#physically and mentally exhausted but my son always manages to make me smile

[plusthreerabbits]

Just wanted to let y'all know that Chewie is always happy to see you!

[Video description: Chewie, a golden brown rabbit, doing a binky on a wooden deck. /end]

[sanshoney]

father & male!child!reader

reader is 10, father is 38

no plot, just general fluff

shout out to boys who never had a healthy father figure in their life

(intentional lowercase, y/n is not used)

– being a divorced father with a 10 year old is a bit difficult, william can tell this much. working overtime to maintain the middle class life both for himself and his child is more than exhausting. but at the end of the day, it's all worth it. everything for his darling boy, right?

– sometimes, he can't manage to pick you up from school, so he asks his best friend, jake, to do that. luckily, jake is a sweetheart and you warmed up to him pretty quickly. he's kinda your best friend too, at this point.

– everytime he comes home, tired, hungry and grumpy from work, you never fail to make him smile. the way you jump up from the couch, scream "daddy!" and run into his arms gets him everytime. he lifts you up and spins you around giggling. you always giggle along with him, wrapping your legs around his torso for extra safety. "hi, sweetheart. how's my darling boy doing, hm?" he kisses your forehead and cheeks lovingly.

– he's a busy man, but he always makes sure to have time for you. father-son weekends are a must, where you basically do anything together. the keyword is "together". you could watchim movies, go to the playground, draw together or even cook (you being his "little assistant", as he calls you, because he's obviously not gonna let you near to the stove), all that matters is that you're having a good time with your father.

– in your eyes, he's the one who knows everything. when you have a question, you ask it from him. when he's not around, jake would do, sure, but he's the main source of your knowledge. you always say that everything you know, you know it from him. it doesn't matter that you learnt reading, still learning counting and numbers in school, you deny it all. you always tell will that he's much better than school and you could spend your whole life having knowledge only from him. he only laughs and pats your head, "you're too sweet for your own good."

– he makes sure to raise you right, so you'll turn out a mentally healthy and happy person. he teaches you to refrain and not listen to anything that toxic masculinity contains. "having emotions is okay. everyone has them; everyone cries, laughs or gets embarrassed from time to time. feeling sad it's more than okay, my boy. if you need to cry, let it out. im here for you always, sweetie. please rely on me when needed."

– he teaches you about different races and sexualities pretty soon. he wants you to be a respectful and open-minded person. and if happens, that you're not cis or straight, don't hate yourself but instead accept yourself. he really just wants the best for you.

– he also teaches you that being kind and affectionate isn't feminine. hugging or kissing someone you love and fond of it's just a human thing, not a "girl thing". thats why, he always encourages you to kiss or hug him when you'd like to. of course, he doesn't force you - he said that there are people who simply don't like physical touch and you need to respect that. boundaries are meant to be taken seriously, after all.

– he has a habit of calling you by petnames like honey, sweetheart, darling and anything like those. "petnames are a sign of affection. you can use petnames on your romantic partners, or in our case, familiar bonds too. tell me, if you'd like me use a new petname or want me stop the whole thing," he's just so considerate of your feelings.

– "a good man is respectful, loving and kind. these are the main qualities of a healthy person."

– he makes sure to compliment and praise you a lot. he wants you to have a healthy confidence - you're perfect, after all. in his eyes, at least. "that's my boy", "you did such a good job, darling. im so, so proud of you", "look at you being so pretty in your new tee. you're beautiful, my sweet". he always makes you feel so good and warm. that's why, you compliment him back. "daddy, your new shirt looks really nice on you", "daddy, you look so handsome today".

– but of course, both of you compliment each other's personalities as well. "my boy, it was so kind of you to say that about jake. im so proud to have such an endearing little boy like you". "honey, you are so clever. not many kids know this. you're quick to learn. im very proud of you, dear". there are times, when wills especially emotional. he can give a long, loving speech about his unconditional love for you.

you're laying on your father's chest, your head burried in his neck. he's slowly rubbing your back and hums a familiar melody. you're not sure what it is tho. you're on the verge of falling asleep, when you suddenly hear wills voice.

"darling?" his voice is soft, gentle in case you're already sleeping. "hmm?" "you know i love you very much, right?" "i love you too, daddy." "and you know im always proud of you? im always gonna be proud of you, no matter what you do. even if you make mistakes, you're perfect for me. everytime i look at you i just... feel so much love towards you. my sweet, adorable boy. you're so kind, clever and affectionate. you're my pride and joy." he kisses your forehead. you feel yourself blushing, hearing your daddy's loving words always being a treat. and you're having a lot of treats. "you're worth every single overworked day, every frown that paints my face less friendly. coming home to you is what keeps me going. feeling your little arms and legs wrapped around my body makes me happy beyond words. im so happy to have a son like you..." his voice cracks and you can see his eyes glisten. he's so full of emotions right now.

you lift your head up from his chest quickly, worried. "please don't cry, daddy... you make me happy too. i love you too. please don't be sad." you say softly, rubbing his cheeks clumsily and looking at him with your doe eyes. he can't help but smile at your sweetness. "baby, im not sad. i feel the opposite, actually. these are tears of happiness."

you frown at him confused. if he's happy, why is he crying? isn't crying a bad thing? you decide, it doesn't matter. you just want to comfort him, like he always does with you. you press soft kisses to his whole face, leaving a bit of your molecules on his skin. he smiles gently and if anything, he just wants to cry harder now. he can't believe he has got such an angel in his life. "you're a blessing. an angel descended from heaven. i can't believe i have such a miracle in my arms like you..." he starts cradling you. "d-daddy..." you blush again. sometimes you wonder what did you ever do to deserve him. "im not an angel..." "you are. my little angel." he grins happily and covers your face in soft kisses, giving you back the favor from earlier. you smile sheepishly, basking in your father's love. it feels almost natural, really.

you can't help but wonder what would it be like, if you had a different parent, someone meaner and crueler. but the thing is, you don't have to worry about that. all that matters is that you have the perfect father, the kinda one shown in tv. and you couldn't be happier.

hope you enjoyed!! ♡

[captain-mj]

Plane Ride

Little Ghost mom centric thing because @snootlestheangel made me think about her again

Mrs. Riley silently handed her ticket to the airport security. She had never flown to America before. If she could, she'd probably feel anxious about doing something wrong and the man yelling at her.

Instead, all she could feel was the swirling mix of dread and relief filling her entire body. They bubbled and foamed inside her until she felt like she might throw up on the nice worker's shoes.

"Mum." Tommy put his hand on arm gently. "Sorry, sir. My brother is in the hospital and neither of us are taking it well."

"Go ahead and go through."

"Thank you, sir." Tommy held her hand as she tried not to cry again. "it's okay, Mum. Simon is alright. We're going to go see him and he's probably going to be fine and tell us we're loonies for even being worried about him."

Mrs. Riley wasn't sure she believed him, but nodded all the same. She was never the strongest person. Mentally or physically. It was not something she was proud of honestly. But she needed to keep herself together through the flight.

Tommy managed to sleep, probably exhausted from handling Joseph and the unknown amount of time he spent on the phone trying to get everything together. She made sure not to wake him up, even as she kept weeping.

Simon was alive. They told her he was dead. Went missing and would never return. That she'd never even get a body.

And now. He was alive, in critical condition and hadn't talked much. Her good boy.

Mrs. Riley started to sob again. She had never been a good mother. She always tried, but she didn't fool herself into thinking she was good. Simon protected her more than she ever protected him and that would probably always haunt her. A better mom would've left. Or at least made sure she was the only one getting hit.

The first time he had broken Simon's arm, she did leave. Just for a day. And then she came back. Weak and unable to handle the world anymore. When did she get like that? She asked herself the question constantly.

Not Simon though. Even as a kid. Always tough as nails.

The poor flight attendant offered her a drink on the house. She simply asked for a water and to please come back when Tommy was awake.

On foreign soil, she wondered how her son did it. Just... went to other countries. Talked with people. Smiled and drank and did all the things she did as a kid so easily.

A military personnel picked them up. They had on their formal wear. Only difference between it and the one, who told her that her eldest had died, was the flag and some colors. He had a scar along his head and tattoos on his arm. For a brief moment, she thought one of them may match her son's but his sleeve was half covering it.

"My name is Sergeant Alex Keller. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

He talked to Tommy like a soldier, greeting him with a thick Texan and shaking his hand. For her though, he must've seen the red eyes and the bags that came under them, because he actually smiled at her.

"I've never met someone as... strong willed as your son. I'll be happy to escort you both to the hospital. However," her blood started to drop in temperature, "i must warn you. He's not a happy camper. His condition also... isn't pretty. Doctors say he's out of the weeds, but recovery is going to be a slow and steady process."

Tommy nodded. "Strong willed... That's one way to describe him."

Sergeant Keller simply smiled and she got the impression he knew something she didn't. Most likely something classified if he was anything like Simon.

Alex took them to the hospital where they were told only one visitor at a time. With no hesitation, Tommy stepped back and said he'd wait in the waiting room. Although it was no doubt killing him, he simply squeezed his mom's hand and let go.

Mrs. Riley followed the nurse through the white halls, feeling nauseated as many childhood A&E visits flashed through her brain.

"Right now, he's on quite a bit of oxycodone."

"He's not supposed to take that."

The nurse faltered a bit. "There was no note in his file for allergies. We couldn't leave him unmedicated. Is there a different one that he should be on?" She sounded almost panicked, as she checked through Simon's file.

"Addiction... runs in the family. Sorry, I trust your judgement, miss. I'm just surprised he let you give him any pain meds."

The nurse relaxed and hesitated, again, almost telling her something. She seemed to take pity on the poor mom. "He was... delirious. We believe he was given some cocktails of hallucinogens and who knows what else. That with the infection and the fever... I don't think he would've stayed coherent enough to make choices."

Mrs. Riley found herself relaxing a little. "Simon knows how to dissociate. Hopefully that's what he did when they... took him. I understand there's certain things you can't tell me. I do. What can you tell me? Before I go in this room. What should I know?"

The nurse paused in front of the door. "I wouldn't normally do this. I need you to understand. But I think someone he's close to should understand what happened." She put the file on a small table nearby. "I'm going to walk away. Just go in when you're ready."

Mrs. Riley smiled at her and waited a moment or two after she walked away before picking it up.

Broken ribs. Dislocated. Vivisections scars. Damage to multiple organs. A surgery had been done to remove internal scar tissue. Puncture wounds all over. Unknown wound on the ribs. Cuts along face. Wound from a previously healed over slit throat. Signs of starvations. Signs of rape. Burns along feet, potentially from walking on hot ground. Scorpion stings on hands and wrists.

There were more, but most were cuts or bruising. Horrible, but nothing like what she had just read.

Mrs. Riley should've taken a moment to compose herself, but she couldn't. She didn't even put the file back on the table, just dropped it and went inside.

There he was. For the first time since he was six years old, he looked small. There were so many bandages, especially around his mouth. But his eyes were exposed. Along with dark hair that had grown out and fell in his face now. For a brief moment, his heart rate spiked in fear as he stared at her.

"There's my good boy." She said softly, walking over. She made herself walk slow and steady despite wanting to collapse. When he flinched away from her, it felt like she had her heart ripped out and picked apart. But he settled, his heart rate began to even back out.

He tried to talk but it seemed to pull something cause it winced in pain instead.

"Simon." His eyes went straight to her, soft and wet. "Blink once if i can take your hand."

One blink.

She grabbed it gently, cradling it. His hands dwarfed hers. There were so many scars. So much bandaging. Her eyes filled with tears and she could hear the heart monitor start to beep faster.

"I'm so glad I have you back, Simon." She rubbed his knuckles gently to calm him back down. "Tommy is outside when you want to see him."

It looked like he tried to sit up but the pained whimpering that came out of him made her sick.

"Sweetheart," she pressed his shoulders back gently, not liking the defocused look in his eyes. "please. Just stay still. Everything can wait. I promise. For once, just... let someone else be the strong one for you, alright?"

Mrs. Riley pulled up a chair and held his hand. Before long, he fell asleep, though he fought it to the bitter end. Tommy was allowed back eventually and she wasn't prepared for how fast he just fell apart.

Her poor boys.

Simon went to comfort him but was luckily stopped by both of them before he could hurt himself. He looked miserably at both of them but Tommy hit the pain med button for him and he relaxed back into a blissful and hopefully pain free sleep.

Mrs. Riley could be strong. She knew she could. Whatever Simon needed, he'd get.

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Bruce watched Lucius, or more specifically his hands, with a well concealed hostility.  If you didn’t truly know Bruce or weren’t well versed at reading suppressed emotions, you could believe it was just another artificially polite expression.  But Lucius had known Bruce since he was a child and Marinette hadn’t spent years fighting an emotional terrorist for nothing.  “I haven’t seen you all night and now I find you coopting this beautiful young lady’s time,” Bruce observed, his mouth tight.

Marinette eyed him apprehensively, subconsciously taking a half step back.  Her whole body stiffening.  Lucius took note of the change and moved slightly between the two of them and laughed politely.  He wasn’t sure what caused the change in demeanor but he still wanted to try to cultivate a business relationship with the young lady.  When they got the fabrics working, they would need a designer and she was not only clearly the perfect candidate for the position, they had already been considering her before everything she’d said during their dance.  

“Sorry, Mr. Wayne.  I assure you I was not avoiding you in favor of a prettier face,” he chuckled.  “Although I’ve been informed elusiveness seems to be a quality I exude unintentionally.” He winked at Marinette who smiled weakly at the attempt.

Bruce chuckled with him, tight and short exhales, his eyes never softening.  “I wouldn’t blame you at all.  She certainly is lovely.”

Marinette’s chest hollowed out, all the breath in her evaporating out of her chest as though it had never been there.  “Kind of you to say,” she rasped out just barely looking up to meet his eyes.

“Just saying the truth,” he assured her with more sincerity.  His eyes finally managed to soften as he looked at her, but immediately hardened again when he returned his gaze to Lucius.  “I’m sorry if Lucius has been keeping you captive.  I know he likes to talk and it can be hard to get him to stop, especially when he’s taken a particular interest in something… or someone.”  His eyes sharpened on Lucius as he spoke.  Lucius only raised his eyebrow in response, leaning back slightly as if to see Bruce a bit better.

Marinette immediately straightened back up, her eyes hardening.  All evidence of uncertainty and unease shattering as she did.  She had been the one to approach M. Fox.  She had been the one to coopt his time.  She had been the one manipulating the situation.  And now M. Wayne was going to try to twist this on M. Fox, who had been nothing but gracious and kind.  “I was just discussing innovation and the application process with M. Fox,” Marinette responded coldly before Lucius could.  “He was polite enough to entertain my questions.  He has been quite polite and charming and professional.”

“Were you thinking of working for WE?” Bruce asks perking up slightly.  

“You couldn’t pay me enough,” Marinette scoffed out before she could stop herself.  She immediately mentally face palmed.  This wasn’t the time for this.  Now was about Max, not her.  The mission had been successful she wasn’t going to blow it now by letting M. Fox see her overreactions.  

She let out a breath and looked back up with an overly wide smile.  “As I mentioned to M. Fox, I’m not really interested in technology.  I couldn’t imagine anything more boring than staring at numbers and code all day long,” she laughed in the way she’d seen Adrien laugh at events like this, an empty, meaningless laugh meant to indicate a lack of interest in the topic rather than actual entertainment, leaning toward Lucius as she said it, hoping to pull him into the conversation and rescue her from.

“It’s not my favorite part of the day either,” Lucius smiled graciously.  “I imagine you would still be good at it,” he assured her, “but I can’t say I blame you. I would likely react the same if faced with bolts of fabric and thread.”

Marinette smiled politely, grateful to him for the reprieve.  “Well that sounds interesting,” Bruce interjected.  “Perhaps we can discuss what would interest you during a dance.” He motioned toward the dancefloor and held his hand out toward her.

Marinette glanced down at the hand, a weight settling in the pit of her stomach.  If she gave in he’d have her for the duration of the song.  One-on-one.  No escape without creating a scene.  Trapped by the same societal conventions she’d used against M. Fox.  “Surely you must have more important guests to attend to,” she offered instead.

“I do not,” he assured her, sincerity radiating from his eyes.

Marinette opened her mouth to say yes, resigning herself to her fate when she felt a hand on her hip.  “There you are M’lady.  I lost you in the sea of people for a moment.”  Adrien prompted her to turn slightly so he could look her in the eyes. “You okay?”

Her shoulders, she hadn’t even realized had worked their way up to almost touching her jaw, instantly relaxed.  She gave him a relieved smile and squeezed his hand.  “I’m good, Kitty.  Thank you.”

“Is this your date?” Bruce inserted, eyeing him coldly, but held his hand out to him.  “Bruce Wayne.”

Adrien gave him his practiced, social smile, perfect for galas with strangers and potentially hostile associates.  “Nice to meet you, sir.  This is a very nice gathering.  Very kind of you to do this for the orphans,” his tone was bordering on openly hostile but keeping to the socially acceptable side of the border. Marinette choked at the statement. She hadn’t really thought about the intent of the gala since she’d made the plan.  When she’d made it, the purpose hadn’t had any bearing.  But now…

“Thank you.  It is an important cause to my family and myself.”  He missed the way Adrien squeezed Marinette tighter at his words. “You mentioned talking to Mr. Fox about innovation at Wayne Enterprises.  Perhaps you would like a tour of the building.  I can arrange one personally for you.”

Adrien pulled his lips into a tight, sickeningly artificial smile.  “How very generous of you.  Unfortunately, we won’t be in town that long.  We are scheduled to leave town Tuesday.”

Bruce looked between the two, forcing his body to not stiffen at Adrien responding for Marinette.  “Tell me about yourself, son,” Bruce smiled stiffly, noting that he had artfully left out his name, not that Bruce didn’t know it already, although the physical proximity to Marinette was unexpected.

It took almost all of Marinette’s experience as Ladybug to keep a poker face instead of letting her jaw drop in offense.  “Why don’t you let these young people dance, Bruce,” Lucius interrupted, detecting Marinette’s increased discomfort.  “After all, it’s cruel to make the young have to endure making conversation with the old guard like us.”  He turned to Marinette and Adrien with a kind smile.  “Make sure you don’t miss your opportunity to dance tonight.”

Marinette smiled at him gratefully.  “Not at all, M. Fox.  I found our conversation very fascinating.  Thank you very much for sharing your time with me.  It was much appreciated.  But I will take you up on your advice.”  She turned to Adrien and motioned to the dancefloor.  “Shall we?”

“Always,” Adrien smiled.  “Gentlemen.”  He nodded to them and guided Marinette across the dancefloor, taking great care to escort her as far from them as he possibly could.  He glanced around to make sure the men couldn’t see them and pulled Marinette into a comforting, all-encompassing hug.  “How are you really?”

Marinette held him tightly and buried her head in his chest.  “I’ll be okay.  I just… Thank you for the save.”  She laid her head on his chest as they swayed to the music.  Her breath slowly shifted from shaky to more steady.  She lost track of the number of songs that passed while she found her voice again.  When she could breathe normally again, she stood straight and smiled at Adrien.  “It worked.”

“It worked?” Adrien asked excitedly.

Marinette nodded and had to stop herself from doing an entirely inappropriate victory dance.  “He wants to meet Max on Monday.  Well, me too,” she cringed slightly, not looking forward to being involved beyond what she had done already.  “But! But, he was floored by Max’s invention. Like completely floored!  And knows about Rabler now.  He did not look happy at all about the news.”  Her grin widened as she remembered the encounter.  “I think Max is really going to be taken care of.  It went so well!” she squealed.

Adrien grinned back and hugged her.  “We have to let Max know.”

Marinette nodded.  “He’ll call us when he’s done.  We just need to stay up until then.”

Adrien nodded.  “Coffee it is then.  Do you want to leave now or look around?”  Marinette looked around quickly.  By the time she looked back at Adrien, her eyes had lost their light. She looked exhausted suddenly, drained by the experience.  Adrien gave her an understanding smile and squeeze.  The mission was over.  She didn’t need to be in mission mode anymore, or at least not high alert.  She just had the meeting on Monday and she was done. Now she could stop blocking any potentially interfering emotions and actually let herself feel again.  “Let’s get out of here and find a coffee shop then. We can take it back to the hotel and watch bad movies until Max calls.”

Marinette gave him a weak smile.  “Maybe popcorn and candy and drinks instead,” she offered. She rested her head on his shoulder. “Sooooo many drinks and ice cream.”

Adrien laughed and slung his arm over her shoulder to help guide her and comfort her at the same time.  They wound through the crowd making their way to the exit and freedom, where Marinette could finally breathe freely.  They had almost made it to the doors when they heard someone call Adrien’s name.  Adrien looked around and cursed under his breath.  “Hey again.”

“Leaving so soon?” Tim asked.  He looked between the two with a concerned expression.  It was awfully early in the night to leave already.

“Yeah, I think so.  It’s a nice event but I think we’re ready to go home, take off the stuffy clothes, and drink,” he gave him a charming, conspiratorial smile. Nobody their age wanted to be here and they all knew it.

“Oh that sounds like a brilliant plan,” the blonde woman next to Tim grinned.  “I wish we could do that.  But we have to at least wait until the announcement.  And we can’t drink.  But it would help handle events like this.”  She gave them a wide smile and held out her hand.  “I’m Stephanie.  Nice to meet you.”

Adrien smiled politely back.  “Adrien.  Hi.”

Marinette smiled civilly.  “Marinette.  Nice to meet you.”

Stephanie’s smile widened.  “Oh Timmy, make sure to keep this one away from Bruce.  Black hair, blue eyes, looks beautiful but haunted. He’ll adopt her in an instant.”

Tim laughed and rolled his eyes, drawing Stephanie’s attention to him, both of them missing the way Marinette and Adrien balked and Marinette’s entire body went rigid again.  “Bruce’s breaking that habit with today’s announcement.”

Adrien paled slightly.  This could go nowhere good, but it was like watching an akuma hit someone when you’re too far away to help.  It was going to happen no matter what.  The damage would be inestimable and all he could do was watch as it got worse and worse.  “Oh?”

“Yeah, our new brother… or rather their new brother, I’m not officially adopted, just unofficially the favorite child,” Steph winked at them.  Tim huffed playfully but didn’t contradict her.  It was easier to just let it go.  “Anyway, the new Wayne doesn’t have blue eyes. Does have black hair, is beautiful and looks haunted, so maybe it’s just the blue eyes that don’t matter so much anymore.”

“N…new brother?” Adrien stuttered, struggling to keep his voice even and polite.  The normal reaction to such news would be interest and happiness.  Well, they certainly had his interest.  The happiness part though…  He pulled Marinette tighter as he sent her a furtive look.  She was doing an admirable job of masking her response but he knew her. He knew the signs.  He knew her lips were a bit tighter than usual.  He knew her jaw was clenched harder than was normal.  He knew her breathing was harder than average.  He knew he shouldn’t be able to feel her pulse from here.

“Yeah!” Stephanie enthused.  “Duke.”

“We were supposed to wait for the announcement,” Tim chastised with no real heat behind his words.  “But yes.  That’s what this gala is really for.  To officially announce the adoption of Duke Thomas.  So, yet another ‘poor orphan’ joins the rest of us,” he joked.  “I swear Bruce just can’t help himself.  He sees a kid and instantly feels the need to protect and help.”

“So thoughtful,” Marinette rasped out, pretending like her entire chest wasn’t breaking apart and disintegrating in front of them.  “You must all be so excited.”

Tim looked at her for a moment but before he could analyze her tone or body language, they heard someone tapping on a microphone.  “That’s our cue,” Stephanie squealed.  “Looks like you might make it for the announcement after all.  It was nice to meet you if I don’t see you after.”  Tim and Stephanie waved before making their way to the stage.

Once the two were gone, Marinette’s eyes bulged as Tim’s words reverberated in her head.  This whole thing was to introduce a new child, another new child he took in, another addition to his family, another child he wanted and brought into his life instead of throwing them out.  Her eyes darted among the family members as they all made their way up onto the stage.  All standing behind the new member, smiling at him, hugging him, eyes shining in acceptance for him.  One big happy family, not wanting for anything… or anyone.

Marinette didn’t realize she had stopped breathing until her body forced a deep gasping breath, knocking her out of her stupor. She tore her eyes away so violently, she stumbled back, or maybe it was just that her resilience had disappeared with the words.  They should not be here.  They… she should never have come.  This was a stupid, terrible plan.  She had no right to intrude.  She had no right to be here… for this.

Her heart raced out of control.  Her whole body started shaking.  She couldn’t breathe.  Why couldn’t she breathe now?  But suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the room.  Why wasn’t there air?  There had been air before, hadn’t there been?  She remembers being able to breathe earlier.  She thinks.  Maybe she made that up.  Maybe she hadn’t been able to breathe since she stepped in the room.

She stumbled again and reached out for support, never doubting it would be there for her.  Adrien responded instantly, bringing her into his chest and quickly guiding her out of the gala.  He whispered comforting and reassuring words as they moved, throwing empty smiles at anyone who bothered looking their way, as though helping his drunk date home, nothing scandalous or even unusual, nothing to look twice at.

They missed the eyes searching the crowd for them and the quickly covered up frown at finding them missing.

Chapter 3

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm @jayjayspixiepop @redscarlet95 @alice-hazelwood @deathssilentapproach-blog @unoriginalmess @alyssadeliv @emotionalsupportginger 

[lostinthewiind]

Piss Off Your Parents - Part 9

Ukai Keishin - Haikyuu

Synopsis: freshly turned 18, you want to prove to your parents that you aren’t a child for them to push around anymore. First, get a job at the local corner store. Second, use the store owner’s 26-year-old son with piercings and a cigarette addiction to piss your parents off. Third, accidentally fall in love.

Rating: PG13

Warnings: arguing, harsh language, swearing

Song → 18 by Anarbor

Previous → Part 8

Next → Part 10

The trek up the stairs from the store to the apartment felt like climbing a never-ending escalator that was going the wrong way. After the day you had had, you were both mentally and physically exhausted and ready to call it a night early.

Thankfully, as if you had finally hit a stroke of luck that day, Keishin had texted you saying that he would pick up dinner on the way home, saving you the exertion of having to leave the apartment again. So, with that information in mind, you kicked off your shoes for the day and fell unceremoniously onto the couch in the living room.

