want any remnants of that man In your life. While you want to believe Suna would be there for you, that he’d choose you. It was not a risk you were ready to take. You don’t think you could survive another heartbreak. It’s better to leave things as is, to cherish the good memories and not risk tainting them with pain.

It’s been two months since your birthday. You’ve moved into a quaint apartment. You got a job working at a little cafe to pay for rent. Between work and studying for your degree you try to keep yourself busy. It’s hard being on your own. You try to distract yourself with the things that brought you joy. Some days are better than others but all in all everything still hurts. Graduation is only a couple of months away so at least there’s something to look forward too. There are moments that come quite often that you miss your friends but you can’t bring yourself to reach out still untrusting. You look back sometimes and wonder where the lies stopped. You avoid everything that has to do his Atsumu Miya. Even the sight of a simple volleyball brings distress.

Three and half months later the cosmos played another prank on you. It was just another Friday afternoon and you were working in the cafe. You had just helped a young beautiful woman at the counter. She seemed so familiar but you couldn’t quit place it. You could see a puzzled look on her face. Then it hit you. You knew exactly who this woman was. She was the one with your ex fiancé at the restaurant that fateful night. The realization must have struck her too. Her eyes grew wide with worry. Although you weren’t expecting what she did next.

“I AM SO SORRY,” she basically yelling as she bows in front of you. “ I’m so sorry for the part I played in your pain.” She continues. You can tell she is really distressed. You coworkers and a few costumers look at the spectacle. Hating all of the attention now directed toward the both, you beg her to please stand.

“I need you to understand I had no idea, I would never have gone for a taken man.”

You sighed and sent a look to your coworker that you were going to take a quick break. “Would you like a cup of coffee,” you ask her. You never thought That you’d be sitting having coffee with the mistress of the only man you ever loved yet here you are. There’s an awkward silence for a moment. You don’t rush things you can see she’s also having a hard time trying to figure out where to start. You take a sip of your coffee as she finally speaks.

“My names Yuki,” she states.

“YN ,” you offer back.

“Well, umm YN I just want to say I am so sorry for wh-” you cut her off holding up your hand.

“You said you didn’t know, correct?” You send a glance at her raising your eyebrow. She nods.

“Are you still with him?” She sits up straight.

“Absolutely not,” she states with conviction “after you left I asked him what just happed and he explained who you were and I left.. well not with out dumping my drink in face" she gave a little giggle.

“Ha! Oh I wish I could have seen that,” you laughed picturing him drenched in the restaurant. “In that case you have nothing to apologize for, you are a victim of Atsumu’s selfishness as well. I’m sorry he put you through that.” She gave a sad smile you could see she was hurt too. The two of you spent a few more moments in each other’s comfort discussing the facts of his affair. It hurts to know that he had a legitimate relationship with Yuki but a part of you was glad to know. It was a small piece of closure to know how deep his transgressions ran, knowing it wasn’t just sex hurt even more. But it furthered your stance that he didn’t love you and if he had at one point the love had faded on his part some time ago. You spent the rest of your shift plagued with thoughts of you past.

After your shift you went home to change before heading out to your local bar. In your time alone you had taken solace in drinking with strangers. After dressing in an appealing yet comfortable outfit you headed out. You wanted to feel comfy and relaxed but that didn’t stop you from wanting to look nice. In your past visits it wasn’t uncommon for men to try and talk you up and while you did indulge in the compliments none had succeeded in getting you to return home with them. There had yet to be a guy who fully kept your attention away from your former lover.

You found your favorite spot at the bar, just far enough from the blaring music and smokers. You smiled at the bartender before ordering your usual. You sat there letting the liquor relax you as you listened to what music the DJ was playing tonight. Normally you stick to just drinks but after the day you had you need something to take the edge off. After downing a shot of tequila you notice a presence next to you.

“Is this seat taken,” the man smiled at you. You had never seen him here before and you know damn well you would have noticed him before. Although he wasn’t a giant like most of the men you knew in your life, he wasn’t excessively short either you could tell he’d still stand taller than you. You couldn’t lie the man was extremely defined and muscular, you swear his tanned thighs that you saw peeking from under his khaki shorts were bigger than your face. His skin was tanned you can tell from pleanty of time in the sun. He had strong jaw line but his most prominent feature was this bright mop of orange hair he tried to hide under a ball cap. He had a bright smile that reached his alluring brown eyes. It was safe to say he was very handsome. He tilts his head to the side a little smirk reaching his lips. It then you realized you had never responded and just been sitting here gawking.

