#still remember him telling me that it was good that I was mentally ill because fucked up women are more kinky and that’s fun for men

[mars-ipan]

i do love my family very dearly but the internalized ableism the men in here struggle with is. so much

[wewontbesleeping]

lol remembering my ex who’s handle for everything was a variation on “albatross”. this is the guy who I took to one of my rep shows and he made us leave in the middle because he was bored… yeah… :-/

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Mama, I’m in love with a criminal

Tags: Sukuna x fem!Reader, no curse au, dead dove, violence described including murder, dark romance, use of y/n, descriptions of mental illness.

Synopsis: Sukuna’s talking to his therapist in jail about you. He’s incarcerated because of you, and his obsession is concerning.

An: Yeah idk i thought of this while I was driving to work one morning.

Session one.

His large frame laid lazily over the couch, clad in an orange jumpsuit. He had his feet propped up on one side, and his head was propped up on the other side in a far too casual manner. His naturally pink hair pushed up near the front, messily so.

He was still cuffed and shackled, but the therapist was still afraid of him. To the therapist’s credit, he had read the warrant that went into viscous detail of Sukuna’s crimes.

Normally, the therapist wouldn’t read the inmates warrants due to situations like these. He liked going into sessions with an open mind, but he had gotten warnings about Sukuna… how the man can fly into a blind rage like a switch on the wall.

He was brutal, unforgivable, inhumane.

Simple counseling wasn’t going to “fix” a broken human like Sukuna. The therapist knew this, but the state mandated that Sukuna undergo weekly counseling sessions per his sentence.

Sukuna could taste the therapist’s fear, and he let out an earnest laugh. “You don’t even want to try to fix me, do you?” He asked tauntingly with a lopsided grin. “I don’t blame you. Don’t feel bad~”

The therapist swallowed the lump in his throat, and he adjusted in his seat. “I can’t fix anyone… Counseling isn’t about fixing.. It’s about moving forward and learning how to live.”

“Bullshit.” Sukuna spits with shrug. “Counseling is about focusing on the past and letting shit hang you up for far too long. I guarantee you that you’re going to ask me about how I got here, is that right?”

The therapist is shaking like a leaf at this point. “Our past can help us navigate to a better future.” He murmured out weakly.

Sukuna roars in laughter, causing the therapist to nearly jump out of his seat. The pink-haired felon doubles over as he laughs hysterically. “You’re a funny guy. Fine. You really want to know how I got here? I’ll tell you.”

After a deep breath and wiping away a fake tear, Sukuna goes on, “You know, teachers always believe that pairing the troubled kids up with the good kids will inspire them to act right. That shit never works.”

“I think that’s when my ‘type’ developed. My bitch of a second-grade teacher assigned me to sit next to this frail meek girl after I got in trouble one too many times for terrorizing the other kids. She was a real stick in the mud.” Sukuna laughs fondly, a rare genuine smile on his face.

“Y/n?” The therapist asks, remembering your name from the warrants.

Sukuna’s red eyes snap over to the therapist with an almost predatory gaze. His hands visibly curl into fists. “Say her name again, and I’ll splatter your blood all over this room. The officers won’t be able to pry me from you, deeming you to be a lost cause.”

The therapist freezes as the breath hitches in his throat. His eyes dart toward his panic button, knowing he should probably press it now, but he’s frozen in fear.

“We’ll call her mouse.” Sukuna goes on as if he didn’t just threaten the poor guy’s life in brutal detail.

“Mouse was a real challenge. I for some reason made it my mission to get her to talk to me, but she always stayed silent — only answering me with simple head gestures.” He laughs again, lying his head back further as he’s replaying the memories in his mind. He can remember you vividly and how you looked back then. He yearns for that feeling again. The feeling of seeing you for the first time.

“I can’t exactly tell you when the challenge started to border obsession, but she slowly slithered her way into my brain. Even when I wasn’t in school, I thought about her. I wondered what she sounded like, wondered why she wouldn’t talk to me, wondered why she looked at me like that.”

The therapist furrows his eyebrows. Even though he doesn’t feel safe in this session, and he doesn’t trust Sukuna at all, he has a hunger for knowledge, and he loves solving things that have to do with the human psyche.

“Looked at you like what?” The therapist dared to ask.

Sukuna stayed silent for a moment, and he tapped his finger against the back of his hand. His face hardened as he found the words he was looking for. “She looked at me like she had no preconceived notion of me. Her eyes… were so big and round. Even though she didn’t talk to me, it was like she accepting of my presence.”

The shackles jingled as Sukuna rubbed his face in a stressed gesture. Remembering you was like a double edged sword. He loved thinking about you, but he hated being reminded that he was without you.

The therapist eased in his chair. There was actual emotions underneath all those tattoos, thick skin, and muscle. The media had portrayed Sukuna as a complete narcissistic sociopath, but this was proof that diagnosis was false.

“I bothered the shit out of her for years, continually getting myself paired up with her.” Sukuna grinned, shifting the conversation back in a direction that he was more comfortable with, “I remember those asshole kids always called me her shadow because I followed her everywhere. Jokes on them.”

The therapist shivered as be remembered a chilling detail from the warrants. Each time a victim was found, a message was written in the victim’s blood.

-ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ

His victim’s - their deaths were like an homage to you.

“Were the kids ever… assholes to mouse?”

Sukuna’s jaw visibly tightened. He loathed this therapist’s questions… thinking he knew everything just because you and Sukuna were misunderstood kids.

“They called her weird for not talking.” Sukuna recalled as he bit his inner cheek. His eyes glared to the wall in front of him. “Now look at who can’t talk.”

Sukuna’s first victim. He didn’t start out with murder. He started out with stapling your bullies mouth shut for taunting you. Everything was for you. Everything.

He held a kid down to the teacher’s in third grade, grabbing a stapler, and he pressed it down one by one into the kids lips, binding them together. The kid couldn’t scream or cry for help, or else he’d risk ripping the flesh on his lips.

The teachers found the kid and immediately knew the only kid sadistic enough to go through with such an act was none other than Sukuna.

“Did mouse witness you do that?” The therapist asked, genuinely intrigued by Sukuna’s narrative. For being a ruthless criminal, he was a wonderful historian.

“No. Why would I scare her like that?” Sukuna’s voice was tense as he eyed the therapist carefully, as if he was waiting for him to say the wrong thing.

The therapist clicks his tongue in surprise, and he looks like a deer in headlights. “Scare? No.. no, I thought you’d maybe just show off what you did for her.”

“I’m not the type to show off.” Sukuna answers flatly, and the therapist wonders if that’s the first time Sukuna’s lied during this session. He knows that Sukuna likes to show off. The warrants prove it.

“Anyways, I wore her down over the years. She didn’t speak to me until we were in sixth grade.” An eerie smile curls on Sukuna’s lip. “I can still remember her first word to me and how she said it…”

The therapist leaned in, curiosity getting best of him.

Sukuna smirks, knowing he has the therapist interested now. “Her first word to me was a plea. A word to show her undeniable want. Her first word to me was please.”

Bang! Bang Bang!

The therapist literally flinches out of his chair from the heavy knocks at the door.

“Ryomen! Your time is up!” The officer yelled on the other side of the door.

“Pity. I was beginning to have fun.” Sukuna remarked as he stood up from the couch. The shackles jingled as he walked toward the door, and the door buzzed, letting him out. “See you next week, doc.”

[inkskinned]

i love my therapist but i hate being in therapy. 10 minutes before my appointment, i'm in a meeting with my boss - we discuss my artistic choices; my boss recommends i artistically choose less. 10 minutes after therapy, i wash my hair and think about everything that was said, and then i have to switch it off, like a lamp, and go back to work again.

i was on a walk the other day and someone had the perfect combination of his cologne and whatever-else. it was almost exactly his scent. i fucking hate that. after all these years, i remember that? i tell my therapist - i feel like a fucking wolf. try telling a middle-aged blonde lady. oh i scented him on the air. i'm 30, and i'm having a panic attack over something that would be a plotline in the omegaverse.

what they don't tell you about mental illness is that if you are lucky enough to survive it into adulthood; it becomes a weird slice of your life. because you do, eventually, have to build a life. i realized in a panic somewhere around 22 - oh. i don't know what i'm fucking doing, because i always assumed i'd just go ahead and die. i didn't die, and i'm grateful for that, and i'm very happy about that choice. but it does mean that i am an adult in an apartment, living with my conditions side-by-side like. oh, that's my roommate, adhd. ignore the glass, bytheway, that's ocd.

so you pick your stupid life up by the scruff of the neck and you're, like glad for it (so much laughter and light and friends you would have never thought possible, when you were in the worst of it). but it feels so strange to be dancing around these odd little microcosms, these patchwork moments of your symptoms. if you have a panic attack at night, you still need to wake up and walk the dog in the morning. if your depression is making everything boring, well, you don't have any sick days left, and a job's not really supposed to be that exciting anyway. your ocd tears out each individual leg hair, and then, an hour later, you sigh, patch up the bloody bits, and go get dinner with friends. and the life is kitten-quiet, mewling and pathetic, but it's also like - it's yours, so you're fond of it.

and it's like - you're real. so you still enjoy pushing the shopping cart really fast and then riding on the back of it down an empty aisle. and you're not, like, so sick anymore that when you accidentally drop a mug you burst into tears (except for the days you do that. which are bad). and no, you're not allowed around certain items anymore. oops! but you've learned to be good about brushing your teeth most days of the week. and yeah sometimes in the middle of the day you have a little freak-out about how fucking unfair it all is, how fucking hard, how other people can just do this without having to fucking hurt the whole time. and then you sigh and force yourself to sit down and fucking journal about it so you can tell the nice middle-aged blonde woman yeah i had a hard day but i practiced grounding. you still sometimes want to burst out of your own skin, but you force yourself to eat kind-of healthy and to take your vitamins. you let yourself chop off all your hair in the sink in a dramatic poetry of control and relief - and you also have developed good hobbies that help you move your body more frequently. you feel helplessly behind, lost in the shuffle - but you also practice gratitude, taking stock of what you have garnered. because you're trying. even if you're never gonna be normal, you have something... close enough.

and the little kitten of your life, this mangy, starlit tigercub, this thing you expected to rot so young: in your arms, it turns itself over, belly-up. exposing this new soft part, all the organs and guts. like it's saying i trust you now. you won't give me up.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 4

Part 1 2 3 4 5

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: ayo i did it again (rambled). i have no idea where i went with this but it really wENT yknow, but hey you get fluff!!!!!. ALSO (im looking at you cristi) if it wasnt clear this is set, like, pre-show T_T just before ep 1 lmao (ily cristi im just going through it with my writing) | cross posted on ao3

tagging: @arabellasleopardcoat

You did not realize being made a spectacle would be as exhausting as it was. Truly, all you did as your prince brought you to the training quarters of the City Watch, was stand, force a smile and feel their gaze upon you as Daemon instructed them to roughhouse for your (but really his) entertainment. Yet, it felt like you had been running nonstop and only now found reprieve.