As you sat down, you heard the envelope in your back pocket crinkle and the sudden noise seemed to completely fill the otherwise silent apartment.

Ah yes, the envelope.

Pulling the decision to your future out of your back pocket, you stared at it for what felt like another hour or so. No matter how long you held the envelope in your hands, you couldn't force yourself to open it. You simply didn't want to.

At some point between when your mother had handed it to you and now, you had subconsciously decided that you wanted to choose your own path forward despite what the decision letter may or may not say.

Feeling strangely empowered and confident, you stood to your feet and ventured into the bedroom where you slipped the envelope into one of the drawers Keishin was letting you keep your clothes in and tucked it underneath one of your sweaters. Maybe one day you would open the damn thing when whatever was inside wasn't weighing so heavily on your mind and future, but today was not that day.

Just then, you heard the front door open and knew Keishin had arrived home. Closing the drawer, you plastered a smile across your face and exited the bedroom to greet your boyfriend.

"Welcome home, Dear," you giggled, trying your best to fake the part of a doting housewife. "How was the volleyball game?"

Keishin chuckled softly as you took the takeout bags from him. "It was a close game, but they pulled it together in the last set and won."

"Oh, good!" You placed the bags onto the table before retrieving some plates and chopsticks from the kitchen.

"How was your day?" he asked as he pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek.

You sighed as you thought back on your day. "It was okay," you answered, not really wanting to go into much more detail than that. You doubted Keishin wanted to hear about your minuscule problems with rude customers after the long day he had clearly had.

Keishin, however, picked up on your uncertainty right away. "Doesn't sound okay," he commented. "Want to talk about it?"

You shrugged. "Just some shitty customers. Seems I had forgotten how poorly low-level workers are treated sometimes . . . just threw me a little," you said. "I'll be fine. Just glad the day is over now."

"You and me both." He flashed a smile as he turned to head for the bedroom. "I'm just going to change quickly and then we'll eat."

"Sounds good." You started dishing out some of the food. "I was also thinking we could watch a movie tonight as well. I could use something to clear my mind."

"Sitting on the couch with a beer is an ideal evening in my book," you heard him respond faintly from the bedroom. "There's a new action movie that came out. I think it's about-"

You waited for Keishin to finish his sentence, but when he didn't, you cocked your head and looked toward the bedroom doorway. Before you had the chance to call out to him, he appeared in the doorway shirtless, eyebrows furrowed and the envelope from the university in his hand.

"W-why do you have that?" you asked, the look on his face upon discovering the letter making your heart drop. "That was in my drawer . . . why were you going through my things?"

"I was looking for my sweater, the one you always steal," he answered. "Y/N . . . what is this?"

Rounding the table and approaching Keishin, you snatched the envelope out of his hand. "That is one of the many reasons why my day today was so shitty."

As you turned to head for the kitchen to toss the envelope in the garbage and rid your life of it, Keishin followed you. "You didn't get in?" he inquired.

You shrugged. "I have no idea. I didn't open it."

As you moved to toss the letter into the trash, Keishin grabbed your wrist and stopped you. "Why are you throwing it out if you didn't open it yet?"

"Because I don't care what it says. I've decided that I'm going to stay here with you and work at the store. This is the life I want . . . the life I get to choose for myself."

"You should still open it," he reasoned. "You might change how you feel about it when you see the result."

"I don't want to change how I feel about it." You shook your head as you gently pried your wrist out of his grip. "No need to make things more difficult than they need to be. I've had enough difficulty for one lifetime, thank you very much. This decision is easy, and best of all, it makes me happy."

Gesturing to the envelope, Keishin sighed. "But this is what you wanted. When you told me about your dream to play soccer at the University of Tokyo, your face lit up. Why are giving up on your dream before you've even given yourself a chance to experience it?"

"Dreams can change, Keishin," you told him before sighing and deciding to humour him for a moment. "Okay, let's say I open this letter and somehow did get in. What then? I couldn't pay for that school in my wildest dreams; not without my parents' help. Sometimes dreams are just childish and unrealistic. So I found a new dream, one with us living here together."

"You could apply for student loans. Tons of people do." He folded his arms across his chest. "I don't think this is about the money or your parents. I think this is about us. You've gotten comfortable here."

Throwing your hands up into the air in exasperation, you huffed. "And so what if I have? Is that really so bad?"

"I just don't want you to throw away an opportunity like this over me."

"Over you?" you cocked a brow. "Because you're, what, trash? Not worth it? A lowlife? A burnout?"

Keishin bit at his bottom lip. "You know what's not what I meant."

Inhaling deeply, you glared down at the god-forsaken envelope in your hand and began to tear at the top. "Let's not fight about something that probably isn't even going to happen." You pulled the letter out and unfolded it, your eyes scanning the text quickly. "The University of Tokyo is notoriously difficult to get into and I-"

Keishin quirked a brow when you stopped mid-sentence. "What does it say?"

A broken laugh was the only thing you could manage as you lowered the letter and shook your head. "Un-fucking-believable." You handed the paper over to Keishin, the edge crumpled from where your grip had tightened when you read the decision.

Keishin looked at the page for all of two seconds before he found the bolded 'Congratulations' and a huge grin spread across his face. "You got in!" He was way more excited than you were about this. "This is good news. You can play soccer at the University of Tokyo. Come on, you can't tell me this doesn't make you at least a little happy."

"I wish it did," you answered honestly. "I wish it were that easy."

"It is! It can be." Keishin set the letter down on the counter and took your hands in his. "Student loans, part-time jobs, it's all possible. Sure, it might be a little tricky to work out, but it's totally possible."

When you didn't respond, Keishin hooked his fingers under your chin and tilted your head up to look at him. "Accept the spot at the university. Follow your dream," he told you.

". . . but I'll have to leave you." You felt the words catch in your throat and tried your hardest not to start crying. "You make me happy—you're the first thing that's made me genuinely happy in a long time—and I don't want to leave that for a chance at something that might not even work out."

"But what if it does work out? You don't know that it won't," he said softly. "Don't end up like me, looking back at your past and wondering what might have been if you had just chosen a different path. I know this might seem good enough for now, but how will you feel after ten or twenty years of working the same dead-end job for the same shit pay all while getting treated like shit by people who look down on you? Look at how one day of catering to pretentious assholes made you feel. Do you really want to live the rest of your life like that?"

"But what about you?" you asked, your voice shaky.

Keishin dropped his head, a few stray strands of hair falling into his face. Unlike that morning, when he had been asleep with loose hairs in his face, he looked annoyed and frustrated now. The bags under his eyes and tension lines on his forehead were a stark contrast to the soft, peaceful face you had woken up to that morning.

"Don't throw this away over me," he repeated. "Don't throw your future away over a 26-year-old burnout."

Lip quivering, you sucked in a deep breath. "I thought you were different . . . but you're just like everyone else."

Keishin eyed you. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You said I should make my own decisions and live my life how I wanted but it was all a facade." You slipped your hand out of his and took a step back. "In the end, you're just like everyone else . . . you think you have a right to plan my future for me without giving me a say in the matter. You want to tell me how to live my life just like my parents."

"How could you say that?" Keishin almost snapped but managed to collect his anger before he did. "All I want is what's best for you."

You scoffed as you wiped a tear from your cheek. "If I had a penny for every time I've heard that I'd have enough money to pay for the University of Tokyo and then you'd get your damn wish . . . I'd be gone."

"When did I ever say I wanted you gone? Why are you so adamant that going to Tokyo means we can't be together?"

"Why are you so against just letting me make my own decision about this?! Why do I have to go to play soccer at that fucking university and leave you? I don't want to leave you!"

"Why not? Why are you so damn hung up on someone like me?!"

"Because I love you!" The two of you froze in place the second those words left your mouth. Chest heaving from the shouting and high emotions, you snapped your mouth shut before you said anything else in the heat of the moment.

Eyes wide, Keishin stared at you like a deer in headlights. "You what?"

You debated whether or not you should repeat what you had said, but by then, the damage had been done. "I love you," you breathed. "And I know you told me not to fall in love with you . . . but I did. I fell hard and fast and now I'm stuck in you and I cannot possibly leave you so please stop asking me to."

You waited for what felt like an eternity for Keishin to say something, say anything. He opened his mouth a few times like he was about to, but nothing ever came out.

"Keishin . . ." You took a cautious step forward. "Please say something."

Keishin swallowed hard before looking you directly in the eyes. "If I said I didn't love you back, would you go?"

You felt your heart crack and the sensation of being punched in the gut spread throughout your entire body. "Is that what you're saying? You don't love me?"

"If I didn't, would you leave?"

You inhaled sharply. "If you look me in the eyes right now and tell me that you don't feel the same way that I do; that everything over the past few months has meant nothing to you, there would be no possible way I could stay in Miyagi," you answered truthfully. "If you tell me that you don't love me and that you never have, I would have no reason to stay in this prefecture."

Keishin's lips parted once more. "Y/N . . . I-" His brown eyes locked onto yours and you could feel what he was about to say even though he never did. "I . . . I can't do this right now."

With that, he brushed past you, grabbed a sweater from the bedroom and threw it on before storming out of the apartment, leaving you and the now cold takeout food alone.

Tears in your eyes and a lump in your throat, you turned to look over your shoulder at the decision letter sitting on the counter, practically taunting you.

You should have thrown the thing out the second your mom dropped it off. Or better yet, maybe you should have never made that deal with Keishin and applied for the university in the first place.

[hercleverboy]

the year of goodbyes

spencer reid x gn!reader

masterlist

summary ↠ over the course of a year, Spencer says goodbye to three people— and hello to one.

category ↠ angst/fluff

warnings/includes ↠ takes place in s11, talk of Alzheimer’s,  

word count ↠ 1.8k

massive shoutout to my beloved @ellesgreenaway for beta reading and encouraging me to finish this piece— india you are my actual saving grace

“If you’re brave enough to say goodbye, life will reward you with a new hello.” — Paulo Coelho

People leaving wasn’t exactly a new concept for Spencer.

He knew it all too well, the familiar look that was cast over peoples features, how their eyes got glassy and lips twitched as they prepared to tell him that they were yet another person who would leave him behind— like so many had before.

But their choice of words was always different. He noticed a sort of pattern, when it came to people walking out of his life. They tended to dance around the words, never exactly saying ‘I’m leaving you.’

First, it was his father. He’d watched him pack a suitcase full of things, spit angry words at his mother and then turn to him, his son— placing his hand on his shoulder, mumbling a few cowardly words and that was that. Spencer no longer had a father.

(‘I’m sorry. I just don’t know how to look after you anymore.’)

Second was Gideon, who never actually said goodbye in person (and Spencer couldn’t decide whether that was better or worse.) Instead, he left, wrote words down on a page and then addressed it to him.

(‘Spencer, I knew you would be the one to come down here.’)

And again, with Alex. Not a goodbye, not in the formal sense, but Spencer’s heart ached with how he knew what this was— he recognised the look on her face and knew that once again, he would lose someone he loved.

(‘You know, Ethan would’ve been a lot like you.’)

Everyone in Spencer’s life started to feel temporary. There one minute, gone the next. He wished that meant that he cared any less for them, or that it hurt any less when they left.

Of course, that was never the case.

His mother’s mental state had been deteriorating rapidly, and nothing— not anything that Spencer’s big genius brain could think of — was helping her.

When he visited her, he saw the vacant look in her eyes. He recognised the look of confusion on her face when he’d enter the room, ignoring how his heart squeezed painfully upon realising that his own mother no longer remembered him.

It would take her a few minutes, but eventually the confusion would disappear and she would give him a smile, greeting him with open arms and warm words.

It was a different kind of leaving, but she was leaving him all the same. She wasn’t physically going anywhere, but, mentally?

He saw how she was deteriorating, he argued with countless doctors and medical professionals, exhausting every book and resource he could find— just hoping he could come up with something.

But, no.

He found it a little ironic. He was the boy wonder, the resident genius of the Bureau’s elite behavioural analysis unit, a smartass who had endless amounts of knowledge.

He always had the answer, always had the solution.

Ironic— because the man who was supposed to know it all, had no clue how to protect his mother from a disease that would inevitably take her from him.

It wasn’t something he would ever come to terms with, it was never something he would accept. He knew how it was going to go, the doctors told him as much.

The day would come that he would walk into his mother’s room, and those vacant eyes would never gain clarification. Her confusion wouldn’t pass, and she would no longer recognise him.

Spencer dreaded that day.

He feared it, even. 

Because the day he lost his mother would be the day he lost himself. 

*

When Catherine Adams’ file came across Spencer’s desk, he thrusted all of his agony over his mother into the case. It was why he decided that he would be the one to take her down in the restaurant, why he insisted that she wouldn’t perceive him as a threat. 

Oddly enough, Spencer found himself intrigued by her. Perhaps, he simply enjoyed being intellectually challenged in such a way.  Or perhaps, somewhere deep down in the darkest parts of himself, he liked the attention, got off on being able to outsmart her. 

He was smug when he managed to trick her into getting into the back of the police van, under the guise that he’d found her father. (After all, she was ‘just another girl with daddy issues’.) 

It was only when Cat gave him a grin, one that contrasted with the tears that slipped down her cheeks, that Spencer felt uneasy. 

He crouched down in front of her, whispered a small, “Goodbye, Cat,” before getting up and leaving the van, feeling a weight on his chest that made it difficult for him to breathe. 

Again, it was a different type of goodbye. One he was of course relieved about, because with it brought the promised safety of Penelope, now that Cat was behind bars. Although, alongside the relief, there was a sour aftertaste. 

It was what led him to take a moment, sitting down on the swings in the park, hands trembling slightly as they grabbed the chains, swinging gently in a slow rhythm that he hoped would calm him down. 

The last words Cat had said to him played over and over in his head. 

“In twenty years, you won’t remember my name. But I’ll remember yours.” 

At first, Spencer assumed she was referring to how after a while, Cat would simply blend into the sea of seemingly never-ending unsubs who all tried, and failed, to outsmart the team.

It was only later that Spencer realised she was instead insinuating that he would succumb to the same disease as his mother— forgetting not only those that he loved, but the ones he hated too.

*

Spencer’s best friend was going to be a father. 

The team were gathered in the waiting room, eagerly awaiting news, when Morgan came out with a smile on his face. “It’s a boy!” 

Pure, unbridled joy burst throughout the room, with Spencer lurching forward to wrap his arms around him, laughing and giving his congratulations. He swallowed the lump that began to form in his throat and pushed away the thoughts that swirled around his mind. Deep down, he knew what would inevitably happen, but that moment wasn’t the right time to think about it. 

It was late in the evening when Derek Morgan stopped by Spencer’s desk. Before he even looked up from his paperwork, he knew where this conversation was going to go. When he did look up, it all but confirmed it— he saw the sad smile on Morgan’s lips, and watched how his eyes glossed over.

He said nothing though. Instead, he smiled and chuckled as Morgan gushed over his newborn son. His smile got even bigger when Morgan handed over the birth announcement— Hank Spencer Morgan.

Although he knew what was coming, he knew what decision Morgan was going to make, he expected nothing less from his best friend. A man who had grown immensely in the years he’d known him, going from a real ladies man to someone who would give up his job in order to be there for his family.

Morgan placed his hand on Spencer’s shoulder, a sigh leaving his lips. “Kid, listen. Here’s the thing..”

“I know.” Spencer whimpered quietly, smiling sadly. “It’s okay. I know. And I understand.”

He watched Derek Morgan walk away, sniffling as he willed the tears to keep at bay. He watched his best friend, his brother, walk away. And it hurt, God it hurt. But he was so proud of the man that Morgan had become that he pushed aside the hurt, reminding himself of what he knew to be true.

Everyone left eventually. 

Spencer feared that one day, he would look around and find that he was truly and utterly alone.

*

It was a normal Tuesday morning, and Spencer was making his way through the FBI Headquarters, up to the BAU floor. He stepped into the elevator, his coffee mug in one hand, and his other resting over his satchel. Just before the door closed, he heard someone call out. 

“Hold the doors!” 

Spencer reached a hand out, pushing the doors back open. 

You scuttled into the elevator, looking over to the male next to you with a smile. “Thank you for holding the doors. I’m already running a little late for my first day.” You explained, reaching to press the button for the fifth floor, watching as the elevator doors closed again. 

“The fifth floor? The Sex Crimes Unit?” Spencer asked curiously. 

You nodded. 

“It’s your first day?” 

“Yeah, I moved here for the job a couple of weeks back. It was an incredible opportunity, I couldn’t pass it up.” You expressed, and Spencer gave you a tight lipped smile in return. “I’m presuming you work here as well?” 

He nodded. “I’m in the Behavioural Analysis Unit, a floor up from you.” 

“Well, that’s good to hear. At least I have one friend in the building, if it turns out my new team hate me.” You joked, glad when Spencer let out a little laugh. 

“I’m sure that won’t be the case. You seem very likeable.” 

You grinned up at him. “Thank you.”

The elevator dinged, the doors opening. You looked over at your new friend, flashing him a nervous smile. “Well, wish me luck.”

“Good luck.” He smiled back, raising his hand in a small wave as you left the elevator. 

After a long day of paperwork (and thinking of the pretty person he’d met in the elevator), Spencer gathered together his things before getting into the elevator. It stopped on the floor below, and when the doors opened, he smiled at the sight of you. 

You looked up from where you’d been looking down at your phone, mirroring his grin. “Hey! It’s you.” 

“Yes—yes, It is, me.” Spencer replied, cringing awkwardly at his nonsensical response. 

You only laughed quietly at it, entering the elevator. 

“How was your first day?” He asked, only to be polite. 

You seemed surprised that he’d asked, but answered nonetheless. “It was good! Turns out my team don’t hate me. Or at least, I don’t think they do?” Your voice raised in question, making Spencer laugh a little. 

“See? What did I tell you?” He grinned, and you rolled your eyes playfully. 

You leaned over, nudging his shoulder with yours. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” 

“Spencer.” 

“It’s lovely to meet you, Spencer. For the second time today.” 

Spencer smiled shyly, hands delving into his pockets as the elevator dinged. The two of you stepped out, looking at one another with timid expressions. 

“My car, it’s that way.” You pointed to the other end of the car park. 

“I take the subway.” Spencer responded, wishing he could find a way to make you stay a little longer.

“Well, have a good evening, Spencer.” You beamed. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Yes!” He responded a little eagerly, sighing inwardly before clearing his throat. “I mean yeah, sure that- that’s cool.” 

You giggled quietly, waving goodbye before turning toward your car. 

Spencer blushed the whole way to the subway station, biting back the smile on his lips at the thought of you. 

People leaving wasn’t exactly a new concept for Spencer. 

But you? 

He had the feeling that you were going to be a very permanent part of his life, and he didn’t mind that in the slightest. 

*

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[lubdubsworld]