“Um no it’s not uhh go ahead,” you stammered out feeling a blush creep on to your cheeks at your response. What is this feeling why are you acting like a school girl.

He takes the seat next to you ordering a beer then turning to you reaching out his hand. “ Shoyo Hinata,” he states.

You accept his hand giving it a light shake. “ YN LN,” you responded. “ I’ve never seen you here before Hinata-San,” you prod wanting to know about the stranger.

“Just Shoyo is fine,”he gives you another dazzling smile. “I actually just moved back to Japan,” he states “this is my first time at this bar , but with customers as beautiful as you I’ll definitely have to come more often.” Ohh hes smooth you think. You let out a light chuckle at his compliment although it’s fairly simple compared to some of lines you’ve heard it definitely has the desired affect on you.

“Well then Shoyo where are you traveling from?” Question not wanting the convo to stop.

“I just got back from Brazil,” he mused that signature smile never far from his face.

“Wow Brazil! That’s so far was it hard to be so far from home?”you questioned.

The conversation with Hinata flowed effortlessly. Pleanty of laughes shared as he told you countless stories of his time in South America. Being in conversation with him is like talking to the sun it’s so bright and happy. He does eventually mention playing beach volleyball and for a moment you mind thinks of your ex but it then you realized it was the first time since Sho made his appearance that you had thought of the setter. It felt nice to finally have your mind clearing from the twin. As of recent at any mention of volleyball you would have ended the convo making an excuse to leave, yet you didn’t want to, plus beach volleyball is completely different than regular volleyball you reason.

Time passes by as well do several drinks. You are by no means drunk just a little tipsy. Over the course of your talking the space between Hinata started to narrow. Right now you were so close you could smell his cologne and the slight minty scent of his breath. His hand caressed your elbow. Your breath hitched when he finally leaned in “do wanna get out of here?,” you can see his iris’s darken ever so slightly. “We can go back to my place,” he continued.

Several thoughts ran threw your mind in that moment. One, you were nervous, you hadnt been with anyone other than Atsumu. Two, you were sure you weren’t ready for a relationship but it was just sex it’s not like he’s asking on a romantic vacation. And three you wanted nothing more than to feel his lips against yours. “Absolutely.”

That’s how you got to where you are now. You barely made it through the threshold before Hinata had you pinned to the door. You were locked in a searing kiss. It was like he was stealing the air from your lungs. His hands roamed your figure before slipping under your blouse. “You are absolutely gorgeous,” he breaths before pressing a kiss under your jaw trailing down you neck. You place you hands on his shoulders trying to ground yourself. You let out a loud moan as he gives a bite to your shoulder while grabbing a hand full of you breast. He smiled into you neck with pleasure from the sounds you made. The two of you stumbled a bit as you started making your way to his room shedding clothes left and right. The door closed to the bedroom and you were ready for a mindblowing night.

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[eliemo]

Silence Speaks

Summary: Virgil can't get out of bed. Days like this are nothing new, he just doesn't know how his new family will react to him being so pathetic.

TWs: Depression, depressive episode, brief death mention, self-hatred, temporary nonverbal episode

Notes: Found this fic in my drafts from a few months ago, so I cleaned it up to post since LB and Permafrost are taking a bit. Enjoy <3

Virgil knew it was going to be one of those days when the third hour passed with no change.

Everything was too much. His chest hurt, every breath was just too much work, all he wanted was to sink into the blankets and sleep the rest of his life away. He’d been staring blankly at the wall since he’d woken up, curled up on his side with tears pooling in his eyes. He couldn't get up, couldn’t get back to sleep, couldn’t even call out to ask for help.

It had been a while since he’d had a day like this, when just the thought of getting out of bed made him sick,

They’d used to be more frequent, back when Virgil was alone and shut out, hated and scorned by the people he just wanted to protect. The resentment took its toll, and sometimes he couldn’t find a reason to get out of bed.

It wasn’t supposed to happen anymore. He was supposed to be over this. He was supposed to be better.

He had everything he’d ever wanted. He had his family, Thomas listened to him, and he wasn’t just needed- he was wanted.

He was wanted. He knew he was. Sometimes it was just...hard to convince himself of that, despite the overwhelming amount of kindness he’d been given for months now, the reassurances and patient understanding that felt too good to be true.

But now here he was again, unmoving in the dark of his own room, closed off like the brooding villain he was trying so hard not to be anymore.

