#pacing wringing my hands sobbing vomiting

[getyinyusedtoit]

distraught, actually.

[seiyasabi]

Yamaguchi’s Awakening

(Here’s a Yandere Yamaguchi Tadashi x Female Reader story :PP I know you only mentioned a Mommy fic, but I kinda added a lil more ‘spice’ to that lol, so I hope that’s okay! If not, feel free to message me! Also, he’s known the stutter, so I made it a bit prevalent in the story. Sorry if that’s annoying.

TW: !Noncon/dubcon!, Mommy kink!, !You are p mean lol, Painslut Yama!, Masochist Yama!, You physically fight him but he loves it, practically wrestles you to the floor!, thigh fucking, creampie!, Calls himself baby boy but alternates that w ‘pig slut!’, etc.. 

Please proceed with caution!) 

You woke up to Tadashi’s moans, eyes practically popping open in both terror and confusion. You’d taken a nap whilst waiting for him to come home from work, but you hadn’t expected to wake up to such a lewd sound. 

Pushing yourself up with shaky arms, your slip’s thin straps slide off of your moisturised shoulders, causing more of your cleavage to show in the skimpy garment. Tired eyes land on the green haired man’s slumped form, his long, lean body practically falling off of a plush chair on the other side of the room. His large hand is fisting his cock at an alarming pace, while his hips stutter upwards to meet his ministrations. 

“What the hell are you doing?” You frown in mild annoyance, scoffing in disgust. Is he really getting off to your sleeping form? 

“Mu-Mommy!” His face is pulled into the perfect Ahegao expression, tongue lolling out stupidly, as drool drips down his chin. Beads of sweat intermix with his perfectly scattered freckles, and if it weren’t for the fact that Tsukishima helped him kidnap you, you most likely would have found it arousing, “Puh-Please pu-punish me! I-I’m such a-a bad boy!” 

Screwing your face up in disgust, you practically spit venom at him, “Oh my God, you’re fucking disgusting. How dare you-” 

With a loud whine, he cums. His liquidy release coats his chest in large streaks, partially splashing himself in the face with his own spunk. The liquid creates a large puddle on the floor, demonstrating just how much semen he’s stored in his purple tinged balls. The sight before you has left you absolutely speechless, as Tadashi keens and whines for you to punish him. 

“Please, please, Mommy! I-I need you to-” 

“What the actual fuck did I just witness?” Your eyes never leave the puddle on your room’s wood look tile, “Oh my God, you’re such a disgusting pervert.”

At your words, the freckled man practically throws his naked body onto your lap, “Yu-you chose me! That means that you love me, right? A-and if Mommy loves me, she should punish me for being bad! Please hit me!” His previously softened cock is now standing back at attention, humping at your exposed legs. 

One of your perfectly manicured hands (thanks to Yamaguchi’s hard work) shoves his head off of your stomach, “Get the fuck off of me! Clearly, I chose wrong, because you’re just a slobbering pig!” Tears bead his large eyes, but the tall man doesn’t back down. He continues to try to rut against you, causing your shoves to become more violent, until you effectively shove him off of your bed. He lands on the hard ground with a ‘smack,’ as he moans on impact. 

“Ye-yes! Hi-hit me mu-more! I de-deserve it, your baby bu-boy deserves it!” He tries once more to crawl his way onto you, but you react far quicker than him. You use the ball of your foot to push him away by the forehead, dropping him back onto the cold floor. 

“Stay the fuck away from me! I knew I should’ve liked your asshole for a best friend, at least he wouldn’t be such a fucking weirdo!” You push yourself off of your bed, trying to escape to the bathroom, but it’s to no avail. Tadashi, in some sort of lucidity, drags you to the ground with him. His lean form tries to trap you to the floor, but your thrashing limbs and harsh elbows keep him from getting too close, “Stop it! Let go of me-”

“Du-don’t say you want someone else! Your precious piggy will do anything you want! Let your baby boy make his Mommy feel good!” You end up on your back, allowing your hands to worm their way between the two of you, and create a small distance. Taking full advantage of that, you get a single hand up by your face, which gives you the perfect opportunity to slap the dogshit out of the feral man. 

He moans breathily, as if he’s savouring the feeling of your harsh touches, “You’re fucking pathetic, Yamaguchi. No one would willingly choose you, which is why you lied and manipulated me!” You smack him multiple more times, his freckled, drooly cheeks quickly becoming bright red. You force your knees against his toned stomach, kneeing him uncomfortably in the ribs, which he just pushed more of his weight on. 

“Yes! Yes! Tell me more of the things you hate about me! Your harsh words are almost enough to make me cum!” Screwing up your face in absolute fury, you punch him in the throat, whilst simultaneously kicking him in the cock, causing him to cum immediately with a small scream, “Mu-Mommy, your piggy is cumming!” His hot, watery cum lands on your slip clad body, making you want to vomit. So, in a last ditch effort, you shove him off whilst he’s still recovering from a second intense orgasm. 

Scrambling to your feet, you make a break for the bathroom door, only to be dragged down to the floor by a firm grip on your ankle. Tadashi’s hot, wet body slots itself on top of yours, effectively pinning you down. Although he may be quite slim, his sheer size is enough to weigh you down. 

“Get off of me! You’re fucking sick!” He pants next to your ear, practically trying to mount you like a dog. His chest is firmly against your back, pushing down your lower half. His knees spread yours apart, allowing him to slot himself between your legs. 

You try to hit him, but because he’s behind you, your hits don’t land very hard. Both of his hands fumble whilst he tries to push your panties down, causing you to thrash even more than before. Growing tired of your ministrations, he rips the garment from your pussy. 

“Stop it! Yamaguchi, get off of me! Don’t do this to me!” Tears drip down your face in thick rivulets, as you sob in pure fury, “I-I’ll never forgive you! I’ll never forgive a pathetic fuck like you! I should have never become your friend- you don’t deserve any!” He lightly moans at your words, not quite listening to what you have to say, but enjoying your harsh tone. 

“Ye-yes, Mommy! Threaten me! I love how you belittle me so well!” He then tries to force his long cock inside of you, but is unsuccessful. You’d just barely moved your thighs together in time, blocking him from breaching your unprepared walls. But, that doesn’t seem to faze him, as he starts to hump your sweat slickened thighs, “Oh-oh my God, your thighs feel so good, Mommy! Your piggy slut loves them!” His eyes are practically rolling to the back of his head, as multiple squirts of precum escape his cock, slicking your pussy opening inadvertently. 

You throw your elbows at his head again, but he just lets them hit him, relishing your harsh blows. If anything, your attempted hits trigger him to hump you even faster. Which, in turn, unfortunately, causes him to accidentally hook his cockhead on your cunny opening, and force his prick inside of you. Your mouth gapes in both shock and pain, as you let out a shrill scream. He slams a sweaty hand over your mouth, fortunately minding your nose, letting you breathe through it. His entire body is convulsing, as he sits inside of you, relishing your twitching walls around his cock. 

“Mu-Mommy’s piggy lu-loves Mommy’s pu-pussy!” In quick, sudden movements, he bucks his hips into yours, his breeder balls slapping against your clit with every thrust. Your pants and light moans are muffled behind his hand, as you continue to cry and try to get free. Your thrashing does nothing but seat you further on his long cock, allowing him to hit your g-spot with every movement. Your pussy gushes at his ministrations, as you fall limp, “Fu-fuck, Mommy! Mommy, I-I’m gunna cum!” 

Your slack mouth tries to deny him, but your eyes practically roll up into your skull as you cum suddenly, spraying girl cum on his cock and on the floor below your chest, practically covering your entire torso. Feeling your orgasm milking his cock, Yamaguchi cums quickly after you, filling you to the brim with his watery, overabundant cum. It was like he was trying to fill every crevice inside of you with his milk, relishing how well you take him. You practically collapse to the ground, no longer having the strength to hold yourself off of the now slick wood look tile. This, in turn, causes his still cumming cock to fall out of you, spraying your ass and thighs with his seed. 