Better Man.

~~~~~~~~~~~~`Just to see you smile, I’d do anything. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taehyung x Oc

Rated 18 +

Post Divorce, Getting Back Together, Second chances, Angst.

Chapter 1    Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Do you ever truly know what someone is feeling?

You could spend decades , breathing the same air, hands held , your fingers brushing ....connected physically and even mentally but a person’s emotions, they’re hidden away. 

You only ever know what they’re willing to show .

And yet, 

all of us build relationships, convinced that we know exactly what the other person will feel when we act a certain way. Buying her flowers will make happy....visiting him at work will take away that little bit of stress.

But sometimes, what we think someone feels, may not be what they truly feel.

And that’s when your actions, well intended actions..... end up with disastrous consequences. 

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

“So....last night...” Jungkook’s teasing voice did nothing to ease the pounding in my head.

“I do believe you promised not to tease me about it if I drank two glasses of water, which I did by the way.” I told him firmly, trying to bring the words on my planner into focus as i squinted. Three meeting. Each two hours long. 

kill me now. 

“I wanted to ask HR to give you the day off but you have quite a schedule today. “ He said casually,  leaning over me to peer into the planner . I glanced at his wrist resting on the table, the expensive rolex showing that it was a little past 9. 

“ We’re planning out the Christmas campaign first and I have a meeting with Taehyung’s team in the afternoon so we can go over the contract see if they have any requirements and then the social media team in the evening at four to discuss promos and revamping the website.” I glanced up at him. 

He gave me a smile before casually leaning down, lightly gripping my chin and tilting my face up. I felt the brush of his lips against mine, fleeting and gentle. 

‘You’re beautiful.” He smiled. 

I blinked.

And then took a deep breath.

“Your wife...” I said softly. “ I saw her today.” 

Jungkook went completely still at that. 

“She was waiting in the lobby on my way up. I didn’t know who you were married to and I was a little shocked and also little upset because....” I glanced at him. “ She was my best friend in college. “

Jungkook swore. 

“Fuck.. I told her to stay the fuck away from my company. Did she say something to you?” 

i shook my head.

“I didn’t greet her because I wasn’t sure if she remembered me. And I wasn’t sure if i was remembering her right. i didn’t know she was your wife till i heard someone mention it in the elevator on my way up. Did you know that she and i knew each other?” 

Jungkook looked just a little guilty.

“When you first joined the company, she saw your resume on my cvomputer. told me a lot about you. She remembers you. Fondly. She wanted to come meet you but...things happened.  “ He shrugged.

Things like infidelity and divorces . 

“Ahh...” I smiled. “ Tell me i wasn’t another way to get back at your ex wife, Jeon Jungkook ssi...” 

He made a noise of protest.

“no... No of course not Christ...it’s just...I’ll admit she made me curious about you. She spoke of you being spontaneous and fun and wild and I’d seen you as this demure, elegant woman in the office. i was curious. I wanted to know which one was the real you. “

“Were you curious before she cheated....or after?”

“ Jang Mi...this isn’t what it looks like .. I’m done with her. She fucked my best buddy and ruined my fucking life...” He sounded pained. 

I frowned. 

“It’s hard to believe she would do something like that. The Aera i remember had a very strong moral compass.” 

“Yeah well, apparently, you can live whole entire lives with someone and never really know the person. Listen, do we really have to talk about my ex wife?” He asked, eyes shining with discomfort. 

I shrugged.

“I’m not fond of drama. I won’t tangle myself in a relationship that risks hurting a lot of people Jungkook. That’s just not the kind of person I am. I’m sorry.” 

He made a noise of impatience, shaking his head. 

“We won’t be hurting anyone... We have fun together. We like each other. We’re attracted to each other...that’s all that matters....” He said sharply.

“ If we were in our twenties , without kids ....maybe. But that's not how it is now. I have a son, you have a daughter and I think I’m not completely over my marriage yet.” I said softly. 

He froze.

“And i don’t think you’re completely over your wife either.” I smiled.

He glared at me. 

“Ex-wife.” He snarled.

“She makes you feel things, Jungkook. You need to sort that out before you start something new with someone else. I’m only saying this because we’re old enough not to 

He growled and punched the desk. 

“God, how can she keep ruining my life even when she’s out of it.” He muttered, stepping away from me and moving to the door. 

I watched him storm out of my office and bit my lip. 

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

By the time evening rolled around, I was exhausted. But the day had been productive and I was happy because the contract had been finalized, the theme had been decided and we’d also spent an amazing three hours redesigning the website. Although it wasn’t in my job description I had studied web design in college and the creative department always welcomed my inputs. 

“You’re in a good mood...” Taehyung’s voice was a complete surprise and I turned to him, shocked. He was dressed in a black t shirt and blue jeans and sneakers and looked a whole decade younger. 

I felt affection rise up my throat so fast I nearly choked. 

“What are you doing here?”

“My agent told me you guys were incredibly cooperative today. She also told me you were quite possibly the loveliest woman she’s ever met and that I’m an idiot to have let you go.” He smiled. 

I laughed, shaking my head and my gaze shifted to the small bunch of tiger lilies in his hand. 

I felt warmth bloom in my chest. 

“You remembered.” I said softly, pleased. 

“Thirteen years since our first date.  The lily to my tiger. ” He held the flowers to me and I grinned, pressing the flowers to my chest. 

“Man I feel old.” I muttered.

“You are old.” Tae grinned and i grimaced, before tossing him a glare. . 

“You’re supposed to say I still look as beautiful as i did thirteen years ago.” I said. 

“But you don.t” He grinned impishly. “ You look a billion times  more  beautiful.” 

I felt the atmosphere shift, the air charged with something dangerous and i looked away. Usually, this was when I would laugh and throw my arms around him. Pull him close and press my lips against his , slip my fingers into his t shirt and trace the skin of his back. Feel his hands on my waist as he lifted me up to twirl me around and kiss me just like that. 

How often had we kissed that way? Thirteen years is a long time to count the number of kisses we’d shared. 

We both stayed quiet, looking anywhere but at each other.

“I...there’s a reason I came.” He said finally.

I glanced at him.

“Oh?”

“The lawyer. Ms. Lee she ... recommended a relationship counselor”

I blinked, my breath catching in my throat. 

“Taehyung we’re-”

“Just hear me out. Its not mandatory and it won’t affect the divorce in anyway. its just something the court offers all couples going through a divorce and we’re free to refuse it. “

“Did you?” I asked. 

“Did I what?”

“Refuse it. Did you tell her no?” 

He stared at me. 

“No.” He said finally.

I exhaled sharply.

“Wow.” I whispered, feeling jittery and unbalanced. He sighed and came closer, reaching out to lightly grip my wrists. I let him tug me closer into a hug and held him tight, my heart pounding with anxiety.

“Mia.... I just... I’m not saying we should try to fix this.... relationship.” He said softly, eyes gentle and pleading, “  I just think this whole thing has taken a toll on both of us and maybe we can heal better if we get the help of a professional. Come out of this with closure. Instead of battling guilt and regrets everyday. Just ....it could help us move on. Don’t you think?”

You could never really tell what the other person is feeling. 

I couldn’t tell what Taehyung was feeling right now? 

Hope ?

Hope that we would fix our marriage....

or maybe hope that he would finally move on from me.. Maybe this whole thing was his final attempt to end things with me for good. So he could walk out of my life forever without any lingering guilt or regret. 

I would never know. 

I clung to him harder and somehow the pain of the entire two years we’d been apart, rammed into me at once. 

I choked on a sob. Breathing became difficult and I felt myself gasping for air. 

“Mia?” Taehyung’s panicked voice was the last sane thought that registered. 

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

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I can stay the night if you want. I’ll sleep in the spare bedroom . ” Taehyung whispered,  seated on the warm fluffy blanket that he’d managed to dig out of the closet in the spare bedroom. i was already tucked into the bed, fingers clutching the satin lined edges . 

i shook my head.

“I know how much you need your gazillion pillows. Go on... I’ll be fine.”

“i feel terrible. i pushed you into a panic attack.”

I waved off the guilty words. 

“You didn’t . i was already a little frayed and i guess i haven’t really been processing all the stuff between us the way i should have. i just got a little overwhelmed.” 

A panic attack. At the age of 32. The last time i had one I was twenty four. I wanted to crawl into the bed and never resurface. 

Taehyung’s gentle fingers , stroking my cheek brought me out of my own head. 

“I was so scared.” He said softly and my heart ached.

“I’m sorry i scared you.” I said apologetically, gripping his wrists lightly and stroking the skin there with my thumb. 

“I really want to stay. i don’t think I’ll be able to sleep if I go home right now.” He whispered. 

I bit my lips. 

“Okay... but... You need to hug something. To sleep. “ 

He grinned at that. 

“I’m old enough to survive one night without a pillow, Mia .” he chuckled. 

I flushed, sinking deeper into the covers.

“Okay.” 

“You don’t have to worry about the counselor thing. I’ll tell Lee we don’t want to do any-”

“No!!” I said quickly, a lot  louder than I’d intended. 

Taehyung blinked.

“I just... I realized that I haven’t been dealing with any of this...the right way. I’m so confused and disoriented all the time and I .. I don’t mind getting some help. To sort things out. Just for myself you know...without the pressure of trying to fix...well us.” I finished .

Taehyung gave me a wide smile before bending down and kissing my forehead.

“ Okay, Mia mine. Sleep well, and I’ll see you in the morning.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

[ironwoman359]

You Don’t Own Me (You Don’t Even Know Me)

Chapter 4

Navigation: Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch.6

Summary:  As the son of a Baron, Roman Sanders always knew that when he married, it would be due to a political arrangement rather than true love. Still, when he is sent away to marry an older, more powerful Earl, he is determined to make the best of his situation. Despite the Earl’s indifference towards him, Roman forges ahead and prepares to become the best husband he can possibly be, making new friends along the way. But when his fiancé’s demeanor turns from cold to cruel, Roman must shift all of his focus to survival, and find a way out of his marriage before it’s too late.

Ships: Logince, side Moxiety and Dukeceit

Content Warnings (overall): arranged marriage, abuse, attempted sexual assault, murder, poisoning, character death, hurt/comfort, angst Chapter 4 Warnings: possessive behavior, verbal and physical abuse, angst, allusions to abuse and murder 

Word Count: 4067

Read on AO3: here!

A/N: Co-written with @5-falsehoods-phonated​, check out his masterlist here and check out mine here! 

---

“And when I tried to get down, Remus spooked the pony and it bolted, with me still clinging to the saddle for dear life.” 

Virgil snorted, then immediately brought his hand up to cover his smile. 

“You wound me!” Roman said dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “Eight-year-old me was certain that his life was going to end, and you’re laughing?” 

“I can’t help that the mental image of you dangling off the saddle of a pony and screaming your head off is the funniest thing I’ve seen all week,” Virgil replied. 

“Be nice, Virgil!” Patton scolded, even as he fought back giggles of his own. “I’m sure it was very scary at the time!” 

“You’re telling me,” Roman agreed. “I wouldn’t set foot near the stables for a month.” 

“I can’t believe that after all that you somehow grew up to be a competent rider,” Virgil said. 

“Well, I probably wouldn’t have if it weren’t for my older brother Remy. He started taking me with him when he went out on his rides; I felt a lot safer riding double with him than I did by myself.”

“Your brothers sound wonderful,” Patton said, smiling. 

“Oh, they’re the absolute worst,” Roman said. “But also I love them more than anyone.” 

“I hope we’ll get to meet them at the wedding!” 

Roman’s smile went brittle around the edges, and he forced himself to nod. 

“I hope so too,” he said quietly. 

Patton’s brow wrinkled, and Roman knew that look, that was Patton’s “I’m worried about you” look, and as much as he had come to view Patton and Virgil as his friends, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to get into the whole “my twin brother ran away from home to escape noble life and I haven’t seen him in years and might never see him again” topic with them just yet. 

“Well this has been great,” Virgil cut in suddenly. “But it’s getting close to midday; I need to get back to work, and you need to get to your little lunch date.” 

“Excuse you, it is a perfectly professional business meeting!” Roman protested, and Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Sure it is. That’s why you meet with Logan every single day and always perk up or get this silly smile on your face whenever you mention something that he said, most of which has nothing to do with business.” 

Roman gave Virgil a deadpan look. “Do you really want me to retaliate right now?” he asked, glancing pointedly at Patton. 

Virgil’s cheeks flushed pink, and he waved Roman away. 

“Go on, then!” he said. “Go have your perfectly professional business meeting.” 

“I will!” Roman said primly, but as he stood to leave, he shot Virgil a grateful smile, and Virgil nodded in return. 

After parting with Patton at the house’s entrance, Roman made the short trek down to the library alone. He hadn’t been sure how he would manage living at the Howard Estate at first, but his life had settled into a predictable yet comfortable routine since the engagement banquet. 

Patton brought breakfast to his room every morning, and after Roman insisted several times that he preferred the company, Patton now stayed to eat with him most mornings. After breakfast, Roman changed into his riding clothes and the two headed down to the stables together, where Virgil was waiting for them with Angel. Roman took his morning ride, and Patton and Virgil did whatever it was they liked to do when they were alone together. 

When he returned, Roman helped Virgil groom Angel, and the three of them often fell into easy conversation with one another. At midday, Roman took his lunch in the library with Logan, and he spent the afternoons on his own, exploring the mansion or indulging in his creative hobbies. All in all, his days were mostly pleasant, until dinnertime, of course. 

His nightly dinner with Lord Howard was, to his disappointment, the most boring and uncomfortable part of Roman’s day. It became clear to Roman after a few attempts of engaging with his fiance that Lord Howard wasn’t even slightly interested in talking with him; what he wanted was somebody to talk at. Roman sat, night after night, and listened to the earl rant about frustrating business partners, idiotic city officials, and even tiny annoyances like a scuff on his boot or a fly in his office. It was difficult to not feel like an emotional punching bag, and Roman always left dinner exhausted from playing the polite, doting fiance that Lord Howard expected him to be. 

Roman stepped into the library, and smiled when he saw Logan sitting at a table beneath a window, the afternoon sun casting golden beams of light through his long hair.

At least there were more positives than negatives to living at this estate. 

“Ah, Roman,” Logan said, smiling as he approached. “Excellent timing, I was just beginning to review my weekly report for Lord Howard. Would you care to assist me?”

“Always,” Roman said, sitting down across from him. 

They poured over the receipts and summaries and work orders together, and Roman couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer amount of work that Logan did every single day. 

“Honestly, Logan, you do almost too much for the earl. Especially considering what he pays you.” 

Roman had seen the payroll receipts for all the staff, and he couldn’t help but be a little insulted on the servants’ behalf. One of the ways Lord Howard kept costs down was clearly at the expense of his staff. 

“While I may agree with your sentiment, the fact of the matter is that if I did not do all this, the estate would fall apart,” Logan said. “And regardless of any...personal feelings about his lordship, there are far too many people who depend on him and his estate for me to consider stopping.” 

Logan paused, frowning as he scanned a document, then sighed. 

“For instance, his lordship neglected to sign off on a shipment of new armor to the city guard, despite my reminding him to do so three times in the last week.” 

He scrawled something along the bottom of the document and set it aside, and Roman raised an eyebrow. 

“Was that Lord Howard’s name you just wrote?” 

Logan fiddled with his glasses, and he glanced around the room before answering. “This is...not the first time that his lordship has neglected his duties on what he perceives to be minor issues. I, uh...take the liberty of correcting such oversights for him.”

“You can forge his handwriting?” Roman translated, and Logan nodded sheepishly. “That’s amazing!” 

Logan blinked, looking up at Roman in clear surprise. “I...it is?” 

“Are you kidding me?” Roman exclaimed. “Of course it is...you’re so talented, Logan, really. I’m not exaggerating when I say you’re wasted as a secretary.” 

“Oh...well, thank you, Roman,” Logan said, his cheeks flushing slightly pink. “I must admit, you also have far more potential than his lordship would care to acknowledge.” 

“I’ll get him to see sense soon,” Roman insisted. “Then maybe together, we can make some real changes around here!” 

“I wish I shared your optimism,” Logan said with a sigh. “But I am glad to share your company, at least.”

It was Roman’s turn to blush, but before he could think of a reply, the sound of footsteps caught his attention, and he looked up to see Patton approaching their table. 

“Sorry for interrupting, Kiddos, but I’ve been asked to fetch Roman here and get him ready.” 

“Get me ready?” Roman asked, and Patton nodded. 

“His lordship requests your presence at a business meeting he has in an hour with other estate holders. I’ve been instructed to dress you for the event and bring you to his lordship.” 

Roman forced down the twinge of discomfort in the back of his mind at the earl choosing an outfit for him like he was some sort of doll, and grinned as he got to his feet. 

“You see, Logan?” he said. “This is our chance!”

“If it is a meeting with other nobility, then I’m afraid I won’t be present,” Logan said. “Lord Howard does not wish for...commoners to be present at such negotiations. He instructs me on what measures need to be taken afterwards.”  

“That’ll be the first thing we change then, once I make him see reason,” Roman said. “You’ll see, this is going to be the start of something great!” 

“I hope you are right,” Logan said with a small smile. “Good luck, Roman.” 

“Thank you, Logan,” Roman said as he followed Patton out of the library. 

I’ll certainly need it. 

--- --- ---

Roman fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair, shooting a glance over to the earl to make sure he hadn’t noticed. The silky fabric that his pants were made of stuck uncomfortably to his skin and made his legs itch horribly, but he had been in similar attire before and had had plenty of practice in the art of keeping his poise while screaming internally. Thankfully, even though he was seated right next to Lord Howard, he had yet to draw his attention. Howard had been too occupied bragging about his various business exports for most of the meeting to pay much attention to him. 

Even through his discomfort, Roman had been learning a lot about his fiance, dutifully keeping mental notes on everything he heard, from which parts of land he had inherited to which ones he had bought or negotiated into owning. Overseas businesses and local investments both let his power reach farther than one might first suspect, and all that put together was what kept the Howard Estate with its acres of land, sprawling mansion and extensive grounds and highly specialized staff all running smoothly. 

It was a lot to manage, so it made sense that Lord Howard had Logan figure out most of the work and only signed off on the most important things himself. Having someone as competent as Logan run things in the background so the true estate head could make the actual appearances as the business leader was a strategy many nobles used to keep their properties under control. 

Craning his neck to look up at his fiance from his lower seat, Roman furrowed his brow in thought. He wondered just how much Logan did that the earl never saw anything about until he reaped the benefits of it. Sure, Logan was extremely capable, but relying entirely on one person to manage everything seemed a bit foolhardy to Roman.

Tuning back into the conversation, Roman perked up as another lord gestured stiffly at a stack of documents in front of him, smooth calculation clear in his tone of voice. Negotiations were something Roman had always prided himself in handling, and handling well. He had often spoken circles around his own father in their practice debates, and it was rare that Roman participated in a discussion without gaining something in his own favor. 

As neither party at the moment looked particularly stressed, Roman figured with a slight twinge of disappointment that such measures shouldn’t be needed this time. He would have liked to show off just a bit and make Lord Howard see what a useful asset he could actually be in their marriage, but he supposed that could wait until a more appropriate opportunity.

“I have most of the influence in this field anyway. Signing your bit of land over to me now would cause fewer problems for you in the future; especially if I don’t have to take it by force when I’m looking to expand.”  Punctuating his statement with a firm tap to the papers, the opposing lord sat back with a satisfied smirk.

The icy glare Lord Howard fixed him with was enough to wipe the smirk fully off his face, however, and he tilted back slightly as the earl leaned forward to fold his hands smoothly in front of him. 

“I’m not in the habit of signing away what’s rightfully mine, Lord Rilken, Baron of Vilvik.”

Roman flinched slightly at the way he practically spat the other man’s title…a title he shared, and had never once felt insecure about until this very moment. The way he spoke to these men, these people in positions of power, like they were nothing but dirt to be brushed off his own much more impressive riches- it was enough to make Roman want to run all the way back to his own estate and beg for another way, plead to wait for someone else to ask for his hand or to find someone himself. He stiffened in his seat and shook the irrational thoughts away. 

No, this is how one played the game when negotiating important matters. Put up a cold and intimidating front until the other person backed down or bent to your own suggestions. If anything, Lord Howard's act was admirable; it almost immediately shut down any arguments, even if it hardly held any semblance of tact. Realizing this would be a good opportunity to show his skills, Roman leaned forward and placed his own hands on the table in front of him, gaining the attention of the opposing business owners quickly.

“It might prove advantageous to you both to simply form a partnership and share the land and business potential it holds. With as much power as the both of you hold over this branch, you’d be able to expand much faster and reap more benefits than you would if you spent all of your time attempting to take control over the others’ sections.” Pleased with himself, Roman glanced over to Lord Howard, expecting at least to have impressed him since he hadn’t really had the time to explain all that he had been trained in and what he could bring to the estate with their union. 

However, as he met Lord Howard’s eyes, ice ran through his veins. The earl was glaring, staring him down like a particularly resilient bug that he could hardly wait to smash beneath a steel-toed boot. The room went so quiet that Roman could swear that the other nobles were holding their breath, and glancing around in his peripherals, he saw everyone sitting around the table gawking at him as if he’d just committed high treason. Had he really said something so wrong? Was this not what was customary, nay, expected behavior of the soon to be co-owner of the estate? Shrinking down slightly as his ears burned red, he finally lowered his eyes as the earl turned away. Roman heard him take a deep breath before saying in a deliberately controlled voice:

“You must forgive my fiance, he hails from a country estate you see; he isn’t accustomed to the way things work here yet. If you would be so kind as to excuse us for just a moment so that I may explain a few things?” Not waiting for an answer, the earl stood and held out his hand for Roman to take. “If you would step into the hall with me, dearest?”

Recognizing the order under the request, Roman stood quickly and took Lord Howard’s hand, wincing at how tightly he was gripped and practically dragged out of the room. The door was opened just a bit too forcefully to calm his nerves in the slightest and he watched as Lord Howard seemed to barely refrain from slamming it back closed, instead closing it with deliberate calm before whirling around to face him and jerking his hand out of Roman’s to tower before him.

“Let me make this perfectly clear, you do not speak out of turn in these meetings. You do not speak above me or-”

“But I didn’t! I was only-” Roman didn’t register what the dull smacking sound echoing in his ears and making them ring was until pain bloomed and spread from his lower jaw to his entire cheek. Raising his hand to his face in disbelief, he felt a bit of wetness and looked to see blood on his fingertips. Fear and horror twisted in his gut as he realized one of Lord Howard’s rings must have caught on his cheek and opened a cut. His jaw ached and his teeth felt numb; the blow had been hard enough to rattle them in his skull. Romans looked up and flinched as he saw Howard’s hand still raised to strike should he choose to speak again, and he shrunk in on himself in an attempt to seem too small to expend more energy on.

“You,” The earl spat, “do not speak above me, or make suggestions on my behalf. You are not here to offer up useless opinions that were not asked for or needed. You were brought into that room to sit obediently and look pretty on my arm and that is the full extent that your role will ever be. Have I made myself clear?”

Roman hesitated for just a second too long, and Lord Howard reached down to grip his chin, tipping his head so he had no choice but to look his assailant directly in the eyes. “My dear, I believe I asked you a question, and I expect an answer.”

Biting back a whimper Roman nodded as much as he could with his face trapped in the steely grip. “Yes my lord, I understand perfectly. I apologize for overstepping, it won’t happen again.”

The answer, as demeaning as it had felt to say, seemed to appease the still seething man, and Howard dropped his chin and stepped back with a wolfish smile. 

“Very good, see to it that it doesn’t. Now, I believe we’ve been here long enough. If you’re done blubbering, you may join me.”

Startling a bit at the choice of phrasing, Roman hesitantly reached up to touch his face, wincing as he realized there was more than just blood on his cheeks. Taking a deep breath, he carefully wiped the tears away before plastering on a small smile and moving to stand just behind the earl. He was loath to go back into the room like this, humiliation and blood reddening his cheeks, but he didn’t dare speak up for fear of more punishment. As Lord Howard opened the door and moved back to his place at the head of the table, he hardly spared Roman another glance, and Roman had no choice but to meekly follow. 

Sitting down, Roman realized most of the people at the table were staring at him like one would a fresh kill, their expressions a mixture of pity and approval while they averted their eyes. Sinking down even lower as the meeting resumed, he realized this was to be the second part of his punishment. He was to learn and remember his role as Lord Howard’s betrothed and eventual husband. Sit still and look pretty, step a toe out of line and be punished, and make sure everyone in the room knew that the power held over him was just as absolute as the power the earl held over everything else. 

“I’m pleased to know some people still know how to keep common folk in line. Truly, the disrespect-” Roman’s ears rang as someone close by whispered to another just loud enough for him to overhear, making him want to sink down even lower and let the floor swallow him. 

The meeting continued on for what seemed like forever, but unlike before, Roman didn’t absorb a single word of what was said. The voices of the other lords washed over him as he sat as still as he could, hands clenched in his lap to keep them from trembling. When at last Lord Howard stood, Roman almost stood up next to him, but caught himself just in time and sent a questioning glance up at his fiance. 

Lord Howard’s lips curled into a smile, and he held his arm out to Roman in invitation. Roman swallowed down his revulsion and stood, slipping his arm into the earl’s and schooling his face into a pretty smile. Lord Howard covered Roman’s hand with his own, and Roman’s skin burned at the touch. 

“Well gentlemen, this concludes our discussion for the day, I do thank you all for coming.” 

One by one the nobles stood, nodding to Lord Howard as they filed out of the room. Roman’s cheeks heated as several of them swept their eyes over him as they passed, their gazes lingering on the bruise blooming on his face. When at last, every one of them was gone, Lord Howard turned his attention to Roman, all false pleasantries gone from his expression. 

“I trust that after today, any...confusion about your role here has been cleared up?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. 

“Yes, my lord,” Roman whispered, and the earl smiled. 

“Good. Now go clean yourself up. Dinner is at seven o’clock sharp, and I expect you to look presentable.” 

“Yes, my lord,” Roman repeated, and as soon as Lord Howard dropped his arm, he practically bolted from the room. 

He hurried through the corridors of the mansion, head down and eyes stinging. When he finally reached his room, he all but slammed the door behind him, and collapsed to the floor, his shoulders shaking as he released the sob he’d been holding back for the past hour. 

He let himself cry, for how long, he wasn’t sure, not only for the sting on his cheek and the shame that came with it, but for every doubt, every grief, every pain that he’d pushed down and bottled up over the past month.  

After everything he’d been through, everything he’d sacrificed, was this really his fate? Chained forever to a man who only saw him as something to own, to display, to use... 

Roman lifted his head slowly. 

“Remember all that we've taught you, and you'll do fine." 

His father had taught him everything he knew about business, about politics, about matters of the state. He knew how to act with decorum, how to spot an opportunity, and how to charm a room while negotiating, all thanks to his father’s teachings. 

But now, with tears running down his face and a bruise blossoming on his cheek, he remembered another set of lessons. 

Lessons his mother had given him as a teenager, after time had run its course and he was no longer the slightly awkward, gangly kid he had once been. 

“You’ve grown into a handsome young man,” his mother had said to him on his eighteenth birthday. “Your father believes that when you are married, it will be purely for political reasons. You need to know that this may not be the case.” 

Roman had tried to forget the lessons his mother had passed down to him, had told himself that he would never need them...but here he was, sobbing on the floor, the first of what he knew would be many marks on his skin if he didn’t tread carefully. 