Perhaps it was because it was really your mind that was running with the thought of how you snubbed your twin. In truth, you knew Gwayne understood your actions, for he was really the only person who understood you, and yet that was precisely why it ate at you so much. How could you do such a thing to your brother?

At some point, Daemon is too distracted by his sparring soldiers to remember you were there. By the time they began to drink, you gave word to one of the guards and made your way back to the Keep yourself.

You head for your brother's chambers, set on setting things straight. You do not find him there however, and your mind begins to wander. Was he avoiding you? Was he cross?

Upon asking one of his servants, you find that he was tasked with duty from the Lord Hand. Part of you feels comforted by the answer, but then you wonder if the task had something to do with you. You try not to think about it as you head back to your own chambers.

You are ripped out of your train of thought when you hear your name called.

Queen Aemma stands across you, hand on her belly, smile on her lips, "have you come to worry on me, good sister?"

Your back straightens and you clasp your hands in front of you, "my queen. I-I-"

"I do hope not," she stretches, leaning back into her hands, "the last thing I want right now is to have yet another person try to tell me what is best for me and my babe."

You shake your head, turning to your feet, "the last thing I would do is impose my inexperience of child bearing upon you."

Aemma's face softens. She's seldom seen someone who looks as though they suffer more than her. "Excellent."

You lift your gaze.

"Come keep me company then and distract me with tales lacking child bearing."

You are taken aback by the invitation and watch the queen slowly waddle back into her quarters. You delay to realize you should be assisting then promptly rush up to her side. You offer her your arm and she gratefully takes it. She is exhausted by the time you reach her bed.

"Thank you," she sighs, wiping the sweat on her temple.

"Of course," you help her put her feet up. You look over your shoulder momentarily, "have you no one to call to? Shall I call for someone?"

"No," she waves you off, "I merely walked out of the room and looked out of the window for a while. I am fine."

You nod and pull away, fidgeting with your fingers, "is there something I might do for you?"

"Yes," she reaches for your arm, "sit."

So you do.

"And tell me, why on earth did Daemon bring you to the City Watch?"

You freeze upon hearing that.

There is a playful curiosity upon Aemma's features, but you no thin think she asks to embarrass you. Still, you open your mouth and begin to stutter, "h-how did you kno-w?"

She chuckles, leaning deeper into her pillow, "oh, my dear," she rubs her belly, "I am privy to all gossip in the Keep. Tis the only activity one such as I can do in my state. Incidentally, had the opposite been true, it is all the servants speak of—" she slowly reaches for you, pushing your hair back.

You are made acutely aware of the marks on your collar again.

"—how the fragile lamb tamed the ferocious dragon."

You chuckle dryly and stare at your lap. You pick at your nails, feeling your throat tighten, "I tame no one, my queen."

As Aemma looks at you, she thinks again she's not laid her eyes upon someone that looks more pained than herself. The sun was already setting, but the marks on your collarbones were still visible. She wonders if you at least enjoyed yourself when you received those marks. "Perhaps not yet."

You chuckle once more.

"He is stubborn and brash, but he is also loyal and passionate."

"Loyal to himself," you turn to her, "with a passion for deviance."

You are unnerved by the sudden call of your name. Your heart races at her misplaced familiarity.

This might be why you blurt out, "I am no fool."

She straightens up, "I did not say you were."

"I know I am feeble in form, but not in mind. I am a mere piece in someone else's game of chess, but every piece has its purpose, even pawns."

Aemma frowns. Her forehead curls, "and pawns can turn into the most powerful piece."

You stare at her belly.

"The Queen."

You do not tell her it is only true in board games.

"Does it frighten you?"

Your eyes quirk up to hers. Her violet eyes are much softer than Daemon's. She does not clarify, but the way in which she rubs her swollen stomach makes it clear to you what she meant. You rub your own as dread pricks through you, "I do not know how it is possible for anyone not to be frightened."

It is her turn to chuckle.

It perturbs you.

"I will not lie to you," she shifts in her spot, "there is no greater pain in the world than becoming a mother, I think..."

It is mortifying to hear, considering you know how many times Queen Aemma has conceived and given birth. How much more painful it must be, as she remains to have one child. You do not think all your years of pain could ever prepare you for such loss.

"... that can be the most gratifying."

You are taken aback when she reaches for your hand. Her palms are soft, just as her expression.

"I do not presume to know you, but I find that whatever pain I have is eclipsed by love I feel for my babe. Still, when the thought of childbirth gets too much, I retreat into something I loved before my babe."

Your brows furrow.

"Tapestries and tea time," she tilts her head, "and Viserys."

You do not know how to feel as she pulls away.

She rubs her forehead, "even speaking is exhausting when you are with child. Forgive me, but I think I would like to go to sleep now."

You shake your head and stand, "there is nothing to be forgiven. I will leave you to your own comforts," you curtsy.

You roam the candlelit halls as you digest the queen's words. You were on your way back to your chambers, then you remember your brother. You promptly head to his room, finding the door open. "Gwayne?"

Emerge two servants carrying a trunk, greeting you before walking off. Your brows furrow as you watch them. You turn back when you hear your name called.

Your twin walks over, still in his doublet and leather shoes. You begin to get nervous, "you're leaving?"

"Preparing to," he says, eyes falling on your collarbones, "the is still the matter of the tourney."

"Tourney?"

"The queen is set to give birth soon— you must not let that man dishonor you so," he quips through clenched teeth, pulling you into his room.

You are dragged inside and he releases you once you're in front of his bed. He grabs his blanket and drapes it on your shoulders. He gathers you hair and pulls it from underneath, "play dumb if you must."

You knit your brows.

"Bat your lashes at him to have your way."

You tighten the blanket around yourself, "I already have."

"To protect me," he tilts his head, "protect yourself, sister. Put yourself first, always."

You clench your jaw.

"He will be kinder if he believes you to be a bimbo."

You scoff, "must I do such a thing?"

Gwayne narrows his eyes, "he is shaming you purposefully out of spite—for me and our father."

The idea makes you queasy because you knew it was true. Your brother was sensible because he got his sense from you, and yet... you find yourself thinking that is it so farfetched for the prince to simply want to show you off proudly? Even in something like this, you were not even being thought of. "And acting a fool will save me from spite?"

He looks at you the way he did whenever you said something stupid. It offends you because it was not a stupid question. He speaks to you, as if you were four, "if he asks you to wear something compromising again, tell him all your dresses are being washed."

You chuckle dryly, "you honestly think he would believe such a blatant lie?"

"He need not have to," he scoffs, "it's not like he'll go through the trouble of inspecting your closet." He places a hand on your arm, "come. I will walk you to your room."

Something unpleasant bubbles up your throat as Gwayne leads you out. As you exit his chambers, you pull away and choke out, "do you think me a fool, devil?"

He sighs and rolls his eyes, "do not be-"

"Do you truly think that I am slowwitted and senseless?"

Your ears ring because of how says your name. You step back when he tries to take your arm again. Gwayne raises a finger and a brow, "I've had a long day. I do not wish to quarrel."

"And I have not?!" you quip, "answer the question!"

He says your name again, firmer, as though you were a petulant child.

"Just fucking tell me!" you snap.

"Gods!" he wipes his face, "you're acting fucking stupid, I'll tell you that!"

You scoff and shove him with all your might. It barely makes him recoil, but you get your point across, especially when you walk away.

Gwayne sighs and calls your name, following after you.

"I hate you!" you spit back, unwilling to turn back as you feel your eyes begin to water.

"I did not mean it," he calls, quickly coming up to your side, "why would you ask me something you clearly know is not-"

"Then why would you reduce me as such?" you stop in your tracks to glare at him.

Gwayne freezes and scowls back, "why do you think I tell you anything?"

"Stupidity will not save me, you fucking idiot," you blurt back, doing your best to hold back your tears.

"It will fucking save you from scheming rats," he grabs your arms and shakes you gently.

You shake your head as tears stream down your cheek.

"H-"

"Do not make me."

He purses his lips.

"You know I will do it if you tell me to," you mutter, "do not make me."

Guilt eats him whole as you weep. It never gets easier. You'd think that he'd be indifferent to it by now, but he knows the great effort you put in withholding your emotions. It hurts him even more, if anything. He sighs in defeat, dropping his head before wiping your cheeks. He attempts to hush you.