Yamaguchi strokes himself, trying to wring out as much cum as possibly on your crumpled, fucked out form. He looks down at you with an innocent grin, before smooching you kindly on the face, “Thank you, Mommy, your baby boy feels sooo much better, now that I’ve filled your pretty cunny! Do you want a bath?” 

You say nothing, seemingly still in shock at what just transpired. Yams coos at you, trying to gain your attention, but when you don’t respond, he takes it upon himself to clean you up. 

“It’s okay, sometimes when Tsukki would experiment with me, I’d be too sore to move, too! Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re all pretty and clean after a long, hot bath.” 

With wobbly legs, the tall man stalks off to the bathroom, not batting an eye at your weird silence. 

[otptings]

Countless Moons

-Idol; Niki

-Word Count; 3k+

-Genre; 13+, angst , two endings (one horror, one ambiguous fluff)

-Warnings; detailed death, blood, cussing, aged up Niki, mentions of eating disorder, descriptions of grief multiple breakdowns, mentions of vomiting, self harm, insanity

-Synopsis; 2 years ago you witnessed your boyfriends death firsthand. Now after his 2 year death anniversary weird occurrences have started happening.

-A/n - here is my warning, this has a really detailed death scene that caused me to become choked up while writing this. if you do not think you can handle that please do not read this. requests are open for Enhypen (super small print is a dream, italics are flashbacks)

"I'm sorry."

Tears dripped down your cheeks. Fat and warm as they landed on your hands that you were wringing. Staring at the gravestone in front of you.

Riki Nishimura.

December 9th 2005- November 30th 2020.

Gone too soon.

It was the second anniversary. That means two years. Two years since you've witnessed him get hit by a car. When you thought too long about it you could remember that day perfectly.

That dreaded day.

Seeing his purple hair and the pout on his face after he had gotten lectured by the soccer coach because of it. The sun beating down on you, warming you despite the cold breeze that threatened to force you to put on a jacket. Niki's jacket that he always left for you just in case. Watching as he dribbled the ball, confidence displayed on his face as he kicked it toward the goal. Tossing his arm over K's shoulder as he cheered, turning to face you. Raising his fist, a smile on your face as you happily cheered for him.

Tugging said jacket closer around your body as another cold breeze brushed by. The clouded sky only made the day more dismal. Knowing that not even the sun would shine on you, as if it knew what this day meant.

"I should've listened to you," You wiped away your tears releasing a shaky laugh, "If I was more careful you would never had have to run after me."

The gravel digging into your knees and palm. Hearing your jeans rip as you hit the ground. Turning around in time to see the car hitting Niki. You could hear crunches, and a thud as he hit the ground. A blood curling scream was heard, but you don't know if it was from you or Niki. The driver of the car veered into a tree, who you later found out was drunk, passing out against the wheel.

The horn blared as you ran over to Niki, placing his head in your lap. His purple hair appearing red faintly, his eyes fluttering shut. Begging him to stay awake, tears blurring your vision as you cupped his cheek . Eyes widening you say blood dripping from his forehead.

So much blood.

The crimson liquid spilling around his body, seeping into your clothes as you held him closely. Looking around you saw bystanders staring on in disbelief, watching as you cried over his body in the middle of the street.

By the time the ambulance showed up Niki had stopped breathing. More screams and tears leaving you as the paramedics pulled you off of his body. One of them wrapped a silver blanket around you, another called your parents. You watched as they attempted to revive Niki.

They weren't successful.

His time of death was 5:37 pm.

"I wish you were here with me. I still sleep with the teddy bear your mom gave me, the one that used to be yours." A bitter sweet memory, his mom coming to your house with tears in her eyes. Handing you a box of his belongs. She hugged you tightly, muttering a sorry, before giving you her number. That was 2 years ago, before they moved to Osaka.

You couldn't blame her.

The box was precious to you. Filled with various teddy bears that he had around his room, various assortment of clothes, and letters that he had written you.

Goosebumps erupted over your skin as you felt eyes on you. Was someone watching you? Raking your eyes over the tree line, you thought you saw a glimpse of purple. Chills ran through you. It was time to leave anyway, it was past 7 pm.

Placing the narcissus flower on his grave, you stood up not bothered by the grass stains on your jeans. Pulling the jacket closer to your body, you headed to the gateway of the graveyard.

As you approached the archway you felt an urge to turn around. It was strong, like someone whispering it directly in your ear. Glancing over your shoulder you saw someone crouching over his grave, exactly where you were mere moments ago. The flower you placed in the figures hand as they stood up. An involuntary gasp left your mouth, and then the figure was gone. Vanishing into thin air.

"Niki?"

-

The sun beamed down on him reflecting his silver hair as he stepped into the river. Niki turned to you with a giant smile on his face, his hand up covering his eyes from the son. Strangely you couldn't make out his eyes. You let out a laugh watching as the bottom of his jeans got soaked by the water where he hadn't pulled them high enough. He looked down at the flowing water, a pout on his lips.

The water seemed to continue rising, as fear shown in his eyes. Just like the day the car hit him. You tried to scream at him, tell him to get out of the water, but no words left your mouth. A wave rose out of the water and hit Niki. A gurgled noise filled the air as you ran to the river. You ran into the river, desperately looking for him when you something grab your leg and yank you under the water. You were met by dark red eyes, and a fanged smile.

He let out a laugh as the water filled your lungs. When your vision started to get blurry he whispered in your ear.

"Be back soon love."

-

No fucking way. Your stomach dropped as you read the text.

Niki Niki 💞

Hi baby

Your hand shook as you quickly blocked the number. This was a sick fucking joke. Nausea flooded your stomach, and you felt bile rise in your throat. Dropping to your knees you started to get choked up. Covering your mouth you tried to quiet the sobs leaving your mouth.

Who the fuck would hack a dead persons phone? Why would you think that was okay?

Seeing Niki's contact appear made your heart drop. Memories flashed through your mind.

His face lighting up after the goal, when he looked at you in the bleachers and knew that he wanted to make you proud. His smile shining brighter than the sun. Whining when he pulled you into his arms after, laughing as he rubbed his sweaty cheek against yours. His hair stuck to his forehead when he leaned down to you, placing a kiss on your cheek.

Hearing the sound of his body hitting the ground. Holding him tightly to your body, begging anybody to help you. Feeling his blood soaking through your jeans, sticking them to your skin like paper mache. Watching him open his mouth as he tried to talk to you. The panic in his eyes as his breathing got more ragged. A gurgling noise presenting itself as his lungs filled with blood. Seeing his eyes becoming glazed over as you held him to your chest, begging him to stay awake.

You should've held him tighter that day. Kissed him a little harder. Not bothered worrying about his sweaty jersey. Just cherished the time that you spent with him.

Unknown

this looks weird I know but please listen to me

meet me in the place where we first met

I need to see you love

-

Tears streamed down your face as you held your legs close to your chest. Your skirt was covered in mud and grass stains. The bottom of it was torn where it had snagged when you tried to run away from them. Quiet cries left your mouth as you hid under the bleachers, praying that the bullies would leave you alone. You covered your mouth as you heard them getting closer, chants of your names.

"Come out piglet."

"Yea piglet. You love to play in the mud right?"

"Come out come out piglet." Their laughter got quieter as they walked further away. You slowly relaxed. You just had to wait out here til the bell rung. Only flaw in your plan was that you had no clue what time it was.

"Are you okay?" You jumped pulling your legs closer as you heard someone. Turning to your right you saw a boy with dark brown hair, hanging shaggily over his eyes. He held out his hand, attempting to help you stand up. When he realized you weren't gonna grab it he sat down beside you, not caring about the mud getting on his clean uniform. "My names Niki. What's yours?"

