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thatnonameuser · 2 months ago

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The Red King holds a Bleeding Head

A Wonderland of Yanderes - Masterlist

Chapter 1. Heartslaybul Part 2.

How....

How did this happen?

So fast....So absurdly fast.....

Did he know?

That you weren't like him, that you were his 'darling'?

You walked numbly back to your room after all that, holding Grim so tight that he had to scratch your arms three times to get you to release him while complaining about how you were suffocating him.

"Sorry." was all you could say when you released him from your hold. You stood lamely as you watched him crawl on his own four paws back into the safety of your room. It's not safe here, no where's safe.

You shut the door behind you and your hand shakes as you reach out to grab the chair, and a part of you just snaps.

You scramble to barricade your door. The dining chair wasn't enough. You shoved one of the end tables, your armchair and the small cabinet against the door until it couldn't move and the handle couldn't jimmy.

Still, you can't relax. You choke down deep breath after deep breath, and your lungs burn like you just ran a marathon.

All that looming terror finally collapsed in on you.

What do you do? "What do I do?" You whimper softly, you feel terrified. Ace is in your dorm, he's in love with you. And he's jealous of Grim because he's sleeping in your bed. Because you didn't want to sleep alone.

Wait. What if he tries to kill Grim!?

"Henchman?" Grim's all wrapped up in his blanket cocoon, but his cuteness doesn't make the fear waver. "Human....______ are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I'm fine, Grim." You babble, but it feels more like you're trying to tell that to yourself rather than Grim, "I'm okay. Really, I'm okay. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe I'm just overreacting. Maybe he's just being nice. Maybe I'm losing my mind-" You keep spiralling, and you tremble violently as you hyperventilate.

How could this happen? Ace was the first person to actually meet you in this Twisted Wonderland. He'd seemed like a laidback enough guy that was just a little stupid. He didn't seem like an outright threat to your life. He was nice enough, was funny enough and he was someone you once wanted to be friends with.

And now your forehead burned.

The place his lips fell on your temple burned red-hot.

Your family had done that once. All you never minded it. But, now it felt dark. It felt threatening.

All you wanted to do was go home..."I just want to go home." You whisper as you sob.

What if you don't go home?

What if Ace brings you to his home, far from yours?

"_____?" Grim had managed to come into your vision. At some point in your spiralling, you'd sunk to the floor, on your knees. You could feel the echo of your violently palpitating heart in your ears. Tears had run down your cheeks, wet and sticky.

You embrace him as tightly as possible, hiccupping weakly. "I'm fine....I'm fine." You tuck your head into his fur. It's soft on your face.

"Are you sure?" his voice sounds so frail, as if your pain was being shared by him.

"No..." You say, and it's the first time you've been honest since you came in.

The adrenaline's worn off. You can feel the sharp jabbing in your thigh from a blade. Tiny drops of blood stain your bottoms. You tug it out of your waistband, hissing as it comes free.

"Why do you have a knife?"

"Just being safe, Grim." He doesn't push, maybe he senses your fear. "Let's....Let's just go to bed."

You set that bloodied knife underneath your pillow this time, just in case. And the just-in-case emergency was so much closer than you wanted. Grim doesn't squirm much in your embrace, but it's a small comfort to not be alone right now.

Though to be fair, even if he wasn't here, you probably aren't going to alone anymore now.

Sunshine comes through the cracks in the curtains and burns your eyes.

You didn't even notice that the sun came up. You feel so tired. So sleepy. Someone's knocking. So much knocking. So loud, so erratic. It makes the house echo.

Is it Ace again. The knocking stops.

"......"

Oh. Wait. It's not Ace. No, someone else is here.

You curl up tighter in your sheets, the exhaustion burning your eyes. It's just someone else. Someone else is here.

SOMEONE ELSE IS HERE?!?!?

You violently fling off your blanket, snatch the blade under your pillow , just in case and trip over your on feet as try too run and unbarricade your door. The mess and the noise mean nothing to you as you dash into the hallway, only to skid to a stop when you remember something.

Crowley had said that Darlings act a certain way, and you revealed yourself to him so fast. Was the way you normally acted what made you a darling? If that's the case then...

You walk backwards to one of the old, cracked mirrors in the hall. To be frank, you look like crap. Your eyes have heavy purple bags, and your eyes match in vivid red. Your skin looks pallid and swollen, with the tear tracks still visible on your skin, despite the tossing and turning you did last night.

You don't look fine.

But you need to be fine.

You attended a class about darlings yesterday, discovered how colossally fucked this world is and had Ace invade your personal space last night and, in the eyes of the yandere world out there, you have to be fine.

Because yanderes, in their collective insanity, are completely fine with all the awful things you discovered. They can't notice how afraid you are.

If that fear makes you a darling, you can't be afraid.

So you'll just take a deep breath, and relax, because you don't have the option of not being afraid.

You tighten your grip on the knife's handle and slowly take deep breaths.

You can hear the downstairs conversation better now.

Apparently, Deuce is the mystery guest in your foyer, if you're hearing his voice right. "You really are an idiot, Ace." No arguments there, Deuce.

"Oh, shut up! Like you're one to talk!" Ace objects, as you turn back to your room. You don't need those two people especially seeing you in your pyjamas today.

You re-enter your room to find Grim, tangled in your blankets on the floor. Whoops.

"Nyeh, Henchman, what gives?" A grumpy Grim pokes his head out of the mess of bedsheets.

"Sorry, Grim." You say as you untangle him, releasing him from the web of blankets. "I panicked and I may have overreacted."

Grumbling, Grim flops back down on the mass of sheets once he's free of them, going back to sleep immediately. You pet his fur, and the soft fur returns you to the safe spot you'd found last night.

But, you can't stay here forever, so you grab some of your clean clothes and get dressed.

You just have to keep your cool.

And you'll be okay, because you're not weak, or helpless, or fragile.

You're not a darling.

And you're not going to be anyone's darling.

But you also need to protect yourself.

And to do that you'll need allies. Friends. Who care genuinely and aren't obsessed with you. While it may be dumb, very, very dumb. The dorm leader of Heartslabyul might be your best bet when dealing with Ace and Deuce. What can two first-years do against someone that's a dorm head and has the ability to cut off their use of their magic.

You can only hope he isn't still mad at you about the entrance ceremony.

You have a plan, and all you need to do is follow it.

Go apologise the the Heartslabyul Dorm Leader.

Suck up to said Dorm Leader.

Befriend that Dorm Leader.

And Then Throw Ace and Deuce to The Metaphorical Wolves If They Try Anything.

Easy as pie.

Now if only you gave Grim that run down and had told him that you were trying to blend in.

"Move it! Outta the way! Night Raven College student comin' through!" Grim's confidently struts past 'The Seven' statues as if he owns the world. The students, milling around or walking past, separate for the overconfident cat monster to swagger like he's the most powerful mage in this Twister Wonderland.

So that brings attention to you which is already a little bad, given that you're already an alien student with no magic that crashed the entrance ceremony and destroyed a million thaumark chandelier, the added attention is worsened by the whole 'darling in disguise' problem.

Grim's loud mouth isn't just affecting you though. Grim's been loudly taunting Ace since you left Ramshackle. Which is a bit of poor choice given Ace's jealousy last night.

"Way to take the high road, Grim...." You mutter. You can see Ace's cheeks slightly flush from rage and embarrassment.