You only further fall apart, "I would be remembered as a stupid, dying girl."

He speaks your name, as if to correct you.

"Please don't leave," you mumble weakly.

"Listen to me-"

"No, promise me you won't le-"

"I am heir to Oldtown," he interrupts, "my place can never be at your side."

"So you forsake me now?"

"Listen," he speaks firmly, "you are my twin sister. There is nothing I have not shared with you, and you know this."

You look down for a moment then shake your head, "I wish you kept a few things to yourself..."

Gwayne releases a breath at your words. He leans down to look you in the eye, "says the woman who bares love bites on her neck for all to see."

You shove him away and tighten your arms around yourself, "ass. That's different."

He rolls his eyes, placing his hands on his hips, "how?"

"I did not chose this," you mutter.

His expression falls. He balls his hands into fists, "I would call our house to banner for you."

You scoff, looking away, "don't be ridiculous."

"An affront to my twin is worse than one to myself," he points a finger to the ground.

"I am his wife," you look back to him.

"And I am a man of honor," he proclaims, "if he kills me, then all will know I died protecting my sister from his malice."

"You idiot," you shake your head at him, "do you think the people would believe the words of a prince or a dead man?"

"A princess."

You stare at him.

"With a tender heart," he takes your arm, leading you off.

You take a moment before responding, "you mean a stupid, dying princess."

"You are not dying," he gives you a serious look.

"We are all dying."

He sighs, "a jolly thought."

"I am dying sooner than you howev-"

"No," he interrupts, "you will outlive me. I will die in battle."

You glare at him, "we cannot both be yearning for death, moron."

"I do not yearn no more than you do," he raises a brow.

You stare at him for a moment. He is in denial. You almost tell him that you still pray the same prayer he caught you praying all those nights ago. You do not.

"You will get better, sister," he says, "I simply won't allow you not to."

You look away, "ever imperious."

His expression slips for a moment as he imagines a world without his twin. It is so grotesque, he cannot bear it. He hides behind humor, "you mean charismatic, dashing, and valiant."

"And stupid."

"And incredibly well-spoken, witty, charming-"

"Shut it."

"-attractive, gallant, seemly—"

You bid each other good night with a smile. Neither of you knew how broken your spirits were after your conversation though, and you never will.

Your head lies heavy on your pillow. You are unsure if you are grateful or resentful that you sleep tonight by yourself.

Meanwhile, Daemon is startled awake by the words of his subordinate. He sets his cup of ale down and chuckles in disbelief, narrowing his eyes at one of the three men he had been drinking with, "what?"

The man clarifies, shifting in his seat adjacent his commander, "you've changed since being wed, my prince. For the better."

The prince chuckles yet again, "pray, tell."

Someone else answers for him, "you have been more gracious during drill training."

Daemon's brows quirk.

"And you have been more forgiving as of late," another blurts.

The first who spoke finally says, "you do not drink with us as often as before. This is the first since you've gotten married."

He scoffs and shakes his head, "so. You think I've grown soft?"

The three immediately straighten up and even manage to muster in unison, "no, commander."

Daemon downs his ale and shakes his head, "I'll show you soft."

The next morn, the queen's words repeat in your mind as you awaken. Retreat in what you love. What was it that you loved? You think of Gwayne, but he is set to leave, Alicent, but you do not wish to burden her with your woes... your father...

Oh... your mother. You could retreat in her.

You sit up and rub your face when your servants enter to wake you.

You lose your resolve to light a candle at the temple at when you realized you'd be dying girl retreating to her dead mother. Pathetic.

By the time your servants are helping you fix your hair, you ask them, "if you could do whatever you wanted for a day, what would you do?"

The servants turn to each other then break into giggles. One says, "I would spend a day with my Gwilym."

You watch them in the mirror as they squeal under their breath.

You turn to your nails. You cannot retreat into Daemon.

After they're finished squealing, the other speaks, "mmm. I might go foraging for fruits and flowers."

You lift your head upon hearing that.

"And if I had my pay that day, I'd buy myself some lemon cake."

Your lips part at the idea, "you absolute wit." You turn to her as much as you could as she fixed your hair, "what a brilliant idea."

She chuckles and curtsies, "thank you, milady."

By the time your ward comes, you're already at the door, eager to greet him.

He examines your smile. His brows knit and belly feels uneasy as you take his arm.

You narrow your eyes at his face, doing your best to distinguish who exactly you were face to face with. You forget if it was Arryk with the longer beard or Erryk. You mumble as you make a face, "Erryk?"

"Yes," he nods, feeling stomach rolls, "how are you, my princess?"

You grin, squeezing his steel clad arm as much as you could, "oh, how good of me to get it right. I am glad to have guessed well."

Erryk chuckles under his breath, "you wound me. Am I not set apart in your eyes?"

You stiffen at his expression. You mistake the softness in his eyes for hurt, which is why you release his arm and begin to apologize, "oh, ser. I do not mean to offend, I-"

Erryk raises his hands, "no, my lady. Twas a jest."

Your eyes widen at the clarification. You laugh awkwardly, "ah... apologies."

"Nay," he shakes his head, "I apologize. I do not wish to cause you discomfort."

You huff and give a curt nod, "then," you take his arm again, "I ask that you humor me today, ser Erryk."

His brows furrow. He is intrigued.

"I..." you trail off, gathering your resolve, "wish to go out and pick flowers today." you profess with a soft smile. You raise a finger, "I am am not a fussy passenger. I do not mind sitting in front or behind you on horseback, but I fear I do not know how to control a horse on my own very well," you look away in thought, "we do not have to go very far out of King's Landing, so if it is not possible to get a horse, I will not complain if we walk."

Erryk finds himself smiling as you continue to justify yourself.

"I would not take very long to pick flowers, but if I do," you turn back to him, "I would not refute you if you think we must away."

He nods at your words, "have you broken fast yet?"

You both walk off. You shake your head, "I have not. But I will be quick!"

He shakes his head, "my brother mentioned that you do not like eating alone. If it be agreeable with you, we can break fast together."

You stop in your tracks upon hearing this, "ser Arryk mentioned this?"

Erryk simply nods.

The thought pinches your heart, "it... it was a passing comment. I did not think it noteworthy."

His brows knit at your expression, "do not be so surprised. It is our duty to care for you."

Care for you. You turn to your feet, feeling overwhelmed with emotion. It takes a moment for you to comport yourself, but then you manage turn back at him and smile, "how the gods have blessed me."

His gut reacts to your smile. He releases a breath to calm himself, "we can pick flowers after breaking fast, my princess."

You gasp, "so you agree?!"

Erryk face falls in confusion.

"You would allow me to pick flowers?!" you pull away, nearly jumping up and down in excitement.

"I..." his mouth hangs low, "I do not allow you."

You tilt your head, chuckling in confusion.

"If you instructed me to bring you the moon, I would do my best to claim it for you."

You laugh. You laugh because you miss his sincerity, for it is unfamiliar. You laugh because you only know the kindness of your brother, who cherishes you dearly, yet ridicules you in the same breath. This is why you say, "do not mock me, ser. It is not a crime to enjoy picking flowers."

You expect him to reply the way your twin does: 'I did not say it was a crime,' but you are taken aback by the novelty of his response. Erryk says, "the crime lies with whom would mock such a gentle soul."

You are glad he does not wait for you to respond, because you did not know if you had anything to respond with.

Erryk is silent as you eat in the solar. At first, it was because he second guessed his offer to break fast with you, as it felt so obvious that he was overstepping. But then it was because he was enamored by you and the great many tales you share of eating with your family, picking flowers with your siblings, swimming in rivers with your brother. He did not expect such a temperate outpour from you. He tells himself that he must do all he can to preserve it.

He is selfish in wanting to forfeit a horse. He knows soon enough his brother will come to have his shift, and he wants to keep all your stories to himself; walking will make his time with you longer. At the same time, he fears your body might give in if you were to walk very far, so he settles that you ride on horseback and that he lead your horse on foot.

He is glad of his choice, for had he been on horseback with you, he would not have seen the way your face shone at the sight of the meadow upon reaching it. The moment is quickly fleeting however, and he soon jolts to catch you when you nearly leap off the horse.

Erryk helps you down and is soon forgotten as you run off to gather flowers.

He follows after you with no sense of urgency. He allows you to frolic to your hearts content while he slowly leads the horse towards your general direction.

"ERRYK!" you gasp in horror. It is so sudden, he releases his reins and runs towards you.

"My prin-"

"We do not have a basket!" you slap a hand on your forehead, "I am doomed."

He freezes at your words, debating if that is truly the cause of your distress.

"I am doomed to pick flowers only until my hands are full," you sigh and shake your head. You frown at him and point, "but just over there I see a hundred flowers I wish to bring back home with me."

Erryk's forehead curls but then he realizes you were serious. He finds himself chuckling before sighing in relief.

You scowl, "and you mock me again"

He chuckles louder, placing a hand on his breastplate, "I do not mock! I merely find amusement in such an issue so easily solved."

You scoff, "pray, tell how would you solve my issue, ser knows-a-lot?"

Erryk belly laughs. He shakes his head and offers his hand, "I will hold your flowers for you."

Any trace of offense instantly disappears. You perk and step forward, "oh! I have been blind!"

He tries to take the flowers from you but then he's frozen in place as you suddenly begin tucking in his beard.

"Indeed," you snicker, "blind as a bat."

You are both covered in flowers when you return to the Keep, him more than you, for Erryk's skill in securing flowers in people's hair was not nearly as good as yours. Most of what he had put in your brown hair had fallen when you reached the gates. The rest are threatened off by the wind as he helps you down the horse. His on the other hand—

You chuckle, catching a flower that slipped from your head, placing it by Erryk's ear, "they should call you the knight of flowers, ser."