Niki didn't seem bothered at your silence. Taking off his jacket he handed it to you.

"I see your uniforms dirty. You can wear my jacket for the day if you like." Reluctantly you took his jacket, slipping it over your arms as he watched you with a smile. You stared at him weirdly as the bell finally run. Recess was over and you had successfully escaped your bullies.

Standing up Niki held his hand out to you again. This time you took it.

"Thank you." His smile only grew larger.

"Of course. I think we're gonna be friends."

-

"This is fucking stupid." Your words got sucked into the quiet of the night. You knew the Niki was dead. You witnessed his death. Held him in your arms as he died and choked on his own blood. Even spoke a eulogy for his funeral. He was dead as doorknob.

Here you were though. Pacing back and forth underneath of the bleachers. Sneakers crunching the dry grass. It was the middle of December. Instead of studying I was waiting to see who hacked my dead boyfriend's phone.

And what specifically was I waiting for? To have them appear then force them to apologize? They have no morals if they could hack a dead teen's number. What makes me think that any useful would happen from this.

"Fuck!" You growled as you crouched down, tears burning at our eyes. "He's not fucking coming back." You tried to convince yourself. "Everyday was supposed to get easier without you, but they're only getting worst and worst." An uncontrollable wail left your lips. You grabbed your hair, pulling it as you tried to ground yourself.

Nothing made sense anymore. Niki died at 15. It's been 2 years and you're still holding on to him.

"He isn't coming back." You wiped your tears with the sleeve of the hoodie, sniffling as you stood up.

"Who's not coming back?" Whirling around your mouth went dry. A gasp left your mouth as dizziness overcame you. "Are you okay? You look pale."

Him screaming your name was the last thing that you heard before you fainted.

-

"How could you bring her here? She has no fucking clue?"

"And leave her there?"

"He's right this is the best choice."

"Bringing her here is dangerous for all of us. Especially here."

"If you guys even touch her I'll kill you."

"We would never."

"What if she finds out what you are?"

-

Your eyes flickered open at the sound of harsh whisperings. Sitting up slowly you looked around the room. It was a stereotypical boys room, posters on the wall and clothes scattered across the floor. Turning to the nightstand something caught your eye. Picking up the picture frame you saw it was a picture of you and Niki.

Freshman year homecoming. First dance since you started dating, almost 5 years after you met for the first time. Our parents forced us to take pictures, changing up our poses every couple of photos. This was ironically the most hated one from that day.

The sun was blazing, beaming down as your parents snapped photo after photo. His arms wrapped around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. He whispered jokes into your ears, causing laughs to flow freely. Every picture was almost the same. Niki's lips close to your ear, a wide smile on your face as you laughed.

Tears started to blur your vision as you set the picture frame down, albeit with a little bit of a thunk. The whispers went quiet outside, obviously they all had heard it. Someone turned the doorknob with a click before pushing it open, peeking their head in. Light in the hallway shone behind them, obscuring their face. They closed the door quickly, the whispers starting back up.

What the fuck was happening? You pulled your knees to your chest, pulling the blanket tighter around your body. This had to be another nightmare. Yea. Just a silly little dream. Where my dead boyfriend rose from the dead, texted me, and then took me to some strange house. Of course totally normal dream behavior.

Suddenly someone quickly stepped into the room, closing the door behind them with a resolute thud. You threw your hand over your eyes, covering them from the harsh light that abruptly turned on. Blinking a few items, you looked at the person as your vision cleared.

"This is a sick dream." Tilting his head to the side Niki started to walk over to you. Throwing your hands up you stopped him in his tracks. "Stay the fuck away. You are not Niki. I saw him die." His face softened as he stood in the middle of the room, brown eyes showing sadness.

"I am Niki."

"You're fucking not! I saw him die! I held him as he fucking died!" He jumped at your screams, looking taken aback as tears streamed down your face.

"Love. Please let me explain."

"Don't fucking call me that! Only Niki can call me that!" With a sob you curled yourself into a ball. Praying for this nightmare to end. There is no way Niki is alive.

Thud. Warm blood. Gurgle.

Thud. Warm blood. Gurgle.

He was dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Another guttural sob left your mouth, holding yourself tighter in hopes that you could just disappear. You flinched as you felt at the feeling of getting touched, a hand placing itself on back. He rubbed soothing circles as he whispered into your ear, words reassuring you that it was truly him.

"I'm sorry love." At the sound of that, overwhelming thoughts to go to sleep flooded your mind. You opened your eyes, confused at what was happening as you gripped onto Niki's shirt. An apologetic look on his face before everything went black for the second time that night.

-

"I know that you pity me. Some of you feel bad because of what I witnessed. The death of my best-friend, and boyfriend. But you shouldn't. I've known him 5 years but he has made the greatest impact on me. I look at everything in a positive light because of him. I work my hardest because he constantly encouraged me to. Niki was the best person that I know and I feel as if we should all live in his honor. I'm happy that he isn't suffering. I know that Niki is happy wherever he is. And if there is a Heaven he is definitely there. Niki if you can hear me I love you. I'm so grateful that I got to know you. I'll be with you again someday. The sun will shine on us again."

-

Niki Niki💞

I took the liberty of unblocking my number

when you wake up please text me

if you give me the chance I will explain everything

Love🦦

hurry

-

Here we were. Niki sitting on the opposite side of the bed from, just looking at you. Apart of you wished that this was real. That Niki was really in front of you. Drinking in his appearance you let a sigh leave your mouth.

Niki was in front of you.

His hair hung messily in his face, now grey instead of his signature purple at the time of his 'death'. Every other part of him looked normal. A hoodie hanging off of his skin frame, the same one that he wore for soccer practice with his jersey number on the back. He hasn't aged a day.

"I know you're confused," His voice broke the silence, seemingly the only thing that has changed. Having heard it multiple times you hadn't realized that it had gotten deeper, "please just let me explain. If you want nothing to do with me afterwards I'll let you go. I just missed you."

He ran his fingers through hair, before pulling the hoodie over his head. A nervous trait of his. It's nice to see that some things never change.

"I died. I remember the fear that I had that day, how you held me tightly in your arms, choking on my own blood. I remember all of it, and I truly did die." You stared at him, more confusion after part of his explanation than you had before.

"I was scared when I woke up here. I had all of the memories of my death, but woke up with no scars. No physical sign of the accident. Heeseung was the one that comforted me. He told me that I was chosen. Talked about fate's arrows and connecting two worlds. My memory of the speech is hazy after two years." Scooting closer to you he grabbed one of your hands, intertwining your fingers.

"You've been here this whole time?" Regret shone in his eyes as he nodded, "Why didn't you tell me?" His face dropped at your voice. Desperation was clear in the way that your voice cracked.

"I couldn't. They told me I would put in danger. That you would reject what I am now."

Niki cupped your cheek wiping your stray tears. Sighing you nuzzled your face into his palm. His hand was cold. The same coldness that filled you for years after his death.

"I missed you so much. I fought myself day and night. I needed you too. I'm sorry love."

All the nights filled with tears, sobbing until your throat was sore and your head felt like it would explode from the pressure. School days filled with people staring, whispering to each other about the poor girl that witnessed her boyfriends death. Bile rising in your throat every time you ate, thoughts of Niki bleeding out in your arms, remembering scrubbing the blood off of you in the shower. You never could keep food down, rushing to the bathroom after every meal. Tears flooding your eyes as you gagged, constant flashbacks.

But Niki is here. In front of you. His hand cupping your cheek, whispering apologies into the air between you. Maybe everything would be okay.

-

It's been two years. Two years since you've found out that Niki was still alive. As a vampire, but 'alive' nonetheless.