God, he didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be anywhere. He didn’t want to be awake, he didn’t want to go back to sleep, and he didn’t want to get up and go downstairs.

He just...didn’t want to do this anymore.

Why couldn’t he just disappear?

Virgil thought he could hear voices downstairs, but nothing was really registering through the fog settling around his head. His room was pitch dark, the curtains pulled tightly shut, leaving it impossible to tell how much time had passed.

He thought it might have been a few hours by now, and he hoped everyone would just continue on with their day and leave him here forever, trapped in his own body with a brain stuck trying to sabotage his happiness. He’d fade away on his own, and they’d forget about him, never bothering to even question his absence.

Virgil knew better than to really believe that. A year ago he could have gotten away with it, he could lock himself up in the dark for days and nobody would care. They’d probably celebrate.

Now...now they would notice he wasn’t coming down for breakfast. He had a job to do, he had people who actually cared. Virgil couldn’t just lay here, pathetic and useless. He was letting himself waste away and fail everyone who had taken a chance on him. They’d given him so much. He couldn’t undo all that progress because he was feeling a little sad.

But he couldn’t get up. He couldn’t. It would be so much easier if he could just die.

Virgil still wasn’t sure how much time had passed, laying there wide awake without the energy to move a single inch, but suddenly a knock on the door sliced through the haze around his brain.

More tears gathered in his eyes, frustration and dread making his chest unbearably heavy. He didn’t want to be ridiculed and yelled at right now. He wasn’t ready to be forced out of bed, selfish as it was to want to stay here.

A few seconds passed before the door creaked open, light spilling in from the hall, the faint smell of coffee wafting into the room.

“Virgil?”

That was Logan, even though Virgil couldn’t bring himself to turn his head to look. The logical side’s voice was comforting and familiar, but he wasn’t sure he could handle his blunt judgment right now.

He’d think Virgil was ridiculous, his refusal to leave his room illogical and stupidly selfish. He’d made everyone worry for nothing. Anxiety was just being lazy again.

“Virgil, it’s almost eleven,” Logan said, and Virgil kind of wished he could just die right here and now. Death would get him out of being lectured. “You need to wake up and eat something. You missed breakfast.”

Virgil still couldn’t move, but his breath caught in his throat at the reminder. He knew he was being stupid, and he knew he was behind schedule, but the thought of food just made him feel nauseous.

He heard footsteps, carefully tracking Logan’s movements as he came closer and listened as he carefully set down what was probably a mug of coffee on the dresser.

“Virgil?” he called, and it was getting harder and harder to see as more tears built up. “Are you awake?”

Virgil still couldn’t bring himself to answer, even as Logan moved around to the side of the bed. Virgil didn’t glance up to his face, but there was no way Logan couldn’t tell that the anxious side’s eyes were open and aware.

He tensed, waiting for anger and judgment, or even just an annoyed huff. He waited to be told that it was easy to get out of bed and Virgil was just being difficult, that he needed to stop being so pathetic or they had no reason to keep showing him so much kindness.

He needed to be useful, or they wouldn’t want him around anymore.

But Logan was suddenly kneeling down to his level, eyes kind and worried behind his glasses.

“Are you alright?” he asked, frowning when Virgil just clenched his jaw in response. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Virgil couldn’t force words to form no matter how badly he wanted to, and to his dismay a few tears slipped free, trailing down his jaw and seeping into the pillow.

Logan’s expression softened, but the concern in his eyes only grew. He reached forward, slow and careful, and somehow Virgil managed to move just enough to latch desperately onto his hand.

He didn’t have the energy to choke out any apologies, although he was almost certain Logan was about to demand one.

“That is alright,” the logical side said instead. “You do not have to talk. Do you think you can manage a nod or headshake?”

Virgil forced himself to respond with the tiniest of movements, even though just reaching up to take Logan’s hand had felt like running a marathon.

“Alright,” he said gently. “Are you feeling ill?”

Virgil wished he was just sick. That would be so much easier to explain. Being sick was fixable, and it wouldn’t look like he was just making excuses to be lazy.

But he didn’t see the point in lying, and he certainly didn’t have the energy to deal with even more anger if he was found out. He managed a small shake of his head, even as Logan reached up with his free hand to carefully feel his forehead. He had to force himself not to lean into the touch.

“Are you in pain?”

Yes. Everything hurt so bad and he wanted it to stop. His chest felt like someone was sitting on it, his head felt like something was pounding at the back of his skull, and every bone in his body felt heavy and useless.