Ace growls, "Trust me Grim, when I get my magic back, your hide is first on the chopping block!" You can only hope that's a joke, or an empty threat.

"Didn't the headmaster JUST tell you yesterday, no more incidents...." Yes, thank you Deuce, a voice of reason that's not you is greatly appreciated.

"Juice, I am allowed to kill things here." Ace states, like it's completely obvious. You flinch, tightening your fists and repeating that mantra in your head. Be indifferent, like it's completely normal. Like Ace didn't just threaten Grim's life.

"I don't you'll be able to do anything with that silly collar around your neck." You say, with a small laugh. Ace flushes, hopefully from embarrassment from your FRIENDLY teasing.

You don't get to revel in that for long though. Your eyes drift to Deuce, who staring holes into Ace's head. His blue eyes hold the same ominous glint that Ace had in his when Grim had kept you apart.

"A-Anyway! You should go and apologise already, Ace!"

Is he eager to get your attention off Ace, or is it your imagination?

Ace's responding groan could probably be heard back in your home world, "I hate this so. So! Much! _____ Can't you just let me stay in your dorm already!?"

"No." You say as serious as possible. You aren't entertaining this at all, the sooner he's out of your dorm, the better.

Grim laughs, clearly enjoying Ace's misery, "Hey Henchman, let's go check out their dorm while Ace is groveling!"

"Since when did this become a field trip?!"

"What's wrong Ace, something you don't want me see~" You tease, and he shuts the hell up. You've noticed Ace never yells at you, but his temper's fraying with Grim. You mentally note never to leave the two alone.

Still, so far so good.

As terrifying as this experience has been in the last 24hrs, you have to admit it, this place is beautiful.

"Whoa..." The Heartslabyul dorm looks like the perfect mix of organised chaos. All the heart-inspired architecture feels cohesive rather than chaotic. From its doorways to its heart shaped rose bushes. It's beautiful, wonderous even.

But at the same time....

You feel so small, so insignificant outside of it. As if it dominates a controlling presence that wants to do nothing more than consume you. This is the dorm of controlling yanderes after all.

Either way, you can't afford to be lose focus right now. You're here on a mission, might as well accomplish it.

"Dang, this place is swank! This is nothing like our dumpster of a dorm." Gee, thanks Grim....Only one of us has thumbs.

"Our dorm is a work-in-progress!" You object.

"Alright let's get this over with, c'mon _____." Right, now all you need to do is find the Dorm Leader and-

"Wait. Why are is the Prefect going with you to see the Dorm Head?" Deuce asks, and the glint is back. Dark and dangerous. Shit. Right you hadn't told Deuce about that part.

Ace grins triumphantly in response, "She said she would go with me. Why? Jealous, Juice?"

Deuce flushes but that glint gets darker. "I'm not jealous!"

Ace keeps pushing it, refusing to back down. "It kinda seems like you are!"

If they're going to fight it's probably best you leave. As much as you care about them, getting their Dorm Leader on your side is your biggest concern. And you won't find him just standing here. But where do you-

You can hear a familiar tune in your ears. Someone's humming.

You can hear someone humming something. A tune all too familiar to the one you heard last night in your dream.

Unlike last time, you scoop up Grim for a defense just in case. The dorm is full of rose bushes, it will go down in flames if your plan goes up in them.

The path inside the bushes isn't one leading to a garden, but a rose maze. High edges decorated with rose bushes or potted rose plants, with red cans of paint and paintbrushes scattered here and there. The maze reminds you of your dream last night, from the soft grass to the half painted white roses. The smell of fresh paint in the maze overpowers the sweet smell of the roses. Some drops of paint drip of the fragile rose petals, staining the grass.

The humming is getting louder, and you turn a corner when the song is interrupted when the singer stops to comment on his work, "Aww yeah, I am getting my paint on!"

You finally reach a break in the bushes, where the rose bushes part to reveal an area partially decorated. Crates of decorations are stacked meticulously in what has to be the most orderly way possible. The corners line up near exactly. Streamers and garlands are already pre hung and if it wasn't for the scattered croquet poles in the ground you wouldn't have known what it was for.

"Ah, someone's here." Grim says.

Grim's right, there's an orange-haired man with a diamond shaped mark, just under one of his eyes. He's using one of those magic pens to change the colour of the roses from an ivory white to a deep and bright red. He doesn't seem to notice you, too occupied with the roses.

"They all gotta be red, or it's 'off with my head'!"

Whoa, Deja vu.

His song...it's tune nearly matches the one you heard last night, in your dream. He's painting the white roses a bright red. How did you dream something so similar? They say life imitates art, but since when did you dream the future.

"Hey Prefect, why'd you leave?" It's Ace's loud voice that gets the rose-painter to turn. So far you met, an ace of hearts, a deuce of spades, and now a diamond, if the ink on his face is right.

"Huh...? You guys need something?"

"What exactly are you doing here?" You ask, this is way too similar, near identical.

He laughs, "Are you blind?" He teases, "I'm painting these roses red, duh."

Ace and Deuce are surprised, but you aren’t, "What? Why?"

'The Queen loves red roses, and I planted white ones by mistake, so I'm painting the roses red' That's what he's doing. The same thing the card soldiers did in your dream.

The diamond laughs, "So naive, you put the "n" in newb." He stops mid laugh as his eyes light up in recognition, "Hold the phone, I know you! You're the ones who broke a billion-thaumark chandelier and nearly got expelled for it, yeah?" You swallow back a sigh of relief at the mention of the chandelier rather than the other thing.

"That chandelier is gonna haunt us till the day we graduate, isn't it?" You disagree, one day this entire experience is going to be used as a lovely example to the kids you'll maybe have about why you shouldn't go into strange carriages in the middle of the night.

"And you!" You jolt as he points again, and nearly collapse in relief when you see that his finger is pointing at Ace. "You're the one who ate the Dorm Leader's tart that same night!"

"You guys are THE hot topic around campus! I've gotta get in on this fleeting fame." He advances phone in hand, hooks an arm around you in particular, dragging the two of you into the dead center of the camera's eye. " I'm just gonna grab a selfie real quick..."

"W-Wait a sec-" you try to object, but he doesn't pay heed to your objections.

"Say 'Yay!'" You hope for once in your life that was the most unattractive photo you've ever taken, the last thing you need is a school full of yanderes chasing after you.

"It's cool if I post this on Magicam, right? Gimme your names so I can tag you."

Well, now you have an issue. You can't-

"I'm Deuce Spade."

"Ace."

"I'm Grim, and that's my henchman, _____."

Geez, thanks guys. As you were originally thinking, you can't, or rather couldn't, give out your name because if your face and name are plastered out for all the yanderes on this island to see you could be put in grave danger should they try to claim you. But that's not something you get to contemplate now. Yay....

"Uploaded! Sweet."

Is he not going to introduce himself? So far, your first impression was that he was a selfie fanatic, but otherwise he seems harmless. Except for the incredibly fast boundary crossing.

As if reading your mind, he answers your thoughts. "Oh, I'm Cater Diamond, by the way." The four of diamonds, so now you had an ace of hearts, deuce of spades, and the four of diamonds. Now all that you needed was a three of clovers. "I'm a junior here at Heartslabyul. But Cater is fine. Or Cay-Cay if you're cray-cray! So nice to meetcha." His one armed hug finally releases, and you brush yourself off.

Wow, he seems.......superficial. "It's a pleasure." You lie.