He bows, "I would be honored to be known as such."

"Oh, gods."

You both turn upon hearing the voice.

Gwayne looks at Erryk as though he was stabbed on the side, then turns to you, "you've victimized the poor man."

You roll your eyes.

"-held him captive and tortured him with pretty things," your twin points a finger as he walks towards you, "no wonder you could not be found. You were doing evil things."

You shove your brother, but he dodges.

He makes a face, "laggardly fellow."

You turn to Erryk then point at your brother, "why do you delay? Seize him at once!"

Gwayne gasps, placing a hand on his chest, "behold: the cruel princess."

Your upper lip curls, "the ugly thing insults your lady," you shoot Erryk a look, "apprehend him!"

Erryk watches the two of you bicker, unsure if he should, in fact, apprehend Ser Gwayne.

When he does not, your brother says again, "behold!" the auburn haired man gestures vaguely, "your cruelty inspires no loyalty from you— aw!"

You snatch your his ear and pull him down. You drag your brother all the way to a crate and force him down, "I'll show you cruel."

"Do not think— AW!" Gwayne clutches his cheek when you slap him.

"Silence or your torture will be more severe," you hiss, promptly placing flowers you still had on hand on his head.

Though Gwayne grumbles the whole time, he makes no attempt to save himself from the proclaimed torture. Very truly, he loathed it so when you made a dolly out of him, but after you sobbed so bitterly when he fled you one instance when you were still children, he could never stomach the thought of attempting such a thing again.

And— he catches the way your lips tug upward, you only ever smiled the way you did now when you were torturing him. Still, he cannot help his scowl when you grin at him to behold your work.

You pinch his cheeks, "my lovely twin."

Gwayne groans and swats your hands away, glaring as he stands, "I abhor you, sister."

You giggle and take his arm, "and I do so love deeply, my brother."

"Unhand me," he says flatly.

"You cannot command a princess, you lowly lord," you snuggle into his arm.

Gwayne turns to Erryk, "retrieve your thing."

Erryk opens his mouth, but then catches the look on your face. He is powerless against your pup-like expression. He clears his throat, "my shift has ended, ser. I will notify my brother at once to see what can be done."

Gwayne's jaw drops.

You throw your head back in a laughter.

He scoffs, turning to you, "how uselessly loyal you've made him."

"What is the meaning of this?"

You three turn. You pull away from your brother upon seeing Daemon. He is covered in dirt, and blood, and anger.

He glares at you, "why is it I find you here twice, wife?" He scrutinizes the flowers on Erryk's beard and hair, then quips harshly as he turns to your brother, "should you not be waiting on me?"

"Why do you think I am here?" you mutter, not missing a beat. You walk over to him, and he tries to intimidate you with his expression.

Gwayne and Erryk are ready to act but then Daemon's face falters when you grab your skirt and try to wipe some of the dirt off his face.

The truth, of course, is that you were not waiting on your husband; him finding you here was simply a coincidence, but the genuine concern that clouds your features makes it the lie indistinguishable.

He is so wholly bewildered by your gentle touch, he is unable to react.

You release your skirt and wipe his cheek with your long sleeve, "I shall have a bath drawn for you." You take his hand, "come, I-"

He pulls out of your grasp.

You expect him to lash out on you. He does not.

"I have a council meeting to attend."

A line forms between your brows when catch the blood on his armor, "but you are hurt."

Daemon is stoic. He stares at the lone flower by your ear, "it is not mine."

You release a soft breath and nod. A gust of wind makes you aware of the bud by your temple. You pull the flower out of your hair and stare at it for a moment. You show it to Daemon, who spares but a moment's glance at it. He involuntarily pulls his head back when you place the flower in his hair.

You are unfazed by the look he gives you. You secure the flower then swipe the dirt on his chin, "I will make sure your bath is finished after your meeting."

It is your turn to be taken aback. You freeze when he catches your wrist before you pull away. "Wait for me," he mumbles.

You raise your brows.

He does not repeat himself.

You nod slowly, "I shall... after having the servants dra-"

"Your princess requires you to accomplish a task for her," Daemon looks past you, looking between Erryk and Gwayne. He grits his teeth, pulling you toward him, "do it."

You look over your shoulder, "please inst-"

"They know what to do, wife," Daemon blocks your vision, "tis I your attentions must be fixed upon."

[inkedbybarnes]

anything

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: bucky is determined to take care of you while you're sick.

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: mentions of insecurities, mentions of illnesses (but vaguely described), fluffy ahh shit bc why not, usage of pet names such as baby and doll. bucky being stubbornly sweet (it is indeed, a warning), lowercase writing.

i've been sick the past few days hence the creation of this fic. idk why my mood drops when i'm sick... once again, this is too fluffy even for my own good but i warned you and you're reading it still anyway. 🤨 haha jk, i hope you enjoy this one! 🩷

dividers by @cafekitsune!

reblogs, comments, and likes are highly appreciated! thank you. ♡

“can you please let me in, baby?"

that was the fifth time bucky had asked the same question, never giving up on his mission to take care of you after learning from jarvis – out of all people... or robots? – that you were sick.

“bucky, i promise, i'm fine. stop trying to break the door,” you answered, your clogged nose not helping as you sounded horrible even with a concrete wall separating you from him. “go and tell steve that you're joining the mission. you can't withdraw yourself just because i'm—achoo!”

your nose began to leak, and you were now distracted with the need to find the tissue box that used to be on your bed. you didn't hear the door clicking open as well as the heavy footsteps of a certain soldier walking towards you.

“just because you're what? sick?”

you jumped, feeling the edge of the bed sink with his weight. you quickly grabbed the tissue box that was mysteriously thrown under the bed before facing bucky with the duvet covering most of your body.

“how did you open the door?”

bucky shrugged. “i broke the doorknob. you didn't say anything about breaking doorknobs.”

you sighed, not winning this argument with bucky. “you shouldn't be here, bucky. you're supposed to be preparing for a mission tomorrow, not babysitting me!”

“and let you go through this on your own? tough chance, doll. i'm your boyfriend for fuck's sake, and don't tell me that you're worried about getting me sick because we both know i'm immune," he argued, reaching out and pulling the blanket down enough to reveal your face. “are you really upset that i want to take care of you? you should be demanding things from me, baby. instead you've been hiding from me.”

“because i don't need anything, bucky. i can handle myself just fine." you huffed, knowing you wanted his attention and care so badly. remembering your face was exposed, you felt insecure again. you dragged the cover back up and turned away. “i also don't want you to see me like this.”

“like what?"

“like a mess," you muttered underneath the sheets. “you've never seen me like this before, and i swear i am the worst when i'm sick. you don't have to see me like this, okay? i don't want you to.”

you felt silly. it was completely normal to get sick, but you hated how extreme your body would act out whenever an illness would attack you. you'd always sound and look like you were fighting a battle in hell alone. the way your mind would take an entire flip and drag you to your lowest point didn't help either. so, not only were you feeling physically horrible, you were also struggling mentally.

“a mess? what mess?” he asked, lifting the cover to join you underneath it which caught you off guard. you were entirely exposed to his eyes now. “there's my girl. where's the mess that you're talking about, huh?”

with the little amount of energy left in you, you brought your hands up to cover your face. he could see how much of a mess you were now, far from the dream you've painted since the day you dated him. now, you were nothing but a nightmare of your reality.

“don't you dare hide from me. i haven't seen you all day and it's driving me insane," he complained, pulling your hands away from yourself. he brought his thumb to your teary eyes, wiping the tears away before they could fall. “i can't believe you're hiding from me just because you think i can't handle seeing you sick. what did you think i'd do once i saw you like this?”

you sniffed, hesitation holding you back from telling him the truth. it's only been three months since you've started dating bucky, and you were still in that stage where you'd constantly try impress him.

you weren't faking yourself, no. however, you still did your best to only show your good side and tuck away your insecurities. unfortunately, you had to get sick too soon and have to risk bucky seeing you this way.

“you thought i'd leave you? won't like you anymore? get turned off or something?”

you nodded, knowing that was exactly what went through your head and a bit pissed that he was able to read your mind without actually having the power to do so.

bucky's eyes softened at your confession, letting out a soft sigh as he saw how badly you were beating yourself up.

“if it's because of how you look right now, then it's true. you do look different," he answered, your chest tightening. “your eyes lost their glow, you're frowning more often, your eyes are all puffy, you are definitely grumpier than usual, your lips are dry and chapped from—”

“okay, i get it, bucky! you don't have to rub it in my fa—”

“but i won't be doing whatever is on your mind. you're sick, doll. it'll affect you. it's normal. hell, i look even worse when i used to get sick, but you? you still look so fucking lovely." he held your face gently, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “even then, i don't give a fuck on how messy you can get. i'm your boyfriend. i should be taking care of you, helping you feel better, and bringing back the glow in your eyes. please, baby. let me take care of you.”

this time, you were looking back at him. "you mean it?"

"of course I mean it," he replied softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "i love you, doll. i don't care how you look like right now. you could look like a swamp monster and be sick as a dog, and i would still think that you are the most beautiful woman for me."

you giggled softly, his words filling you with warmth and reassurance. you felt so lucky to have a man who truly loved you and handled your insecurities with such understanding and care, and even sillier for thinking he'd leave you for such reasons.

“thank you. that really made me feel better," you told him, your arms slowly creeping forward to hold him. “i'm sorry for hiding. i was just scared to turn you off or anything.”

“are you kidding? i'm trying my best not to hold you down and kiss you all over. i haven't even hugged you for a day,” bucky said, a pout on the verge of forming on his face.