But he couldn’t say that, because he knew it was all in his head. It wasn’t real.

He shook his head again, choking on a small sob, and something like realization dawned in the other side’s eyes.

“I see,” Logan said. “Is this...just a bad day, then?”

Logan had finally figured it out, because of course he had. Virgil being stupid and useless probably wasn’t a difficult conclusion to come to, anyway.

He nodded, tense and staring at nothing as he waited for Logan to rip his hand away and demand Virgil grow up and stop wasting everyone’s time. Or maybe he’d just roll his eyes and leave, closing the door and locking Anxiety back in the dark where he belonged.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Logan said, and to Virgil’s surprise his hold only tightened. “Are you able to get out of bed?”

More tears welled up at the question, dread rising in his chest. Because he couldn’t imagine even standing up right now, but of course he couldn’t expect to be able to get away with that. Logan was being polite about it, but they had a schedule to stick to.

“It’s alright if the answer is no,” Logan continued. “I have no intention of forcing you. I only thought it might be easier to take care of you today if you’re set up on the couch.”

Wait...what? Take care of him?

Logan seemed to sense his confusion, and the hand that wasn’t currently being held hostage moved to run gently through his hair, smiling sadly at Virgil’s barely audible whimper.

“If you’re more comfortable here you can stay. But I know being left alone with your thoughts is not always...ideal. We can keep you company in the living room if you like. If you’re overstimulated, the lights will be kept dim, and the noise to a minimum.”

Virgil hesitated, trying to figure out if Logan was joking- or if this was some kind of cruel trick to teach him a lesson. They didn’t need to do anything. He didn’t deserve it. And he wasn’t sick, he was just being a baby.

Logan was suddenly cupping Virgil’s cheek, wiping tears away with his thumb. “There is nothing to be ashamed of, Virgil. Would you like help sitting up?”

And Virgil felt ridiculous, because he had no real reason to feel so weighed down, but he gave another timid nod.

Logan didn’t even hesitate before moving to help, a steadying hand against Virgil’s back as he guided him up to lean against the headboard. He didn’t complain, didn’t lecture Virgil about how inconsiderate he was being, just silently assisted and pulled away when he was done.

Again Virgil wanted to apologize, but the words got stuck in his throat, buried deep beneath the fatigue.

“There is no need for an apology,” Logan said, and Virgil wondered when he’d become so predictable. “If you aren’t able to walk, I’m sure Roman would be more than happy to carry you to the couch. I only need your permission to inform him and Patton of what is happening.”

Virgil wasn’t sick or injured, he was competent enough to get himself out of bed and down the stairs. People were busy, and he was already being awful by forcing Logan to stay.

But just the thought of getting out of bed and walking out of his room was enough to make him want to bury himself under the covers and dissolve into sobs. He curled in on himself and eyed Logan warily, hoping that was enough of an answer.

“Alright,” Logan said, squeezing Virgil’s hand. “I’ll go get him, just wait here a moment.”

Logan squeezed Virgil’s hand, and he’d known the logical side long enough to know the smile he sent was nothing but genuine.

Virgil felt cold when Logan pulled his hand away and moved off the bed, but being unable to talk meant he couldn’t call him back as he disappeared through the door.

He let out a shaky breath and pulled his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He squeezed teary eyes shut as he rested his chin on his knees.

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before Virgil heard footsteps in the hallway, his bedroom door creaking open as the creative side cautiously stepped inside the doorway with a small frown.

Virgil tensed, because if anyone was going to make fun of him for this it would be Roman- well meaning but so brash and over the top at times- and he could already picture Roman’s mocking laughter, his exasperation as he tried to just drag Virgil out of bed, his—

“Hey there,” Roman called, softer than Virgil could ever remember him sounding. “Feeling under the weather today, Stormcloud?”

Virgil shrugged, hunching his shoulders and staring at his own hands. From the look in the Prince’s eyes, it was clear he understood.

“That’s ok,” he said, ducking his head to meet Virgil’s eyes as he smiled and made his way to the bed. “Bad days happen, Doom and Gloom. You just have to ask for help.”

Virgil let out a pitiful whine, the closest he could get to telling Roman that he couldn’t. Even if he could, he didn’t know how. He’d never been able to ask for help before. The Prince’s smile turned sad, and he slowly lowered himself on the bed beside Virgil.

“I know,” Roman said, and Virgil watched as he opened his arms in a quiet invitation, looking so ridiculously hopeful. “But we’re here now.”