"Ah, you're the prefect of that so-called Ramshackle House dorm, right? Like, I can't believe you actually live there! It's all gloomy and looks like hot garbage on Magicam. No filter could salvage THAT dump." Wow. Rub salt in the wound. This relationship is off to a great start.

Maybe this is a good thing. If he's being kind of mean, maybe he doesn't have feelings for you. That's good.

"Y'know, you've done nothin' but diss us here, pal!" Normally, you would agree with Grim but if this is his normal way of acting then you are in the clear.

For some reason that statement makes Cater flip like a coin. "Gah, what am I doing? I don't have time to chat!"

While you would prefer not to hang out around this guy, the 'allies and friendships plan' requires you being around people who are not Ace and Deuce. "What's wrong."

"The party's tomorrow. If we're not ready, it's "off with my head!" Well that explains all the party decorations. And considering he's here by himself no wonder he's stressed. "Hey, you kids wanna help me paint some roses?"

"Yeah, uh.....Why are you doing that exactly?"

"Because red roses are so much more photogenic! Or.....something...?" Is he trying to get you to do this for him? That's what this feels like. As if pushing for sympathy, Cater proceeds to list off all the tasks he has to do for the party.

Helping him out might be to your benefit. What better way to endear yourself PLATONICALLY to someone than to do kind things like helping him and his dorm out when you're under no obligation.

Thus working into your plan. Let's do this

"Again with the questions!" You're thrown out of your plotting when you hear Cater's objection, Listen, I need these roses to be red. Like, yesterday. Can't you guys help out with magic or something?"

"I can help you." You smile while raising your hand, they all turn your attention to you and you can see that brightness return to Ace and Deuce's eyes. Still, you can't pay attention to that now. "I-I don't have magic but I can help by doing it the old-fashioned way."

"You wanna help me? TYSM!" Cater tackle-hugs you, squeezing you tight and lifting you off your feet. You laugh, and you spare a glance at the two now raging jealous duo you call friends.

"Guys? You wanna help me out? I'll-" You contemplate your words, "I'll owe you one." The idea of manipulating them into your scheme makes you feel a little guilty, besides they probably didn't-

"SURE!" They didn't even hesitate.

"Oh, but Ace is on magical house arrest and _____ is a total normie, so you two better stick to paint."

"Recolor the roses with magic..." Deuce contemplates uneasy, but he doesn't refuse. Was it because you asked him, or the IOU. Maybe that gamble will bite you in the ass later.

"Relax, it'll be fine. You got this! But maybe do it before I lose my head? K-thanx."

And so that's what you did.

Or rather, what you and Ace did. Deuce and Grim are struggling a little, but Cater tries to help guide them. With limited success.

Deuce's attempts at casting the roses red cause those pale roses to change to every colour of the rainbow instead of red, or one of its otherwise named shades.

Grim was even worse off, as he burned the roses with every cast spell. He ends up stamping out the flames in a panic as he tries to keep the hedges and rose bushes from burning down all around you.

Ace is grumbling about having to paint without magic, destroying some of the rose blossoms in the progress.

You on the other hand fly through each of the huge roses pretty quickly, once you get the hang of it. The roses are fragile, and the brush needs to be angled correctly to prevent the flowers from being destroyed, but you get the hang of it. You lean down to paint another of the comically large roses.....

......When feel a hand brush your ear, and push something smooth behind it.

You jolt upwards. Looking back and forth for any sign of...."Cater?"

Cater pushes a finger against your lips, mirroring it with his own with a shushing sound. A cheeky smile on his lips. You reach up to touch the object he'd slipped behind your ears and feel...petals.

You blink as you pry it loss. And Cater's gone when you open your eyes.

In fact, he's back over where he's directing Deuce like nothing's ever happened.

Cater couldn't have vanished in the second you blinked and got all the way over to the rose bushes on the other side of the croquet arena. How exactly did he do that?

You shake your head, turning your attention to the gift. It's a rose. A beautiful, fragile white rose painted red by paint splatters. It's far from perfect, the different sized splatters are haphazard, but it feels more beautiful that one that was perfect.

But the red splatters also remind you of blood. Like blood sprayed onto a canvas. Still, the paint smells of paint, and you quite literally just meet Cater. The rose is just flirtation. Probably.

Still, you aren't here for love.

You crumple the beautifully painted blossom in between your two hands. The red paint flaking off and the white petals bruising. It was a nice gesture, really. But you can't accept it.

"All your rules are completely insane!" Grim complains loud enough to pull you out of your stupor. You do your best to scatter and hide the crumpled petals in the grass, before rejoining the others as Cater explains.

"They say the Queen of hearts made up these rules herself-she was one of the Great Seven, you know."

"Yeah, I read about them..." And about how the rules nearly drove the King of Hearts as mad as the Mad Hatter, why a dorm would want to.....Nevermind, this world is full of crazy people, why waste your time. "Her rules and traditions are maddening."

"And Riddle is all about tradition. Probably more than previous Dorm Leaders, TBH. He's a bit...well...extra."

"Yeah, no kidding! I don't have time for this nonsense. Is Riddle here? I gotta talk to him."

"Yeah, probably." Great, now let's just- "But are you sure that's wise? did you even bring an apology tart to replace the one you ate?" What?

"Uh, no.....? I came here first thing this morning."

"Ah. Ah. Ah....That could be a problem." No, no. Please don't say that they were strings attached.

"What's wrong?" You ask. You skimmed over the first two dozen rules of the Heartslabyul dorm, before realizing you didn't have time for that and moving on to Savanaclaw. You hope it wasn't important, you really don't want Ace to stay in your dorm tonight.

"Have you forgotten rule 53? 'Stolen items must be replaced.' If you're not in compliance, I can't let you in."

"You've gotta be kidding me." You object. If Ace can't apologise to Riddle, then you won't be able to sleep or feel safe in your own dorm. And the longer he stays mad at Ace, then the longer he'll be alone with you in your dorm.

"Are you serious?!"

"All dorm residents must obey the rules. If I let you slide, it would be off with my head next." Just how strict is this dorm?!

"Can't you make an exception?" You practically beg. Maybe you should have onto that rose, then you could have used it against him or something. Damn it.

Cater shakes his head. "I hate to say it, Ace, but I'm gonna need to leave before Riddle spots you. Thanx."

After Ace and Deuce got their asses kicked, Cater was kind enough to remind you of what was going to keep Ace in your dorm for another painstaking night. "Do make sure you bring that tart next time, m'kay. Buh-bye now!"

He pushes all of you out of the rose maze, but his grip lingers on you for a moment. Cater leans into your ear, "BTW, don't destroy someone's gift right in front of them, darling~" he whispers, before releasing you and vanishing into the maze again.

You'd felt your heart stop. How? How did he find out? You acted as normal as possible and you just met! Was that a test?! Had you failed?!

Ace, Deuce and Grim are debating their loss and licking their wounds. But you can't find it within yourself to care. Why did this keep happening? You didn't even do anything wrong!?

But that's what keep happening, isn't it? You do everything right but you still get punished for it! Were you just doing something wrong this whole time?!

Is there something you're not doing?

"...!" Deuce's noise of surprise knocks you out of your thoughts.

"What's wrong?" You ask, but your mind is still elsewhere.

Whatever they you can't here, the blood still roaring in your ears. But Deuce grabs your arm and all of you run to the hall of mirrors.