“it hasn't even been a day, bucky. now, who's dramatic?" you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “and you're supposed to be on a mission tomorrow! are you really not going?”

“when i could be here taking care of you?” he asked, as if the answer was already obvious. “the others can handle it. my main priority is to do anything you want and make you feel better.”

“anything?”

he smiled, leaning down to let your lips meet softly. "anything."

( a lil bonus < 3 )

“what is that smell?”

sam, steve, and natasha entered the compound after a quick briefing for their mission tomorrow. they joined tony and clint who were having a casual conversation in the living room about the best burrito in town.

the kitchen was an open space, the aroma of whatever bucky was cooking spreading all around the nearby rooms.

sam didn't hesitate to come closer and inspect the kitchen, finding the entire counter lined up with various spices and plates that bucky filled with his dishes.

“what's the occasion? did i miss something?" sam asked, grabbing a fork to take a little taste until bucky slapped his hand away. "ow! what was that for?"

"hands off." bucky warned, frowning at sam. “that's not for you, wilson."

“not even a nibble? come on, man. it smells amazing!”

their usual bickering caught the attention of the other avengers, immediately joining them in the kitchen which annoyed bucky even more when he saw them eyeing the food he made.

"before any of you try to ask, no. this is not for any of you."

"who's it even for?" natasha asked, the least interested to have a taste, but was curious either way.

bucky answered with your name. "she's sick."

"what? since when?" clint asked, worry flashing across his face. "can we do anything?"

bucky glanced up before hesitantly answering. "well.. she did say she wanted to watch a movie after eating."

clint snapped his fingers and smiled. "i'm on it."

"i'll get jarvis to check on her vitals every hour and create a diagnosis," tony said, already tapping on his smart watch. "assuming she wouldn't be too comfortable letting the entire team know what's going on with her body, i'll just let you receive the updates. just update me with what you can, yeah?"

"i'll talk to fury and let you both have a week free from work," steve offered. "she needs the rest and she needs you."

"oh, i'll handle fury. he can't say no to his favourite," natasha said with a smug smile. "tell her i'll bring her all her favourite snacks once we're back from our mission, and that she better be back to full health so we can go out together."

bucky nodded, chest warming with the genuine concern they shared. he was excited to let you know how loved and deserving of all this you were.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[in-som-niyah]

hi!! i’m literally so obsessed with your work i’ve been scrolling your profile all day 😭😭 i was wondering if you could write something about jason x fem!reader getting married? mostly fluff but ill never say no to some good smut

a/n: "i’m literally so obsessed with your work i’ve been scrolling your profile all day" WHAT DO YOU MEANNNNNNNN STOP UR GONNA MAKE ME CRY THIS IS EVERYTHING TO ME HELLO??? like wdym u like my work so much u spend so much time on my blog i love u gimme kiss

anyway this prompt is *chefs kiss* bc we all know Big Bad Jason Todd™ is such a loverboy softie but most of all he loves hard.

I think that before he met you he never thought that he would be so enamoured with someone who also feels the same way about him at the same time, that also wants to marry him??? He thinks he's too flawed and violent and abrasive for someone to even like being around him. So marrying him??? haha you're funny.

But after YEARS (yes, it takes him years of a committed relationship with you to fully trust that you actually like being with him for an extended period of time, let alone forever) of handling his emotions, outbursts and injuries with grace while still giving him a whack at the back of his head when he's being stupid, he considers marrying you.

Remember, Jason Todd is fucking scared himself, and he doesn't want to scare you off with a ring that literally promises forever with him. Though he loves you, he wants you to be happy in the end. Will you be happy with him in the end?

It takes a lot of mental and emotional strength to overcome these fears that swirl around his head.

When he does get over it though, he's so attentive yet sneaky when picking your ring. There's a luxury jewellery store on the way to your favourite clothing store at the mall, and he literally takes you to the whole mall just to pass by the store. He always looks to see what your eyes catch, what you like and don't like. Doesn't matter if he ends up spending hundreds since you're at the mall so much, he'll do it just to make sure he gets exactly what you want.

Jason also uses his extensive detective training to find out what cut and stone you want on the ring. He's ok with diamonds, but would want something more unique and personal for his love. He wants something that always reflects you, no matter the occasion.

Side note: once the ring comes he would definitely put together a photo album of pics he took of the ring in plain sight while you're completely oblivious just for shits and giggles

Finally, when it's time to pop the question, he doesn't do flashy and big productions with lights and letters and petals and stuff.

He would be dancing in the kitchen with you on a lazy Saturday, eating pancakes and bacon and when the song ends just casually asks "if I were to ask you, would you marry me?" Now he looks collected as he lovingly smiles down at you but is actually shitting himself until you say that you would in fact marry him if he asked. Then he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the most perfect, detailed, gorgeous ring you could ever ask for while properly asking you to marry him. Cue the waterworks (from both of you) and the celebratory make-out sesh.

Y'all definitely fucking the night of the proposal though

I feel like it would be realllllly possessive since yk you literally belong to him now

"tell me who this pussy belongs to, pretty girl" Knowing full well you can't answer because your eyes have already rolled back mid-stroke and you're babbling incoherently. It does, however, put a smug ass smirk on his face.

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

a/n pt2 bc i can't shut up: i hope u like it!!! i wasn't in the mood to write anything smutty but idk im in my soft era for jason i just want his stoic self to love me :(((((

[yuikira]

𓈒࣪ The "you" shaped spot ₊✧

warnings: pure fluff, one implication of having sex, bits of crying, hurt/comfort, ooc kinich, very self indulgent, i apologize for mistakes.

GOD THE ANGUISH I FEEL SINCE THERE HAVE BEEN NO GOOD KINICH FICS RECENTLY

m so sorry mualani i love you but i hate you coz you're so shipped w kinich it makes me cry in anguish burn in despair and writhe in pain..coz hes mine. not yours. never yours (guys am i mentally ill)

"y/n?"

well, this was strange. if he still remembers how to read the time correctly, it's 3:30 pm and you should be at home today. yet he couldn't hear a single sound from the shared household, implying you were, infact, not at home. huh? that was wholly strange. you both had no urgent tasks for today, so where were you gone? your date was in 1½ hrs time, so he didn't have a tinge of worry about it. he knew you'd return by that time, even if you were gone somewhere. but where did you go anyway? to the balcony? xilonen's workshop? ororon's fields? mavuika's chambers? ifa's vet?

it was almost 5:30 by the time his patience finally ran out. you were nowhere to be seen, noone knew your whereabouts, your departure time was unconfirmed, and you didn't even tell him about it. he tried to distract away the thoughts that eerily haunted his mind, 'what if she's in danger? kidnapped? or perhaps, dead?'

he'd get nothing out of overthinking. finally, it all clicked to him where you could perhaps be found.

shit, and was his intuition right. he could hear the sounds of violent sobs drifting off in the sea breeze, some sniffles and pieces of incoherent speech here and there. they were yours.

"y/n? y/n!"

he gently held your shoulders and tried to pry off your palms from your face. is it too late? at last as he finally managed to do so, he saw your tinged red eyes, indicating you've been crying for a lot of time.

"what happened to you? babe? are you okay? please tell me- what happened to you? please, please please-"

"im fine, ichi, its alright"

"you dont look alright at all. what happened to you? who did this to you? this sadness?"

"oh it's just..um..this is embarassing.."

"no tell me, please baby, tell me. if you don't tell me and start crying again, i might just start crying too. please tell me"

"um.. it's...basically, these past few days I've felt like... you're.. avoiding me. like...everytime i try to approach you, you just- you just..shut me down. push me away. it maybe because I'm not living upto your expectations, but these past few days I've been feeling like you spend time with mualani more than me. it hurts so bad when my inner thoughts whisper to me, haunting me by saying stuff like you're giving the same lovesick smile to her as you do to me, and falling for her and- mfhm?!"

oh by gods, the way kinich just tenderly held you yet kissed constrastingly different, almost making you feel dizzy and lightheaded. you knew you weren't in the right state of mind after crying and struggling with your thoughts for so long, and his intoxicating kiss didn't help the matter at all.

at last when he finally pulls his lips away from yours, a tinge of bemused smile rests on his slightly chapped lips. him? in love with mualani? he'd rather give away his body to ajaw and keep himself locked in a small piece of memory inside your heart, so that as long as your heart beats, you both never get seperated. that was the best deal for him.

"look, im sorry I didn't tell you earlier and I'm sorry if I don't live upto your expectations and or are falling for mualani, its completely alright and-"

"Are you insane?"

"huh?"

"You are the words etched into my heart. You are the blood in my veins. You are the god I was born to worship. Who am I to commit such blasphemy?"

"i-ichi-?"

"You are the knowledge I seek. The love I pray for. The reason of my existence. And you still think I'd leave you?"

"wait no ichi i-"

"The symphony of my beating heart belongs to you. Only you. For long as I'm alive, its bound to beat for you. I love you, y/n. I love you so much."

Teardrops began to fall from your eyes again as he finished speaking. He'd never, ever been good with words, reflecting his love and care with his actions instead. Although he's trying to be more and more vocal for you, you'd never expected this from him.

That was the moment you realized, his heart was 'you' shaped, with every single bit of his sanity dedicated to you.

"And no, I.. I'm so sorry if i made you feel as if I'm avoiding you. I'm infact not. It's just the fact that.. I'd been trying to plan a surprise for you for our 4th anniversary, but..looks like I wasn't so slick with it. I'm sorry"

"No, no, it's fine, it's fine. I misunderstood, no need to apologise" you shook your head while holding one of his hands, the other wiping your tears off as he gently places a soft kiss on your forehead.

"It's partially my fault, for making you feel this way. Let's go home, yeah? I'll try to make it up to you. Brownies and making love later?"