Roman learned everything he knew about running an estate from his father, but he learned everything about acting from his mother. Thanks to her, he knew how to conceal his emotions, how to smile when his stomach rolled over and how to sigh when his skin burned. He knew how to mold himself into the perfect husband, because if he did not let himself be molded he would find himself broken before it was too late. 

“Too late for what, mother?” the younger him had asked, eyes wide and horrified, and she’d smiled in a way he’d never seen before. 

“Did I ever tell you the story of how your grandfather died?” 

Roman knew what situations were most likely to result in “accidents,” what weapons were easily concealed and what poisons were difficult to detect. He knew how to pluck a nose hair to bring tears to his eyes and slap his cheeks so they appeared flushed. He knew how to appear calm and collected when he was suffering, and how to appear stricken with grief when all he felt was relief. 

He had been preparing for marriage his whole life...every kind of marriage. And now that he knew the kind of husband that Lord Howard really wanted, he knew exactly what kind of husband he was going to be. 

Even if he wouldn’t be one for very long. 

--- --- ---

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[suite43]

"Are you just going to stand there all night?" Starscream muttered, glaring from where he was laying in bed, wings tucked to one side.

"Where else am I supposed to go?" Bumblebee asked. He wasn't looking at Starscream, just standing on the other side of the room, staring out one of the absurdly massive windows at the city below.

Bumblebee sighed. It was late. Really late. Slug was probably getting dragged out of Maccadam's right about now, probably by a cranky Ironhide and the other dinobots. Wheeljack would still be up, somewhere, if not at the bar then tucked away in a workshop or other. Blurr was probably still working. Bee absently wondered what time it was on Earth, and if Optimus was okay, and tried to guess where the Lost Light might be right now.

He missed them.

Recently he'd taken to spending his nights wandering around the massive Iacon tower where Starscream lived. It was always mostly empty in the late hours. He'd mentally mapped almost all of it. Down to the basement to watch whatever the hell Starscream had his mnemosurgeon up to, thinking up ways to chastise him for it in the morning. Around the public spaces, tracing the patterns of the incredible stained glass windows and the tiling of the floors. Up and down dozens of flights of winding stairs that probably would've killed him had he still had a physical body. He still felt an ache in his bad knee, some nights. Through the offices of the delegates, often catching miss Windblade working late, muttering to herself, or occasionally talking to Chromia.

But he knew the tower too well. It was beginning to just remind him of how fucking alone he was. He'd long since overcome any nerves or feelings of impoliteness about eavesdropping, but it was still painful to walk in and out of rooms without so much of an acknowledgement that he'd been there at all. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes in the late late nights in big empty towers where he could scream and yell and stomp as much as he wanted and nobody would so much as blink, a part of Bumblebee began to think that maybe Starscream is right.

Does it even matter? The more sleepless nights spent wandering empty buildings as a pathetic excuse for a poltergeist made Bee start to think that if everyone else was convinced he was a hallucination, maybe he was.

"Where else am I supposed to go?"

Starscream didn't respond at first, leaving Bee to his thoughts. Or maybe he was having thoughts of his own. Equally broody ones, probably. Bumblebee wanted to not care what Starscream was thinking. But he cared.

"You could at least sit down."

///

Days bled into weeks into months, and their interactions became more comfortable, despite everything. There was less denial on Starscream's part, that certainly helped. Being told you're not real twenty-seven times a day by the only person who can see you isn't exactly good for ones mental state, and Bee was greatful for the change.

The nights were still hard.

As far as Bee could tell, he didn't need to sleep. But, even when the stubborn bastard said otherwise, Starscream did. Which meant there were usually at least a few hours Bee had to pass alone.

Most nights does not mean every night, though. Starscream was still an insomniac.

And at some point, Bee had moved from sitting by the window and brooding to dragging the chair closer to Star's bed, encouraged by one too many passionate late-night conversations about some plan or other that they'd gotten way too into.

Being closer to Starscream meant more noticing the tossing and turning, the restless flicker of optics and quiet uncomfortable muttering that filled his nights before Starscream would eventually give up on the whole "sleep" thing, shoving his face into a pillow and letting out a string of swears.

"Are you okay?" Bee asked, one such night.

"What do you care?"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Tch. Hardly."

"If you're worried about keeping a secret, remember I physically can't talk to anyone else. If you're worried about embarrasing yourself, remember I'm literally dead. No matter what you are actively doing better than I am in terms of survival."

"And yet, that doesn't stop you from being one judgy son of a bitch."

"Eh, it's an autobot thing. Judgy is what we do, isn't it?"

"Agreed," Starscream smirked, despite how exhausted he seemed, and something in Bee's chest gave a slight lurch at the sight.

"Seriously, whats bothering you?"

///

There came a point where "comfortable" became "casual", which became borderline intimate at times, which was astounding. Despite being stubborn and cagey and completely avoidant about 90% of his real issues, Starscream had managed to be genuine for long enough to manage good conversations.

Bee felt much more certain with that. Starscream was connecting with him, in his way. Which meant that Bee couldn't be that fake, or that annoying. He was probably real. Which was confidence-boosting. He didn't dread alone time nearly as much, knowing that he was making an impact on at least one person during the day made the nights a bit easier. Still, Starscream didn't sleep much.

"I don't get it..." He was drunk, and muttering, more talking at Bumblebee than to him, tired and barely coherent and definetly obsessing. Starscream could barely keep his eyes open. He was laying in his bed, which was pressed into a corner of the room, facing the nearby wall.

The nearby wall, which happened to have a Bee blocking the view. He had sat himself in Starscream's bed, in one corner, leaning up against the walls, cane laying next to him, repeating bits of information back to Star and correcting him on this or that detail, rebuttling his more outrageous claims with bored No, you won't's and Really, Starscream?'s.

"You're driving headfirst into a cliffside and then wondering why you aren't getting anywhere," Bee said, interrupting Starscream's latest rambling.

"Well, if you're so smart, what would you suggest I do?"

"Go to bed, tackle it again in the morning when you have the common sense to climb." Bee smiled a little. He sounded almost like Prime. Or maybe more like Wheeljack? Didn't matter. It was solid advice.

"Or fly. I'm a jet."

"Sure, or fly, whatever. Go the fuck to sleep. You need it."

"I don't need you."

"Didn't say you did." Bee rolled his eyes.

"I don't need you to tell me what to do."

"Somebody has to at least try to make sure Cybertron's great and powerful leader isn't falling asleep at his desk tommorow."

"I've earned the right to nap wherever I damn well please."

"Not during a trial. Or a council meeting. Or-"

"We have a council meeting tommorow?"

"Yeah, you do, it's in your schedule. It's early."

"Fuck," he rubbed at his eyes. "I should've thought about that before I went and drank half a bottle of high-grade."

"I tried to warn you." Bee didn't see the point in mentioning that it was considerably more than half a bottle. He'd figure it out in the morning.

"...Thanks." It was quiet, and a little ashamed, and shockingly sincire.

"Um. You're welcome? I do my best."

Starscream stared at him for a moment, expression focused but unreadable. Then he rolled over, shifting his wings, snuggling in to make himself more comfortable, still muttering to himself even as he drifted off.

Bee sighed, letting himself slide down until he was laying on the bed. He could feel it under him, sort of. It was firm, but not much else. He didn't feel the smoothness of the silky fabric he knew Starscream spent way too much money on, nor the warmth that should be eminating from the sleeping seekers frame. He did, however, feel the steady thrum of Starscream's spark. It reverberated in the hollow of Bee's own chest, where his own sparkbeat was barely a faint flicker.

He wondered if Starscream felt that in the same way. A small, persistent tug at the edge of his spark, even when they weren't near each other. If he did, he'd probably call it guilt.

Bee sighed and closed his eyes, just focusing on the spark's pulse, the soft push and pull. He might not be able to actually sleep, but he could at least pretend for a bit.

///

Bee groaned and pulled himself out of bed, finally giving up as he left his apartment and marched down the night streets, following the tugging weight at the edge of his spark until he was face to face with a door into a familiar apartment in a familiar building and he was suddenly hit with a wave of what the fuck am I doing?

He spent a minute arguing with himself over whether or not he ought to actually knock on the door, but it turned out to be useless, because it slid open without him doing much of anything at all. In the doorway stood a weary Starscream looking surprised, but also not, to see the yellow minibot in front of him.

"Bee?"

"Uh, hi."

"What are you doing here?"

"Uh, well," Bee suddenly felt very foolish. "I, uh, can't sleep."

"And... you came here?"

"Yeah. I guess."

Starscream just stared at him for a minute before turning away with a huff, retreating into the apartment, the door left open behind him. It seemed as good an invitation as he was going to get, so Bee followed him in.

He wandered through the apartment, following Starscream back to the bedroom, already feeling some of his nerves beginning to settle just by being here. It wasn't the same apartment Starscream had had when he was ruling the planet, but it was similar enough. Same decor, same layout. A bit smaller, but still, the whole place was overwhelmingly Starscream. He spilled out of the furniture, painted the walls and filled every nook and cranny with himself. His presence was, as always, undeniable and overwhelming. To Bumblebee, it just felt safe.

Neither of them really talked, and in fact barely even spared a glance towards the other as they climbed into bed, both for embarrasment's sake and a lingering fear that adressing what was happening would break it.

They continued not acknowledging it until Starscream, muttering something about his wings, rolled over to face Bee's back. Bee could feel Starscream's sparkbeat flittering anxiously, and was having to make a concious effort to keep his own close to steady as he moved backwards to press right against Starscream's chest.

There was a moment where Starscream froze, unsure of exactly what to do, but eventually he decided on tenatively wrapping an arm around Bumblebee's waist, growing more confident when Bee melted into it, relishing the simple touch.

Bumblebee slept better that night, pulled against Starscream's chest, knowing he was held and safe and real, then he had in weeks.

///

Bumblebee woke up first the next morning, Starscream's face nuzzled into the space between his shoulders, the jets breathing even and warm against Bee's plating.

He didn't make any move to get up, or even so much as twitch. He wanted to squeeze every second he could out of it, before Starscream woke up and shoved him away again and whatever this was inevitably ended.

But that didn't happen. Eventually, Starscream stirred, coming online with a jolt, like the act of waking had snuck up and startled him. He pulled away from Bee, looking around the room, letting his processor catch up with who and where he was. After a moment he soothed, letting out a shaky breath and pressing his face against Bee's cheek, wrapping his arms back around the minibot's waist.

"You're still here?" Star muttered, voice still thick with sleep.

"Where else would I go?" Bumblebee said. He didn't say it outright, but he used every fiber of his being to push I just want to be wherever you are out at Starscream and hope he got the message, because Bee didn't think he could say it out loud.

Apparently it was good enough, because Starscream's arms around him squeezed him tighter and he gently, so softly that it nearly seemed as if he was scared, pressed a kiss to Bee's neck.

"Thanks," he said. A part of Bee wanted to say for what? and another wanted to say you don't have to thank me and another wanted to say i love you, but he didn't say any of those things. Instead, he turned himself over, trying not to pull away from Starscream any more than he absolutely had to, and he kissed him properly. It was soft, and inexperienced, and lazy, and it was so good that Bee felt like sobbing.

He blinked away tears and let his head fall to lean against Starscream's chest, hands tracing their way up and down the plating of Starscream's arms softly. He kissed the golden glass of Star's chest, listening to the thrum of the spark behind it, the way it pulsed in time with his own, the tugging feeling sated for now but the presence of Star's spark alongisde his own as strong as ever.

[keilemlucent]

lavender latte: v

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1   ||   chapter 2  ||   chapter 3   ||  chapter 4   ||  chapter 6  || 

word count: ~4k

coming to terms now, are we?

warnings: descriptions of medical settings, discussion of surgery and injury but nothing graphic, god fluff, nasty big fluff

——

wow. halfway through y’all. thank you to each and every ONE of you who have given this story a chance. enjoy some fluff and get ready for next week 👀 once again, beta-ed by the wuv @keiqos !!

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Exhaustion had long since clawed a hole in your skull. 

It was one of the many forms of malefactum that came from your fucking quirk, damn it to hell. The days following any sort of intense overstimulation episode of yours were always hellish. Constant fatigue, burning migraines, dry eyes, and confusion always waited for you by the time you rolled out whatever pushed you over the edge.

The villain attack was probably the worst episode you’d had, ever. 

The entire trip to the hospital had been sort of a nightmare. There were so many people that needed treatment after the attack, so many of them worse off than yourself. You were lucky enough to get into a dark hospital room fairly quickly, allowing some of your symptoms to dull. 

You were just coherent and aware enough to deal with everyone you needed to, paperwork and legalities of your visit sorted. You even managed to send a few texts to your parents and work groupchat to confirm that you were safe. 

After a myriad of late-night tests and exams, it was confirmed that the next morning, you’d have a procedure to mend your leg.

...

Fixing the internal damage to your leg caused by the tearing of the glass was a fairly quick affair, according to your kind-smiled surgeon.

“I know it seemed abrupt, to do it so quickly,” The surgeon stuffed her hands in the pocket of her scrubs. “But, we’ve flown in extra medical personnel to help deal with injuries from the attack and well, you’re an easy fix.”

You smiled, the best you could, groggy with the anesthetic, “I’m glad it isn’t too bad.”

“Nope! Not at all,” She laughed, far too pleasant for all the chaos just outside your dimly lit hospital room. “We’ll keep you here tonight, and you should be able to go home tomorrow afternoon. You’ll need to keep weight off of that leg for about three weeks. We’ll have a follow-up appointment then, and make sure you’re healing alright. Sound good?”

You nodded, some tension releasing from your chest.

The procedure left you with a heavy plastic boot, clasped up to your knee. Not to mention your body ached with fatigue. 

Most of the rest of that day was spent spinning in and out of sleep, only waking for basic checks and a delivery of flowers you received from the teashop’s owners complete with a passive-aggressive reminder that ‘this had nothing to do with us, you can’t sue <3.’

 Your constant company was Hawks’s scarlet feather. As you moved through the bends of your quirk and post-surgical recovery, you held onto it like a lifeline. With each stroke of the soft filaments, your heart rate monitor would beep slower and slower towards a relaxed rhythm. 

It made you think of him, and how he felt with your quirk activated. 

Despite how shitty the circumstances were, really feeling Keigo with your quirk was heavenly. Feeling him in general, physically was a fucking blessing. You spent a lot of time that night and first day at the hospital fantasizing about how the beat of his heart felt like amber drops on your tongue and orange-bound warmth in your chest.

You wanted more of it.

 Keigo stayed around to help deal with the mess, for once in his career. It was weird for him to spend the following day after the attack helping out on the scene. It was even weirder for the other Pros around that were aware of his reputation of simply not doing that.

It was out of character for him.

But, then again, Keigo hadn’t ever spent as much time at someplace he enjoyed like the teashop. Hell, the whole street. He’d patrolled plenty of areas for long stretches of time, but he’d never grown attached.

You were, obviously, a big part of that.

Seeing you hurt left him frazzled and fucked, and staying behind to help pick up the mess and provide aid made him feel a hell of a lot better. Sure, it was different, having local Pros look to him for guidance when he had to purely rely on his training from the Commission as opposed to his professional experience. He did well, he knew, especially based on the way the scene calmed even when he simply flew around.

Keigo had the power to bring people ease, even if he struggled with it himself. 

The idea made him think back to you, undoubtedly still in pain, but more than likely entirely fine. He ignored the urge to text you anxiously as he was still parsing over the very sweet interaction the two of you had, even if it was in such a bad circumstance. 

Your sweetness at the end was his constant reminder that you would be okay. 

The implication and Keigo’s knowledge post- ‘the miel incident,’ as he was calling it, was obvious, and god, he wanted to fucking drown in it. The thought of having you so close that he could hear your heartbeat and feel the drum of your voice against your chest made him weak. 

He was so fucking weak for you.

It was distracting, as it always was. It seemed fairly unavoidable especially as anxiety chewed at him. The one thing that lulled him was the far off feeling of the feather he had tucked in your hand. It had to be close to you still, the beat of your heart sending him shudders if he focused on it hard enough.

It became too much, thinking of you.

As his feathers swept piles of rubble, he pulled out his phone, the sun beginning to sink in the evening sky. 

 You had spent most of your recovery time in and out of consciousness, enjoying the time to rest and sleep. 

A short buzz from your phone forced you into a half-wakeful state. You reached to the table next to the hospital bed, grappling for your phone.

 [birdboy]: hey r u alive, 

[birdboy]: how r u feeling

[birdboy]: speak 2 me

 You cracked a sleepy smile. 

 [you]: alive, tired, surgery-ied. 

 You took a quick snap of your booted, propped up foot.

 [you]: getting discharged tomorrow babyyyy

[birdboy]: oh fuck what happened?

[birdboy]: u sure ur good

 The feather against your collarbone twitched, filaments waving. You thought little of it.

 [you]: i tore some shit in my leg

[you]: and yes, just tired as fuck and want to be home

[you]: hospitals SUCK

[birdboy]: true, true

[birdboy]: would u... 

[birdboy]: like a visit perhaps?

[you]: u sure??

[you]: i know ur busy and i dont wanna use up ur freetime

 There was a pause in Keigo’s nearly instant responses.

 [birdboy]: dove.

 Your breath stuttered in your chest. That was newer; you only remembered it vaguely from the . It felt far more intimate than just ‘angel,’ and it made you shiver as you read it.

 [birdboy]: busy schedule??

[birdboy]: i’ll make the time angel

[birdboy]: i’d love to come visit u

 You couldn’t help the smitten expression that burst across your face.

 [you]: and i’d love to see you

 You wished you could’ve continued the conversation, but your night nurse knocked to offer you pain medication and sedatives and you couldn’t say no to more rest. Your mind and body needed it. 

As quickly as it was administered, you were out again. 

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 You were exhausted. Still. 

When you heard voices just outside of your door, you couldn’t help cracking open your dry eyes. It seemed far too early for them to collect your vitals. The room was still dark, large windows only showing a trace of the dawn’s light stretching from the east.

Your sleep-addled mind stretched to listen:

“Thank you so much for the autograph! My son is such a huge fan of yours.”

“Oh, really! Tell him I say hi! I really adore my fans.”

Giggling.

“Is she a fan?”

“Sort of, more of a friend of mine.”

 He... said it again.

 A shaft of light sprayed into the room, your quirk firing at the sudden intrusion. You groan, pawing at your eye with your fist, the feather held between your fingers blocking some of the light.

Even with your diminished vision and tired mind, you still caught it when he laughed at your reaction, stepping into the room.

Honey, softness, cream and heat that made your chest thrum like embers.

“H-Hawks?” Your voice was still itchy with sleep. 

“That’s me.” His laugh rolled over you as your quirk receded, palms thrumming with the silkenness of his voice, “It’s good to see you, dove.”

“S’nice to see you too,” Your chest thrummed with his words and you couldn’t restrain the smile that spread across your face, “‘Ya know, you woke me up, just now.”

Hawks gave you a little chuckle, moseying his way to a chair nearby the bed and window, “Sorry about that. I had to sneak in here before official visiting hours so I didn’t cause a ‘scene’.”

You snorted. 

“You, causing a scene?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him, “Hawks? Never. Not once.”

He stifled a laugh, dragging the thinly-padded chair closer to the bed and leaning back into it, “Glad to see you’re in good spirits, considering you’re still here and all.”

“From what I can tell, it could be a lot worse, especially compared to other people that were there,” The end of your sentence turned sullen, your expression darkening. 

Hawks let out a little sigh, “It wasn’t pretty, that’s for sure. But, you’re safe, and most folks are safe. Bright side.”

“Bright side.” You repeated, softer, looking up from the plain sheets to meet his gaze. 

You took him in, quickly. 

He looked a bit worse for wear, the exhaustion from the days before still visible on his features. The dark circles under his eyes almost looked worse, perhaps uncovered and deeper since the attack. His wings weren’t even visible from your angle, plucked too short and sparse to be of much use. 

But, Hawks was, undoubtedly, still stunning. 

It was almost distracting, how unavoidable mentally eating him up was. You’d felt what he was like during the attack and that had apparently broken some mental dam for you. Holding back just how much you liked him seemed futile, at least mentally. 

You would let yourself be honest, at least with yourself, as a treat. 

What probably also pushed you over the edge was the fact that he wasn’t in his hero uniform, for once. You’d only ever seen him in his tan and black get up before. Seeing him casually dressed was shocking and very hot.

Hawks wore a simple black long sleeve with a long, wool jacket over it, black jeans, nothing seemingly extravagant except for the nicer looking chunky sneakers he wore and the fat gold watch on his wrist. It was all designer, knowing his paycheck. Without all of his normal regalia, you could better see that his pierced ears carried some light yellow stones that played off his eyes.

His feathery golden waves were messy, falling over his forehead and temples. The curves and angles of his jaw looked accented by the rising dawn light that was just beginning to filter into the room. There was the smallest quirk in his plump lips, but it hardly detracted from how stunning he was. 

He was remarkably gorgeous, naturally, and you let yourself think about it freely.

 Keigo felt a bit bad, seeing you in your state. 

He tried to be subtle, looking you up and down, heart-thumping his chest as the feather in your hand-picked up your own pulse. It had sped up when he entered the room, even more so when you started to beam at him despite your state.

You looked like a bit of a mess, and with anyone else, Keigo might’ve indulged himself in being a little bit of sarcastic shit about it, but he didn’t with you. It didn’t seem right. 

Your booted foot was propped up, a hospital gown askew over your collarbones under some thin blankets you were nested underneath. Your dark circles could’ve been worse, but your eyes were shining and alert, all directed on him it made him ache all over in the best way.

 The feather twitched in your hand, your gaze darting to it. Heat spread across your cheeks. 

“Oh, uh, shit,” You stretched your arm to pass the feather back to him. “Here’s this back. Sorry, I’ve kinda been holding on to it... a lot.”

“It’s alright, that’s why I gave it to you,” Hawks assured you, the feather whisking from your hand on its own and back to the downy stubs that Hawks had left. “Just a little reminder that good ol’ Number Two is looking out for you.”

You hardly needed a reminder. Thoughts of Hawks had been filling your head since it had stopped from swirling from your quirk. The thought of him leaving a bit of him with you only warmed your insides. 

“How could I ever forget?” You leaned back into your pillows, releasing a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. “Thank you, Hawks.”

Hawks blinked at you, reaching down to rustle something down by his feet, “For?”

“You know, saving my ass.”

“That’s my job, angel.”

“Still. You thank me every time I make you your drinks, right?” You shrugged at his wide-eyed expression. “Same principle. Except, your life isn’t on the line when I make you lattes.”

“Oh, angel,” Hawks drawled and deflected. “That is a false statement. I rely on those. They’re my lifeblood.”

A little realization dawned on you.

You gave him a sad little smile, rubbing your own knuckles for some semblance of comfort, “It’s gonna be a while until I can provide anything life-giving, then.”

The teashop was destroyed and who knew how long I’d be until they reopened. Not to mention that your leg was post opt and you couldn’t exactly work on it. 

Practicality aside, what saddened you most was that Hawks didn’t have much of a reason to see you without the shop. 

As much as you had feared it at the beginning of your friendship, you had gotten comfortable with Hawks’s presence in the shop and in your life. 

Too comfortable, and now it was biting you in the ass.

Thorns stabbed in your chest.

 Keigo noticed your slow-falling expression and frowned, “What’s on your mind?”

 “It’s nothing, just, uh...” You shook your head, blinking up at him,

Your voice cut off as your gaze refused to settle on him, Keigo clearly seeing your discomfort. 

“Without the teashop, you know...” Then, with that honesty that scared him, you finally met his eyes, gripping the sheets of your hospital bed, “I’m gonna miss seeing you.”

The principle made Keigo’s mind swirl.

You missing him.

His thoughts slipped back to ‘the miel incident’, and your mutual feelings that you very obviously didn’t fucking know about. If you did, he was sure you’d know that he would be missing you a lot without your normal interactions. 

This certainly wasn’t the setting to tell you, you were still stuck with an IV and probably somewhat traumatized by the event, even if you seemed in good spirits.

But, he could help assuage your fears. Subtly. Let himself use his honed arts to comfort rather than connive. 

“Dove, it’s alright,” He gave the softest smile he could, shreds of real vulnerability in it coaxed out by you without you even being aware of it. “Just because the teashop isn’t around right now doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you.”

The stunned expression on your face would’ve been cute if it didn’t make Keigo’s heart stutter painfully in his chest.

 “You... You do?” Your voice was so soft, you surprised yourself.

Hawks was a busy, busy man. Why the fuck would he bother with you? There was no cute coffee shop aesthetic in your foreseeable future. Maybe some decent drinks, but you wouldn’t be very mobile. You had some supplies and gear to make teas and some drinks at your apartment, but nothing as expansive as was destroyed at the shop. If it was flirty banter keeping him near, there were certainly other people he could go to for some natural chemistry, right?

He doesn’t need you.

Why the fuck would he bother with you, outside of what you could offer him?

“Dove,” Hawks’s voice shook you from your thoughts. “I’m here right now, aren’t I?”

“Uh,” You stuttered, mind catching up to the very obvious conclusion that, yes, Hawks does like having you around. “I guess, yeah.”

He frowned, leaning back in his chair as one of his smaller feathers whisked to your forehead, patting it a few times, “(Y/N), I like spending time with you. I care about you.”

Oh.

That was a little more vulnerability and truth than either of you expected.

Your eyes darted up to meet his, seeing a hint of unbearable fear before it was wiped away.

 You didn’t know it, but it was just you that pushed that fear off Keigo’s face.

He forced his shaking hands to be still, mouth drying after saying words that he wasn’t sure he was ready to say yet. God, they were true, but were they okay? For him, or you?

And then you gave him the gooiest, biggest smile you’d ever graced him with, “I care about you too, Hawks. Thank you.”

 It made both of your guts turn to mush.

In a stunned moment of silence, both of your breaths stuck in each of your throats. Neither of you could tear your gazes away from each other.

You both tightened your grip on your respective fabrics, your heart rate monitor beeping faster as you swallowed. 

Hawks opened his mouth, inhaling, but he was quickly interrupted by a knock on the door. A head poked in, the same nurse as before.

“Hey, sweetheart, we need to take your vitals quick,” She came in, waving to Hawks gleefully.

Hawks’s softened eyes were gone, you realized. Torn away from the moment and now speaking comfortably with the nurse as she checked what she needed to.

Your hands shook.

 Keigo noticed it, too, his own trembling as well. 

 The idle chat between Hawks and the nurse fell on your ears, though you didn’t process any of it. You were far too busy mentally coming to terms with the fact that Hawks cared about you. And, based on his tone and that familiar (but usually hidden) adoration in his eyes, it was a bit deeper than you expected and knew how to swallow.

You took a slow breath as the nurse left, Hawks waving with a wide smile plastered on his face.

When the door shut once more, there was a lull of silence that settled over the room. More early morning sunlight was beginning to slant into the room, throwing gold over the otherwise drab and lifeless greys and whites of the room.

The intense mood had been thoroughly interrupted by the nurse, but perhaps it was a hidden blessing. 

Both of you were terrified, but so deeply yearning. You both were a bit too raw. 

Maybe it would be better to let the fear fade, just a bit more. 

 “Oh, shit, I nearly forgot,” Hawks reached down next to him, pulling out a bag you hadn’t realized he had brought him. He set it on the edge of the bed. “I got you something.”

“Hawks.” You groaned, shaking your head and running your hands down your face. “You need to stop being so nice.”

“Can’t do that, (Y/N). I’ll be as nice as I want,” You could see that his grin was shit-eating through the space between your fingers. “Besides, you haven’t even looked at it yet.”

You took the bag into your lap, noticing the ruffles of tissue paper that puffed from the top. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” You told him, albeit still pulling the paper from the top to reveal a small, wrapped, fluffy object.