Deuce looks back once to give you a small smile, and that light in his eyes is there. The light of his infatuation, that blinds him from your pain but when you think about it....

Now that you think about it, Deuce, outside of the jealousy he shows you when Ace provokes him, is pretty calm most of the time. Is it possible to use that to aid yourself? To take advantage of that to your benefit? You did need allies, after all.

Is it cold to take advantage of someone? Yes, but if things get bad, desperate times call for desperate measures.

Besides, wouldn't he do that to you?

#yandere #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader

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crossedout-litany · 11 days ago

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guys i’m sorry but what do we actually do if mcr5 is real. how are we actually supposed to cope. i’ve been sitting hyperventilating with heart palpitations since i saw the post i don’t know if i could even stomach actual songs. like something tangible and real. i might throw up

#i’ve been wanting this for six fucking years #SIX AND A HALF FUCKING YEARSSSS #going insane #my chemical romance #mcr #mcr5

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armandology · 26 days ago

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sorry i havent been posting much about devils minion lately. but its because they're so special to me that i start getting heart palpitations and hyperventilating when i think about them for too long

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kimsohn · 1 year ago

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𓇼 3:04 am

pairing . eric x gn!reader about . 499 words, fluff warnings . none! tagging . @gfksn @invuwrld @stealanity

honestly, eric has to applaud how committed you are to this.

it's pitch black outside, and even though he doesn't know the exact numbers, he can tell it's far past your bedtime. it's far past anyone's bedtime, really, as he sees sunwoo knocked out next to a half-asleep sangyeon. the long hours of partying after another successful award show win seem to have taken a toll on everyone in this car, and he can't blame them for resting.

you especially have been nodding off for the entirety of the ride. however, the only thing keeping you from falling asleep is a surface to rest your head on, so every time your head veers even slightly to the left, you readjust yourself only to nod off again.

eric doesn't know whether to find it funny or maddening. he wants to yell at you that his shoulder is right there and that he would literally be the last person to care about you using it. however, you don't seem to have any plans of popping the question, opting to try and sleep upright (and fail) instead of being comfortable.

so eric does it for you.

"y/n, you know you can sleep on my shoulder, right?" he whispers, tapping the side of your head to wake you up.

"hm? oh," you respond, rubbing your eyes awake, "are you sure? it might be uncomfortable."

"it's fine, really. i don't mind."

normally, you would've argued more, but eric can tell you're too tired to care. you curl up into his side, wrapping your hands around his right arm like a pillow and resting your head on his shoulder.

your head on his body does make it a little hard to breathe, but he can't tell if it's because of the weight of your head or if he's hyperventilating at this close proximity. maybe the sleep had made him delirious, but he'd completely forgotten that yes, he did indeed have a major crush on you and yes, you clinging to him like a koala bear would make his heart palpitate.

he wonders if you can hear his heart beating out of his chest or the deep breaths he's having to take in this position. whatever he feels doesn't matter though, because he would sacrifice his breathing for the rest of eternity just to make sure you were safe.

okay, that might be a little too much (nothing is ever too much when it comes to you).

you feel as if you were meant to be there, so correct that eric is already imagining waking up next to you every day, your head on his chest and your hands around his torso. he closes his eyes, envisioning a lazy sunday morning with you and just you.

and maybe the party had taken a toll on eric too, or maybe your very presence had lulled him to a dreamy sleep, because as sangyeon wakes up when the car reaches their destination, he spots eric's head resting atop yours.

he'll give you two lovebirds five more minutes of peace. the universe can thank him later.

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ptolomia · 4 months ago

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Can you write a luke x bau reader , where Luke is inlove with reader but is in a relationship with Lisa because he think she doesn’t love him back. Reader obviously heartbroken he’s taken and rants to Penelope about her feelings and luke hears.

She laughs like you

Pairing: Luke Alvez x Fem!BAU!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Mutual Pining, Open ending, Reader has outstanding morals.

In fact, it was one of the first things Luke had noticed about Lisa. The way her breaths came and her chuckles struck as melodiously as yours. The way her lips twisted in the same direction yours would. He almost felt guilty as the days passed and her face slowly morphed into an image of you.

He thought he could bear it, find happiness in the way her laugh wasn’t quite yours, her smile wasn’t as crooked and chaotic. Her breaths didn’t come the same way, her joy wasn’t as pure. Still, Luke bore it, he smiled, laughed, planted kisses on her skin all while he searched for fragments of you in her soul.

You, on the other hand, could not bear it any more than he could. The outward appearance of bliss had clouded their image. You spent nights sleepless, searching for echoes of him in your dreams. Watching his frenzied journey to make his home hers, to embed his dreams into her heart. You felt your soul break apart.

Until one day the flow of your sanity had finally run dry. You had just arrived at your desk, prepared to tackle the mountain of paperwork that stood atop your desk until the sound of Matt and Luke’s conversation began to surround you. You listened as he eagerly spoke about her. The way he could barely contain his chuckles as he spoke, the way his cheeks flushed as Matt teased him relentlessly. You couldn’t do it anymore.

Standing up, you shuffled to Penelope’s office almost immediately. Barely shutting the door behind you as you hyperventilated. “What’s wrong sugar-” She was cut off by the way you collapsed into her arms.

“Pen, I can’t do it anymore,” you sobbed the words barely escaping. “I-I can’t smile and pretend to be happy for them anymore. I love him Pen! I don’t know how much more I can take before I go insane! I wish more than anything that I could swallow my feelings and be happy for him but the pain is eating me alive.”

She was speechless, instead of speaking she planted her hand on the back of your head, stroking your hair to ease your pain. “I know sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” she whispered.

Luke didn’t mean to eavesdrop, in fact he just wanted to know what was wrong. His heart hurt just thinking about you in pain, he foolishly followed you to Garcia’s office, only meaning to offer help. He hadnt expected that you of all people would feel so strongly about him. He was shell shocked, he was unable to move, or breathe, heck he couldn’t even knock. She just stood outside Penelope’s door listening to his head break as your sobs slowed.

“Stay there, sugar, I’ll go fetch you some coffee for your nerves.” She said, standing as you grasped your chest, finally beginning to calm down. Until you hear Penelope cuss.

“What the fuck?” She says, as you turn your chair swiftly. Your face dropped at the sight of Luke standing outside her door. When did he get there? Did he hear all that? You’re palpitating again, holding your head in you hands as you prepare to cry again. He breathes out your name, practically running to you after Garcia tells you two to talk.

“What do you want, Luke? Do you want to chew me out? To chastise me?” you say, your eyes stinging from all the tears. “Please, just listen?” he begs you.

“Listen, I know I have no right to say this to you but for what it’s worth, I love you.” He says shakily, barely mustering the courage to continue. “I chose Lisa because she reminded me of you. Because her laughs, he’s smiles, the way she speaks all remind me of you.” He laughs humourlessly. “I know that sounds awful but it’s true, I learned to love her because I love you.” You watched as a single tear fell from his eye. “So please, give me a chance, let me finally love you.” You couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

You didn’t understand what compelled you to giggle maniacally but you did. “Are you serious?” You ask rhetorically. Watching as his pain became embarrassment “You’re right about one thing, you do have no reason to say this to me.” Your giggles finally seize. “I do love you Luke but I deserve more, fuck, Lisa deserves more.” You say, clearing your throat. “If you loved me you would’ve chosen me, not someone who acts or sounds like me. You would choose me!” you were practically yelling at this point, “Let me make this very clear, I love you, but I don’t love you enough to hurt Lisa. I may not be her friend but I’m not her enemy either. You’ll leave us both alone, and you’ll come clean.” Shaking your head you finally look him in the eye. “Give us peace, heal, and then come and find me.” You walk to the door and Slam in behind you.