You smiled. "I love you so much, it's hard to put into words like you did"

"I love you more. You're forever my girl"

[nadvs]

push and pull (part two) (end)

pairing twin!rafe x female reader x twin!zach

summary life felt complicated enough when you started falling for zach. then you meet rafe. he’s the complete opposite of his twin brother, but he captures your attention just the same.

content warnings alcohol use, mental illness, mentions of parental abandonment

» intro post | part one

» masterlist

When Zach wakes up the next morning, he fully understands the term hangxiety.

His temples pound as he stares at his ceiling. At some point last night, he slipped from tipsy into drunk.

Thankfully, he didn’t get so wasted that he’s forgetting anything. But then again, that means every time he made an ass of himself is a memory etched into his brain.

He remembers welcoming his date. Having a decent time with her. Walking her downstairs. Her lips on his cheek when she kissed him goodbye. Feeling like something was missing, and then, that something wasn’t missing anymore when you came downstairs to let him in.

And he remembers looking over at you across the party. Wishing he was next to you. Feeling crappy for thinking about you while he was with another girl. Knowing he was idiot for thinking he could ignore his feelings for you and date someone else.

Talking to you in the elevator. Crap.

He buries his head into his pillow. Why did he blabber to you like that? His brother would kill him if he knew what he said. He probably already wants to kill him for loudly proclaiming how much he loves him in the hallway. Rafe’s not one for any sort of PDA.

Zach picks up his phone to text you: Trauma dumping to you was just a dream I had, right? Please tell me it didn’t actually happen.

You reply minutes later: you mean in the elevator? definitely a dream.

Despite his embarrassment, he smiles at his screen.

He replies: Sorry about that.

You send another text: it’s no problem. i’m guessing you have a pretty bad hangover.

He replies: Everything hurts.

You text back: make sure to hydrate and rest ok?

Zach smiles again. He can’t help but daydream about you coming over, taking care of him, cuddling him.

He’s worried about the consequences of things going wrong if he got into a relationship with you. But God, does he want you.

He replies: Ok :)

When he eventually leaves his bedroom, he sees Rafe lounging on the couch, still in his pajamas. Surprisingly, his brother actually tidied up.

It gives him hope that Rafe really is trying to improve himself. He’s had his fair share of meltdowns and Zach’s had a front row seat to all of them, watching his brother break down into tears, spiralling into his toxic, self-hating thoughts.

Once he calms down, every time, Rafe talks about how he knows he’s not a good person, that he wants to be better. But then, he sticks to his bad habits. He never gets the help he needs, even though Zach encourages him to.

Nonetheless, Zach never saw the bad in Rafe that he’s so adamant is there. At his worst, he can be violent, drunkenly throwing punches at parties, but Zach knows it’s a result of his emotional scars.

“Shit,” Rafe chuckles when he sees Zach. “You’re alive.”

“Barely.” Zach sinks onto the other side of the couch, closing his eyes as he tilts his head back. “You cleaned up for once.”

“Did you just say for once? I’m always cleaning up, asshole,” he mutters, making Zach laugh.

“I hope the neighbors don’t hate us,” Zach says. “The party got kinda loud last night.”

“This guy’s thinking about the neighbors,” Rafe says with a scoff. “The girl you were with looked like she was into you. Bet she would’ve stayed the night.”

“Maybe,” Zach says with a shrug, thinking back to his date.

Then, Rafe says he thinks you might be into him, too, considering he caught you staring. And Zach’s pulse picks up.

He loves and hates hearing that. Because if you really do like him back, it’s exciting, but that makes it even more crushing that he can’t pursue anything.

“Maybe,” Zach echoes.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Rafe laughs, thinking about how good you looked last night. “I’d jump on that if I had the chance.”

“But you don’t have the chance,” Zach murmurs. “If you love me, you won’t jump on any of my friends.”

Zach sits up and looks at his brother.

“By the way, you never said you love me back last night. I’m still waiting.”

“Yeah,” Rafe snorts. “You can keep waiting.”

────୨ৎ────

On Monday morning, you finally get a response from a student you found online who’s selling a used textbook you need.

You’d rather not go by yourself, so you text the group chat: i need to go to a stranger’s house to buy a textbook tonight. is anyone down to tag along so i’m not alone?

To your relief, Zach texts the group a minute later: I got you :)

That evening, you’re knocking on his front door. Instead of Zach, though, Rafe answers.

“Hi,” you say. “Is Zach around? He’s supposed to come with me to pick a textbook up.”

“Haven’t heard him since he got home,” he says, turning to look up the stairs. “I’ll get him.”

A minute later, Rafe comes down, keys jingling in his hand.

“He’s sleeping,” he says. “I can take you. I was about to go for a drive anyway.”

“Cool,” you say. “Thanks.”

You watch him lean over to slip on his sneakers, his frame broad and tall. It’s surprising that Zach, who’s usually reliable, forgot about your plans. And that Rafe, who you’ve come to known as hot and cold, is willing to help you.

He locks the door behind him before you make your way down the hallway together.

“He must be tired after practice,” you say, well aware of the team’s training schedule.

“Yeah, when he’s asleep, he’s out.”

You smirk to yourself, imagining Zach adorably bundled up in his bed. You already know he’s going to apologize profusely once he realizes he accidentally bailed on you.

“It’s only ten minutes away,” you tell Rafe. “I just wanted someone with me since it’s some random guy I don’t know selling it.”

“Zach didn’t offer to just buy a new one for you?” he asks.

“No,” you laugh, entering the elevator. “Why would he?”

Rafe doesn’t get Zach sometimes. It’s insane that he’s not into you, that he sleeps through plans with you, that he doesn’t offer to buy you something that probably only costs a few hundred dollars.

“Want me to?” Rafe asks. You have to laugh.

“It’s okay,” you say. “I already set all this up. Do you always offer to buy girls school supplies?”

He bites his tongue. If Zach wasn’t so adamant about m not being allowed to try to hook up with you, he’d flirt and say yes, he buys all kinds of things for beautiful girls.

“Not always,” he settles for.

The elevator doors open. You enter the parking garage and follow Rafe to his car, settling into the cushioned passenger seat. He starts the engine, then offers the cable hooked up his radio to you.

“Already know you have good taste,” Rafe says. You smile, plugging your phone in.

You’re Zach’s friend, but he figures you can be his friend, too. Because he wants to get to know what he can about you, to flatter you and joke with you and talk to you, even though the night won’t be ending with you in his bed. He has fun with you. He’ll take what he can get.

He backs out of his parking spot, putting his hand against the back of your headrest as he looks through the rear window. You gaze up at his profile, taking in just how handsome he is, how nice his cologne smells.

Rafe doesn’t know the song you put on, but he likes it. He turns forward in his seat, driving out of the garage.

You chat about your days and even though it’s small-talk, it doesn’t feel like it. There’s an ease with Rafe that you can’t really compare to with anyone else.

Still, he’s kind of intimidating, but you naturally want to keep challenging this way he makes you feel, cracking the wall he has up.

When you reach the house at the end of a dark street, Rafe parks in the driveway, turns his key and takes it out of ignition.

“You can wait here,” you offer.

“Nah,” he mumbles. He unbuckles his seatbelt. “I’m not letting you go alone.”

With Rafe standing behind you as you knock on the front door, the feeling of him protecting you is intoxicating, making your heart pound harder.

The door swings open and you greet the man you’ve been messaging. He’s holding the textbook you need and when you offer him four twenties, he looks through the bills and shakes his head.

“We said $100,” he says.

“No,” you reply. “$80. You said $80 was good.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I have the texts to prove it,” you laugh in disbelief.

“Really, man?” Rafe mutters. “Just give her the book.”

“$100,” he repeats.

“Forget it,” Rafe says. He steps forward, roughly taking your money out of his hand and pulling you by the waist. “I’ll just get you a new one.”

“No, wait,” the guy calls. “$80’s fine.”

“Get fucked,” Rafe mutters. You follow him to the car, still mentally catching up to what just happened. “Trying to scam you over twenty dollars. What a joke.”

You settle in the car, feeling Rafe’s warm, big hand curl your fingers open so he can give you your money back.

He’s fuming, beyond pissed off that someone would try to trick you like that. He’s glad you didn’t come by yourself to have to deal with this idiot alone. And he’s not sure how Zach would’ve handled it.

“How much is a new book?” he asks.

“Like, $250,” you tell him.

“I got it covered, alright?” he says. “Give me your phone.”

You comply, still a little jarred but appreciating how quickly he swept in to help you. You watch him enter digits, call himself to get your number, then hang up.

He returns your phone and takes his out, taps on your number, and quickly opens up a bank app.

“You really don’t have to,” you say.

“It’s fine.”

Within a minute, he sends you $250. It’s bizarre how he’s acting like that much money is nothing. Like he’s giving you change he owes you.

Rafe exhales slowly, starting his car again, coming down from the daze. This happens a lot. It’s like he blacks out when he gives in to his impulses.

But what can he do? He has a weak spot for you and he hates the idea of someone doing you wrong, of him not helping you when he’s totally capable of it.

He scratches his forehead. Zach’s words resonate in his head, telling him he needs to cool down and think before he does things. Sometimes his temper flares with no warning.

He’s sure he came off way too intense. He doesn’t know how to apologize for it. Before he can speak, you do.

“Can you come with me every time I have to buy something?” you say lightheartedly. It eases some of the tension in his chest.

“Was that too much?” he says, tone low.

You smile to yourself. You wouldn’t call it too much. He seems like he’s an intense, passionate person. Beneath the surface, Rafe feels more than he lets on.

“You didn’t let a guy con me, then you bought me a $250 book,” you reply with a laugh. “Trust me, you’re good. Thank you.”