Virgil broke. What little walls he’d still been holding up crumbling at the Prince’s simple words, and he choked on a sob, vision blurring with the tears he finally allowed to fall. He collapsed forward into Roman’s chest, shuddering when strong arms wrapped around and pulled him close.

Roman didn’t speak, and he didn't force Virgil to even try, just held him tight and rocked them both on the edge of the bed, the Prince’s chin hooked over Virgil’s head, almost cocooning him in safety.

Roman held him, strong but gentle all the same, letting Virgil cry into the Prince’s shirt as long as he needed, hushing him through violent sobs. He didn’t rush him, didn’t tease or berate him, just kept him close and safe.

“I’m here,” he said when Virgil had quieted down a bit. “Is it ok if I take you downstairs now? Logan and Pat are worried about you.”

Virgil nodded with his face still buried in Roman’s chest, breath catching in his throat when the Prince carefully maneuvered them both towards the end of the bed. He kept one arm wrapped firmly around Virgil’s back, the other hooking under his knees.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered when Virgil clutched desperately at the back of his shirt, squeezing his eyes shut as Roman stood from the bed, Virgil secure in his hold. “We’ve all got you, Virge.”

Virgil kept his eyes closed, breaths coming out as nothing more than pitiful, hiccuping sobs. He didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want to talk to anyone, look at anyone, or be seen by anyone. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to exist today.

But Roman’s embrace made him forget that for just a moment. The memory of Logan’s comfort and the promise of Patton’s care made it just a little more bearable.

It was all a blur, Virgil barely able to focus on the world around him, overwhelmed and so so exhausted. The curtains in the living room were drawn, keeping the room comfortably dim, and Patton and Logan moved quietly, keeping everything blissfully peaceful.

Roman set him down on the couch, letting Virgil curl up on his side and pull the nearest blanket over him, taking a moment to run his fingers through the anxious side’s hair.

Patton kneeled beside him, searching his watery eyes for silent permission before leaning in to kiss Virgil’s forehead with a soft smile.

“Hey kiddo,” he said, just as loving as Logan and Roman had been. “You want your old dad to make you some hot chocolate?”

Virgil blinked, not sure how to respond to that. It sounded nice, but...but he was already convincing them enough. They were all busy, and probably annoyed and—

“It’s not an issue, honey,” Patton assured, like he could sense Virgil’s internal panic. “We didn’t have much planned for today. You can relax.”

He had his suspicions that Logan had actually just changed their schedule in favor of keeping an eye on Virgil while he rested, but he wasn’t exactly in the place to ask questions, as panicked as the thought made him. He’d make it up to them tomorrow.

Virgil couldn’t quite look Patton in the eyes, but the parental side seemed so eager to help, and...hot chocolate didn’t sound terrible. He gave a hesitant nod, chest loosening a bit at the way Patton positively beamed.

Patton hurried into the kitchen, only to come back less than five minutes later with the biggest mug Virgil had ever seen, overflowing with marshmallows and whipped cream. Roman perched on the arm of the couch, close enough to keep running his fingers through Virgil’s hair.

“Just rest, Virgil,” Logan said, smiling when Virgil took his hot chocolate with unsteady hands. “We can put on a movie if you like. Or we can leave you alone if you’re overwhelmed.”

Virgil bit his lip, a few stray tears still running down his cheeks and dripping onto the couch. It was a bad day, not his first and definitely not his last but it wasn’t the worst he’d ever had. It was already getting a little better.

He took a steady breath, raising his head to meet Logan’s eyes, mustering what little energy he had to force his voice to work again, the words small, breathy and ragged, but clear all the same.

“Stay? Please?”

Logan smiled, Roman scooted closer, and Patton gave Virgil’s forehead another kiss. They gathered around him on the couch, similar to how they usually ended up after a bad panic attack.

Roman and Logan ended up on either side of him, while Patton let Virgil put down his mug for a second to wrap his arms around the moral side’s waist, relishing in the warmth of one of Patton’s hugs.

There had been more days like this than Virgil could count, everything weighing down on him until he just wanted to disappear. He’d never...had this before. He’d always been alone, locking himself away until he could face his own existence again.

This time his family was on all sides, Patton holding him tightly, Logan taking his hand, Roman still playing with his hair, reminding him that it would be ok soon. He had a reason to fight through it.

Virgil couldn’t bring himself to thank them, not out loud again, but he knew they understood.