God, did you just do that?

#criminal minds #fanfic #fanfiction #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x you #luke alvez fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds fanfiction #angsty #angst #luke alvez angst #open ending #ambiguous ending #ptolomia writes

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neuroticboyfriend · 10 months ago

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my anxiety is crippling, in those words exactly. and if that's a problem, well, you can fucking die mad about it.

the line between "mental" and "physical" illness isn't a line at all. my anxiety and POTS both cause heart palpitations, tachycardia, high blood pressure, light-headedness, hyperventilation, panic, fatigue, brian fog, and more. both of them disable me, physically and mentally!

why is only one of those allowed to be crippling? why on earth would i let ableism and sanism decide what i call my own illness? get real.

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2012wannabe · 1 year ago

Text

10 minutes vs. A lifetime

my first fic in years! Lemme know what u think!!

wc: 1k

cw: Abby Anderson x AFAB!reader(reader has breasts), reader has a history of sa/rape by a man and has a panic attack during sex. honestly just some mentally ill shit

Notes for my fanfiction

Tugging Abby’s arm, you pulled her into your living room from your kitchen and firmly pulled her into a kiss.

“What’s this?”

“I can do it. I think I can.”

“Are you sure you want this? I don’t want you to do this because you think you have to.”

“I appreciate that,” you said with a small smile.

“But I promise you that I want this.” You grabbed her arms, touching her hands and her wrists. You had always been obsessed with her arms, not just her biceps and her shoulders but her forearms down to her fingers, they just caught your eye every time especially when she wore those muscle tanks you like. Abby nodded and kissed you back, and you were excited. Not just horny excited, but excited.

Sometimes you went through phases where all you could think about were his hands and his touch leading to you having panic attacks when you had sex. You couldn't separate her touch from his and you inexplicably hated it. You loved Abby, and not being able to be intimate with her made you sad. She was so good about it too, saying that she’d gladly be celibate if it meant she got to be with you. (You cried after because of how much she loved you and she looked so concerned until you explained).

You pulled your shirt over your head and tried to unclasp your bra all sexy knowing how much Abby loved your breasts. You kissed her again and placed her hands on your waist letting her feel you up and rubbing down your back to grab your butt and slap it. You gasped into the kiss when she did and pushed yourself closer to her.

“I fucking love you.” She whispered.

“I fucking love you too.”

You pushed her to sit down on the couch, sitting on her lap and grinding against her. It had been so long, too long. Abby mumbled something you didn’t quite catch but you didn’t care, even just grinding against her thigh through your pants and hers sent a shock down to your core. She moved you momentarily to take off her pants and welcomed you back in her arms. You kissed again and let her feel and grope your butt and thighs when all of a sudden a little twinge of negative emotion started in your chest. You couldn't tell what it was quite yet but your brain scrambled knowing a panic attack was near. You kissed her more fiercely because you really did want this. She picked you up and laid you on the couch unbuttoning your pants and that little tiny twinge turned into something much more. Your heart started beating rapidly, palpitating so much so that you heard and felt it in your ears and chest. You lost your breath, starting to hyperventilate looking up at her panicked but mostly sad. She left your pants alone and asked,

“Are you okay baby?” She knew it was a pointless question, but talking grounded you. You wanted to say you were okay, but your eyes watered and tears leaked down your cheeks. Softly touching your face, she wiped your tears and sat you up still crying.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” You hiccupped.

“I know you feel like you have to say it but I promise you that you don't have to apologize. It's okay. It's okay my love.”

“Fuck, why can’t I just do this?” You muttered. You clung to Abby's touch, finding solace in her unwavering presence.

"I'm here," Abby murmured softly.

"You're not alone. I love you.” She said, moving to get your shirt.

“Is it okay if I, or do you need to do it?”

“It's okay, you can do it.” You tried to smile at her but it came out pained. I wish it was over, you thought. Why is it that ten minutes for him had to become a whole lifetime for me? You cried even harder with the panic attack over with and buried your head in your arms. She gently raised your arms, slipping your shirt over your head and still sat right by your side, rubbing circles into your back and whispering comforting words to you which in a way made you feel worse. You didn't want Abby to have to deal with your problems and as much as you knew she would be appalled if you ever said it you still felt like you were a burden to her. You loved the feeling of being taken care of but you felt bad when people did. You felt guilty and unworthy even though you knew consciously you were absolutely worthy of love and care. Especially not being able to do something as natural as have sex with your romantic partner made you feel like you weren’t enough. Your lip quivered again and all you could do is cry into her shoulder and rush out another string of apologies. She continued to comfort you until the tears stopped and you were finally able to catch your breathe and ask,

“Do you mind if I have a moment to myself? I just want to sleep.”

“Of course.” She said giving you a genuine smile. Your heart twisted a bit but you got into you and Abby’s shared bed and wrapped your arms around yourself under the covers. You tried to close your eyes but your brain wouldn’t let up. Some time passed and you rolled around despite the whole ordeal exhausting you.

“Abby?” You called.

“Yeah?” She called back, instantly walking over into the bedroom.

“Can you lay with me?”

“Of course baby.” So she got into bed and you wrapped her arm around you and cuddled into her anyway already feeling your body relax.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with my problems.”

“I love you so so so much, you know that right?”

“I know.”

“And you know you will never ever ever be a burden to me right?” Fuck.

“Yeah I know.” You kissed her for the last time that night and let her love be the last thing you felt before you drifted off to sleep.

#abby anderson #abby anderson blurb #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fic #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x you #hurt/comfort #abby anderson x reader #reader angst #rapevictim #rapesurvivor #jackwrites

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justanotherfanwriter · 2 years ago

Text

And they were ROOMmates

Cht list: (1) (2) (3) (4)

a/n: Soul Eater. Soul X Maka. Maka's hurt, Soul's anxious, and "dignity" gets in the way.

I bet people can be weird about co-ed partnerships between a meister and a weapon, so I wrote something that tackled it. But lol I lost the rest of the outline, so here's just a part. I can continue if anyone is interested.

c/w: hurt/comfort, depictions of blood and injuries.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

“Just get the room open,” Soul hissed at Ox, “we don’t have time for this.”

“Maka needs her own room. It’s against protocol, and—”

“Protocol? I literally live with her! Just open the door. You’re making a scene,” He fumed, shifting Maka’s weight in his arms. She was cradled against his chest, bloodied, battered, and more than a little dazed.

When Ox continued to stand in front of the hotel door, neglecting to open it, Soul turned his glare on Harvar.

“Talk to your Meister before I punch his face in,” He demanded. Harvar glared back, his stupid glasses long gone, buried somewhere in the aftermath of their battle.

He shifted Maka’s weight again, and she groaned, causing his heart to palpitate. For fuck sake, he didn’t want to pull rank on these assholes, but he wasn’t above it!

“It’s not like she can bandage herself!” He pleaded, shooting her a worried look. Blood caked one side of her head, and while he knew head wounds purposefully bled more, it was making him lightheaded. Coupled with the beating the rest of her face had taken, he was close to a nervous breakdown. And that was without considering the odd angle her right ankle was hanging.