Leaving town was always your plan. After Niki's death what was left for you in Okayama? You always thought about going to South Korea, or maybe even to America. Somewhere to get a full fresh start. Not being known as the dead boy's girlfriend. Who wasted away due to grief. Who died 3 years after his death, a brutal suicide that raked the town.

You were the real Romeo and Juliet. Two young lovers separated at 15, death forcing them to part. You never recovered from his death, so at 18 you followed him. After your funeral your family left town, not being able to bare the pain.

It was a fresh start for you. And Niki.

Your love Niki. Who laid now on your chest as you watched a movie, a cult classic funnily enough. The other members spread out on various couches. Looking down at Niki you ran your fingers through his hair, a sigh leaving his mouth as he relaxed. Grabbing your other hand Niki placed a kiss on it, a smile blossoming across your lips.

In the dead of winter, under countless moons you were together again.

-

thank you for reading this, I really hoped that you enjoyed it. I tried to make it the ending as fluffy as possible without ruining the vibe I had going for the whole oneshot. underneath of this is the alternate ending if you want to go insane read it. it does contain mentions of insanity, and self harm. you have been warned

-

It's been two years. Two years since you've found out that Niki was still alive. As a vampire, but 'alive' nonetheless.

Leaving town was always your plan. After Niki's death what was left for you in Okayama? You always thought about going to South Korea, or maybe even to America. Somewhere to get a full fresh start. Not being known as the dead boy's girlfriend. Who wasted away due to grief. Who died 3 years after his death, a brutal suicide that raked the town.

You were the real Romeo and Juliet. Two young lovers separated at 15, death forcing them to part. You never recovered from his death, so at 18 you followed him. After your funeral your family left town, not being able to bear the pain.

That’s what your parents told everyone at least.

The truth is police found you under the bleachers, writhing on the ground as you nonsensically spouted about vampires and curses. Telling everyone who listened how Niki was still alive. They would tut, turning around while mentioning how the accident affected you. Ruining you mentally. Your parents' concerns only grew when you would speak to the thin air. Claiming it was Niki. That he missed them, and wished they would allow him in the house.

You would claw at yourself to ‘feed’ Niki, blood dripping from your arms. It came to a halt when your parents walked into the house, crimson surrounding your mouth as you happily told them you had turned. You were now a vampire. You could now be with Niki forever.

They shipped you to the farthest asylum. One in Virginia, hidden away in the mountains. Far are from them. Far away from Niki.

Maybe after countless moons you’ll meet again one day. When the insanity no longer claimed your mind, and shrouded your reality.

[nightingaletrash]

Reyder is pretty much my jam atm, so that's what y'all are getting :)

Set during Meridian: The Way Home because I want Reyes reacting to Ryder dying again.

Edit: I wrote a part 2 for this drabble

---

“-no less than three Kett ships sighted-” “-t approaching the port, I have no clue wh-” “-think they’re leaving the planet-” “-thing big got them moving-” “-sighted in Draullir, they’re moving north-” “-thought Sloane and the Pathfinder killed them-”

It was a confusing mish-mash of transmissions from across the badlands, enough that even Reyes was getting a headache trying to make sense of what was happening. And this was after he’d directed a handful of his most trusted representatives to send their reports to Keema.

The general gist of it was that Kett had been sighted in the badlands, almost like they’d been popping out of the earth itself. As thorough as Sloane had seemed to be, the Kett had clearly been more deeply entrenched on Kadara than anyone had realised. But what was more concerning than that was the fact that they were leaving.

Kett only left if they were wiped out or they were ordered elsewhere, and given that no one had realised they were there, it could only be the latter.

And that was the concerning part.

“Reyes-”

“I don’t know what’s happening, Keema,” he interrupted, running a hand over his face. “No one seems to-”

“Reyes, I’ve just received a report that the Kett have taken one of the Initiative arks” Keema pressed on, steamrolling over him. “The Hyperion. They say that the Archon himself was among the boarders.”

That was enough to make him freeze in his tracks and he immediately muted the rest of his data feeds to focus solely on Keema.

“They stole an ark? Why?”

It was less aimed at her and more trying to create an idea he could actually grasp and work with.

“I don’t know, but whatever the Kett are up to, they’re on the march. It’s not just Kadara, Reyes. All across the cluster, we’ve got reports of Kett pulling out. They’ve even given up valuable fortifications on Voeld for this. It must be something big for the Archon to be so bold.”

Reyes’ mind started working a mile a minute, eyes flicking back to the steady stream of reports being thrown at him. Crux and the others must have realised he had muted them.

Nothing he saw contradicted what Keema had said. The Kett weren’t attempting to engage the Collective or outlaws in the badlands. By all accounts, they were pulling out and leaving the planet for parts unknown.

Sara.

The last time they'd talked, she had mentioned that she was hot on the trail of Meridian, the heart of the Vault network. She must have managed to hit a nerve if the Archon was mustering his forces like this.

And Keema seemed to have had the same thought.

“If anyone knows what’s happening, it’s the Pathfinder,” she said brusquely. “I’ll coordinate our people here while you find out what’s going on. We need to be ready if a fight’s coming.”

She ended the call, but not before Reyes was already patching through to Sara. His heart was beating uncomfortably hard in his chest, as if it was trying to beat for two, and he couldn’t help pacing the room.

“Pathfinder, are you there? Ryder?”

Something icy settled in his stomach when he received only static and a lump began to form in his throat. He adjusted his omni-tool’s settings, trying to delay the encroaching panic that itched at the back of his mind.

“Pathfinder, it’s Reyes. Do you copy?”

Still static, and now he was having to make a conscious effort to keep his breathing steady as he tried the private channel they'd set up.

“Sara, can you hear me? Are you okay? What’s going on?”

No response. Only static.

As his stomach churned horribly, it took every ounce of control he had to not run straight for his shuttle, find out where the Tempest was, and fly out there himself.

Instead he decided to try a different tact. If Sara wasn’t answering, then maybe someone else could tell him what was happening.

“Doctor T’Perro, are you there? It’s Reyes.”

There was more static, and then-

“Reyes?”

He breathed a sigh of relief. Her voice was fuzzy and it crackled with static, but he could hear her and she sounded calm enough. And that meant she probably wasn’t attending to a life-or-death emergency.

“Yes Doctor. I’m trying to get through to Sara, but-”

“So are we,” she cut over. Her voice was becoming clearer, and so was the edge of urgency in her tone. “We’ve lost all communication with SAM and the Pathfinder team. The Archon’s taken down our communications.”

That… wasn’t good. Though if the Archon had indeed taken the Hyperion, losing SAM seemed like an obvious consequence. But SAM wasn’t vital for QEC, was he? Reyes nearly asked but then realised that Lexi had turned her attention away from him and was speaking to someone else in her clipped, professional tone.

“-medbay’s prepped and ready. And Liam, remember what I said about staying calm.”

Reyes could hear Liam retorting offmic which was quickly followed by Vetra scolding him and the thumping of armoured footsteps on metal floors. Somewhere in the distance, almost completely staticky, there was shouting about signal boosters and settings, and yelled replies about onboard computers not responding. The more he listened to the hustle and bustle in the background, the more evident it was that the Tempest’s crew was in emergency mode.

He chewed the inside of his cheek, now seriously considering the idea of wringing their location out of Lexi and flying out to meet them. Keema could handle Kadara. His representatives knew to answer to her in his absence.

“Reyes, are you still there?”

Lexi brought him back to attention, urgency still lacing her voice but her tone softened somewhat now. And then he remembered why he was calling her in the first place.

“Is Sara okay? What’s happening?”

There was a pregnant pause and his body became tense even as his heart began to sink horribly.

“Reyes, you need to understand-”

“Cut the shit. Is she okay?” he demanded, too agitated to care about losing his temper.