Hawks hummed, leaning forward to set his elbows on his knees, “You’re right. I didn’t have to. But, I wanted to.”

As carefully as you could, somewhat suspicious, you peeled back to the paper. 

Your eyes widened.

It was a plushie, round and soft with a filling that made it feel like a marshmallow in your arms. The design was familiar, a character from one of your favorite cartoons, but you’d never talked about it with Hawks.

“I figured you could use a little pick me up after all this,” Hawks tilted his head and winked. “Did I get the character right?”

Your mouth fell open, blinking, “How did you... know? That I liked this one?” 

“The little pins on your apron,” Hawks tapped his chest. “I figured you must be pretty fond of this one, since you had a couple of buttons for them, right?”

You wanted to give you a coherent, thankful statement to Hawks. Really, you did. Instead, you stared down at the doughy, round-eyed plushie. Maybe a few overwhelmed tears gathered in your eyes, which you promptly sucked down and shook your head.

“Thank you, really,” You rubbed at your eyes with the back of your hand. “But, fuck, Hawks—”

 For a moment, Keigo thought you were upset with him. Based on the slight contorting of your face, and the wetness in your eyes, his heart seized up. His fingers twitched from where they cupped his chin, wanting to shoot out and comfort you somehow. 

However, Keigo stayed put as you turned back towards him, plushie carefully gathered in your arms and hugged snugly and perfectly to your chest.

“You gotta stop being so fucking nice,” You sighed, pressing your face into the soft fabric of the gift. Your words were muffled, but Keigo heard each one perfectly. “I’m gonna start getting ideas, you know.”

Sure, Keigo could’ve pushed some of your buttons and fluffed himself up for some fun, flirty banter that would be undoubtedly lovely, but it wasn’t the time. You’d had a very long and tiring few days, and Keigo could see and imagine that you were in all sorts of disrepair.

Keigo stood slowly, moving just next to your bed where you turned your head upwards to look at him. Carefully, he placed a worn hand on your shoulder, feeling the small bit of bare skin exposed by the thin gown.

“Don’t worry about that right now, dove, okay?” Keigo let his voice go soft, quiet, and gentle as he could make it. Without thinking, he squeezed your shoulder, rubbing his thumb just under your collarbone.

It was too much, maybe. But neither of you would complain.

Keigo could see and feel the way you relaxed, eyes going half-lidded and leaning into his touch, even putting the slightest amount of your weight into it. 

It was probably the most precious and sweet gesture he’d ever experienced. 

He made it his goal to make more like it. 

(Anything to see you so instantly mushy.)

 “I saw a coffee machine when I was coming in,” Hawks voice was a hum, hand on your shoulder not moving. You didn’t want it to. The heat pressing against your skin made you melt. “Want me to grab us some? I know I need it.”

You managed to giggle, craning your neck to fully look up at Hawks. You swore you could see the slightest quiver in his bottom lip.

“I’d love some.”

“You sure you can stomach shitty coffee?” The thumb rubbed over your collarbone, Keigo’s pretty eyes searching your face, portraying far more than your words. “That’s my territory, angel.”

“I guess I’ll stoop to your taste,” You gave him a smirk like sweet lightning and tentatively, carefully, reached your hand up to wrap around his own, squeezing. “I take my coffee black.”

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taglist: @thepandapopo @sinclairsamess

[kiribaku-queen]

You’re Not the One

Pairing: Todoroki x reader, Bakugou x reader

Drama, Angst?, pregnant!AU, happy ending

Word count: 6.4K

A/N: I was supposed to upload this multiple Friday’s ago… But enjoy this quick but long oneshot I have made! Let me know what you think! Do you like having oneshots like this or the series better?

Summary: No one prepared you for motherhood. You didn’t even know the first step to being a parent. What’s even worse was that you were doing it all alone. Will you let a knight in shining armor save you from distress or will you let the father of your child come back in your life and have the perfect family you always wanted?

Bakugou arrived at your apartment all busted up. It was a rough day at work and all he wanted to do right now was lay in bed with you in his arms. He didn’t want to think about how he let a villain get away. Or how he had to defeat a group of people all on his own with no backup, causing all those cuts and bruises. Or how management came running and yelled at him for his attitude towards his fans. He didn’t need anymore chaos. He didn’t want anymore problems. But that’s not how life works does it?

“I’m pregnant.”

Of course you were. Bakugou took a deep breath in and violently let it out, running his fingers through his hair. No, he wasn’t happy. He was already overwhelmed with trying to become the best that he could be at his job. He didn’t need another inconvenience in his way.

You frowned upon seeing his reaction. That definitely wasn’t the reaction you were hoping for. You were expecting shock, for sure. But mad? Angry? Disappointed? Never in a million years.

“What’s with that reaction? Are you not happy?” you asked, shaking a bit. You already knew this wasn’t going to go well when you saw that he wasn’t scooping you up in his arms. He was pacing around the room now.

“I just can’t deal with this news right now.” He told you. You furrowed your brows in concern. Seeing how he was acting right now, you could tell it had to do something with work. Bakugou sat down on the edge of the bed and you joined him, gently holding onto his arm.

“Was it work again?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah. I’m already stressed out. I don’t need this pregnant news stressing me out even more!” he started to raise his voice. It wasn’t the first time you heard him raise his voice. You know he doesn’t mean to sometimes, but it always frightens you. He never put a hand on you when he was mad but when he gets like this, you just never know when he’s about to snap and finally do it. That’s how scary he could be sometimes.

“Well, I was hoping that me being pregnant would lessen your stress? Because it should be happy news?” It made sense to you. Having a baby with someone you loved should be the happiest news of your life. And after having a rough day at work, you would think that coming home to good news would be the highlight of the day. But it looks like you were wrong. Did you just make things worse for him?

“I don’t even know how to take care of a baby,” he huffed. You got up from the bed and comforted him from behind. You wrapped your arms around his waist, pressed your chest up against his back, and laid your cheek on his back.

“You think I know either? We can both learn,” you tried to convince him. But it didn’t look like it was working. You started to become anxious and fidgety. This was not supposed to happen tonight. You pictured it so differently in your head and it was all going down the drain.

“No, I can’t take care of this baby,” he shook his head. That left a tight feeling in your chest.

“Cant? Or don’t want to?” you dared to ask.

“Don’t want to,” he replied softly.

“Katsuki!” you desperately called out his name. You heart was breaking. A lump was forming in your throat and tears were threatening to spill over.

“(y/n)!” he called out just as desperate. “I’m so overwhelmed right now! I’m loaded with paperwork. I’m constantly working over time. I don’t get days off. I don’t get breaks. I’m at the peak of my career right now. I can barely take care of you, how can I take of a child that requires more attention than you need on a daily basis?” That last one hurt. You stood there in awe at how he could say that so easily. You didn’t even know what to say. All of this was coming out of nowhere. You both stood still in silence. Bakugou was huffing and puffing by himself while you were trying to process everything he was saying and weighing out your options. If Bakugou didn’t want this baby, you had a few options ahead of you. But before you could think too much, your boyfriend said something that was beyond forgivable. “Get rid of it.”

“Bakugou Katsuki.” Your eyes snapped at him, sudden anger took over you. Out of all the things he could say, he just had to say the most hurtful thing. You could take the criticism. You could take all his anger, his confusion, and his fright. You could take his uncertainness right now because it was sudden news. Both of you never talked about having kids. It only makes sense that he was uncertain about his abilities about being a father. But this. This was going too far. It was unacceptable. No matter how much he didn’t like the idea of you being pregnant or how much he was unprepared to be a dad, he treaded across a forbidden place that was never meant to be crossed. “You take that back right now.”

“No. You either get rid of the baby or I’m leaving,” he gave you the ultimatum. But it was a no brainer.

“I’m keeping the baby,” you say confidently. You were more confident in your answer, more than ever. But that didn’t stop the crushing pain in your chest. The feeling was getting more intense the more you kept looking at him. Bakugou nods his head in acknowledgement. He picks up his work stuff and heads straight to the door. As soon as he opens the door, you scream out his name causing him to stop in his tracks.

“You walk out that door and I swear on my life, you will never see this child,” You threatened. You were shaking with anger, eyes glaring in his direction. Bakugou hesitates. He’s paused at the opened door. And for a split second, you could see a sliver of hope that he comes back to you. But you were wrong. He’s out that door, out of your apartment, and out of your life just like that.

 You were left utterly devasted and completely alone to raise the baby. Honestly, being pregnant was the easy part. What comes after that? Now that was a challenge. It was probably an understatement to say that raising your baby was a challenge. You were struggling. Raising a baby by yourself was hard. There were times when you didn’t know why your baby was crying in the middle of the night. Was he hungry? Did his diaper need to be changed? Did he just want to be held? But sometimes, you would do all that and he would still be crying, making you stay up all night and not get a wink of sleep. There are days were you can’t function properly because of the lack of sleep you would get.

And if that wasn’t enough, you were having a hard time financially keeping you stable. Diapers, formula, and other baby necessities were expensive. You were barely left with enough money to buy food or buy groceries. Maybe a few times a week, you wouldn’t get to eat anything because you didn’t have enough money. And you had to juggle between having a full time job and being a full time mom. You were constantly working around the clock. Everyday, you would be left physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. You can’t even spend time to yourself because you have to tend to your child.

You were rocking your child to sleep, watching as his eyes got heavier and heavier. A sad smile reached your lips but tears trickled down your cheeks.

“Mommy’s having a hard time,” you whispered to your son, sobbing. Yes, the pressure of being a mom got to you. It got to you so bad that you cried every night. God, you were so stressed out and miserable. But even though there were so many hardships that you faced, it was all worth it. It was worth going through all that just to see your son laugh and smile and grow. Despite all the frustrations you went through on a daily basis, you knew it was going to pay off in the end. You loved your son. He captured your heart as soon as he came out. Mommy was having a hard time but you wouldn’t change this for the world.

Just when life was about to get you down, things started to lighten up. You bit your lip and internally cheered when you found out that you had enough money for groceries. You actually had a lot of money left over to buy whatever you wanted. But you were starving. As soon as you got to the grocery store, you made up your mind to stock up on supplies in case you have one of those days again.

You put little Ryota in the seat of the cart and proceeded to go down all the aisles, getting everything you deemed necessary to store in your pantry. While you were at it, you might as well get ingredients to prep yourself a nice dinner for tonight. It’s been a while since you had an actual, homecooked meal.

“Alright, which one should I get baby?” you asked your son, Ryota. He wasn’t old enough to speak yet. Only babbling here and there. Yet, you were constantly talking to him like he could understand you. It was somewhat comforting. You held out two options for him to choose from. Ryota stuck out both his hands, gravitating to the one on the left. You smiled.

“Yeah, I thought so. Good choice, my love,” you squeezed both his cheeks and smothered him with kisses. You then put Ryota’s choice inside the cart and put the other option back. When you went to put that away, another hand was reaching in the same direction, making both of your hands bump into each other.

“Oh, I’m sorr – Shouto?” you began to apologize but once you looked up, you recognized that iconic hair and scar anywhere. He was tall. Taller than you remember. The middle of his hair was swooped backwards, showing his forehead. His build was as impressive as ever and he was carrying a basket of groceries.

“Ah, (y/n). It’s been a while,” he was just as shocked as you were. It’s been what, 7? 8 years? You haven’t seen each other since your school days.

“It has, hasn’t it? Have you been well?” you struck up a conversation. He gave you a soft smile and stuffed his free hand in his pocket. He hummed in response and looked over you shoulder to see your child.

“Looks like you’ve been doing well, too. What’s his name?” he asked, going up to your son and trying to make him laugh. It was working because Ryota seemed to look like he liked him.

“Ryota,” you responded, admiring the way Shouto was playing with your son. It was a weird feeling. You were the one always around your son. Sure, some people held him but it was rare for Ryota to be interacting with a male. It was weird, but a refreshing sight.

“He’s cute. Ah,” he stood up and faced you. “How’s Bakugou doing?” Ouch. He opened up a wound that you were trying to suppress for all these months.

“Oh, um… We’re not…” you tried to explain without it being too awkward, but it wasn’t working. Immediate regret showed on Shouto’s face. He looked back to Ryota and back at you, the realization sinking in. You guess you couldn’t blame him though. Ryota looked exactly like Bakugou. Dirty blonde hair and fiery, red eyes. A mini me of the man who broke your heart. But it’s okay, because now, a new man came into your life. Both of you also weren’t public about your breakup. It was messy anyway. Only a few people really know what happened.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“It’s okay!” You interrupted him, waving your hands in front of you. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know. “Where you trying to get this?” you changed the subject, lifting up the box that you were putting away. Shouto glanced at the box in your hands and nodded. He took it from you and added it to his basket. Now you were both awkwardly standing there together, not knowing what to say. Ryota was huffing and puffing behind you, letting you know that it was time to go. You excused yourself and headed towards the check out aisle.

You bagged all your groceries and groaned in agony. You walked to the store and you really underestimated how much you bought. How were you going to carry all those groceries and carry Ryota. He can’t even walk yet. But you got to do what you got to do. You grabbed one bag and all of a sudden, it was pulled away from your grip. You looked up to see Shouto grabbing all your groceries.

“What are you doing? I can handle it,” you reassured him, but he wouldn’t budge. He continued to grab everything, and soon, all of your groceries were in both of his hands.

“You need to carry him. I can carry this for you,” he offered. Well, it wasn’t really an offer. You bit your lip because you did need help, but you also felt bad for making him carry your belongings. But Shouto was already at the exit, waiting for you to catch up to him. Not wanting to waste any more of his time, you picked up Ryota and chased after him.

Thank god your apartment wasn’t too far. Shouto graciously carried all those bags for you, setting them down on your kitchen floor. You rushed to put Ryota in his crib since he fell asleep on your shoulder on the walk home. When you set him down and made sure he was comfortable, you returned to your kitchen where Shouto was standing.

“Thank you so much, Shouto. I really appreciate it,” you thanked him, still feeling bad and guilty for allowing him to do such a task.

“It’s no problem. It looked like you were struggling,” he says, letting you know that he didn’t mind at all. “Well, I should get going. Call me if you need more help.” He says before making his way to the door. Before he exits your apartment, you were quick to stop him.

“Do you want to stay for dinner? As a thank you for bringing up my groceries?” you offered. He stood there for a minute, debating on whether or not to take the offer. But you gave him those pleading eyes because you had no else to thank him. After much facial persuading, he eventually took up on your offer and stayed for dinner.

Halfway through to making dinner, Ryota woke up crying. You were about to go comfort him when you saw Shouto already on the move. He cradled Ryota in his arms and rocked him back and forth until he calmed down. That shocked you. You weren’t expecting him to take action like that.

“Ah, I can take him” you tried to take Ryota away from him but Ryota was holding onto Shouto tightly. Huh? Your son didn’t know Shouto yet he was hanging onto him like his life depended on it. You playfully frowned and Shouto chuckled.

“I can take care of him while you cook,” he said. You were reluctant at first, but eventually agreed. There was no use fighting Shouto when he already has his mind set on something. So you continued cooking, checking up on the boys once in a while. Bu seeing Shouto play and laugh with your son made you smile. And when you say smile, you’re smiling hard. Like grinning from ear to ear. The sight was cute and heartwarming. You couldn’t thank him enough for looking after your son because you finally got a break to yourself. Even if you were cooking, you were put into a state of mind where it was just you. And you could focus on yourself and just enjoy the cooking process.

Having Shouto over for dinner and letting him look over your son was a great break for you. But it was time to get back into the groove again. You were about to go grocery shopping again for tonight’s dinner when a knock was heard on your door. Strange. You weren’t expecting company. You opened the door with curiosity and was surprised to see Todoroki Shouto waiting at your door.

“What are you doing here?” you questioned him with surprise. He lifted a bag filled with different kinds of ingredients.

“Let me make you dinner,” he says. “To thank you for cooking me dinner yesterday.” You smiled at his kindness, but you had to respectfully decline.

“But dinner yesterday was to thank you for carrying my groceries!” you explained but he wasn’t having it.

“And now I’m thanking you for thanking me,” he shakes the bag, waiting for you to let him in. God, you couldn’t say no to that face. And so you let him in. From then on, he was coming over every day. Cooking dinner started to become a routine, both of you alternating nights on who cooks when. Sometimes you would even cook together. With Shouto coming over, you were able to get more alone time and relaxation from taking care of the baby. But that also means you were spending more time with him. The more he came over, the more you bonded with him. Let’s not forget Ryota. It was an understatement to say that he liked Shouto. Every time he’s over, your son would cling to him every chance he got. And soon, Shouto was coming over for more than just dinner. You thought it was because he wanted to spend time with Ryota. Afterall, he was treating your son like he was his own. But you soon came to realize that that was only half the story.

 4 years later

Bakugou had the day off so he made his way to his nearest grocery store for some snacks. He hadn’t heard from you since that day. After he walked out, he needed a while to get back to his senses and calm down. But by the time he was ready to face you again, you had disappeared from his life. You blocked all types of communication from him and moved apartments. He didn’t think of you often. But whenever he saw a child with their mother, that’s when he started thinking of what ifs. And if you were doing okay. Did you have the baby? Or did you end up losing the baby? Was it a boy or girl? What was their name? Did they look like him? Many questions ran through his mind that he knew won’t get answered any time soon.

He grabbed a basket and went straight to the snack aisle. On the way there, he noticed a woman was having trouble getting something from the top shelf. He was thinking about ignoring her and keep on his merry way. But there was something about her back side that seemed familiar. And he couldn’t ignore his hero instincts to help those in need. He went over to her and grabbed the she was reaching for and handed it to her. But when he looked at who the woman was, his heart skipped a beat.

It was you.

Looking at him with wide eyes.

“(y/n)…” he muttered your name out of instinct. You quickly grabbed your item and stuffed it in your cart.

“Bakugou… thank you,” you muttered right back. God, he hasn’t seen you in so long. And you looked great as ever. Healthy. Happy. He looked around you. No baby.

“You’ve been good?” he asked. Shit, why was this so awkward. You nodded, giving him a small smile that was obviously very forced.

“Mhm, you?”

“Yeah.”

Silence.

The curiosity got the better of him. He just had to ask.

“What about the baby-”

“There is no baby,” you interrupted him very abruptly. Bakugou physically felt his heart crack. There… was no baby? Fuck, now he felt like the worst person in the world. He stared at you, completely and utterly devastated by the news. His eyes were wide with shock, his mouth hung low. He wanted to say something so bad, but the words just got caught in his throat. Bakugou just couldn’t believe that there was no baby. And after he said all those awful things to you. The end result was no baby?

“(y/n), I’m-” he wanted to apologize so badly, but was interrupted by the shouting of a young child.

“Mommy! Can I have this one?” the blonde child asked you, showing you the bag of chips he found. Both of you looked down at the child. Wait a minute. Blonde hair. Red eyes. It was like Bakugou was looking in a mirror. You, eyes wide with panic, looked down at your child then back at Bakugou. You grabbed the bag from your son and gave him a sweet smile.

“Sure, honey. Let’s go home now okay?” you told your son. You looked back up at Bakugou, giving him a curt bow and took your sons hand. Your son was looking up at Bakugou with big, curious eyes but eventually followed you out. Bakugou didn’t have time to react. All he could think about was, that was his son. He looked exactly like him. There was no way that wasn’t his son. And it was too late. You were gone. He was gone. He ruined everything. A single tear dropped down on his cheek as he realized what he missed out on.

 You took your son to the playground so he could get some exercise in. Sitting on one of the benches, hand-in-hand with your boyfriend, Shouto, you watched as your son played tag with a few of the other neighborhood boys. Since that day you ran into Bakugou, your mind was running wild. You straight up lied to his face about Ryota. But he didn’t say anything. Maybe he thought it was someone else? God, but he said ‘Mommy’ right in front of him. Maybe he thinks it’s not his? But they look exactly alike. You internally groan and leaned your head on Shouto’s shoulder.

“What are you thinking about?” he chuckled at you, petting your head lovingly.

“Just things,” you reply shortly. You didn’t want to bring up the topic of your ex-boyfriend, who just happened to be the father of your child. Shouto would get jealous and you didn’t want to cause anymore drama.

“You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?” Gahh, he knew you too well. He squeezed your hand in his in reassurance. “Look, if he wanted to be in Ryota’s life, he would have tried to contact you by now. And even if did contact you and wants to be in his life, then, I would respect that.” You look up at your boyfriend with a pout and concern eyes.

“Are you sure?” you ask. He looks down at you and gave your cheeks a nice, hard pinch.

“Yes. Ryota deserves to have his biological father in his life,” he reasons. Okay, fair enough. But he didn’t even want to be in your son’s life in the first place. It was so simple for him to abandon you while you were pregnant. And after all the hardships you had to go through, now he wants to be a present father?

“He doesn’t have to know who his real father is,” you say, crossing your arms across your chest.

“(y/n),” Shouto says your name in a warning tone. But you put your defenses up.

“What? I don’t know if I even want him in Ryota’s life,” you confess. Shouto wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you in close.

“Well, think about it. And if Bakugou comes around, you can either accept or reject him. I will be there to support you every step of the way. And if he tries to make a scene, I’ll be there to stop him,” he promises you. That comforts you a lot to know that Shouto will be there for you no matter what. He was always like that. From the moment he entered in you and your son’s life.

“Okay, I love you,” you whispered, puckering out your lips. He laughs and kisses your duck lips.

“I love you, too.” And gives you a few more kisses. You look back at the playground to watch your son play. Panic starts to rise in you. You look to the left. Ryota wasn’t there. You look to the right. He wasn’t there either. You sit straight up and scan the playground one more time for your child, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Ryota?” you call out his name. Shouto also realizes that Ryota was missing. He’s already up on his feet, calling out your son’s name and searching the playground. Your lips began to quiver and your legs began to shake. This was not happening right now. Shouto frantically whipped his head around, trying to see if he could get a glimpse of Ryota running off. That’s when he saw him. As soon as he turned his head to the side, he saw Ryota heading into an alleyway. Immediately, Shouto was running full speed in that same direction. You saw Shouto running and ran after him. He was too fast for you to catch up, but you ran anyway

Bakugou was on patrol duty for the day. He hated these days because all he had to do was roam around the city streets to make sure everyone was kept safe. He would catch villains here and there, but patrol duty was so boring for him. Until today. He was walking down the sidewalk in his hero costume when a little boy suddenly came out of nowhere, almost making him fall on top of him.

“Oi, kid! Watch where you’re going!” Bakugou scolded the young one. The child looked up and Bakugou froze in his tracks. This had to be fate. His son… Your son just so happens to run into him. Today out of all days? The blonde boy is looking up at Bakugou in awe.

“Mister? Are you a hero?” he asks. Bakugou smirks and kneels down so that he’s at his level.

“I am. What’s your name kid?”

“Ryota!” Ryota says his name in full confidence, grinning from ear to ear. Ryota… so that’s his name. Bakugou could feel his heart warm up at the sight of the boy.

“Little Ryota, where are your parents?” he asked. He looked around but it looked like Ryota ran off by himself. Looks like it was his job to help find his parents. That means finding you. He was starting to get his hopes up. If he ran into you, then he could try to apologize and maybe, just maybe, start things over.

“Ryota!” a man shouted the boy’s name. Bakugou looked up and an old classmate of his was scooping up Ryota in his arms. “Don’t run off like that! You had us scared to death!” he scolded the boy, but was relieved that he wasn’t hurt.

“Sorry, daddy,” the boy apologized. Ha? Daddy? Bakugou looked at the man and scoffed. Both men looked at each other and the atmosphere got chillingly cold.

“Bakugou,” the man said his name as a greeting. Bakugou frowned.

“Half-and-Half bastard,” What a surprise. So you were dating Todoroki now? It was like a staring competition between you two. A deadly staring competition. Todoroki cleared his throat and adjusted Ryota on his hip.

“Thanks for stopping my son,” Todoroki thanked the pro-hero. But he said it in the most monotone voice ever. No emotion behind it whatsoever.

“Tch,” Bakugou just scoffed and looked away. Todoroki’s son? Nah, that wasn’t right. That was his son. Todoroki took that as a sign of ‘you’re welcome’, and walked away with Ryota in hand. Bakugou just stared off in their direction. Thank god he did because Ryota laid his head on Todoroki’s shoulder, but he was waving at him.

When Ryota was returned to you, you held him in your arms, falling to the ground in tears. You scolded him for running off without telling anyone and to never do it again. But refused to let him go because you were so afraid for his life. You couldn’t let anything happen to him.

All three of you returned to your apartment. After a year of dating, you and Ryota moved in with Shouto in his apartment. You felt bad because his apartment was so big, nice, and fancy but he insisted you both move in. So that Ryota can have a better space to grow up in. If it was for Ryota’s sake, you couldn’t pass up on the offer.

Shouto was putting Ryota to bed while you were finishing up cleaning the dishes. You finished up the last dish and dried your hands when a knock startled you. You looked at the clock. Why would someone be here at this hour? You weren’t expecting anyone. When you opened the door, you were shocked to see Bakugou standing there.

“Bakugou! What are you doing here? How did you know I lived here?” you questioned him, stunned.

“He’s mine, isn’t he?” Bakugou ignored your question with a question of his own. He was staring at the floor. You wanted to deny, deny, deny. But you were too ashamed to say anything. So he tried again. “Ryota.” He said, this time looking up at you. “Ryota is my child, isn’t he?” You bit your lip and nodded your head. You heard him sigh and he ran his fingers through his hair. “You lied to me.”

“What choice did I have?”

“You could have said the truth,” he argued.

“And then what!” you raised your voice, your emotions started to get the better of you. “So you could come running back to be in his life?” your voice cracked at the end from your throat tightening up because you refused to cry. And you tried your hardest not to get too loud, in fear that your boyfriend was going to overhear. But little did you know, Todoroki was leaning against the wall in the hallway, listening to everything.

Bakugou didn’t say a word. Because it was true. He wanted to be in his son’s life. He knows that he fucked up big time. But now, he wanted to right that wrong doing. But you shook your head.

“No. No, I’m sorry Bakugou. That’s not going to happen,” you denied him.

“That’s not fair,” he whispered, his heart breaking once again. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but he didn’t know it was going to hurt his bad.

“Not fair?” you let out a soft laugh. Unbelievable. “You want to talk about not fair? You left me. Alone. While I was pregnant. And I had to raise that child all by myself,” you were sobbing now. You were remembering all those hardships that you had to face alone and it was all pouring out. “Do you even know how hard it was? How hard and exhausted I was every single day? And now you want to show up when he’s all grown now? That’s not fair.”

“I know. I know. Fuck, I’m so sorry. I messed up big time. But I want to make it right now. If you let me be in our son’s life, I’ll prove it to you that I can be a good dad. That you can trust me and-and,” Bakugou was so desperate. But you stopped him.

“You were my everything, Bakugou. I was so excited to start this small little family with you. But you destroyed all my hopes and dreams.” Bakugou bit his bottom lip to try to stop himself from crying, but was failing miserably. No matter how hard he tried, the tears wouldn’t stop coming. He violently wiped his teary eyes with the palm of his hand. You gave him a sad smile as you reminisced what you two had together. “I think it’s best if we… if you just forgot about us.” You suggested. Bakugou couldn’t accept that. At least not yet.

“Please, please just think about it?” he begged, his eyes telling all. When you looked at those eyes, you could tell how serious he wanted this.