“We should be taking her to a hospital!” Ox snapped back, “This is ridiculous!”

“Wow! A hospital! How come I didn’t think of that—oh wait! Because there are no hospitals! Did you see a hospital? Cause I sure didn’t! And it’s not like we can drive to one! Because someone fried the damn battery!”

They had been lucky enough to find a hotel if it could even be called that. It was more like a motel, but shittier, located next to the mechanic that would hopefully be open tomorrow morning, so they could get their DWMA-leased car to work again. They had pulled into the parking lot literally on their last wheel, with poor Maka in the back wheezing the whole ride down.

And, wait, did the wheezing mean she had a broken rib?

He felt cold sweat slip down his neck as he paled.

Yeah, he was definitely close to hyperventilating.

Of course, none of them would have been in this shitty situation if they had just listened to him in the first place. He hadn’t wanted to take this joint mission with Ox and Harvar, not because of the company (though it was quickly becoming “because of the company”), but because after everything they had been through, a D-rank mission had a certain “below them” quality to it. But, unfortunately, Ox and Maka couldn’t let go of their pissing competition for more than five minutes to figure that out for themselves or listen to reason, and fucking Harvar was as unhelpful as ever in that regard.

In the end, though, they had all been wrong. Neither Ox’s nor Maka’s “superior intellect” had broken any supposed DWMA D-rank records, and Soul had extremely misjudged the difficulty of the assigned task. If Soul hadn’t already had his suspicions that Kid reshuffled the assignments so each rank would have an equal and even number of missions to complete, which was, evidently, how a D-rank mission could become a B-rank without warning, he’d also think this meant the new Death Lord had extremely misjudged the difficulty of the assigned task. But really, this just confirmed his (and Liz’s) suspicions that Kid was skipping out on his anxiety medication. Again.

“Ox,” Harvar eventually sighed, pushing his not-there glasses up his nose, “he’s right, she’s not well, and we don’t have enough money to afford the mechanic and another room. I believe the front desk attendant knows we’re—” He paused, “—unfortunately desperate and skewed the prices.”

“What’s the big deal anyway?” Soul huffed.

“She’s a girl,” Ox whined like he was still twelve, and they were all still stuck in the single-sex dorms at DWMA. He had bitched about it when Maka would sneak in before they moved off-campus together. “It’s inappropriate.”

“And we wonder why you haven’t gotten laid yet.” He deadpanned, clutching Maka closer to him, who had begun to shiver.

Ox’s cheeks flooded with color, “H-hey, I—” He straightened, “—I won’t stand for that! I have to!”

Of course, he hadn’t. They wouldn’t have heard the end of it if he had. And by “they,” Soul meant the “boys-only” group chat Ox had explicitly created so he could bitch about Kim without Kim finding out. He was probably the only one who actually used it.

Soul felt his shoulders slump as exhaustion rolled through him, but he kept a tight grip on Maka.

It had been a long two days of driving, roughing it in the woods, fighting for their lives, and now, this, with Maka hurt and him feeling useless, crummy, and anxious beyond belief. He hated—absolutely loathed—Maka getting hurt. It physically made him nauseous. DWMA nurses told him he was a casebook study of Couvade Syndrome, which was better known as sympathetic pregnancy to ordinary people, and commonly found in meister-weapon relationships on account of the soul-bond, of which his and Maka’s was very strong for obvious, black-blood related reasons.

“Just open the door, please,” He begged, letting his eyes fall shut.

Maybe they could hear the desperation in his voice because, after a short pause, the door clicked open. He didn’t wait for grand gestures as he breezed past them, gingerly putting Maka down on the closest of the two full-sized beds. If she were more coherent, she would have been beyond pissed. She never laid down on a strange bed without first checking for bed bugs, but Soul was well past the patience needed for that.

He began unlacing her combat boots as Ox and Harvar sat their things down on the other bed. They had a ridiculous amount of luggage, most of which held Ox’s copious amount of hair products. On the other hand, Maka and Soul’s stuff was all contained in one duffle bag currently strapped to his back. They preferred traveling light with nothing valuable just in case they were whisked away to, hell, the moon? It had happened before, and the moment they thought it wouldn’t happen again, it was sure to happen again. His favorite headband was still up there, sad, lost, and alone.

Or, well, alone wasn’t the right word, but whatever.

Regardless, Ox and Harvar didn’t seem to care about Murphy’s Law. It was frustrating and so different from how he and Maka operated as a team. The two other boys were so smart, but they didn’t share even a single brain cell when it came to common sense. How they had made it this far in the DWMA program was beyond Soul, but he had other things to worry about—Maka-related things.

“That fucker got a good swipe at her back. I’m going to have to clean the cut. Maybe do stitches?” He shook his head, “I dunno. I need to get her cleaned off. It shouldn’t take long.”

He scoped her back into his arms and, for a split second, marveled at how light she was for someone who could pack such a punch.

“You’re going to the bathroom?” Ox asked, mouth falling open.

Soul scowled, “I’m sorry did you want to go first?”

Ox had enough grace to look offended, “Of course not! I—it’s just, well, you’re going in there with her?”

He looked down at Maka, cradled snuggly in his arms, half-mumbling, half-moaning, “Uh, duh? She’s half-conscious?”

“Should we—” Ox shared a look with Harvar, “—uh, come supervise?”

Soul blinked, “I’m sorry?”

“Well, you know, for dignity’s sake.”

He stared at Ox and Harvar for a full minute, trying to figure out what they meant when it hit him square in the face, and whatever ill-boding feeling he had developed for them over the last two days did a seemingly impossible speedrun into hatred.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He asked, knowing full well what the fuck that was supposed to mean. His blood boiled as his grip on Maka tightened, turning her slightly away to obscure their view of her.

In a pacifying motion, Ox threw up his hands, “It’s not that we don’t trust you, Soul. It’s just that she’s half-unconscious like you said,” he emphasized, “and we don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. I’m just trying to take Maka’s best interest into account.”

He was beyond offended, literally dumbfounded.

“Right,” He sneered, turning towards the shitty motel bathroom, “makes total sense, three guys watching her bathe as opposed to one, got it. That’s so much better.” He bared his teeth, pushing the door open with his shoulder, “Do me a favor, Ox, and go fuck yourself, okay? Maka’s my meister. There’s nothing about her I haven’t seen before.”

And with that, he let the door slam close behind him.

He stood there momentarily, huffing and puffing until she gurgled a half-attempted word. It was the total gibberish of a half-conscious person, but it stopped the red and black haze threatening to take over his mind. Then, gently, he set her down on the dirty tile floor and examined the sorry state of the bathtub. He crinkled his nose in distaste.

Looking around, he noticed the whole bathroom was just as grimy. Colonies of Silverfish bugs crawled in and out of all three drains, one for the sink, one for the bathtub, and a mysterious third one in the center of the room.

He mumbled obscenities to himself as he set up a measly washing station and decided not to put Maka in the tub. Instead, he sat her on the lip, balancing her as best he could with his limited resources.

His actions were mechanical as he undressed her, leaving her underwear on for now but removing her sports bra. Then, carefully, he examined her, noting the various wounds and taking special care of the angrier-looking cuts and scratches. He had been right, her head bleed wasn’t as serious as it looked, but the scratches on her back were deep. Luckily, he didn’t think they would need stitches, which was good as the bathroom clearly wasn’t sterile, but she wouldn’t like it when he disinfected them.