Your phone buzzes with a text from Zach as you back out of the driveway. Crap I’m so sorry. I don’t even remember falling asleep. Did you come over?

You reply: all good! i figured you were exhausted. rafe went with me.

“Guess who’s awake,” you say, the smile apparent in your tone. Rafe glances over at your profile as you text back.

He hates this about himself, the envy that pushes him to be sure that Zach is so much better than him. That every girl, if given the chance, would pick his brother over him.

“So, you were going to go for a drive?” you say, tucking your phone away. Because of his kind gestures tonight, you’re pretty sure that he likes hanging out with you. “Want company?”

Rafe taps his hand against the steering wheel. Even if this is just platonic, he doesn’t want you to leave his car.

“If I can pick the music,” he says.

“You said I had good taste.”

“Mine’s better.”

You laugh, and because he held your waist just a few minutes ago, you don’t feel apprehensive to touch him. You nudge his shoulder. He smirks.

An hour goes by like a minute. When Rafe and you part, your cheeks hurt from how much you’ve been smiling and laughing with him.

You talked together nonstop, touching on the most random subjects, finding similarities and differences. You have a deep crush on him. There’s no denying it.

When Rafe watches you step out of his car, he realizes that this isn’t just attraction like he’s used to. He feels like he knows you. And he likes you. It’s exciting and scary.

When Rafe makes it home, Zach is in the kitchen, the whole loft smelling like delicious food.

“You actually remembered how to get home?” Zach teases over the sound of ingredients sizzling in a pan.

“Lost track of time,” Rafe says. He settles on a barstool as Zach stands at the range, trying not to burn dinner.

Zach is glad his back is to his brother, because when Rafe tells him that he was with you that entire time, driving around and talking, his eyebrows furrow in anger and jealousy before he can subdue it.

“But before you lose your shit,” Rafe adds, “it was all friendly, okay?”

“Right,” Zach mumbles. He stares down at the pan, trying to breathe through his prickly frustration. He’s unbelievably mad at himself for falling asleep after practice.

You can do whatever you want, he knows that, but he feels that even though it’s just as a friend, you’re his, not Rafe’s. And his brother getting to spend time with you feels painfully unfair.

────୨ৎ────

The bright stadium lights pool over the deep green soccer field. It’s a cool evening, perfect for a match.

Cold seeps in through your jeans as you sit on the metal bench on the sideline. You have your phone at the ready to film the team as they rush the field for a home game.

You’ve grown to love your job. You found great friends, the TikTok account is earning more traction, and you’ve started to genuinely enjoy coming out to games and cheering on your school’s team.

It’s been almost a week since your night with Rafe. You haven’t seen him or Zach since. You welcome the distance. Liking them both is ridiculously confusing.

Minutes pass. The crowd is getting louder. The team still isn’t out on the field. Your dad runs a tight ship, so it’s weird that they’re late.

You head into the stadium tunnel towards the locker room, curiosity nagging you. A group of players are standing outside the door and you approach Chance.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

“Something’s up with Zach,” Chance tells you. Alarm rushes through you and you step into the locker room without a second thought.

Zach’s sitting on the bench by his locker, hunched over, surrounded by your dad, the team’s medic, and a few other players.

“Is everything okay?” you ask.

Zach looks up at you. His eyes are sunken, his lips parted. And then, he loses consciousness.

When his eyelids flutter open, the brightness of the room is so painful that he has to squint.

“He’s up,” he hears. It’s you. He hasn’t heard your voice in a while. He misses it.

He slowly comes to, realizing he’s in a hospital bed. You’re sitting to his left. The team medic is standing at the end of the bed with a doctor. He’s hooked up to an IV.

“What happened?” he rasps.

“You’re dehydrated,” the medic explains, leaning over to hand a plastic cup of water to Zach. “You’re at Trinity Hospital. You’re okay. Drink.”

Zach weakly picks it up, downing the cool water, his throat feeling raw. He rolls his head to look at you again. He knows it’s wrong, but he’s relieved that you look so concerned for him. That you’re here.

The doctor introduces herself, then explains that Zach was unconscious for so long that she’d prefer to keep him overnight to monitor him.

The news makes everything in him twist with worry and frustration. He just wants to go home. He doesn’t want Rafe to spiral.

“Okay,” he says. “I’m alright, though?”

“I’m not worried,” the doctor replies. “I just want to be sure you’re in good shape before I send you home.”

Within a few minutes, the doctor leaves the room. Then, the medic encourages Zach to drink more fluids, calls the coach to update him, and asks if you want to head back together now that you’re sure Zach’s okay.

You politely decline. You’re too worried to leave him alone so fast. And shortly after, it’s just you two in the room, listening to the beeps of Zach’s pulse.

“Dehydrated?” you say playfully, but still worried. “What the hell, Cameron?”

“I know,” he says with a smile. He regrets going hard at the gym today. He’s sure that’s what did it. “Rookie move.”

“I specifically told you to hydrate like, two days ago.”

Zach’s laugh is boyish. He reaches for your hand and squeezes. You remind yourself it’s likely nothing more than a friendly gesture.

“That was hangover advice,” he says. His thumb strokes over the back of your hand.

“It was life advice, actually.” You inhale slowly. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

He lets go of your hand, remembering you can hear his pulse right now and not wanting to risk you witnessing it beat faster.

“It was way more than two days ago, by the way,” he says. He threads his fingers through his hair, suddenly self-conscious of how bad he must look right now. “Where’ve you been?”

You look down at your lap. You’ve been declining all the invitations to hang out in the group chat because the past few days have been so confusing.

Seeing Zach with another girl was painful, and then, you realized just how unimportant you felt to him when he slept through your plans, even though it was by mistake. You need time and space to stop liking him before you can hang out again.

“School’s been kicking my ass,” you lie.

“Do you need help?” he asks. He’d do anything to have you around again.

“Leave it to you to be in a hospital bed asking if you can help,” you mumble. Zach laughs. You try and fail not to fawn over his perfect smile.

“Did I faint in front of everybody?” he says, fixing his hair again.

“Not everybody,” you half-laugh. “But, seriously, everyone was really worried. We all care about you a lot.”

His heart warms. He may be in the hospital, but right now, he’s grateful for having people who care about him. It’s all he ever wanted.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Zach says softly. “And for staying.”

You nod. You were so worried that you told your dad you were going with the paramedics when they arrived, not even considering that you had work to do, that Zach was already taken care of.

“Of course,” you reply. “You said you don’t like being alone, remember? In that dream you had?”

Zach huffs a laugh and looks away, embarrassed as he thinks about that night in the elevator, but still appreciative.

“Did anyone call my brother?” he asks.

“I texted him that I’m with you at the hospital. He hasn’t replied yet.”

Zach nods and thanks you. He tries not to fixate on the fact that you have Rafe’s number. He looks at the clock hanging on the wall to see it’s late in the evening. He figures Rafe’s out with friends or with a girl, not paying attention to his phone.

He wishes he could just talk to him. With every second that passes, he worries more and more about Rafe’s reaction to him being here.

“I should’ve grabbed your phone from the locker room so you could talk to him directly,” you say regretfully. “But I told Chance to get your things for you after the game. Is there anyone else I should contact?”

Admittedly, you’re bracing yourself for him to mention the girl from the other night. Or any girl, really. But he only shakes his head no.

A nurse comes in to remind you that visiting hours are up soon. Zach sits up, visibly on edge, asking her when he can have visitors tomorrow. She tells him 9 a.m.

Knowing he won’t be able to see his brother in person tonight makes him anxious.

After the nurse leaves, Zach frantically asks if he can send a voice-note to Rafe on your phone. You open the conversation and hand your phone to Zach, noticing the nervous way he’s chewing on his lip.

“Hey,” he says into the speaker. “It’s nothing. I passed out from dehydration and I’m at Trinity and they’re keeping me overnight just to be sure I’m good, but the doctor’s not worried.”

His eyes flit to you and he swallows hard.

“This is nothing like the last time, okay? I know your mind’s gonna go there and this is not even close,” he continues. “You can come see me at nine tomorrow. And you better bring me food.”

Zach ends the recording, sends it, and gives you back your phone.

“Thanks,” he breathes. You nod, your eyebrows knitting in confusion and worry.

“Sure,” you say. “Is there anything I can do?”

Zach scratches the back of his neck.

“When he answers, please tell him that you saw for yourself that I’m okay,” he says. “He might be a little freaked out.”

You agree, not wanting to pry, and start to collect your things. There’s no television in the room and you feel bad that Zach’ll be left alone with nothing to entertain him. You want to help.

You tell him you’ll be right back, then rush downstairs at a vending machine you saw when you came in. After, you drop by the gift shop. It’s closed, the flowers and balloons locked up, but you’re still able to pick up a book sitting on a rack.

You leave behind more than enough cash for the book on the counter and go back to Zach’s room.

“Snacks,” you say breathlessly when you enter, dropping the bags of chips and candy and the paperback on the bed, “and a book. Hopefully, this’ll keep you entertained. And don’t tell my dad about the junk food. You know how he is about an athlete’s diet.”

Zach smiles at you, his eyes soft. With everything you’ve done tonight, you could simply be showing what a good friend you are, but what if you feel something for him, too?

The mention of his coach is reminder enough of why he doesn’t pursue this. It could get messy. But maybe he should be more like his brother. Taking risks. Allowing himself to do what he wants to do.

“I should go,” you sigh, looking at the clock. “Feel better, okay? We don’t stand a chance of winning without you.”

He laughs, his eyes lingering on you.

“Thanks,” Zach says. You turn to leave. He stops you with a gentle, “Hey.”