“Fine,” you said after giving a bit of thought. “I’ll think about it. Go home, it’s late.” You told him. Agreeing with you, he nodded his head and went on his way. You gently closed the door and took a deep breath in. You weren’t expecting this. You guess you were, but not this soon. You turned around to go to you room, quickly wiping your tears away before Shouto could see. But when you looked up, Shouto was already there, arms wide open and eyes looking at you with concern.

“You okay?” he asked as you embraced him in a hug. He kissed the top of your head hugged you close.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, barely managing to say anything. But you weren’t. That night you couldn’t sleep. Your mind was racing with thoughts. This whole situation was bothering you and you couldn’t seem to think of anything else. There was only one way to relax your mind. Sneaking out of your shared bed with your boyfriend, you quickly put on your bathing suit and took a dip in the pool. Did you mention that his apartment came with an outdoor pool right next to the living room? It was convenient when you needed a place to clear your mind. You rested your arms on the edge of the pool, looking out into the city. You let the city lights and the noise of traffic distract you. So much that you didn’t even hear Shouto come up behind you. You squealed when you felt a pair of hands wrap around your waist. He laughed in your ear, slowly kissing the back of your head, making its way down to your neck and then you shoulder.

“Can’t sleep?” his deep, husky voice whispered in your ear.

“No. Did I wake you?” you softly asked back and he shook his head. He held you in silence, both of you looking at the city of lights. Now you were able to relax. His touch was comforting. It was as if his touch put a spell on you to make you relax.

“Hey,” Shouto started.

“Mhm?” you hummed in response. He took a pause.

“Let’s have a kid,” he proposed. You looked up at him and he was already looking down at you with the most loving eyes. It took you off guard, but it was somehow making your heart flutter.

“Us? Like you and me?” you asked, just to make sure you were hearing things right. He nodded his head and cocked his eyebrow.

“Why? Don’t like that idea?” he teased you. Your face flushed red and you waved your hands in front you, then rested on his chest.

“It’s not that! I was just thinking we would…” and you started to trail off. You’ve discussed this topic before but not too much. You were nervous what he was going to say. “…get married first?” You glanced up at your boyfriend and his expression remained unchanged. God, sometimes you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Finally, a smirk was plastered on his face.

“If you were just a little patient, maybe you wouldn’t have ruined the surprise,” he says which leaves you confused. You saw him take out a frozen block from his trunks. Confusion still prominent on your face, he unfreezes the block to reveal a beautiful velvet box. Shouto froze the box to keep it from getting wet when he was in the water. And when it was time, he would use his other side to unfreeze the box. He opens the box easily with one hand and a gorgeous diamond ring was sitting inside.

“Shouto,” you gasped, admiring the ring. He takes it out the box and slips it on your ring finger.

“Marry me?” he asks. You cup both of his cheeks to bring him into a smothering kiss.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes!” you kept repeating, every time giving him another kiss. You loop your legs around his waist and he traps you in between his body and the edge of the pool. Both of you spend the rest of the night making out and having a bit of fun in the bedroom.

 Bakugou shows up at your apartment the following week while you were eating breakfast. His eyes were puffy and he looked a mess. Your heart goes out to him and felt like you had tortured him enough. After talking to your fiancé about the whole situation, he convinced you to let him in and allow him to step up as the father to your child. But with conditions.

When you answered the door, Bakugou immediately saw the ring on your finger. He swore he didn’t see that before. If he was being honest with himself, seeing that ring on your finger broke his heart a little bit. Seeing you engaged to Todoroki, seeing you happy made him jealous that that wasn’t him. Because he should have been in his place. He should have been the one you were engaged to. He should have been the one you were happy with. He should have been there the entire time. And he wasn’t. For what? Because he was having difficult times in his work? At least he was relieved to hear the news that you were going to give him another chance at raising your son together. He was going to make up for what he missed out on. Todoroki joined you at the door and stuck his hand out for Bakugou to take.

“Welcome to the family.”

[dadzawa-adopt-dabi]

Soulmate gift

“C’mon pretty, birdie, just a small touch to see if you're worth any effort.” Dabi gives Hawks a sharp grin as he slowly removes the gloves the Hero has on. He won’t actually do it. Would never touch him and wait for that zig everyone speaks about.

He’s teasing the bird, blue eyes lit up with mirth. Just a bit of amusement colors Dabi’s voice as he teases Hawks. The idea really is laughable. Personally, he finds the idea of having a Soulmate hilarious. He doesn't have a soulmate or have time to waste finding one if he wants to achieve his own goals. The black haired Villain merely enjoys teasing the Hero like any other young adult their age would. Hawks flirts right back with Dabi which, once he got the idea that Hawks was about as serious as he was about it, was fine. The suggestions Hawks has, make a tumble in the sheets with him sound almost worth it. Keigo’s breath hitches and Dabi smirks up at him, glove about halfway off.

It’s mostly just fun to fuck with Hawks’ head and tease his exposed wrist while he makes up what they would do if they were. He won’t actually touch the Celebrity Hero. The possibility of them actually being soulmates, however slim, is not a chance Dabi is actually willing to take. Not with Hawks, not with anyone, ever. Having someone in his head, knowing what he’s feeling sounds like a nightmare to him. Most romantics don’t think about how easy it is to manipulate someone. When you know what causes someone to be scared or fearful, then what will make them forgive you. Again and again. Dabi’s seen enough soulmate stories to last his entire lifetime and from the way Hawks talks about his parents, he’s not the only one. He’s jolted back to the present when Hawks calls his bluff.

Hawks smirk has Dabi’s teasing expression falling, his half lidded eyes widening as Hawks firmly grasps his wrist. Right on the scar line pulling his glove the rest of the way off with his teeth. Golden eyes narrowed, burning bright with challenge as Dabi started to pull at Keigo’s grip. He was just teasing. There’s no need for this, it was a joke, he doesn't want to actually test it! Hawks was like him, never in a relationship and avoided touching coworkers. The Hero’s hand fluttered next to his before slotting their hands together. Dabi’s heart stops as he glances between their hands and Hawks face with panic. The grip was too firm to escape as his chest refused to expand again.

Hawks' brain flooded with Dabi’s overwhelming emotions. Pure fear, crashing through the bond to him. Strong and overwhelming as it barrels into him. Keigo is lost an overwhelming grip of panic and horror. Dabi yanked his hand back harshly, the determination to be free of Hawks hitting him like a sledgehammer to his heart as Dabi’s staples nearly pulled free from his skin.

Dabi tried to force his still chest to move, to breathe with his hand cradled close to his chest. Frozen and watching Hawks. Hawks is still in shock when he gathers himself enough to dive for the fire escape off their fucking roof. He doesn't give himself time to brace himself mentally as he throws himself into action, coat swirling and flapping behind him. He hears Hawks yell for him to wait over the rushing in his ears, or maybe it's felt instead through their new bond. The strong pull and glimmers of other emotions as he struggles to figure out how to slam the bond shut. Surprise loud and clear, the bond saturated in happiness and affection. Amusement and enough determination to make Dabi’s blood run cold. “You don’t understand Touya, I can’t leave him. You can’t feel how determined he is like I can. How much he wants to make this work and how much he wants to do better.” His mother tells him softly with a bruised face and arms.

The thought of what Hawks might glean from Dabi’s emotions pushes him to throw himself down the rickety stairs. Hitting pavement and pushing his fragile body faster. He finally manages to close the bond, feeling Hawks on the other end. It feels like the Hero knocking on a door Dabi forced closed. He presses himself against a wall as he sees the shadow of Hawks flying above, looking for him. Texting Kurogiri his coordinates as his chest heaves and he coughs with the painful rush of breathing fresh air too fast. He regrets wanting to tell that joke, he shouldn’t have been flirting with Hawks at all. He can’t even enjoy a decent fuck with a hot spy of Hero. Closing the bond won’t work forever, it’s going to snap open at some point when he’s too weak to fight the side effects.

His spiraling thoughts are broken by Kuroguri opening a portal directly next to him. He hastily steps through, the sound of Hawks calling for him following Dabi. Every nickname he had ever called Dabi graced the air as he disappeared. Kuroguri looked as he came in. Setting the glass down quickly when he saw Dabi’s shaking form stumble in with his hand cradled to his chest. “Dabi, are you hurt?” Sako stood up as Shigaraki paused his game.

“It’s just a scratch. He gave it to me by accident.” He shook his head. He couldn’t endanger them, he wouldn't. There isn't much he needs to pack. Everything fits in his pockets or is left behind. Later he heads outside ‘for a smoke’. He doesn't come back. Disappearing into the maze of alleyways like only he knows how to do, even a lifetime later. Even when he’s no longer the son of a famous Hero dying his hair in gas station bathrooms anymore. Some things don’t change. Like soulmates scaring the shit out of him and running away.

Dabi flinched at his phone ringing, the shrill sound setting off more waves of pain. It had been several days since the incident Hawks had thrown them into. Last he had been able to stand looking at his phone for news the pigeon had been unaffected. While Hawks was able to be a Hero unaffected Dabi was holed up in an abandoned apartment. A single studio room apartment. Easier for him to drag the ratty mattress into a corner of the room, where he can see all exits. Dabi knows he’s been forcing the soulbond closed for over a week at this point. Everything hurts and he can feel his heartbeat pulsing with the pain, stemming from his head and traveling down his spine through his limbs. He won’t be able to keep it closed forever. The strain is already too much. Eventually the bond will snap open. Hawks will find him, following their soulbond straight to him. “If I ever found my soulmate I’d never let them go. Whatever it took to keep them.” Hawks' smile is soft but Dabi’s skin crawls. Memories of sirens and screaming not to be taken from her soulmate hit him as he bears his teeth. “Awfully dark thought for a Hero birdy.” he comments as he blows a ring of cigarette smoke out into the cold night air. Beside him Hawks shivers. He doesn't tease the offer of a warmer body tonight. A stupid fucking Hero, he’d never have a moment of happiness again .

Like thinking about it caused it to happen, the bond slams open. One moment it was firmly shut. gentle knocks from the other side for a few days but Dabi kept it shut, the next moment he felt it slack. Then the bond snapping open letting him feel concern, pain and anger through the other end. Colored dots reminiscent of when he was younger and trying to stay up later to train drift in front of his eyes. The emotions grow stronger as Hawks starts following the bond to him. A direct string to Dabi that both of them could feel and understand.

There’s a new feeling of shame and anger through the bond, much stronger as Hawks arrives at the decrepit apartment building. Dabi shuffles and slams for the bond as his eyesight blinks in and out. He’s been through pain, half of his body is scars, he can force this away. He’s been through hell and back mentally, emotionally ,and physically enough times that pushes through this new pain to shut the bond. The bond remains closed again for exactly one more minute. Letting Dabi collapse back in his bed and tremble, exhausted as it springs back open. His phone rings with Hawks number again as he curls into himself. There’s nothing he can do now. He can only wait for Hawks to find him. It was worth the attempt to hide himself. He tried at least and he was able to lead Hawks away from the League.

The door to his room slams open with a growl of his name leaving Hawks voice. Dabi feels his stomach lurch at the sound. He’s supposed to be free of this. Not react to anger with becoming violently ill anymore, but he’s always had a weak stomach hasn’t he? He’s back where he started all over again. He presses a hand tightly over his mouth as he shakes. waiting for the pain to die down and his vision to return to normal. Hawks stalls in the doorway, backlit and shadowed he looks angier than Dabi has ever seen him. Once he sees Dabi, shaking and curled in the corner with open unseeing eyes, he firmly shuts the door. He wasn’t the one in pain, he wasn’t the one who had been holding the door closed for over a week. The Hero Commision had even prescribed medication designed for rejected soulmate bonds to him. “Just in case he changed his mind” and decided to continue his spy mission.

“So were you always just going to leave me there? Or is being attached to a Hero too much for you?” Hawks sneered down at him. “Real adult of you, running away from a challenge that you issued. Then hiding like some sort of child instead of just telling me all you had wanted was a quick fuck.”

He dropped the rest of the bags. Anger rolling in his stomach as he stares down at Dabi’s form. The place was disgusting and he was frustrated that his soulmate had been staying here. He could have been staying with the league if he wasn’t so determined to run away. Dabi had even been the one to start this, long looks and teasing touches as he left Hawks with blue balls after almost every meeting. Part of Hawks was sick of being good enough for a fantasy fuck or a one night stand. Dabi hadn’t even given him the chance to prove he could be whatever Dabi needed.

“We went from let’s fuck after weeks of you saying you wanted me, to you vanishing the second we had something solid!” he snaps at Dabi, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. His soulmate was someone who hated him and wouldn’t even give him the smallest chance to prove himself. He had the right to be a little bitter, considering he had spoken with Dabi about soulmates before. He’d made it clear he would bend over backwards for one, while Dabi had said they would have to be special.

“What do you - fuck you! you couldn’t even be nice for a day? Straight to it?” Dabi hissed as his vision cleared slowly. Squaring his shoulders against the ache covering his full body. It was just going to get worse, might as well jump with Hawks right into it. The dance of will they won’t they and no strings attached was over. The mischievous teasing that Dabi would never waste on a soulmate was over. Now he was trapped with a Hero who wanted sex right off the bat.

He didn’t react to the magnetic pull he could feel from Keigo. Cover him in his touch and hold him. Like Dabi had ever been thought of as worth anything by anyone.

“The fuck is wrong with you? You’re the one that decided it would be a oh-so-funny idea to fuck around Dabi and test it. The idea of fucking a top 10 Hero was okay but only if you got something out of it? Just a thrill for you?” Keigo growled at him, frustrated. Dabi flinched and let himself lay back down. Staring at the ceiling as his head pounded and Hawks got up, stomping around. his black heavy boots stopped on the edge of the bed.

Dabi looks blankly over at him. Seeing his face clearly for the first time since he walked in. The Hero looks angry, he feels angry. He wants to get it over with at this point. He’s stapled together, there’s not a whole lot Hawks can do to him that hasn’t already been done. Not knowing what he’s going to do causes Dabi to flinch and shiver in pain again.

“It’s different okay? A no strings attached roll in the sheets would have been perfect, you think I want to be stuck with a Hero? What are you going to do? Lock me up, keep me in your apartment like some fucked up broken housewife Hawks? I’m a Villain!” He snapped at him as he flipped him off. Dabi was a contradiction to Hawks. Curled into a protective ball away from him, but flipping him off and screaming at him at the same time.

“The hell are you talking about making you a housewife? I’m --” Hawks took a breath as he shook his head. The fear and pain his soulmate was radiating clouded his head and fed his own emotions. He’d waited this long for a soulmate and wouldn’t give Dabi up. He hadn't wasted the time Dabi had given them, he’d been researching and waiting for Dabi. Every second he wasn’t working he had been looking up the soulmate laws and a way to keep Dabi out of jail. He needed Dabi to trust him, enough to know if anything he found, if it would work. Hawks could work on that, coul earn his trust. If he knew how to do anything, it was how to put in enough work.

Dabi’s stomach growled again. As Dabi’s eyes darted away from him for a moment, a tinge of embarrassment and more anger came across the wide open bond. One problem at a time, food was an easy thing for him to solve, a decent way to earn Dabi’s trust seeing as they had eaten together before. A couple seconds fiddling with his phone and he had something easy to eat on the way. He'd been feeding Dabi before with their regular meetup’s so who knew how long it had been now since the villain ate.

“You're been feeling a lot of fear and anger. Did someone do something at some point? Did I do something?” He saw Dabi curling tighter into himself with every word he spoke. He hated seeing Dabi in pain, so many meetings turned into ‘use my first aid’ and ‘let's go out to eat.’ That was gone now. Hawks ripped a bottle of bond blockers out of his pocket. Relief and a feeling of resignation came across the bond instead of the happyness or gratitude he had been expecting. Still it was progress away from fear or anger. Until Hawks went to place it to Dabi’s outstretched hand. Resentment making everything feel bitter on both ends of the bond as anger came back with embarrassment on Dabi’s.

“Don’t think about it too hard asshole. Just take the damn pill. Shut me out again so we can talk about what you want to do with us. Since you didn’t want me.” He bit the last sentence out, letting how angry and bitter he was color his words. Shoving the bottle in Dabi’s trembling hands as he went to grab the delivered food. He came back in just in time to watch Dabi throw the pill bottle across the room. Looking at Hawks with wide eyes when he came back in. A tsunami of fear crashed across the bond as they stood frozen looking at each other.

“Don’t fucking come near me.” Dabi's rough voice scratched out at him. Keigo wonders if he has any good emotions at this point. If Dabi ever feels anything besides anger, fear and shame. Although, he is probably the one causing that. Sleeping with a Hero is different from being soulmates, and Dabi probably saw his talons that day up on the roof. He’s different behind the glitter and glam of being a Hero.

“It’s just bond blockers, Dabi. You don’t have to take them. It would just make talking a little easier if we’re not constantly picking apart our emotions.” Dabi doesn't respond as he grinds his jaw, Keigo can see the muscle jumping in it across the room, and refuses to answer as shame increases across the bond. Hawks has his own side shut, there’s no need for Dabi to know how desperate he is to make this work. How tired he is or frustrated.

“Shame? Really your ashamed of me? My hero status?” He picks the bottle up again, bringing it over and placing it in Dabi’s hands again. He stares with wanting eyes at the food before finally just opening the bottle and taking a blocker. It still makes Keigo feel sick to his stomach, to know Dabi’s needs are so easily met by him while Dabi looks like he’s preparing to give up a first born. Determination slides across and resignation, not a good combination as Hawks braces himself.

“Why don’t we talk about what you want for the food vs what i'm willing to give for it first Hero.” He sneers the word Hero. “Hand job. You don’t get to touch me and I'll give you a hand job.”

Hawks narrows his eyes and drops the arm with the outstretched food back close to his body, stunned. What has he done that would make Dabi think that he has to do anything for dinner? He’s never acted like this and the first time Dabi ever accepted an offer of dinner he’s flirted the entire time. Making Hawks choke on his own food with filthy innuendo’s.

He gets brought out of his thoughts at the feeling of a warm hand stroking his dick through his pants. Dabi kneeling in front of him and sending a truly poisonous glare up from in between his legs as he works open his pants. The bond still held open let him feel Dabi’s resentment and shame boiling over. Dabi lowers his eye lashes as he pulls Hawks pants and boxers down. A feeling that Keigo couldn’t describe as anything other than anguish greeted him when Dabi got an eyeful of him, still soft after the gentle rubbing Dabi had been giving him as Hawks was bombarded with Dabi’s emotions.

“If I’m so fucking ugly to you but you’re gunna demand shit from me anyways, then look away.” Dabi hissed and licked his palm. Hawks caught his hand as Dabi tried to continue the handjob.

“Counter deal hot stuff. Eat the food. Tell me why you thought I'd let you do something that makes you feel ashamed. Or when have I ever called you anything but good looking. Or charged you dinner.” He set the food down and shoved himself back into his pants. Press smile firmly plastered on his face, nothing wrong here it said. Dabi didn’t want him but was upset when he wasn’t turned on?

Dabi’s stomach rumbled and he snatched the bag up. Hawks had never jerked him around like that before, but that didn’t mean that he never would. He’d had food placed in front of his face and jerked away from him before. Hawks was even more likely to do it since they were soulmates and he had the ability to know when Dabi was angry at him now. When he was afraid and Hawks had the upper hand. His hands shook as he brought the food out of the bag and as he stole glances at Hawks. Who kept inching closer until Dabi was sick of him acting like he was some stray feral animal. If Hawks wanted a fuck then it was going to take more than this food, he’d laid out his offer already and Hawks had said he hadn’t wanted that from him.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” Dabi hissed at him as he finished one container, looking skeptically at the second one. He’d eaten it too fast, if he ate the second one he’d puke. He knew it but what was worse was feeling this concern from Hawks. Knowing that it would end eventually.

“Obviously I didn’t actually think we would be fucking soulmates. I ran off the second I could. So why the fuck did you come looking for someone who wants nothing to do with you?” He laid back against the wall, watching Hawks out of the corner of his eyes.

“I didn’t know why you ran off. Just that you were afraid and then angry when I got here.” Hawks tried not to continue watching him eat. Feeling that it made Dabi uncomfortable. “I’d just, I’d wanted to make sure you were okay. Not a lot of this is making sense frome my perspective Dabi, one minute you were down to fuck and challangeing me to do something about it. Then your running before I can even ask what I did wrong.”

“This has my name on it?” Dabi examined the pills Hawks had given him earlier. Glaring at him as his stomach settled and he relaxed further, letting the wall support more of his weight. His head still pounded as he squinted at Hawks. He didn’t really trust Hawks but his head hurt and there wasn’t anything that would stop the Hero from doing what he wanted anyways. He was stuck to the Hero now. “I don’t want a soulmate. Think I want to be stuck with some cocky bigshot Hero who won’t leave me alone?”

“Then maybe you should have said that.”Hawks bit out. It took a few seconds of them sitting there for Dabi to realize what had changed. Why his headache was nearly nonexistent instead of debilitating.

“What did you give me?” He hissed out and flexed his fingers, bringing them up in front of his face. Pulling at a staple and realizing that his pain had dulled there as well.

“Generic painkillers come with rejected soulbond medication. I’ve been taking it for the last week. Had to go tell my higher ups and get everything sorted out when you took off like a bat out of hell.” Hawks tucked his face into his collar so it was harder to get a read on his face. “Only my doctor knows who my soulmate is. I had him fill a prescription for you and we guessed basic things like weight and height. Pain tolerance and allergies, I know you don’t like fish but we just went with saying it was an allergy.”

Dabi slumped against the bed with the fight draining out of him again. Hawks had given him medication, food and hadn’t touched him yet. The bar was so low it had hit magma and melted years ago if Dabi was honest. He didn’t want to be honest. It was hard to be on guard when he felt taken care of like this. When he still felt a pull to Hawks and wanted to nap beside him for a post food nap.

“And I'm supposed to be grateful for this? Trying to earn my affection already or what?” Dabi meant to snap at Hawks. It came out as a soft question. His eyes fluttered shut when Keigo’s hand brushed his and it felt like every millimeter of skin that touched was warmed. Keigo linked their pinkies together and Dabi stared. It felt like too much and not enough while his throat felt tight. Why was seeing their hands linked enough to make his chest feel tight? Keigo softly stroked the back of his hand and he pulled it back. Curling on his side to face Hawks on the old mattress while tucking his hands back close to his chest.

“I don’t know. I’m just, I don’t think there’s a right answer to that for me Dabi. Just like there isn’t a right answer to what I’d wanted from this, from a soulmate all my life. Because I’m not the one that’s struggling and I’m not the one that matters right now. I fed you because you were hungry, I gave you medication because you needed it.” Keigo gave a half hearted shrug, carefully keeping his eyes trained on the same space of wall. Not letting his expression change even as he felt his face muscles want to crumble. Want to frown, want to do anything other than change from his practiced gently reassuring expression. “What do you want from this then? Not someone to fuck on the regular, I’m not exactly a step up socially or finacially for you. So what do you want from me?” Dabi asked quietly. Keigo got up, started getting his things together. Unable to deal with his soulmate being so close and completely unwilling to be with him.

“Come home with me?” He saw Dabi stiffen at his poor choice of words, worse yet Dabi looked like he was thinking about it before Hawks clarified himself. “Not for that. Just, Dabi just come home with me okay? Eat my food and bitch like normal. You can sleep in the spare room like normal.”

“What’s it going to cost me Hawks? I want to be told upfront, whatever the price is so I can weigh if it's worth being stuck together.” he rasped at him and started testing the strength in his arms. The slowly dulling pain as he tested to see if he would be able to get himself out of here.

“Is it really that far out of your mind that the guy who has been flirting with you and giving you my level best bedroom eyes for a month may have wanted to spend some time with you?” Hawks asked softly as he stood up and bent down to scoop Dabi’s too thin body into his arms.

Dabi didn’t answer, too busy checking and making sure the bond was still closed on his side. He felt no more pain coming from it and it seems the “door” was sealed shut. He slumped a little further into Hawks warmth despite himself, resting his head against Hawks chest.

Dabi is sitting on Hawks couch months later, trying to come up with a way to tell Shigaraki why he’s no longer okay with this. Why he was “eyefucking in front of my salad” according to Shigaraki with Hawks last week, but now he’s going out of his mind being with the hero in the same apartment. The glass door slides open mid sentence as he’s cussing his crusty fucking boss out and he feels his staples strain along his shoulders. The door is carefully shut and his hair stands on end, that’s never good. Hawks always greets him, always let’s him know he’s home. one panic attack had been enough for them both.

Feathers on fire and both of them shaking at the close call. Dabi scrambled back to press himself against the cupboards. He hadn’t meant to hurt him. Had burned his soulmate and fuck, he really was like enji wasn’t he? Keigo very carefully sat down to try and talk to him until Hawks walked away. Allowing Dabi to finally find some sembelance of calm and join Hawks on the sofa to watch some stupid animal planet documentary. Eyeing the burnt feathers as a reminder of why this was a bad idea.

The controlled quiet is unnerving and without thinking Dabi checks his side of the bond for any cracks as he digs his bare toes into the couch cushions and forces himself to relax.

“Hey, Hero shit, the fuck are you being so quite for?” They both pretend Dabi’s voice doesn't shake as he asks Keigo. Keigo doesn't look at him, evidently pretending he hasn't heard him at all as he shuffles past to his bathroom. Dabi hears a choked off sound before the shower starts up and almost instinctively he reaches for Keigo’s end of the bond. He pulls back quickly but it ends up being the first sign that something is wrong. It’s shut, or feels like it’s shut.

They had been born like this, then twisted and burned and torn until they had to work to fit their jagged edges together again, they way they already had been. A constant work in progress and neither would give it up for someone easier. What was something worth if you didn’t have to work for it? Nothing happens that night and eventually Keigo comes out and asks if he can sit next to Dabi. Dabi almost wants this to work out.

If Dabi pulls Hawks into his lap half way through a cooking show and Hawks lets him, neither bring it up. Hawks is tense in Dabi’s lap, Dabi is tense as he brings him over and they cuddle. They pretend to watch the show until they relax, Hawks growing heavy in Dabi’s arms. Waking up with cricks in their neck and legs tangled together. Hawks peacefully sleeping away some of the dark shadows under his eyes.

“Shit, didn’t mean to fall asleep on you last night.” Keigo gave a wide yawn and pressed his face closer into Dabi’s neck. Before his brain caught up with his body and he pulled away. Stuttering apologies with his hands fluttering around Dabi.

“Whatever, stop apologizing and get back here.” Dabi mutters, holding up the edge of the couch blanket. It’s far too easy to make Hawks call in and spend the day with him. He agreed immediately and it’s just a nice evening spent in front of the tv, pretending that they aren't soulmates. It twists something in Dabi’s gut, making him hesitate as he checks the bond. Are these Keigo’s emotions or his? But the bond is firmly shut. He heastites before leaving the bond shut on his end, if a little less pressure on it. Just in case Keigo opens his end, then he can check up on him.

The next time Dabi even thinks of the bond is a week later. When Shigaraki is asking if he can manage to come back to the base. If he wants to come back or if he’s unable to.

‘Of course I can, I’m not trapped here.’ he thinks right before his brain blue screens on him. He ends up telling Shigaraki he’s coming over tonight. He pauses dinner in the kitchen and rather than wait up for Keigo like usual, he puts his plate in the microwave.

He checks the bond on his end like always and this time, this time he stop’s pressing it shut. Leaving it to Keigo if he wants to force himself or try and open the bond before Keigo is ready. He hesitates in the middle of his room before he crawls under his own covers, he doesn't know what he had been expecting. Hawks feelings to hit him full force right away? He didn’t want that. Hawks wouldn’t want that either.