Lexi sighed quietly and he could easily picture her running her hands over her face.

“When Sara became Pathfinder, SAM became a part of her in ways we still don’t fully understand,” Lexi explained, her tone becoming cool and professional. Like whenever doctors in drama vids were delivering difficult news. “He became so integrated with her system, that trying to remove him could kill her. But now that he's offline-”

Reyes didn’t hear the rest. He stood rooted to the spot, every muscle in his body freezing and his jaw locking. For a moment he was removed from all the sensation in his body, from the confusion of voices outside his door, even the beating of his own heart.

And then it came rushing back all at once.

He collapsed back into his seat, holding his head in his hands as his lungs stuttered and faltered, struggling to draw breath. His eyes felt wet and it was a struggle to blink back the moisture.

Sara had died once in the time he'd known her, but that had been part of a plan, and SAM had revived her quickly enough. This time SAM wasn't there to bring her back. His absence alone was enough to kill her. And here was Reyes, worlds away and unable to do anything to help.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl, and all the company he had was bursts of static activity in his earpiece - a mixture of shouting and running that made about as much sense as the reports he’d been sifting through just minutes ago.

"Reyes, are you there? Reyes?"

He couldn't bring himself to reply. His mouth flapped uselessly but no sound came out. If he tried any harder than that, he feared that only vomit might come up instead of words

“Reyes I need you to listen to me,” Lexi ordered firmly; in the background there was the sound of doors sliding open and the tapping of shoes marching across the floor. She was on the move.

“Kallo and Gil are trying to get us through to the team and find out for certain what’s happening. We just got a signal through from the Hyperion. It was just a pulse, but the onboard computer in Sara’s armour is showing signs of a response.”

Reyes could hear her footsteps being swallowed up by others, and it was evident that the team was on the move.

“A response?” was all he could muster.

“Yes, though it’s not as straightforward as I’d like. Vital signs are all over the place and-”

His heart rose a little.

“You think she’s okay?”

“I don’t know yet. Listen Reyes, I need to be ready in case Sara needs medical attention."

“Can you give me your loca-”

"Try it now!"

He was cut off by another voice over the comm, a little staticky at first before things smoothed out.

"Pathfinder? Come on…!"

Reyes and Lexi fell silent, as did all the background noise, and he felt his chest tighten as he listened intently.

There was an age-long pause, and a collective held breath before a small, weary voice croaked, "...we're here Tempest."

A dry sob left Reyes' throat as his heart leapt.

She was alive. Exhausted and drained by some apparently gargantuan effort, but he massively preferred exhausted and alive to the alternative. And he wasn't the only one.

He heard Lexi sigh in relief and a few relieved cheers and sighs around her. The footsteps hastened, and Reyes didn’t stop to think before he stood bolt upright and marched out of his private room.

“Lexi, give me the Tempest’s coordinates. I’ll meet you.”

“Relaying them now. I have to go and tend to Sara, but I’ll give you an update later. Without violating patient confidentiality, of course.”

He let himself have a chuckle at that, even if it wasn’t really a joke.

“Thanks Lexi. I’ll see you all soon.”

[leesacrakon]

(Fic) Doing My Best

So....that new video, huh? It increased my love of all platonic ships. Except those involving....Logan....yeah. They were all ignoring him earlier on in the video (except Patton) and it hurt me. Plus, he was just so nervous and scared when people talked over him and I just....I DIED OKAY?!

So, I wrote this little to show my hatred, make myself feel better, and show my beautiful, ignored son some love. 

AND THEN @cup-of-blue DREW A BEAUTIFUL THING SO THIS FIC IS BASED OFF OF IT

HERE IS THE BEAUTIFUL THING: 

tag list:  @here-to-vent@fandomsofrandom@mylasagnaisraw@virgilsspidercurtains @jaye--universe@justanotherpurplebutterfly   @tiny-mudkip @romananalogicality @pattonpending @edgeworthsnoodle @lovely-chaotic-goddess @aph-curls-n-dimples @the-babysitter @sunnyside12pershon @xix-leiloves-xix @cup-of-blue @thegeekgirl42 @the-potterhead-phandom  @emupoppyjay

Fandom(s): Sanders Sides, YouTube, Thomas Sanders

Warnings: Self-hatred, self-deprecation, self-harm, insulting, guilt, blood, vomiting, and description of self-harm wounds.  

Ship(s): Platonic Logicality, Platonic Thogan, Platonic LAMPT around the end, I guess?

Logan rubbed his eyes, completely exhausted. For some odd reason, today’s video had been particularly draining. Something had just felt off today, and he really didn’t know what. He’d been nervous, doubting himself, feeling ignored, and it really, for lack of a better word, sucked. He was looking forward to getting some rest, maybe solving a problem to lift his self-confidence a bit. Maybe Patton would let him stay in his room for a whi-

“Today was such a drag!” Logan heard Thomas groan from inside Patton’s room. He froze, quietly pressing against the wall and listening. Thomas was in the mindscape? That was odd, he had only come down once when they needed to get Virgil. Logan heard said edge lord scoff. 

“Right? Everything was off, and really, really overwhelming. Even Logan was weirder than usual,” Virgil said, laughing slightly. Logan’s heart dropped. Weird? Virgil thought he was weird? Logan heard Patton try to protest and he smiled, but Roman had to open his big mouth. 

“Yeah....You know, after today, I was thinking about that. Maybe we provide enough Logic ourselves, you know? I mean, yeah, Logan helps sometimes, but honestly he hardly ever has anything to contribute,” Roman said.

“Oh, come now, Roman! To be completely honest, we tend to ignore Logan’s input, almost as much as we used to ignore Virgil! It’s not that he doesn’t  give us any ideas or that he doesn’t contribute, we just don’t listen to him!” Patton protested. Logan perked up. Patton had said Logan was his hero earlier that day, and now...he was defending him? How odd. It felt...nice, in a way. 

“Patton’s right, guys! The two of you are being really harsh,” Thomas said. Logan’s heart leaped for joy and he almost smiled, almost, but then Roman spoke again. 

 "I just don’t see any use for an entitled smart-ass,” Roman muttered. Logan’s breathing hitched and he clamped a shaky hand over his mouth. Tears welled up in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks, wetting his hand and, eventually, the front of his shirt. He sniffled softly and took off his glasses, furiously scrubbing away at his eyes. Why was he crying? He had no right to cry. Roman was right. He was unnecessary, and an insufferable know-it-all. But what else was he supposed to be? That was his job. 

“Agreed,” Virgil said, chuckling. Logan’s heart shattered into pieces and he choked back a sob. He deserved that. After what he put Virgil through, he definitely deserved that. 

He heard Thomas gasp and Patton cried, “Guys, be nice!” Roman laughed and Logan felt sick, so sick that he doubled over and clutched his mouth, his entire body shaking as his stomach churned. He fell to his knees and barely heard Roman’s reply. 

“Why? He’s not here, Patton. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Logan really did sob this time; a heartbreaking, breath-stealing sob that crushed the air out of his lungs and made his whole body tremble. He was already on his knees so all he could do was lean against the wall as his chest heaved for breath and choked up sobs continued to fall from his lips. He heard footsteps and he panicked, trying and failing to get up, to get off his knees and get his act together.

“Logan?! Logan, oh my God...” someone was saying. Someone was reaching out to him too...

“Don’t touch me!” Logan shrieked as a hand rested on his shoulders. Putting his glasses back on, he scrambled to his feet to see a shocked Thomas standing before him with a hand extended, eyes wide with panic. Logan suddenly felt terrible and he backed away, breathing shakily. Thomas was just trying to help. Thomas had defended him. Thomas had been there for him. And how did Logan thank him? He shrieked at him, told him not to touch him.