His anger faded as he fell into his work, thinking nothing of her nakedness. After years of fixing Maka up after fights, he was used to her naked body in the most platonic way possible, like she was with his. It was a part of the partnership that every weapon and meister formed, same-sex and co-ed. Because who else was going to stitch you up when there were no doctors around?

Obviously, Ox and Harvar didn’t understand co-ed partnerships were exactly the same as same-sex ones because those two were a same-sex partnership, and worse, they were both totally guys about it. Chicks seemed to get it more than the guys ever did. Guys all had this same preconceived notion about co-ed partners that non-meisters and non-weapons had, which always boiled down to the same stupid question without fail: “Are you two hooking up?”

Soul didn’t understand why same-sex partners weren’t drilled about the same thing. He had seen Kim and Jackie in way more provocative situations than he and Maka had ever been, seemingly on purpose, but no, nope! Soul was the degenerate for helping his meister!

It was fucking ridiculous.

Rolling his eyes, he brushed hair from Maka’s face and returned to the task at hand. There was a nasty lump on her forehead that would have given even Black*Star a concussion, a big ugly bruise wrapping around the left side of her chest and waist, and a twisted ankle so swollen she couldn’t possibly get her boot back on around it.

“Oh, Maka,” He let out a heavy sigh, leaning over to turn on the bath faucet, “you gotta stop doing this to yourself.”

The faucet sputtered to life. The water that came out was hardly lukewarm but, thankfully, clean-looking. Grabbing a spare washcloth from their pack, Soul cleaned the muck and grime off her, wincing in sympathy when she did, even at the lightest of touches.

“I know,” He comforted, “I’m sorry. I’m almost done.”

“Soul?” Her eyes blinked open blearily.

“I’m here.”

She sighed, “My head hurts.”

“I know. We’ll get to that in a second, okay? Gotta get the blood off.”

“I’m tired.”

“Just a little longer.”

She groaned and then whined, “I’ve gotta pee.”

He snorted, cracking a smile for the first time that night, “Okay, hold on. Do you think you can manage wiping your own ass?”

She scoffed as much as she could, “Yes.”

“Then clean yourself first—” He gestured to her bottom half, “—while I get your clothes ready. Then, bathroom, I promise. Just keep holding on to me.”

“I won’t let go.”

Her words rang clear and sober, and his heart skipped a miserable beat.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

The whole bathing charade couldn’t have lasted more than fifteen to twenty minutes before Soul was helping Maka hobble out the door. Despite the colder weather outside, she was in a fresh set of pajamas consisting of an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts.

“It’s yours,” he said gruffly to Ox and Harvar. “Don’t worry. Dignity still intact.”

“What?” Maka stared at him.

“Don’t worry about it,” He shook his head, glaring at Ox as he entered the bathroom.

“Are you feeling better, Maka?” Ox pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Hardly.” She sighed, “But don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“Of course,” He nodded, closing the door.

“And how about you? Are you okay, Harvar?” She asked, staring at the other weapon setting up a makeshift bed with the room’s two armchairs.

“Yes.”

This was a standard, flippant Harvar response, but Maka’s eyebrows still furrowed together in confusion.

“What’s their problem?” She whispered, but he shook his head.

“Come on, time for bed. Lay down.”

She looked at the bed with disgust, “Did you check it for—”

“Maka, bed.” He gently pushed her down, “Here—” He pulled out his spare sleep shirt and wrapped her pillow in it “—just lay on top. You don’t have to get under the blankets.”

“That makes it not better.”

“We really don’t have a choice.” He rooted around their duffle bag for his hoodie and passed it over to her, worried she’d get too cold in the middle of the night without a cover of some sort.

“It’s yours,” she protested. “I already have your—”

“Just take it,” he said, exasperated. Couldn’t people just do what he wanted without arguing?

“Should we flip a coin for it?” Harvar spoke up suddenly, and he and Maka turned to look at the boy.

“What now?” Soul asked, reaching the end of his patience.

Harvar gestured to the makeshift bed, “Maka, of course, will have a bed, and Ox too since they did the physical stuff. It’s only fair, after all. But me and you, one of us gets the floor, and the other gets the chairs.”

“Oh no,” Maka shook her head, “you don’t have to do that. The beds are big enough, Harvar. Me and Ox can share them with you guys.”

A hard look passed over Harvar’s face, “That’s hardly appropriate.”

“What do you—”

“Holy shit,” Soul seethed, interrupting Maka’s question, “fuck off with the appropriate bullshit. I’ll share the bed with Maka; you can be weird and have armchairs. I don’t care! Literally, no one cares! I’m not going to—” He sputtered, looking for the right word, “—to defile her, so quit the hero act! Now! Good! Night!”

Still covered in his own healthy layer of muck and grime, he flopped onto his and Maka’s bed with his back turned toward Harvar. And then, after a second, pulled Maka down with him to make a show of how normal and totally not weird it was, ignoring the way she hissed, “Be careful, idiot!”

Soul glared at the wall closest to Maka, shielding her from the view of the other bed. Then, fidgeted, sat up, and pulled the shirt he was wearing off by the collar before plopping down again.

“What’s going on?” Maka whispered, touching his cheek to get his attention, “Did you three fight? I…I can’t remember much.”

His anger dissipated slightly at the worry wrinkling her forehead. He grabbed the hand on his face and felt some relief flood into his shoulders. It was good that Maka was well enough to be doing Maka-things, like worrying about other peoples’ feelings while she was falling apart. It made him worry less, though her memory issues were still concerning.

“Sort of,” He whispered back, “but it doesn’t matter. Just go to bed. We can talk about it later. Alone.”

She nodded, letting her hand drop from his face as her eyelids started to droop. “Hum me to sleep?” She asked.

“Maka,” He groaned again, hyperaware they weren’t alone.

“Please?” She peeked open one eye, “I’m so skeeved out by this bed right now. I’ll never sleep at this rate.”

“That’s a lie. You’re falling asleep as we speak.”

The edges of her mouth quirked up. “Please,” she asked again, anyway.

Now, here, if he were Ox or Harvar, is where he would have started to worry about the state of his and Maka’s dignity. It wasn’t the nakedness, or the shared bed, or their general touchy-feely bullshit, though Soul was smart enough to understand what those may have looked like to an outsider.

But the music?

Someday, it was going to give him away. Someday, someone who wasn’t so tone-death was going to look at him and call him out on all his bullshit.

Still, because she had asked, he hummed, falling asleep with her tangled up in his arms.

Platonically, of course.

--------------------------------------------------------------

A throat was cleared, once, twice, then, “Soul.”

“Eh,” He groaned, nuzzling further into his pillow. His body ached with fatigue and he couldn’t find it in himself to care about whatever the ominous voice wanted him to care about, “’ive more m’nutes.”

“The mechanic’s open. Wake up.” A blanket was ripped off of him, and he shrunk into a ball, screwing his eyes shut as he patted around the bed for the lost source of comfort.

“H—ey,” He whined, “no.”

“Soul!” Maka shoved him off of her, “Let go of me! And wake up!”

He landed hard on the motel’s floor, eyes flying open as his brain worked overtime to orient him in time and space.

“Hey!” He cried when he realized what had just transpired, “What’s the big idea! I was sleeping.”

“You need to be waking,” Maka hissed back, rubbing her arms.

He blinked, angry and then worried, watching her rub her arms. A collage of purple and yellow bruises littered them, which was confusing until yesterday hit him like a sack of bricks.