Eventually , Dabi gets curious and tries to open it on his end. He’s met with mild resistance that he shrugs off. It’s the only time he’s tried and maybe Hawks just doesn't want him around. Which is fine. It’s not like he wants the giant pigeon around either. He made his choice when he ran off in that panic, he doesn't regret it either. He slips out one night when Hawks is working late again. He hasn’t asked Hawks if he could go back to the league. He shouldn’t have to, Hawks may have put his spy gig on hold but this is more than a job for Dabi. These people are his friends. The only ones who get it. (The damn bird never seems to have a night at home and it’s even rarer that he wants to be around Dabi. He gets it, he wouldn’t want to be around himself either. Not after the shit show he caused over someone who didn’t even want him.)

He hates being away from them. Even when he left the base of his own violation to hide from Hawks. It’s nice to be home and even Toga clinging to him isn't enough to really annoy him. Dabi and the others have a long terse conversation about Hawks once they’ve had enough small talk. What he plans to do (nothing he can do) and how Hawks is treating him (Best Dabi could hope for. Ignored was better than anything else.)It vividly reminds him that Dabi cares for them, that they care back. One more Hero on their shitlist is something they would welcome without question if Dabi needed it. Not all Heroes are enji but Hawks doesn't seem to even be a person under the flimsy persona he wears. Except for late evenings and sobbing in the shower rarely.

“I’ll come see you guys when I can. He’s out a lot.” Dabi got up and headed for the door. Shigaraki paused his game and followed him, standing tensely beside the door frame with him.

“You don’t have to go back Dabi. We can protect you, you know. We can find a way to get you that medication and then it won’t be an issue.” He spoke much softer than when he had been leading the meeting. Talking as Dabi’s friend rather than just as his boss and leader of a group of ragtag Villains.

“I’m not willing to risk it. Not yet, he hasn’t done anything to me except stay at work and give me sad looks. He wasn’t what I expected from a soulmate either and he knows it.” Dabi shrugged in the pockets of his hoodie and looked outside. Expecting to see Hawks at any moment to check for him. He might still be sleeping at the office but Dabi had better leave before he had to be brought back. Hawks had let it slide the first time but who knows now? Dabi half wished Keigo wouldn’t be there, even if it left the entire point of going moot. He checked the bond again as he had been the entire time he was out. Still not open, he opened his side and found Keigo’s shut. No way to prepare himself if he couldn’t tell what Hawks was thinking.

“I’m checking on you in 2 days if I don’t hear back. Don’t want to lose you because you're too stubborn to let us help.” Shigaraki scowled at him but jerked his head to motion outside. Giving Dabi his cue to leave, but not before Shigaraki seemed to make a split second decision and pull him into a hug. “I’m a phone call away if you need some light dusting done and trash removed.”

Dabi’s eyes stung as he buried his face in Shigaraki’s shoulder. He could do this, he didn’t even actually think Keigo would notice if he was gone, let alone be mad. It was just the what if’s that always killed him. Nobody expects the worst from soulmates or Hero’s, that’s how they always got away with it.

It’s too quiet without Hawks trying and failing to be quiet around him. He glances up and around him as he walks, not focusing on the dirt in front of him as he searches the sky for Keigo. He’s not hovering around his usual buildings when he passes his patrol route either.

Dabi opens the door to the apartment, expecting to find Hawks in some sort of patronizing position ready to scold him for leaving the apartment. Instead he finds the hero in soft pajamas deliberately not looking away from the tv when he walks in. curled up in a tight ball in his armchair with his chin tucked on his knees. His knuckles are white, a stark contrast to the black as his own dye talons twisted in his sleep pants. The chair rocks as dabi enters and he looks at Keigo.

“You visit the league finally?” Hawks asks quietly with a painful sounding rasp to his throat. Dabi again goes to check Hawks mood through the bond, thrown off by the pang he feels at seeing Hawks so bothered by something.

“You hadn’t told me you would need me.” Dabi snaps out defensively as he stands in front of the TV and crosses his arms. Hawks barely even blinked and the hairs on the back of Dabi’s neck rose.

“You can come and go as often as you want Dabi, I never said you couldn’t leave. Just that I wanted to give you someplace that wasn’t that apartment you were squatting in when we found each other.” Hawks muttered softly before wiping at eyes Dabi was just realizing were red rimmed from tears. Feeling like he should follow Hawks, like Dabi wasn’t the one who had upset him in the first place.

“I’m sorry.” he mutters out as Hawks passes him and Keigo turns wide shocked eyes back to him.

“What? No. It’s my fault, I can't expect you to want to put up with me all the time when you never wanted a soulmate. They’re your friends and I'd never keep you from them.” he rubs the back of his head sheepishly and gives Dabi a bright grin. It’s a press worthy smile and it’s useless.

“I wouldn’t let you and I'm not sorry for going to see them, I mean the part where I obviously worried you. You're staying up all night waiting for me and a mess Kei.” Dabi shifted his weight to the other foot and he raised his head and met Hawks eyes. “Why is your side of the bond shut? I already know your angry with me, you”

Keigo’s shoulders jerked back and he flinched as Dabi reached for him.

“Don’t. I’m not sure our bond is weak enough to withstand us being physically close and still stay shut. You could accidentally force it open and, I'm. I’m a lot Dabi. You don’t have to deal with it. Being a Hero is a lot sometimes, on top of me just being fucked up.” He gave Dabi an unamused chuckle and Dabi grit his teeth. He could decide what he wanted all on his own.

He let Keigo leave with that plastered on reassuring smile and raised hands. Opening his own side of the bond again, ripping it open instead of poking around the mental space for once instead. There was nothing there, and Hawks had possibly just given him a reason why. Before, before they were soulmates Hawks had always looked surprised when Dabi flirted back. A faint trace of distress was felt through the bond, too faint to determine if it was anger or frustration or sadness or worry. Just that it wasn’t a nice feeling and as Dabi wrapped his mind around it and tugged, it was jerked away. No other emotions came across, no matter how faint or how long Dabi stayed up turning his assumptions over in his mind.

Over the next few days Dabi tried opening the bond whenever he was curious what Hawks was doing. When he was at work Hawks control slipped the most, letting sadness and this steel bone deep determination, often mixed with anger, escape in tendrils. He poked more at it,carefully keeping his own emotions to himself. everytime he poked at the bond’s fraying edges, as he now realized that’s what the tendrils were, would be yanked quickly away. Even when Keigo was supposed to be in the middle of a fight and distracted.

When Keigo was home they kept up the same thing they had been. With the acceptance of Dabi sometimes visiting the league. Once or twice they came over as well and Dabi found himself having a good time as they all cooked dinner and he set aside a spot for Keigo out of habit.

He ended up talking about his bond again, the league members who liked to go to bed early had already left and it was just him, Shuichi and Shigaraki left for the night. They left all the dishes in the sink and pulled out one of the untouched consoles Keigo owned to play a racing game. It was easier to talk without thinking too hard about how it must look to them while Dabi crashed and burned the virtual cars. Shuichi was the one who ended up saying that Dabi should talk to Keigo if he was concerned about him. Shigaraki begrudgingly pointed out that even if they could have the bond open, they would still need to talk about why they felt things in order to avoid misunderstandings, besides the dialogue was always the best part of side quests. Bested only by adding friends to the party. They fell asleep together between one game and the next and woke up with blankets draped around them, a pot of coffee left on. Dabi flushed and tucked away the note tacked to the fridge Keigo had left him, saying he was glad Dabi had friends over the night before and that he hoped he had slept well with a reminder to take his bond medication.

Dabi had set automatic reminders to Hawks burner phone, he might have been returning the favor. If the night Dabi had come home to find a dead eyed cried out Hawks sitting in front of a TV wasn’t so fresh in his mind still, he would have written it off as that. But it was and he’d frustratingly recounted that night to everyone last night as they raced on screen and Shuichi wrecked them both.

“The successful relationship rate for Hero’s is just above anthromophs. Apparently most can’t take the extra press and their significant others' lives being on the line.” Shuichi glanced back at Dabi and Shigaraki jostled his shoulder against the scaly shoulder.

Dabi snorted before turning his car too wide and crashing all 3 of them. Laughing when they tackled him in mock outrage.

Before Hawks would come back, if he wasn’t avoiding Dabi and working late again, Dabi showed them out the door. Settling himself on the couch while leaving an open spot for Keigo to come in and sit next to him. Always leaning against the other side first before he wound up laying in Dabi’s lap.

“You know that I didn't mind.” Dabi cut himself off with a frown and carded his fingers through Hawks hair. He didn’t want to lie to the bird. That would just create more problems later on. He had minded that Hawks was a hero. Just, not for the reasons Keigo thought. How to let Hawks know that he was allowed to feel things as well. That some part of Dabi was genuinely curious and wanted to help.

“Dabi you didn’t want a soulmate. You don’t trust me. There’s nothing else that can be done when I can't change who I am or that I enjoy being a hero. It’s a lot, I get it okay? I’ve done what I can to help you, my soulmate, now. That's all that I want.” Hawks snapped at him before shoving himself off the couch and disappearing into his room. Dabi stayed awake for longer than he should have, letting the tendrils of emotion Hawks evidently couldn’t contain drift and swirl around him. Not touching them this time as he knew that would end up with Hawks yanking them back. The sky is just starting to lighten, no longer the black of night and not yet the yellow of morning, when Dabi tiredly gets up and opens Keigo’s door. Yanking on the bond at the same time he flops into Keigo’s bed.

“I don’t know how to talk about this okay? Heroes, there are not good people. They think they're helping, it’s very rare that they actually do. My father was a Hero, he bought my mother from her parents and they ended up being soulmates. Domestic violence with Hero’s is also 60%. The ones that get reported and filed anyways. My mother is one of the ones who never pressed charges. She kept saying he wanted to change.” Dabi reached into the space between them and held out his hand.

“I don’t know what I wanted. I don’t know what you wanted out of a soulmate either. I like when we have movie nights though. And you try to steal all the popcorn. I like when we can just cook together and we both burn it.” Dabi yanked on Hawks side of the door again. Feeling it crack open enough for him to determine the plethora of feelings on the other side. Frustration, sadness and apprehension.

“I’m too much. I’m too loud, too hyper. You didn’t even want a soulmate, what are you going to do when I’m too much for you? When you regret this and find everything you thought was cute annoying or you find out how much i care? I’m creepy sometimes and I’m weird and I’m overbearing. What are you going to do then?” Hawks demanded of him with tears in his eyes as he placed his hand next to Dabi’s.

“I’m going to shut the bond. Or I’m going to take the medication for a few days until we can talk about why you're upset and I’m not heading for the worst case scenario. There’s going to be times I shut you out too. When I don't want you in my head, just as often as there are going to be times like today when I want to know what’s going on with you.” Dabi pulled on the bond again and this time Keigo’s opened. Meeting Dabi half way without him being in a state of panic or distress for the first time. Keigo interlaced their hands and Dabi pulled Hawks close to him as Hawks slowly let the tension from his day out.

They woke up in the same bed together with an open soulmate bond, despite the nightmares both had suffered on either end. Pushing surprise and nerves across to form the closest feeling to hope either of them had for their relationship.

@deyanirasan I'm sorry this took so long. i know i said it would be done around January/Febuary and i had some issues.

[shadowhuntertrash]

So the Coming Out Part 1 gave me a great idea for a prompt if you are interested in it.

Sick!fic staring Kit, the first time he is sick while he’s living with Jem and Tessa. Like he obviously doesn’t let on that he’s sick until he collapses or something because Kit has self worth issues and doesn’t want to seem like a burden. Queue Jem and Tessa showing him the TLC he deserves and and needs. And Kit starts healing from all those mental scars left behind by Johnny.

Plus wasn’t there an idea floating around out there somewhere about Kit having a nightmare and calling for his Dad but meaning Jem? I feel like there was.

Sorry if it’s too much, it was just a very vivid idea which reminded me of the other thing.

Ignore me projecting onto fictional characters again 😳

Kit sighs as the room starts spinning again. He had been sick for a few days but he didn’t want to bother Jem and Tessa with it since he was already burdening them by staying there. He’d already been there for eight months and Jem and Tessa had gone out of their way to make sure he knew he wasn’t a burden but Kit couldn’t help but think he was.

   He could feel himself getting delirious. For example, he knew for a fact that there was no purple elephant in the room but he was very much looking at one. He groaned as his stomach rolled uncomfortably and hoped that he would be able to get downstairs before he threw up.

   They had medicine downstairs and Kit was sure he would be able to figure out which one to take without asking. Johnny had never had medicine and the stuff he did have was Ibuprofen for his headaches when he was hungover so Kit never got medicine when he was sick growing up.

   He had just stumbled down the stairs, now uncomfortably hot which was a sudden change from the bone-chilling cold he felt a few minutes earlier. “Are you alright, Kit? You don’t look so well.” Jem said, pausing midstep as his eyes turned concerned. A small ‘fine’ was all Kit managed to get out before he was running to the nearest bathroom trying his hardest not to throw up right there in the middle of the hall.

   He had just landed in front of the toilet when he felt a hand rubbing up and down his back as he emptied his stomach. He gagged a few times before sitting against the wall, his face flushed and sweaty as his vision danced.

   “Kit, can you hear me?” Jem asked, Kit could hear it but it felt as if he were hearing him from underwater. “I- I can’t,” Kit couldn’t get the words out but he let out a relieved breath when he felt Jem’s familiar hand on his cheek, the other resting on his forehead.

  He shivered as Jem recoiled slightly. “By the angel Kit, you’re burning up.” Kit couldn’t help the hysterical laughter that left him when he caught sight of Jem’s face which now had red polka dots on it. 

   Kit reached a hand out to find Jem’s face and missed by a landslide which only made him laugh harder. “Dad, your face looks weird.” The last thing he saw before the world went black was Jem’s shocked face.

   Kit woke up with a pounding headache and a throat that felt like a desert. He tried to sit up but only managed to get about halfway before he was leaning over the bed, emptying his stomach again. 

   There was a comforting hand on his back again and Kit sighed, leaning into the touch when he felt like he was down throwing up. A hand started carding through his hair and he sighed, tucking his body into the body beside him.

   Only when Tessa’s voice filtered through did he realize where he was. Kit groaned, embarrassed as he realized he was currently tucked into Jem’s side but also felt too comfortable and safe to really want to move.

    Kit mumbled a quiet apology but didn’t make any move to get up. Jem rubbing his arm soothingly and he felt the bed dip as Tessa sat down next to them on Kit’s other side. 

   “You have nothing to be sorry about but you should have come to us when you started feeling bad.” Jem said in a soft voice that made Kit feel as if he had nothing to worry about. “How long were you sick?” Tessa asked, her voice bringing the same comfort as Jem’s.

   Kit felt a rush of affection for his adoptive parents, they took better care of him than Johnny ever had and they had only known him for eight months. Kit reached over and grabbed Tessa’s hand, adjusting himself so that he could lean against Jem and also see Tessa’s face.

   His eyes were hooded, exhaustion and sickness weighing them down. “It was only a few days. I was fine.” He said as he allowed his eyes to drift close as his stomach flopped uncomfortably. Tessa sighed and ran her fingers through his hair again.

   “You were running a 104 degree fever and you were delirious.” Tessa said in a disapproving voice that made Kit shift uncomfortably until he sat up, sliding out of their grips. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I was just trying to get some medicine-” Kit cut off as memories filtered into his head.

   Running into Jem, throwing up, passing out, calling Jem dad. Kit froze as he realized what he had said in his delirious state. Kit’s head whipped around to face Jem with scared, wide eyes that made Jem’s eyebrows furrow. “Really Kit it’s alright, we just wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

   Kit couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jem, embarrassment and guilt settling heavily in his stomach. “I’m so sorry, Jem I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean to call you that. I’m so sorry I was delirious and it wasn’t my place and I’m sorry.” Kit babbled, anxiety coursing through his veins as his cheeks turned scarlet.

   Jem watched him in confusion before a look of understanding crossed his face. Kit was about to start rambling again when Jem shook his head and reached a hand out to clasp on Kit’s shoulder. Kit flinched and averted his eyes.

  “Kit,” Jem said gently, his hand staying firmly on Kit’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to apologize for that, please don’t. I know you were delirious and even if you weren’t it would have been perfectly okay. You’re our son and it’s okay to call us your parents you know that right? We aren’t going to force you if you’re not ready but it’s okay.” Jem said quietly, having leaned his head down to catch Kit’s eyes. Tessa made a noise of confirmation before leaning forward and tugging Kit toward her.

   Kit rested against her side, his eyes closed as he tried to calm himself. It was considerably easier with Tessa and Jem there, an uncanny safe feeling always seemed to follow them and Kit wondered, not for the first, time if that’s what family was supposed to feel like.

   “You have to stay in bed today but do you want to watch something? We can watch a movie?” Jem asked, changing the subject to a lighter note. Kit shot him a grateful look before burying himself further under the blankets, the cold reaching his bones again. 

   Jem got up and grabbed the TV remote and two extra blankets, one he draped on top of Kit and the other he wrapped around his shoulder. Kit rested his head on Jem’s shoulder appreciatively and Jem smiled, messing up his hair affectionately before turning the TV on.

   “What to watch, what to watch.” Jem muttered and Tessa laughed. “We should watch Pride and Prejudice.” Tessa suggested, Kit and Jem shared a look that clearly said ‘no’ and Tessa just laughed. “Alright, what about Avengers? Or Iron Man? I know you love Iron Man.” Kit bit his lip, caught in his memories. 

   When he was younger and living with Johnny he would always cuddle up with tons of blankets in the basement and build a fort and watched Meet The Robinson’s which was his comfort movie, not that he would admit that. He was embarrassed about wanting to watch a Disney movie but he couldn’t deny the comfort the movie brought him, especially when he was sick. 

   Kit cleared his throat a little, not looking away from the TV as he suggested Meet The Robinson’s, Tessa hummed consideringly. “I’ve never seen it but I wouldn’t mind watching it.” Kit spared a glance at Jem who was already watching him with a soft, fond smile.

   “Does that movie mean something?” Kit looked away quickly, an embarrassed flush covering his face again. “Umm, when I was younger my dad didn’t really help me or anything when I got sick so I just went to the basement and got all the blankets I could find and watched Meet the Robinson’s until it passed.” Tessa and Jem stayed silent and Kit fiddled with the blanket in his lap, subconsciously tucking himself further into Tessa’s side.

   “I know it’s stupid, it’s a kid’s movie so we don’t have to watch it. It was stupid, sorry.” He added quickly, embarrassed at having brought it up at all. 

   Jem’s fingers found his hair and stroked it calmingly. “It’s not stupid, it’s a good movie. We weren’t judging you for that we were just-” Jem cut off and sighed, turning his face so he could meet Kit’s eyes.

   “Did Johnny really not help you at all when you were sick?” Kit broke eye contact and looked down at the blanket, biting his bottom lip absentmindedly. “N-not really. I mean we didn’t ever have medicine besides Ibuprofen but I’m allergic to that so I just had to ride it out.” After seeing Tessa and Jem’s sad faces he quickly added. “But it was fine! I was okay, it wasn’t very often anyway.” 

   Jem sighed and shook his head looking like he was having a silent conversation with himself. Tessa’s arms tightened around him and she dropped a kiss to his hot forehead. “Well you have us now, you don’t have to ride it out. You just have to let us know and we can help you.” Kit sighed and buried his head in her side, feeling rather than seeing Tessa laugh. Tessa continued running soothing fingers through his hair and Jem turned on Meet the Robinson’s.

   Kit had to admit, sitting between two of his favorite people was one of the safest feelings in the world and even though he felt physically awful he knew he would treasure this memory forever.

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Rise Of Glory || 6

Again, it cries, and again, and again.

Harry and I wander to the cobble steps to his mother's house, Alex asleep in Harry's arms from the long drive. The drive was quiet, not because I am tired but because I don't know what to say at this point. Nothing I do or say is going to change things or make anything better. I am at a loss.

The door opens, and his mother stands in the doorway, bewildered by our sudden appearance. I don't blame her. It is unlike us to abruptly show up on her doorstep. Most of the time, Harry gives her a heads up.

She grants us her routine tender smile and ushers us inside.

"What brings you two here suddenly?" Harry's Mum questions.

I glance towards Harry, curious as to what he plans to tell her. Telling your mother you only came to visit to see a grave is not something you'd want to admit out loud or at all.

"Uh," Harry clears his throat, "The media have swarmed my building and are starting to come out at the house. We came here to get a break," Harry answers, opening his arms to half-hug his mother, who he has missed dearly, he won't admit it, but he has. He may hate having to come to Cheshire, I don't think that will ever change, but he loves having his mother back in his life at a more constant and healthier level. Their relationship has improved tremendously since I came here when we first started dating all those years ago. I still remember that weekend like yesterday.

It was the weekend I realised that the man I was falling in love with gives everything he has, mentally, emotionally and physically, to his mother and sisters wellbeing. He'd allow himself to drown a million times if it meant his family could stay afloat.

"I'm going to put him down," Harry informs his mother and me, giving me a tired smile before walking past me and down the hallway towards Harry's old bedroom.

Harry's Mum peers over towards me, her brows furrowing and her lips pursing; I can tell her thoughts are ticking away and that something is playing intensely on her mind. She has the same expression Harry has when he wants to say something but leaves the words on the tip of his tongue, unsure of whether to say them or not.

I cock my head to the side, debating myself whether to give her the go-ahead to tell me whatever is on her mind.

"He's lying to me," Anne bluntly states before I can figure out how to ask her what's on her mind, "You had to have left at around 3 in the morning to be here by now. He's tired, almost like he hasn't slept in days," she points out, "And you… you look exhausted too. I don't believe it's the media at your house that caused you both to drive up here… I'm not complaining. I'm just… I'm curious."

"It has been a long week for him. He wanted to get away." I don't know who I am trying to convince more, myself or her.

"He hates it here with a passion. I have seen the articles."

I nod, agreeing with her. She knows the truth. Harry doesn't bother trying to hide the fact that he still hates this place. Even when we first started dating, he made it known he wasn't happy to be back. His home town brings back memories he doesn't want to remember, especially when he and his relationship with his mother were strained to the point they weren't speaking at all. "This is where he wanted to come."

"But it isn't where he wants to be… he hates it up here… are things that bad in London?" She questions softly, and I can't help but nod. She looks me up and down and bites her lip for a moment, almost as if she's holding back whatever thoughts are racing through her thoughts, "Are you and Harry okay? You're not fighting or?"

"We're fine," I immediately cut her off, "It's the business and the media that's pushing him off the rails."

"Mhm," she hums, "And you, are you okay?"

I give her a small smile and nod, "I'm okay."

"You're lying."

"Anne—"

"Honey, don't take this the wrong way, but you look exhausted. Have you slept at all?"

"It's been a rough few months," I softly respond, "It has taken a lot out of me."

The last three months have been an absolute roller coaster, mentally, emotionally and physically. I'm not quite sure how I've managed to keep things together to the extent I have. There are still days I feel like the world's weight is so heavily on me that I can't breathe. There are days I feel like I'm drowning and can't pull myself away. There are the days I feel like I'm finally okay and can breathe, but the second I manage to come up for air, there's something to pull me down, whether it's work-related, family-related or past related.

"Why didn't you call? Harry kept saying you were fine."

"I have been fine," I respond softly.

In all honesty, I have been fine… kind of. I'm as fine as what can be expected, considering the events that have happened. I'm not going to lie, I may be fine, but I'm still very much up and down when it comes to things. There are good days, and there are bad days.

"If you ever need me, I'm just a call away. You know that, right?" She offers me her sweet, caring smile that has always assured me of tough times and situations.

"Yes, I know."

"Okay, go get yourself some sleep."

"I have work I need to do once I get my laptop out of the car. We might be up here, but the business doesn't stop just because we aren't there."

"Well, at the very least, take a seat on the couch, put your feet up and relax for a minute. Let me at least make you some tea."

"You're too kind to me," I smile towards her.

"You're kind to my son. It's the least I can do for my darling daughter-in-law," she beams.

Anne hands me a steaming cup of tea as I answer a few emails from my phone, too tired to go out and get my laptop. "I have one last question."

"Mhm," I hum, waiting for her to ask what is on her mind.

"What happened to his hand?"

"Oh, he was washing dishes and somehow cut his hand," I tell her the truth.

I don't think it is my place to tell her about Logan or that Harry might be losing his mind. Right now, it is up to Harry to speak to her and want to talk about things. I cannot force him. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink. Harry will speak when he feels like speaking, and he will tell his mother when he is ready and on his terms.

I don't think I should be the one to tell her that we made the long drive up here just because Harry can't wrap his head around the fact Logan has risen from the dead. No mother wants to hear that as a reason as to why their son has finally visited.

I wish I could say that we visit here often for good occasions, but it is far from the truth. We come up here for holidays, and that is as far as it goes. I have made the drive a few times with Alex to get away from the city, but that has been on rare occasions. Harry doesn't like the idea of me making the drive on my own, and he hates having to come up here. We have settled on staying away from Cheshire and having his mother visit us when she can. I do wish things were a bit different. I do wish we lived closer to his Mum or came up here often. I think it would benefit Harry to be around his mother more and have a family sense. He has my family, but it is different. His mother is irreplaceable, and I know that deep down, he misses his sister. They may not be on the best of terms right now, but I know he loves and misses her.

When Alex is a little older, I would often like to bring him up here to see the neighbours' baby animals. He would love playing with the goats and picking fresh farm eggs, which is not as usual in our life. He would be thrilled to run the fields without a care in the world, a completely different environment compared to home. We have a lot of space for him to run around at home but nothing like the countryside.

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

With Harry's fingers laced with my own, I pass the identical headstones that I passed in November of 2021, on the same day we buried Logan.

Nothing has changed about the cemetery. It's still as uncanny and ill-fitting as it was that day. The headstones are still cracked and withered with the voyage of seasons. It is a shame how the graves fade away. It's almost as though since these souls have left earth, nobody cares enough to fix up the graves that have cracked and deteriorated. It bothers me now like it did the day I walked through here a few years ago.

This cemetery is old, at least over 100 years old. I remember noticing some of the inscriptions when I was here last dated back to the 1800s. These monument stones of cold, decaying cement have presumably observed more people and tears of melancholy and exuberance than one could probably picture. And yet, nobody can take the time to take care of the graves. There are scarcely any flowers on the graves.

It disheartens me that as I escort past all these graves, I still feel saddened even years later because we pass by people who have once lived and wandered this very earth.

"Harry, are you sure it's this way?" I challenge as we pass another row of headstones.

I can't tell if my anxiousness tells me we have gone too far or if we need just to leave and go back home. Part of me doesn't want to wander any further than what we have. After all, walking through grave yeards is always eerie.

"I'm sure I know where my dead brother is buried," Harry grimly mutters, "I was here for it." Harry reminds me of the day he endured.

"No need to be so… morbid," I inform him, doing my best to keep my voice low. We don't need an argument in the middle of a cemetery, even if he is a dickhead.

I stop in my tracks, and Harry turns to glance at me as his hand leaves mine, "Why are you stopping?" Harry questions, and I can't help but take a moment to take in his features as a distraction.

I don't know how to tell him that I don't feel comfortable walking in this cemetery, I don't want to go any further, and I don't think this is a beneficial approach. Nothing good ever comes from this place. I push away my thoughts and feelings, "I couldn't remember if I checked on Alex before we left," I lie. I know I checked on Alex before we left. He was still asleep and cuddled up to his teddy bear.

"We both did, love. Mum knows what she's doing, and you know that, relax," Harry responds, kissing my cheek before lacing his fingers back with mine and beginning to walk again.