“I-I...I’m sorry, I’ll go. I shouldn’t have eavesdropped, I’m sorry,” Logan choked out, quickly turning and running down the halls of the mind palace as fast as he could, desperately sprinting towards his room. He heard calls of his name, but then he heard laughter. 

Roman and Virgil were laughing at him. 

“Shut up!” Logan was screaming, even as he ran into his room and slammed to door shut, collapsing against the wall and slamming the back of his head against it. 

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” Logan screamed. He was still sobbing, tears running down his face. His head throbbed and he felt blood but he kept banging it, gripping at the carpet beneath his fingers. he had to ground himself, to bring himself back to reality, to distract himself from the horrid laughter ringing in his ears. 

Dear Lord, that laughter. 

“Stop it, stop it, stop it. Please please please please please please just stop it,” Logan whimpered, rocking back and forth and lacing his fingers in his hair, that horrible laughter still ringing in his ears. He had to get away from it he had to stop it make it stop MAKE IT STOP, PLEASE. Logan panted heavily, clutching his head. Why was this happening to him? What had he done wrong? He was doing his best, couldn’t they see that? Logan sobbed and staggered to his feet, stumbling over to his bed and collapsing on top of it, shaking and whimpering as more tears streamed down his face. 

The others didn’t want him? Fine. They wouldn’t get him. 

“It’s been a week guys, aren’t you worried at all?” Patton said, wringing his hands and pacing back and forth. Virgil and Roman exchanged a glance and shrugged.

“Not really. I mean, Thomas has been getting stuff done more slowly, but...that’s it. We provide enough information to get him through. We don’t need Logan,” Roman said. Virgil grimaced but didn’t say anything. Patton whirled around and glared at Roman, who had suddenly frozen in his chair.

“So, Thomas not being able to think clearly is okay?” Patton snarled.

“N-No, I just-”

“Thomas hardly being able to function normally and getting hardly any work done is okay?”

“Patt-”

“Thomas not being able to solve simple problems like where to put something in the fridge or what to say to say when someone talks to him without thinking about it for ten minutes is okay?” Patton was beyond angry now, and both Virgil and Roman cowered under his gaze.

“No, I suppose not,” Roman said weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. Without saying a word, Patton grabbed both Virgil and Roman by the front of their shirts and dragged them up out of the mindscape. They popped up in Thomas’ room and immediately stumbled back. Thomas sat at his desk, hunched over and staring at a page of paperwork. His lips were trembling and grunts of frustration were being emitted from his lips. He looked close to tears.

“Thomas, we’re going to fix this, alright kiddo? We’re going to get Logan back, I promise,” Patton said, immediately going to Thomas’ side and rubbing his back as he shook. Thomas let out a shaky sigh and rubbed his eyes, huge bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. Virgil gave Roman an exasperated look but the royal didn’t notice, a guilty expression on his face.

“C-Can we go now?” Thomas whimpered, sounding like a small child. Patton nodded and helped his exhausted host to his feet, even scooping him up in his arms. Thomas wrapped his arms around Patton’ neck and clung to him as the four of them began to sink out, heading off to Logan’s room.

When they popped in, they were horrified. The room, normally neat and well taken care of, was an absolute mess. Empty jars of Crofters jam lay scattered about on the floor. Papers and calendars were all over, some ripped up, some with stains of debatable origins. The curtains were torn to shreds, and Patton could see shards of broken glass scattered across of the floor, some of them stained with a suspiciously red substance. 

“Logan? You in here kiddo?” Patton asked warily, setting Thomas down and making sure he didn’t step on any broken glass. Patton’s heart sank as the bunched up blankets on Logan’s bed rustled and a weary, tear stained face peeked out at them from their midst. Logan whimpered and started to tremble, drawing the blankets closer around him. 

“Logan, what...” Thomas' voice trailed off and he looked at his logical side, disbelief clouding his eyes. Patton moved forward and knelt next to Logan’s bed, holding out his arms to the other man. Logan looked at Patton with sunken, dull eyes before slowly leaning into him, arms remaining limp at his sides as he sank against Patton’s chest. 

“W-Why are they here?!” Logan asked bitterly, staring at Roman and Virgil, shivering as Patton held him close and ran his fingers through his hair. Patton’s face paled as his fingers gent;y ran over a deep gash in the back of Logan’s head from him slamming it against the wall, and how they kept getting caught in the normally neat brunette locks because of all the dried blood matted in it. Patton glared at Roman and Virgil, who stepped forward and joined Patton. Thomas still hung back, looking shocked. 

“We...We came to apologize,” Roman said quietly, resting a hand on Logan’s back. Logic flinched and whimpered, but made no move to shove Roman’s hand away. The princely trait blinked back tears as his friend looked at him with disgust, and even fear. 

“Oh, really? You think something like this can just be fixed with a fucking apology?!” Logan hissed, and he did wrench away. Virgil was about to speak but Logan cut him off, pointing a shaking finger at him. 

“You...We were actually starting to become friends! I’ve always defended you! L-Less than Patton, but I have! And you,” Logan turned his attention to Roman, his face twisted in a snarl. Roman grimaced. 

“You...I-I...You’ve always hated me,” Logan was trembling harder, his face turning white. “Y-You...You...Oh, God,” Logan groaned and panicked flashed in his eyes. He reached around Patton and grabbed his garbage can, quickly bringing it to his face and emptying the contents of his stomach into it. Virgil paled considerably and Patton rubbed Logan’s back gently as he coughed and wretched into the garbage can. Logan shakily wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and put the garbage can back down, leaning heavily against Patton. 

“You were right, Roman. You don’t need me; none of you do. All I do is make a planner for Thomas. Any of you could do that. I am unnecessay, worthless, and an insufferable know-it-all,” Logan said miserably. 

“You do so much more than that,” Thomas said, his voice noticeably stronger. Logan looked up at his host with confusion, sitting up slightly, but not so much that he was out of Patton’s arms. Thomas sighed and sat on the bed in the space between Logan and Roman, moving Roman’s hand away. Logan trembled and buried his face in Patton’s chest as if he expected some sort of lecture or scolding. 

“I was barely even able to function with you gone. Remember how when Virgil ducked out, I went crazy? It was the opposite this time. I basically sunk into an extremely intense depressive episode that has lasted the entire week you’ve been gone,” Thomas explained gently, putting a hand on Logan’s shoulder and squeezing it. Logan blinked, still confused. 

“Impossible. I am pointless. My existence is pointless. If I planned everything correctly, if Roman and Virgil were correct as I eventually came to accept, then you should be fine. You shouldn’t need me. You don’t need me. I’m just a smart ass, I don’t even do anything,” Logan rambled, trembling harder and clutching at Patton’s cardigan. Tears began to slip down his cheeks again and Patton felt himself starting to panic, not really knowing what to do. 

“That’s not true!” Roman shouted, getting to his feet. Logan flinched and grimaced at the loud noise and covered his ears with his hands. Whispering something unintelligible to Logan, Patton gently eased his hands away from his ears and started rocking him slightly in his arms. 

“You are needed! I can’t believe you’re letting a stupid conversation after a bad day influence whether you exist or not,” Roman hissed angrily. Logan tensed but sat up straighter. Virgil nodded in agreement with the fanciful trait. 

“We were both tired, and just- We were mad, and needed something to actually be mad about so surprise, we decided to get mad about you,” Virgil said with a sigh. “You were...kind of annoying that day, but that was our fault. We were ignoring you, and then we...Look, there are no excuses for what we did, what we said...It wasn’t true,” Virgil added. 

“So, you...you really need me? This isn’t some...some pity party? You really need me?” Logan asked, bewildered. But weren’t they right? Wasn’t he useless? Wasn’t he unneeded? Why were they-?