He sat up straighter, remembering that he wasn’t home safe and sound in the comfort of his own bed.

“How are you feeling?” He asked her, scrambling to his feet.

She huffed, rolling her eyes as he fussed around her.

“Worse has happened, Soul,” She allowed him to prop her swollen ankle up on the pillow he had been using, “just go with Harvar, okay? He’s been—” She waved towards the other weapon, who Soul finally noticed at the end of their bed, watching, “—staring.”

“You’re still a heavy sleeper,” Harvar sniffed, walking out, “The mechanics open. I’ll meet you in the hobby.”

“Uh, yeah, okay.” Soul nodded, then looked at Maka, who shrugged.

“He woke me up while he was trying to wake you up. I don’t know how you didn’t feel it,” She whispered, referring to the weight of Harvar’s notorious stare, “seriously, what is their deal?”

Soul thought momentarily about how he had held Maka while he slept, and something warm stirred in his gut.

“I think we are,” He muttered to himself, pulling on a clean shirt.

“What?” She leaned in, “I couldn’t—”

“Excuse me,” Ox said from the other bed, sitting up on his elbows to glare at them—or well, that was likely his intent because the plush, pink sleeping mask he was wearing obscured the gesture, but it rang loud and clear in his tone, “some of us are trying to sleep.”

Soul glared back before turning back to Maka, “Are you okay? I’ll see if I can rustle up some coffee.”

Her face fell and Soul ached with her.

“Pain killers?” She finally asked, “I think I only packed my migraine stuff.”

“Right, no problem.” He patted his back pockets, checking for his wallet, “Need help going to the—”

“Still trying to sleep!” Ox snapped, making a show of tossing and turning, then beating his pillows back to plump.

“Just go,” she said through gritted teeth, giving Ox a crossed look, “obviously—” She chucked one of the pillows she had behind her back at the other bed, “—sleeping beauty here can’t be disturbed even though this is all his fault.”

“Excuse me!” Ox sputtered, sitting up, arguing with his eye mask still on, “My fault!”

“You heard me, Poindexter!” She argued, “Your fault!”

“I’m not the one who charged in head first without a plan!”

“I had a plan, asshole! You didn’t want to listen to it!”

“You weren’t being reasonable!”

“You fried the car!”

Soul was out the door before things could turn violent.

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“Sorry, they were fighting.” Soul offered to Harvar as an explanation for his obvious tardiness when he finally made it down to the lobby.

Harvar didn’t respond. He simply turned on his heels and made for the door to the sad, rundown parking lot.

The walk to the mechanic was silent, which wasn’t unexpected. Neither of them was the type to initiate conversation.

“Are you two close?” He remembered Maka had asked a long time ago when they first partnered up. “You’re pretty similar, you know, in some ways, mannerism-wise.”

He had found the comparison largely offensive and told her so over the sound of her laughing.

Harvar had been his roommate the first year he had been at DWMA. While Harvar had already been at the school for two years prior to Soul attending, they had been paired together based on their NOT year courses, not seniority. So while it had technically been Soul’s first year at the school, in his NOT courses, he had been a seventh year, and up until he met Maka, he figured he would be staying in the NOT courses, but no way in hell did that mean he wanted to stay Harvar’s roommate.

On paper, Harvar was a fine roommate, Soul supposed. He was quiet, kept to himself, and neat about things, but Soul instantly preferred Kilik, their suitemate and Ox’s original roommate. Harvar had always been too cold. Not cool. And boring. And intense about it. He had a pension for ratting Soul out whenever he broke a rule, which, yeah, included sneaking Maka into their boys-only dorm, among a few other, more incriminating stunts, and he cared way too much about schoolwork. Sure, Maka was also intense about it, but she liked school in a cute nerdy way. Harvar (and Ox) took it to an unlikable extreme.

So, yes, while Harvar was maybe quiet like Soul, and they had been fine together as roommates and worked together as part of the Spartoi, that was all he has was to Soul. His first-year roommate.

“You know I’ll have to inform Lord Death, correct?” Harvar spoke suddenly.

Soul stared at him, surprised he had spoken. They were now waiting for the mechanic to look over the car. Soul had been elected to attend the appointment because he knew a few things about cars. Harvar had volunteered to attend because he probably thought Soul was incompetent.

“About what?” He drawled out, “The fight? The car? The incorrect assignment rating? I’m pretty sure Maka can cover chewing Kid out for all of us.”

“Lord Death,” Harvar corrected, and Soul did his best not to roll his eyes. He’d be long dead before he addressed Kid by his fucking title. Black-Moon-Last-Death-Scythe-One-of-His-Best-Friends privilege and all that.

“And no, I mean about yours and Maka’s relationship.”

“And what about our relationship would you be reporting? The part where I didn’t let her bleed out?”

“You still think of her as your meister.”

He made a move to argue that she was, in fact, obviously, still his meister but immediately clamped his mouth shut because Harvar was right. Maka wasn’t actually his meister anymore. He was a Death Scythe. He was Kid’s, but that was a load of bullshit, in his opinion. All of Kid’s directives had paired Soul with Maka, and that was normal. Usually, the meister who created the death scythe continued to work with said scythe. He honestly didn’t think Kid would make a habit of pairing him with someone else, all things considering. Sure, there would be times when they would be called apart, but Maka would always be one of Kid’s top agents, Soul had no doubt about that, so “apart” for them would never be too long.

And despite what Maka’s old man claimed, Soul wasn’t gunning to be Kid’s right-hand man. Spirit’s real competition was Liz and Patty, who were technically Death Scythes just by virtue of being Kid’s first chosen weapons, and no way would Spirit come out on top against those two. Soul didn’t think the old Scythe would be reassigned, but he knew where Kid’s preferences lay.

Regardless, he didn’t appreciate being threatened. Obviously, Harvar’s issue with him wasn’t the same trivial technicalities Spirit worried about. To Harvar, Soul had broken a rule every death weapon knew when they were told about the “wonders” of becoming a Death Scythe. In some way, you gave up your idea of meister. You no longer got to choose who wielded you; you were Death’s and Death’s alone, a title worth the sacrifice of choice.

Harvar had been one of those death weapons who had wanted to make that sacrifice before Kid had gone and changed the rules. Soul had been one of those weapons, too, at first. Definitely, before black blood had changed everything and Maka had become too important to lose.

There had been a time when he couldn’t fathom why some weapons had no desire to be Death Scythes. He understood now, a little too late.

And Harvar, the preceptive piece of shit, had caught on to that.

He swallowed his panic, fighting to keep it off his face. On the off-chance Harvar wasn’t bluffing, Soul didn’t know what Kid would do when he found out, but for propriety’s sake, he’d probably have to do a few missions sans Maka, and the dependency problems he was avoiding screamed at the very idea.

“Sure, Harvar, and don’t forget to tell him the part where you wouldn’t let us into the hotel room and then wanted to watch her bathe. I bet he’d love to hear that, especially with Liz and Pat right there next to him. Hey,” He turned to stare at the other boy, “FYI, those three have shared a bed before, too, so don’t forget to mention how inappropriate you think that is, okay? They’d get a good laugh out of it.”

Harvar didn’t reply, and nothing else was said between them. When they returned to the hotel, Maka and Ox weren’t speaking either. To say the least, the ride home was long and awkward.

#soul eater #my writing #soul x maka #maka x soul #manga compliant #long post

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