Harry and I come to an abrupt standstill, and the two of us become withdrawn while we take in the view of what's in front of us. Harry squeezes my hand gently, and I can't help but squeeze back, a small amount of reassurance for him to know that I am right here and that I can see the same thing he can see.

The deafening silence is intruded abruptly and without signal by the ghastly screech of a blackened crow— the same intense screech that I swear I first heard once Logan was buried in this plot.

Again, it cries, and again, and again.

I shiver as a tingle operates through my body, the character of the crow sounding like nails on a chalkboard. This is the same place I stood in years ago when the crow first screeched—Harry was squatting by the grave, gazing at the soil, and I was standing right here.

I take a breath of the crisp air, and my eyes immediately cast themselves on the crow that is shrieking. Its relentless stare catches my own before I take note that it isn't alone. Harry and I are outnumbered and are intently observed by one… two... three… four… five crows, possibly six; I can't tell if the shadow in the distant tree is one of them or not. Either way, I wish we had never come here. They say if you see five crows, sickness will follow; see six crows, and death will follow.

A gust of wind whisks past us, settling brittle, dead leaves to dance around our shoes to take my gaze away from the crows. I watch the leaves swing around our feet, twirling around us like vines, almost as though they're tightening around our feet and ready to pull us down. I caress my hand to my stomach as I observe the leaves tumbling, leaving me with a heavy feeling in my stomach that twists, knots, and tightens like the motions of the leaflets. The breeze declines, and the leaves become motionless.

I gaze back towards where the first crow was, only to find it gone, leaving me with nothing but an unsettling uneasiness in the pit of my stomach and an abandoned grave of where Logan used to rest.

[c-ptsdrecovery]

A friendship with a narcissist

I had this friend--let’s call her G. I met G through church. She was an intelligent and creative woman, very well respected by others.

There WERE some early warning signs. She seemed to have a little affectation. Affectation is defined as, “behavior, speech, or writing that is artificial and designed to impress.  A studied display of real or pretended feeling.” Many narcissists just kind of give you the impression that they’re always on stage. Something just seems a little theatrical about their behavior. It’s a little grating and cringe. G and her husband often sang on a worship team, and the way that she closed her eyes and lifted her hands while singing seemed a little fake, a little more for show than the way her husband did it.

But then, some people just have an unfortunate manner. So I ignored it.

I knew G for a few years before we really became friends. I think we really got to know one another through a Bible study we were both going to. We were both well-educated, especially in English, both smart, had similar (liberal) politics. (Though, in retrospect, narcissists do often take on the politics and beliefs of the people they’re love-bombing, to make them more compatible. So I have no idea what her politics really were.)

Somehow, we became friends. We sat next to each other during service. We attended the same Bible study. After awhile, it became a weekly thing that I would go over to her house and we would go out to eat together. I also pet-sat for her when she and her husband went away.

It was tough holding a conversation with G. She had to use everything you said in some kind of clever comment. Either that, or she would feign being offended and twist whatever you had said into a slight or an insult against her. She did it with a smile in her eyes, to show she wasn’t mad, but still you would have to insist that you didn’t mean it like that, and often give her a compliment. It was EXHAUSTING holding a conversation with her sometimes because of the combination of walking on eggshells, trying to keep up with her clever commentary, and having to constantly reassure her of your good opinion. (A mutual friend of mine asked me once if I found it tiring to talk to G, so I know it wasn’t just me!)

Repeatedly, over the course of our friendship, she exclaimed spontaneously, “It’s so good to finally have a friend!” or, “You’re my only friend!” This always struck me as deeply weird, because I KNEW she had other good friends in our church. I often would point this out when she made comments like this, and she would brush it off, like, “Yes, but they can’t keep up with me in a conversation”, or some other compliment to me. I would let it drop, but I knew that these excuses weren’t true either, as I knew that at least a couple of the friends she had at church were just as intelligent and educated as I was. This always weirded me out at the time, and I know now that it was lovebombing: narcissists often go out of their way to pull in a target by assuring them that they have a special and unique relationship. They want you to feel flattered so you’ll stick with them.

Increasingly, I found that was I completely physically exhausted after an afternoon with G. I had chronic fatigue syndrome, so I did get tired easily, but I got more tired with G than I did hanging out with any of my other friends. After spending a couple of hours with G, I would have to go home and straight to bed. I thought this was strange, and it began to make me feel ambivalent about spending time with her. But I was very isolated at the time, and my weekly meetings with G were a way to get out of the house and go do something, so I felt dependent on their continuing. I have learned since that covert narcissists are sometimes called “energy vampires” because of how mentally--and indeed, physically--exhausting it can be to be around them.

G decided eventually to go into the ministry. (I have known a number of narcissists in the ministry; it’s a position that gives them lots of attention and narcissistic supply, and unfortunately has the side-effect of giving them lots of opportunities to victimize others through their spiritual authority.) I remember the first time she gave a sermon:

It was pretty cringe.

What she was saying was fine. The text was fine. But her affectation, which I had learned to ignore by that point, was much more obvious when she had a whole audience, a whole congregation, to impress. Public speaking seems to bring out the worst in narcissists with affectation.

But I was a good friend: I told her she did a great job, and gave her lots of reassurance (read: repeated compliments) that she had been wonderful.

I was struggling a great deal at that time with my parents. I was living with them again, and my mom had done an “emotional discard” with me. (The cycle of narcissism is to idealize the target, devalue them, and then sometimes suddenly discard them. My mom couldn’t suddenly disappear from my life, since she still wanted to be seen as a good parent, so instead she made it very clear to me in subtle and passive-aggressive ways that she wasn’t going to support me emotionally anymore and I didn’t matter to her at all. It was subtle enough that I wouldn’t be able to carry really awful stories of her to others and make her look like a bad mother, but also hurtful enough that living with her was torture.) Then, on top of that, my mom thought I had insulted her on my blog at one point and went into a complete narcissistic rage for a MONTH, doing everything possible to tear me down emotionally, while I just sat there, bewildered as to what was happening or why.

The result, especially since my parents had systematically undermined my self-confidence through gaslighting throughout my life, was that I couldn’t figure out what was going on in my relationship with my parents (and my mother in particular--I didn’t realize at that time that she was a covert narcissist, or even that her behavior constituted emotional neglect or abuse). I didn’t trust my own intuitions and my own feelings about it, and so I went to my friends to try to get an outside opinion, some kind of validation of my impressions. I had been indoctrinated by my parents with the idea that I was “constantly overreacting”, so I needed somebody else to tell me I wasn’t.

Luckily, I had one friend, Jen, who kept telling me that my mother’s behavior was abusive and unacceptable. But it’s so hard to believe that your own parents, who have raised you to believe that they’re ideal parents, are abusive or toxic. So I would bring all my troubles to G, too, looking for corroboration.

My interactions with G felt like my interactions with my mother, in the sense that SOMETIMES she would build me up and tell me I was right and that my feelings mattered and so forth, and sometimes she would side with my mother. Just like a gambling addict, I kept going back to her because I SOMETIMES got a payoff, and SOMETIMES it felt really good, but the price was that oftentimes, she made me feel like I WAS overreacting.

With Jen’s help, I eventually did figure out that my mother’s behavior was abusive (it was quite some time later that I managed to work out that her problem was narcissism; at this time I was still trying to work out if she had had some kind of minor psychotic break, her change in behavior had been so dramatic!). G seemed to support me, telling me about how she herself had felt as a child that she hated her emotionally neglectful parents. (I don’t think she was just putting this on to make me feel like she and I were similar; narcissistic personality disorder very frequently IS partially a product of early childhood emotional abuse/neglect.)

But still, I began to feel increasingly like G was gaslighting me. More and more, there were times when I told her a story about my mother’s behavior which I had already determined beyond a doubt was abusive--and G would play it down, or explain it away. I think she likely realized that my mother was like her, a fellow narcissist, and either she was sympathizing more with my mother’s situation than mine, or she wanted to keep me in thrall to narcissistic techniques of control, or both. If I got wise to my mother’s manipulative behavior, I could get wise to HER manipulative behavior, too. 

The friendship began to feel more and more uncomfortable and distasteful, but because I had so few friends in the area and so few opportunities to get away from my parents’ house, I kept seeing her every week.

(There was also an incident, when G was showing me the little apartment she and her husband had built over their garage. Knowing that my mother was abusive, I was trying to figure out how to leave my parents’ house--but I had nowhere to go, and little money to live on independently. So I asked G, “If things with my parents get really bad and I need to leave--can I come stay with you here for awhile?” Her answer was an immediate “No.” She told me that they had established the apartment so her sons could come stay with her. Her sons had homes and lives and jobs of their own, and one of them was married. But she was very emphatic that I could not come to stay with her, even if I was driven out of my house. I found this puzzling and hurtful, considering how nice she was always being to me and how she kept telling me I was her only real friend. To this day, I have never known either of her sons to come stay with her. I would like to add that it’s not that she didn’t have the right to decide who could come and stay in her guest room, and if she had been worried about something like the expense of helping to support me, I would have understood. But to claim she liked me SO MUCH and then to deny me support I needed that she could have given always struck me as contradictory--and revealing.)

Finally, I decided I needed to draw some boundaries. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what in G’s behavior was so toxic, but I knew there was something, and I needed to start working on weeding it out. So I found a behavior of hers that upset me, as a place to start.

She liked to give me unsolicited advice about things. It annoyed me because it was so often something that wouldn’t work for my situation, and getting this advice kind of triggered me. I realize now that part of the problem was that when she gave me advice, she was putting me in subordinate position. I was a full adult, over thirty years old, with a PhD, plenty old enough and competent enough to run my own life. She was about my parents’ age (25ish years older than me), and I felt like her giving me advice was her way of feeling superior to me.

So, I thought through what I was going to say, and the next time we got together, I asked her very nicely not to give me unsolicited advice anymore, because it upset me and wasn’t really helpful. I was worried about her reaction, but her reaction was perfect: a seemingly genuine, “Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize that upset you. Yes, I’ll stop. And if you catch me doing it and I don’t realize, say something, and I’ll stop.” I was relieved and gratified at her immediate acquiescence.

A few days later, I was texting with her, and she felt the need to give me unsolicited advice. And this wasn’t just a single line of, “Hey, have you thought of trying such-and-such?” No, she literally sent me a text SO LONG that my phone service broke it into three long sections (and actually sent them to me out of order) because it couldn’t handle it all. IIRC, it was about daily devotions, and she was describing EXACTLY how I should be doing my devotions.

Now, not only was this an egregious example of giving unsolicited advice in terms of length, but it was also a subject on which I felt she shouldn’t have been giving me advice in the first place. One’s Christian devotional practices are very personal, and other than “you should read the Bible and pray”, how you do it is really up to you. And she was giving me GRANULAR instructions on how to do my devotions.

I was annoyed, but she HAD said she might forget and give me advice by accident. So I texted back, “Thanks, but I can’t really use that advice.” or something to that effect. She texted back--and these aren’t the exact words, but they’re pretty close--”I was just trying to tell you what you should do.” 

...which... is what advice is.

I ended the conversation soon after, and I decided we probably needed a break and I needed some space in our relationship. I had felt that she was gaslighting me on the subject of my mom’s bad behavior, and now she was overstepping very clear boundaries. And boundaries have to be enforced, not to mention I really didn’t want to be spending so much time with her if she was going to behave this way. I worried a bit about how she would react when I turned her down for our next lunch date.

I needn’t have worried. She stopped contacting me entirely. Not a call, not a text, not a lunch date. From getting together every week, she very suddenly dropped our relationship entirely, cold turkey. 

On one hand, I was relieved. This meant I didn’t need to step back from our relationship myself. On the other hand, it was puzzling and hurtful. She knew that I was isolated and dealing with abuse and that I needed a strong social support system. Not to mention how she kept calling me her “ONLY FRIEND”. And yet she dropped me flat. I have since learned that this is characteristic of narcissists--another, more obvious form of the “discard”:

“When the target asks for compromise, reciprocity, empathy, integrity, honesty, and boundaries (all healthy and valid requests that people with extreme narcissistic qualities generally do not engage in), the person with narcissism may decide that the target has lost his or her luster and is tarnished—no longer the “perfect partner” to fluff the ego feathers. Inevitably, the discarding occurs when the person with narcissism either disappears or orchestrates his or her own abandonment by engaging in some form of egregious emotional abuse.” (source)

G’s discard of me was just as sudden as my mother’s, but was demonstrated through sudden literal/physical abandonment rather than sudden emotional abandonment.

That was in October. She DID call me up again one more time, in April, and we had one lunch together. By this time I had gotten diagnosed with C-PTSD from my mother’s emotional abuse, and I told G about it. She was perfectly nice at lunch, but I had a total emotional meltdown about something about an hour later that I attribute partly to G’s emotional/physical effect on me and my resulting lack of forks. That was in 2019. It has now been almost exactly two years, and I haven’t heard a word from her since. She apparently has also stopped going to our former church (I’ve stopped going there, too), and our former pastor has commented to me in emails that he misses me and G (thinking we’re still friends). I haven’t tried to disabuse him of the notion or tell him my suspicions, that G is a covert narcissist. I don’t know if he’d believe me or not, and since she isn’t going there anymore, there’s no need to tell him. I do worry that she might still be trying to work in the ministry, though.

So here’s the point of that story:

Was any of G’s behavior toward me overt abuse? No. There was something I think was gaslighting, and there was violation of boundaries, but not something that meets most people’s definition of abuse. I think G probably went out of her way to be nice to me because she was using me as narcissistic supply--just like my narcissist mother is SO NICE to all her friends, who all think she’s WONDERFUL, and saved her nastiness for those of us living in the house with her. So G was being careful NOT to abuse me, under the common definition of abuse.

But was there harm done? Yes. Being friends with G was harmful, both mentally and physically, to such an extent that the end of our friendship, sudden and unexpected as it was, filled me with relief. She was draining me emotionally in a time when I needed my friends to build me up instead. She was reinforcing my mother’s gaslighting of me, making it harder for me to get away from my abuser. She even literally made it harder for me to escape that abuse by refusing to give me any shelter despite her easy ability to do so and her avowed affection for me.

We humans need our relationships to be mutually supportive. Narcissists don’t know how to do mutually supportive. They only know how to pump you up with flattery in order to get narcissistic supply out of you. Relationships with narcissists, even “non-abusive” ones, are not relationships: they are a covert matter of cold transaction, in which the narcissist is determined to come out on top. 

This is why narcissistic apologism rings so hollow. The argument “Not all narcissists are abusive” is beside the point. G didn’t directly “abuse” me by many people’s definition of abuse. Yet being friends with her was still ultimately harmful. She didn’t harm me as much as some other narcissists I have known, but that may be because I had begun to learn a good bit about narcissism and emotional abuse by that time, and it was my getting wise to her that made her end the friendship. Being in a close relationship with a narcissist--be they a parent, a partner, a friend, or a boss--can be very damaging over the long term, even if the narcissist isn’t overtly abusive. Yes, G’s narcissism probably came from a history of emotional abuse/neglect at the hands of her parents. This is true of many narcissists, including my mother. I feel bad for that. No, on some level she can’t help her natural instincts. But I also don’t need to put myself in danger by engaging in relationships with narcissists on the off-chance that they won’t harm me. I will also warn people about the characteristics of narcissists so that they, too, can protect themselves. 

I don’t blame tigers for being tigers, but I don’t try to make friends with them. And telling other people that tigers make for dangerous friends doesn’t make me a bad person. *

Meredith Miller writes**, “After years of talking with people in my personal and professional life about covert narcissists, I’ve come to believe that in order to really understand the nature of the covert narcissist, you have to have lived it. . . . Only someone who has been inside that nightmare can really know what the experience is like. Even then it’s hard to describe.” I think she’s probably right. So I don’t expect narcissist apologists to really understand, and this post probably won’t change some of their minds. But people who are currently experiencing narcissistic abuse need to know that narcissistic abuse DOES exist, that it IS harmful. They need to know what it looks like so they can escape their abuser’s gaslighting. Information about covert narcissists and narcissistic abuse is a necessary tool for escape and recovery. Telling someone who is being covertly abused by a narcissist that anything bad that is said about narcissists is immoral and false is only trapping them in the cycle of abuse and its debilitating psychological and physical effects.

I hope that G, like the other narcissists I’ve known, has a good and happy life. But I don’t want to be any part of it, and I would recommend that others keep clear, as well.

*This is not an attempt to dehumanize narcissists. Narcissists are people, not animals.

**Foreword to The Covert Passive-Aggressive Narcissist by Debbie Mirza

[thebigqueer]

Solangelo - "I Will Follow You into the Dark" - One-Shot

Summary: Will and Nico discuss their upcoming trip to Tartarus and argue about it.

Word Count: 2166

TW: Implied Homophobia (super small, though) SPOILERS: The Burning Maze, Tower of Nero

Read on AO3

It’s been a shaky morning, to say the least.

Will and Nico had to get up early to go find a gift for the Trogs, and it really was no easy hassle for either of them to get up. So much had happened the day before that it was almost impossible to find the will to rise early.

But somehow they managed it. With sleep still heavy in their eyes and a pale sheen over both their skins, the boys ventured out of Camp Half-Blood to accomplish the first step before the looming chaos: getting a lizard.

It’s about eleven in the morning by the time they find themselves on the subway train. The vehicle creaks and groans as the boys are submerged into darkness.

Will and Nico were lucky enough to get a seat right next to each other. The subway train is packed with people just as tired they are, all zooming forward to complete their mundane, uneventful lives.

Will wonders if they even know how much their life is in danger today. It’s always been a little funny how demigods and gods work behind the scenes to keep the world away from devastation, all just to see that mortals are so painfully oblivious to things happening around them. But Will supposes they have an excuse - many of them can’t see through the Mist, and besides, they all have their own smaller worries to care about.

If only his own worries were as small as theirs.

Will leans into Nico a little, pressing his arm against the son of Hades. Even though it’s barely a show of affection, a burst of pink blooms over Nico’s nose and cheeks. Will decides to lean away a little at the sight. He knows that Nico is not comfortable with too much public affection, especially in public places like NYC, which Will can understand. He’d rather die by the hands of a monster instead of a mere mortal who can’t accept who he is.

Nonetheless, Nico touches Will’s finger with his, just a little, and that’s enough to make Will smile. No one can see their hands touching, but maybe that’s what makes the touch so exciting to Will - they’re doing this in secret, living in their own tiny world.

Will eases into Nico again, just a little bit - not enough to make their relationship painfully obvious, but enough to tell Nico he’s here. A ghost of a smile haunts Nico’s lips.

“Thank you for agreeing to come today,” Nico says, his voice sweet and gentle as honey as it sweeps through Will’s ears. He turns his head to look at Will, and just as he does, the train opens up into the bright sunny light. It flashes against the right side of his face, seeps into his skin, illuminates his dark eyes. He can do anything and make it look like a Renaissance painting.

Will smiles. “Well, I’m not going to let you go alone.”

Nico raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know, Will. You didn’t seem very excited to come with me. You know, what with the whole ‘the Trogs are bad for you, Nico,’ ‘don’t risk your mental health, Nico,’ ‘no, Nico.’”

Will sighs. “And yet you still decided to go.”

“I would be dooming everyone if I didn’t.”

“But do you realize that sometimes you don’t need to take the weight of the world on your shoulders all the time?”

“Well, isn’t that why you’re coming with me today? To help take some of the weight?”

Will lowers his gaze as a trickle of fear slithers down his back. “I’m not really talking about the Trogs anymore.”

“I figured you weren’t.” An icier tone stabs Nico’s words, and Will winces. “I don’t want to talk about Tartarus right now.” His eyes waver around the train. “Not here, at least.”

Will wants to keep talking about it, though. But he sees the shadows behind Nico’s eyes, the underlying fear that plagues him at night.

“Fine,” he whispers boldly. “We’ll talk about it when we get off.”

~

About fifteen minutes later, the subway train screeches to a halt at the station. Darkness has once again infiltrated their space, and the scent of trash and dirt swims around the boys. Will sticks close to Nico, just to make sure neither of them get lost in the chaos of New York City.

As soon as they’re out into fresh air, Will tugs his boyfriend’s hand, stopping the both of them in their tracks. People mill around, pushing past the two, but the boys are stuck in time. Nico looks at Will, a darkness roiling behind his irises, and Will knows that they have to talk about it now. He wants them to.

Nico sighs and steps closer, slipping his hand out of Will’s. He crosses his arms across his chest. “We have a mission, Will. This is important. Why are we talking about this now?”

“We need to.” Quickly, Will rushes the two of them to an empty alleyway, where shadows envelop them in a cold embrace and silence segregates them from the rest of the world. While the day outside is sunny and warm, a cold breeze brushes against their faces in the shade.

Nico scrubs his face in annoyance. “I don’t understand why we have to talk about this now.”

“We haven’t talked about it at all,” Will says. “Every time I try to, you always switch the topic or we get whisked away to something new.”

“Then what do you want to talk about?” Nico grumbles. “We already know that it’s likely I have to go back in. What else is there to discuss?”

“What we have to discuss is who’s going with you. You’re not going down there alone again.”

Nico laughs curtly. “Will, I’m not taking you with me. You already offered and I’m turning you down. I’m going on my own.”

Will shakes his head. “Nico, you can’t. You just started getting voices from someone in Tartarus - who, by the way, we aren’t even sure is real - and you’re thinking that you have to go.” Will steps closer, his curls bouncing mere inches from Nico’s face. “If you have to go, I’m going with you. You went in and almost lost your sanity. It’s a miracle you even made it out alive and with your mind intact. Going back in will be like a shredder to your brain, and not to mention you’re going to be even more mentally unstable than the first time.”

Nico raises a brow. “I beg to differ. I’ll be going in stronger than last time.” He pulls away from the blond. “I’m stronger than I was then, Will. I’m emotionally, mentally, and physically better. You don’t need to think I’m fragile.”

“I don’t think you’re fragile, Nico.” Will’s mouth curls into a frown, and concern laces in his eyes. “I never think that.”

“Then why are you insisting to come with me? If anything, you’re going to be worse off than I am.”

At his words, Will’s heart skips a beat. Red hot rage simmers over his blood, invades his system, folds over his mind. “Why would I be worse off?” Will asks, a scowl flashing over his features. Before Nico can answer, he blurts, “Is it because I’m weak? Because I’m just a kid of Apollo? Because I’m better at healing and that I’m some kind of sweet, innocent child of nature?” Without meaning to, all of Will’s repressed anger spills into his words, puddles out into the open. The ache of tears builds up in his throat, choking him with his rage. Will drowns in his insecurities, suffocates under his sadness.

“Because I’m not a child of the Big Three?” he suggests further, his voice like shards of glass that sink into Nico’s skin. “Is that why I’m going to be worse?”

Nico blinks in surprise. He steps back a little, fear sparkling in his eyes. As much as Will hates to make him feel that way, there’s still that inkling of pride at the back of his mind. He’s making someone afraid. He’s never able to do that.

Nico shakes his head vigorously. “No, Will, I would never think that. It’s not because you’re weak. You’re not weak.”

“Then what is it? Am I useless to you? Nothing more than your pretty, innocent boyfriend?”

“Where is this coming from? Why are you acting like this?”

Nico’s words echo in Will’s brain, prodding through his mind. Will blinks, surprised by his question. Where is this coming from? Will wonders.

A wave of emotions overflows in his chest, surges in his throat, rises to his head. His vision turns red and yellow and he holds his head in his hands, trying to stop the rage in his body. He feels like he’s going to explode, to combust, to burn up. He’s going to destroy everything in this alleyway.

Tears prick his eyes, and one slips out of the corner, creating a crack against the side of his face. He’s breaking. “I can’t let you go alone, Nico,” Will whispers, voice pleading, begging, urging. He grabs for Nico’s hands, yearning for his warmth. “I can’t let you risk your life. I can’t let another person die.”

Nico’s chest heaves with each breath, his own eyes swimming with tears. His mouth is pulled at the corners, stretched with anger and exhaustion and annoyance. For a second, he lets Will take his hands, to hold him. But then he snatches them back angrily, a scowl prominent across his features.

“How do you think I feel letting you come with me?” Nico hisses, his hands shivering at his sides. “I can’t let you die because of me, Will. You’re one of the few people I have left in this world. Jason died. My mother died. Bianca left me. I’m not letting you leave me, too. Not if I can fucking help it.” A teardrop rolls down the side of his face and he wipes it away, but two more slip over his face. “You’re not coming and that’s final.”

Will runs his hands through his curls in frustration. “Why aren’t you understanding this, Nico?” he hisses. “Why can’t you see that I feel the same way? You know how guilty I feel each and every time someone dies. If I don’t offer to come with you, then that’s like saying I’m letting you die. Your blood will be on my hands if I don’t come, because I could stop you but I wouldn’t be able to if you go on your own.” A sob stabs his chest. “I don’t want you to die.”

“That’s how I feel!” Nico cries, his anger ringing in the alleyway. The darkness around them pulses. “I don’t want you to die. Taking you with me is promising that I’m going to be responsible for your death! And I don’t want that! I don’t want… I don’t want to be responsible for your death. I don’t want you risking your life for me. It’s not worth it.”

“But you’re not forcing me to go with you!” Will protests, his fingers twitching. “I’m doing it on my own.” He pulls closer to Nico again, grasping for his hands, grasping for his realness. He needs Nico to understand how willing he is to follow Nico into the dark, the danger, the devastation. “My death will not be in your hands because I’m choosing to go with you. If one of us falls, then we both fall. I’m not letting you go down on your own.”

Nico’s breath hitches as another broken sob echoes around them. Pain chokes his words as he says, “If I go, it’s my choice to go on my own. That isn’t your fault. Why won’t you understand that?”

“For the same reason that you can’t understand my point,” Will says, groping for Nico’s warmth again. “Because we care about each other too much. But, Nico, please. I need to go. I can’t… I don’t… You can’t do this on your own. You don’t need to be the hero on your own all the time. Let someone else be there with you.” Will leans in once more, pressing his forehead against Nico’s. The son of Hades melts into the touch, raising his head just a little. “You’ve been alone too long. You don’t need to be anymore.”

Silence encompasses them again. They’re swirling in a tornado of emotions, lifting off from the ground, joining together in confusion.

Then Nico steps away. He wipes his face against his sleeve, trying to get rid of all the emotion that took over him just moments ago. Behind his dark eyes, Will sees the stubbornness crashing down, the walls crumbling.

But they’re not falling enough. The ruins still stand high.

Nico lets go of the blond’s hand. “We’ll see,” is all he says.

And he steps out of the alleyway, entering the universe once more, leaving Will in the darkness.