“Oh, Lo, you’re crying again,” Thomas said with a sigh, scooting closer and joining Patton in embracing his logical side. Logan’s breathing hitched and he sniffed, noticing the tears running down his cheeks. He silently cursed himself for being such an emotional mess and spluttered out apologies, but all of the others insisted that it was fine, and he had a right to cry. Virgil and Roman joined the hug as well. 

“I’m so sorry, Lo. Don’t ever leave us again,” Virgil muttered, going in front of Logan and wrapping his arms around him as best as he could, burying his face in his shoulder. A sob bubbled up out of Logan’s throat and he clung to Patton and Thomas, shaking as he sobbed and cried and was held and loved and cherished just like he’d always wanted. 

“I w-won’t, I promise,” Logan choked out between sobs, giving Virgil and Roman watery smiles. The two traits smiled back, tears of their own gathering in their eyes. Virgil squeezed Logan’s hand before letting go of him and sitting back, and Roman did the same after pressing a kiss to Logan’s hair. 

“I say this calls for a cuddle session in my room!” Patton said with a grin, gingerly scooping Logan up in his arms, blankets and all. “Would you like that, Logan?” he asked gently. Logan nodded silently and rested his head on Patton’s chest, moving one of his arms out from underneath himself and making a grab at Thomas, silently asking him to hold his hand as they walked. Thomas complied, lacing their fingers together and staying close to Logan as they walked to Patton’s room, Roman and Virgil following close behind. 

Logan fell asleep surrounded by the embraces of Thomas, Patton, Virgil, and Roman, a content smile on his face. He was finally wanted. 

[creacherkeeper]

Heart Wears Thin 

fitz struggles to come to terms with what happened with aida. daisy is there to help 

tw's for complicated feelings about past abuse, discussions of abuse, guilt, and one small scene with minor self harm (head hitting). please heed the warnings and come talk to me about it if you need to 

 2797 words 

read on AO3 

He stares.

He stares because it hurts. He stares because if he doesn’t stare, he’ll pace. He’ll grind his teeth. He’ll wring his hands. He’ll be nothing but movement, coiled and anguished, and he’ll move and move until he screams and then he’ll keep going until there’s nothing left to move. He’ll wear himself down until he’s no more than a tread in the ground.

So, he stares, carefully still. Lets all the movement happen internally, only things he can’t help. Things that won’t stop, even if he asked nicely. The slow expansion and disinflation of his lungs as he breathes. The beating of his heart.

He wishes it would all stop. He wishes he’d just turn to stone. He feels like he should turn to stone, looking into her eyes like this, even if it is just a photo. A photo of before she turned. When she was little more than stone herself. Stone, and wires, and electricity.

Is he made of anything more than that?

Yes, he figures. Blood and tissue. Soft flesh. That’s what keeps getting him into trouble.

Even after the knock on his door comes, he keeps staring, barely even registers it. The sound floats in one ear and out the other without fanfare. He doesn’t lift his head when the door creaks open, and then shuts. He doesn’t look over when someone sits on the bed next to him.

“That … really doesn’t seem healthy,” Daisy says.

Once the words make sense in his brain, a few seconds later, he almost laughs. She’s right, of course. But only in the sense that nothing that’s happened these last few weeks have been healthy. And really, what’s a photo going to do to him that the real person hadn’t?

Daisy plucks the tablet from between his fingers and tosses it to the foot of the bed. He doesn’t fight her. Ophelia—AIDA, at that time (should he still call her AIDA? Would that make a difference? Does it matter?)—stares up blankly toward the ceiling.

Daisy reaches over and flips the tablet so the screen is facing the bed. “Better,” she remarks.

Fitz crosses his arms, squeezing his hands into fists and squeezing his fists against the sides of his rib cage. He can still feel the sting on the back of his hand from when he slapped Daisy. It wasn’t real, technically, but he’ll never forget the feeling. He knows neither of them will.

“Haven’t seen you all day,” Daisy says, like that hadn’t happened, like everything is fine between them. Like she can’t fathom the reasons why he might be avoiding her. Avoiding all of them. “Have you eaten anything?”

Slowly, he shakes his head.

“Have you even left this room?”

He shakes his head again.

She pats the bed next to her—near his leg, but not touching. “Come on, I’ll make you a sandwich or something.”

“Can’t,” he manages to choke out.

“Can’t what?”

“Eat.”

He doesn’t look at her, but from his peripherals he can see her studying the side of his face. “Okay,” she says easily. “How ‘bout a smoothie?”

“Why—” He reaches up to rub at the spot of tension between his eyebrows. “Why are you here?”

He doesn’t mean to sound antagonistic, he just honestly wants to know. Why she came, why she cares.

“I was worried.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I know you’re not okay right now. And you’re my best friend, Fitz. I can’t just sit by while you’re feeling like this.”

He still doesn’t look at her. “I- I let you get tortured. I hit you.”

“I choked you. I threatened you. So, we’ve both done some bad shit when we weren’t ourselves. That makes us even.”

Finally, he looks up, and almost flinches back from the sight of her honest face.  

“Is it that simple for you?” he asks.

She nods.

He sighs, looking away and squeezing his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s not that simple for me.”

Daisy shrugs next to him, settling back against the pillows and stretching her legs out, wiggling her toes. “You’ll come around.”

He huffs a laugh, disbelieving, not sure how this can make so much sense to her.

“Why were you looking at that anyway?”

His eyes dart back to the tablet, then away, at the wall. He picks at the fabric of his pajama pants, which he never bothered to change out of.

“Dunno,” he mumbles.

Daisy watches him. “I feel like you do.”

His next breath comes out a little shaky. He’s supposed to be talking about this kind of thing with the SHIELD psychiatrists. With a professional. Coulson mandated that he see one after Ophelia had finally been taken down, and the team had relocated to one of the few still-standing SHIELD bases. But … it’s not like they’d understand. It’s not like they’d get it. They’d give him platitudes with no real understanding behind them, just as fake as the Framework had been. So he’d gone to a session, because Coulson had asked. But he hadn’t spoken. Just stared down at his hands.

He stares down at his hands, now. Down at his hands which did so much. Did things he never thought he would be capable of.

“I just—” His fingers tangle together. “I was trying- I guess- I- I was—” He sighs, short and frustrated. “I was trying to figure out why.”

“Why what?”

“Why she did it.”

“AIDA?”

He nods, stomach curling at the name, at hearing it out loud.

“Well, I can tell you that.”

Fitz’s head whips up to look at her. She stares back at him.

“She was just like Hive. All she wanted was control. She couldn’t control the circumstances in which she was created, couldn’t control her own life, so she had to control other people’s.”

“But why me?” he asks, and then darts out of the bed, no longer able to tamp down the need to move. He starts to pace, just like he knew he would. His teeth grind together. His hands lift to tug at his hair. “Why did she have to control me?” And then he continues, “She said she cared about me. She said she cared, but she- she still did all those things.”

Daisy watches him pace back and forth at the foot of the bed. “Hive said the same thing. Neither of them cared. Not really. They just wanted the power. And there’s no greater power than manipulating someone else.”

“But she chose me to manipulate. Me to control. That means something.”

“It means she had the opportunity.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head fiercely. “No, it means something.”

“Like what?”

His hands drop, and his arms wrap around his middle. He stops pacing, staring at the ground, mouth slack. “I was weak.”

“Hey,” Daisy bites, rising off the bed as well. “You’re not weak.”

He stares somewhere near her feet as she approaches him. “No, I- I am. She knew she’d be able to control me. Bend me however she wanted. She knew she could manipulate me, she knew I’d be compliant, and she knew exactly how to change me.”

“Because you’re a person, Fitz. It’s because you’re human like the rest of us. That’s why you’ve got weak spots. That’s why you’re able to be used. It doesn’t make you weak.”

“I think it’s me. It’s not because I’m a person, it’s just me.”

“Being abused doesn’t make you weak.”

His gaze shoots up to meet hers, and he quickly looks away, tears stinging behind his eyes. “Don’t call it that.”

“Why? That’s what happened. That’s what she did to you.”

He shakes his head, pressing the balls of his hands into his eyes, something wretched building in his chest. “Don’t call it that.”

“That’s what happened, okay? It’s a scary word, I know. And it sucks ass, it really does. But that’s what happened.”

He can feel vomit in the back of his throat, and he swallows it down. His eyes find the dresser, and find the frame sitting there with the stock photo behind the glass, and without hesitation he picks it up, cranks his arm back, and flings it at the wall, as hard as he can. It hits and shatters with a crash, raining down to the floor. Still, the nervous, chaotic energy courses through him. His head feels too full, too panicked.

He needs to calm down.

He hits himself, once, palm to his forehead, a solid thunk, and feels the energy abate somewhat, head clearing. So he does it again, on his temple. And then again in the middle of his skull, pounding with both hands again and again, the pressure and pain keeping him some semblance of calm. Keeping him from going off the edge.

“Hey,” Daisy barks, and grabs at his arms. “Hey, stop that.”

Stop that.

He does. But only because his mind has grafted onto a memory. Not a real memory, but one from the Framework. It feels real all the same. Can a memory really be said to be ‘not real’? Isn’t the act of remembering the thing that makes it a memory?

His father is standing in the doorway. Something’s happened, and Fitz is upset. He was hitting his head. His father doesn’t like it when he does that.

“Stop that,” his father says. And then, “It’s pain you want? You don’t give it to yourself, son.”

His father had given him the belt after that. Fitz had been horrified and relieved all at the same time.

Now, he jerks away from Daisy, eyes wide and tearful. “Stop,” he chokes out. “D-Don’t- Don’t—” He reels back, and ends up on the ground, tailbone aching from how he landed. He digs his fingers into his hair, tugging softly against his now sore scalp. His breath comes in shaky gasps.

Daisy kneels in front of him, hands raised. “Okay, I won’t touch. I’m sorry. I won’t touch.”

“It- It—” He bites hard on his lower lip, but a sob escapes anyway.

Daisy just watches him carefully, hands still raised.

“It happened again,” he manages.

Daisy sinks to the ground, slowly lowering her hands to her lap. “What did?”

“W-With my dad. And Ward. And then my dad again. A-And then Ophelia—AIDA.” His lips twist, fighting back against another sob. This one, he manages to keep contained. “It keeps happening.”

Daisy’s face crumples, just a bit. “I’m sorry.”

“That means something,” he says, though he knows he’s just echoing himself from earlier. But the sentiment weighs heavy on his chest. Surely, surely, this all must mean something. There must be a reason.

“It means you got dealt a shitty hand,” Daisy says.

Fitz shakes his head.

“That’s all it means. It means you’ve had some bad people in your life. That’s it.”

His head is still shaking. He presses his hands against his eyes, and they feel wet and puffy. “It means something. I- I must’ve done something. Must be doing something. There’s something about me.”

“Well—”

Fitz’s head shoots up.

Daisy looks like she’s thinking hard. “You believe the best of people, Fitz. You always have. You believe that people are good and you believe in them with everything you’ve got.” Daisy’s eyes blare into his own. He’s shaken by her gaze. “And that’s not a bad thing. Hell, Fitz, that’s not a bad thing. It’s such a good, brave, kindhearted thing and that’s what makes it worse. Because that’s what people are taking advantage of. Your goodness. Your loyalty. That’s ‘the thing’ about you. It’s not a weakness, it’s a goodness that people know how to use against you.”

Fitz sniffles, and looks away. Something settles in his chest. “Dad would’ve said it was a weakness.”

“Well, that’s how you know it’s not.”

He wrings his hands together, looking down at them as they shake. “I … I feel like I deserved it, still. All of it. Like I was inviting it, like it was all my fault.”

Daisy, cautiously, rests a hand on his leg. He doesn’t blame her, she’s always been tactile, so touch-hungry herself. “Fitz, you know that’s not true.” And then after a moment of consideration she continues, “But there’s a difference between knowing and feeling, right?”

He nods, glad she understands.

Her thumb rubs over his leg, touch heavy enough that it doesn’t ache him. “What would you have said to me? After Hive? What did you say?”

“That it wasn’t your fault.”

“And did you believe that, or were you just saying it?”

“I believed it.”

“Then you’ve gotta believe that for yourself, too.”

His brows furrow. “I don’t know how.”

“You start by telling it to yourself—that it wasn’t your fault. You say it ‘till it makes sense. Then you tell it to other people. Then you tell it to yourself again. Say it until you believe it.”

His mouth opens, shuts, and opens again, and she’s quick to continue.

“You don’t have to tell me now. Not if you’re not ready. You know I already believe it. Say it to yourself until it gets easier, then come tell me.”

“I can’t see this getting easier.”

“It won’t. Not for a while. And that—” She shakes her head. “-absolutely sucks. Okay? It does. No getting around that. But it does get easier. Eventually. And until it does, you take all the help you can get.”

“I can’t ask that of you.”

“Well—” She removes her hand to knock it against his knee. “Too bad, ‘cause I’m already here.”

He wipes his face, and is only mildly surprised to find his cheeks wet, though he’s not sure when the tears fell. “After everything I did to you—”

“Like I said, we’re even.”

He watches her, but she just smiles at him, calm, understanding. Her smile is honest, but he can see the weight of it behind her eyes. These aren’t empty platitudes. She understands. Maybe better than he thought she did. Maybe better than anyone else could.

He still doesn’t believe it. He doesn’t think he could be ‘even’ with anyone, not now, not after everything. But she seems to believe it. That’ll have to do for now.

“Okay,” he says, swallowing hard.

She hefts herself up, and then stretches. “Alright, let’s get you some food. Smoothie sound good? I’ll make it with extra bananas. And peanut butter.”

Cautiously, he stands, and wrings his hands as he stares at the closed door.

Daisy follows his gaze, then turns back. “Step one to feeling better is getting out of this fucking room. Step two is food—and maybe a shower, no offence—but step one comes first.”

“I …” He shakes his head.

Daisy’s lips twist as she thinks. “Okay, you know what? Where’s your suitcase?”

He blinks at her. “Under the bed. Why?”

“’Cause we’re having a pajama party. I’m borrowing some stuff ‘cause most of my clothes got kinda toasted.”

“Oh.”

She tugs his suitcase from under the bed and starts going through it until she finds what she’s looking for. A t-shirt from the Academy, and a pair of cotton boxers.

“You’ve got boxers with trains on them,” she says, holding them up to her waist, “that’s adorable. I’m definitely wearing these. Although, beware, ‘cause I have not shaved since we went into the Framework, so my legs are sprouting some small forests at the moment.”

He huffs a laugh, and then turns away as she strips her shirt off.

“You’ve seen me in a bathing suit,” she says as her jeans hit the floor. “I don’t see why you look away when I change.”

“Principle.”

“Whatever,” she says, laughing.

When she’s done changing, she grabs up his hand, tugging him into the hallway. She doesn’t let go until she has to, once they’re in the kitchen and she’s gathering supplies. They drink them at the small kitchen table, and Fitz only manages to drink half of his, but she grins at him anyways. He’s only somewhat surprised when she follows him back to his room.

There’s light coming in from under the door, but he leaves a lamp on anyway. They lie together on the small bed, both on their backs, pressed together out of necessity (and maybe just because they want to be), staring up at the popcorn ceiling.

Eventually, long after they both should’ve been asleep, Fitz asks, “How long did it take for you to forgive yourself? After Hive?”

“Still working on it,” Daisy admits.

Fitz reaches over, and finds Daisy’s hand with his own. She clings back fiercely. They lie in the bed, side by side, and don’t sleep for a long while.