You stop, turning back to look at him. Zach takes you in, how good he feels when you’re around, how there’s still a little bit of worry written into your cute features.

He won’t tell you that he wants to you to be his girlfriend. Not like this, when he’s hooked up to monitors, stuck in a bed. He’ll do it when he’s out of here. He’ll do it when he can hold your face in his hands and tell you how much you mean to him.

“Seriously, thank you,” he tells you. “You’re amazing.” You smile at him again. If only he knew how much his words mean to you.

“You’re welcome,” you say.

You’re pacing through the parking lot when your phone buzzes. It’s Rafe calling you. You answer quickly. He says your name, his voice strained.

“I’m here. Is it too late to see him?”

“Yeah, visiting hours are over. I’m just leaving now,” you say, looking around the dark lot in case you can spot him. “But, honestly, he’s okay.”

“Does he…” Rafe pauses. “I think I see you.”

You approach each other under the starry sky, meeting by a line of parked cars.

His eyes are glossy. He’s been crying. No wonder Zach was so worried. He must have known the effect this would have on his brother. There’s more to this than you realize.

“Hi,” you say softly, ending the call. “It’s okay. He’s acting totally like himself.”

“He doesn’t have his phone?”

“No,” you say. “But I made sure someone’ll pick his stuff up for him.”

“What happened?”

“Before the game tonight, he was in the locker room and he looked really tired,” you explain. “He passed out, but he was already sitting and someone caught him, so he didn’t hit his head or anything. They have him on an IV and drinking lots of fluids.”

“Okay,” he mutters. “Fuck. I was at a bar and I wasn’t checking my phone… I got into a cab as fast as I could.”

“It’s okay,” you console him. “He’s good. He was more worried about you than himself.”

Rafe sighs, hands on his hips as he looks down and paces back and forth, hair hanging over his head. You can hear him panting.

“He was worried about me?”

“Yeah.”

“What’d he say?” Rafe asks the question the same tense way he did the night of the party. He’s so closed off, clearly upset at the thought of you knowing anything he doesn’t want you to know.

“I heard the voice-note he sent you,” you admit, “and he said you might be freaked out, but he didn’t tell me anything else. I didn’t ask. It’s not my business.”

Rafe chews on his lip the same nervous way Zach does. For once, you see a similarity between them.

His breathing gets even shallower. He rests his hands on the rear window of the van parked next to him. His body curls forward. His skin is flushed.

You step a little closer, searching his face in the light of the lamps lining the parking lot. He’s distraught.

“Rafe,” you say quietly.

His stare is on the ground, his chest heaving now. Something bad has been triggered in him.

“Hey,” you say.

“You can go home now,” he mutters breathlessly.

“I’m not leaving you like this,” you say. You take a risk, placing a hand on his back, feeling it rise and fall quickly.

“I think you’re having a panic attack,” you say evenly. “I get that this is scary, but I promise you, everything’s okay. Zach is okay.”

Rafe’s chest is tight. His veins are made of ice. He feels like punching something. He hates this familiar loss of control, this shock of the world crumbling around him with no warning.

Yet while he thought that he’d hate someone touching him like this, that he’d hate being so vulnerable, he actually feels a little better.

You continue to rub his back, sweetly and tenderly. The touches he shares with girls are never like this. They’re always superficial, fuelled by lust. But this feels like real, sincere care.

“You took a cab here?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he rasps.

“Did you talk to the driver?”

“What?”

“Did you?” you say. “What kind of car was it?”

It’s all in an effort to distract him, and while Rafe stammers his way through his answers about the driver and the car and the bar he was at, you notice his breathing start to even out.

Minutes later, his heart isn’t racing as fast. His chest isn’t as tight. He can think clearer.

He’s embarrassed, but relieved you were here to talk him down before he ran into the hospital and demanded to see his brother. He now realizes how bad that could’ve gone.

“I don’t…” he stammers. He doesn’t know how to say that this doesn’t happen all that often, that this is a piece of him he typically buries deep from everyone.

“What?”

“You probably think I’m crazy.” Saying the word out loud hurts more than he expected. It’s what he’s felt all his life, that something isn’t wired right in his brain.

“No. I get it,” you say. You shake your head. “I mean, I don’t know what happened, but… I’m guessing he was in the hospital for something before, right?”

Rafe meets your eyes, straightening.

“I get why you’re freaked out,” you say. “I would be, too. Memories can mess with us.”

The way you just calmed him down, the sympathy in your tone, the alcohol swimming in his system are what push him to actually be honest with someone for once in a long time.

“We almost lost him,” he admits. “A long time ago.”

Your face falls in sorrow, eyes searching his face. He looks down at the ground, too uncomfortable to meet your gaze again.

“I almost lost him,” Rafe mumbles, his voice thin. Because, really, he knows he would’ve felt the loss the hardest. His brother is the most important person in his life. Always has been.

And to lose him, someone so irreplaceable, someone he was with from the moment he was a living thing, would kill him. Zach’s right, even though he’s joking, that Rafe doesn’t tell him he loves him enough.

“I’m so sorry,” you say. “How old were you?”

“Fourteen,” Rafe says.

It was mere months after their mother abandoned them, saying she couldn’t stay with their father anymore, that she did everything she could do as a mom, that she was done.

It left a hole in Rafe that he feels every day. If Zach feels it, he does an incredible job hiding it.

He still doesn’t know what the final straw was. Why fourteen years of her sons’ lives was enough for her. How could a parent decide that they had enough of their kids forever?

She wasn’t the best mom, unpredictable and erratic, but he loved her. There had to be something wrong with her mind for her to act like that. To leave. Something that Rafe is sure skipped Zach and was passed on to him.

“That’s so young,” you say sadly.

“He was really sick for a while.” Rafe’s heart twists thinking about it.

How a freak case of pneumonia had Zach bedridden, his lungs fighting to keep breathing. How mad Rafe was at his brother, as if he did it on purpose. How sure he was that in some twisted way, his mother’s sudden abandonment triggered it.

He still regrets how he acted when Zach was discharged. He couldn’t talk to him for days. He was too angry for scaring him into thinking he was going to lose his best friend, his anchor.

“How long?” you ask.

“Weeks,” Rafe tells you. “And you know Zach. He kept telling everyone he was fine. Even as a kid, he didn’t want people to worry about him.”

“He is like that, isn’t he?” you say with a soft chuckle. Since you met Zach, you quickly learned he dismisses any notion of needing any sort of help. “But I promise, this isn’t one of those cases. I saw for myself. He’s good. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

Rafe nods quickly, finally looking at you.

“You’ll see him tomorrow,” you say with a small smile, sad but touched that he opened up to you like this. “Until then, just try to relax.”

Rafe loves the feeling of your hand on him. He can’t remember the last time he loved someone’s touch. If he ever even did.

He’s keeping his promise to Zach. He won’t hook up with you. Because he wants more than that. He wants to know you and for you to know him. He wants you to stay the night, every night. He wants you to be his.

And he needs to be sure you don’t feel anything for his brother.

“Are you and him…” He swallows hard. “Is there anything there?”

Your forehead crinkles in confusion. Zach had told you that his brother was his best friend. You’re sure he would’ve told him if he felt something for you.

If he has to ask, Zach must not talk about you much at all. You’re nothing but a friend to him. Although you do have feelings for him, you were right to be apprehensive from the start. He doesn’t like you like that.

“No,” you finally say.

Rafe nods. At least there’s no unrequited feelings on either side. He must have been reading into things, imagining you looking at his brother a certain way.

“You wanna grab some food?” Rafe asks impulsively.

You agree. Right now, there’s nothing else you’d rather do.

Rafe’s been on a handful of dates before, but sitting across from you at a quiet late-night diner, sobering up, getting to know you more and more makes him feel like he’s living in a dream.

He’s never felt this way about a girl before. Scared in a good way. Slowly, he opens up little by little, peeling back layers of the wall he’s been hiding behind for years.

He shares what happened with his mom. How Zach was the strong one, while Rafe acted out and made his life hell. You take in every word, seeing just how much guilt and shame and pain he carries around.

You open up, too, sharing things you don’t tell many people. He’s a good listener, and the eyes you thought didn’t have much hope behind them at first aren’t cold at all by the end of the night.

It’s one in the morning when you part ways. Rafe shares a cab with you, making sure you get dropped off first, watching you step through the front door.

Everything in him wants to invite you to his place, but things are going to be different with you. He won’t rush into numbing himself with sex like he always does, because he refuses to be numb or absent or checked out with you in any way.

────୨ৎ────

“What kind of grown man forgets to drink water?”

Zach looks up from his orange juice to see Rafe walking into his hospital room.

He chuckles, asking Rafe not to give him shit for this because you already did. The mention of your name makes Rafe’s heart feel lighter in this tense moment.

Because of how good it felt to be so open with you last night, expressing just how important Zach is to him, remembering everything they’d gone through together, Rafe doesn’t shy away from leaning over to hug his brother, who stiffens in his bed.

“Uh, good morning to you, too?” Zach laughs. “Is this a hug? What the hell? Who are you?”

“I love you, too,” Rafe mumbles, pulling back and holding up a paper bag of breakfast for him. “And I got you your food, princess.”

“You try eating hospital food,” Zach replies, taking the bag, feeling ravenous.

Rafe settles on the chair, remembering his brother at fourteen, picking apart at the food they served him with a look of disgust, yet telling the nurses ‘it’s good, thank you’ when they asked if he was enjoying his meal.

Rafe urged his dad to bring his brother home-cooked food almost every day of his hospital stay. It was one of the little ways he showed up for Zach, taking care of him instead of the other way around for once.

“What’d the doctor say?” Rafe asks. “Do you feel better?”

“She hasn’t come to see me yet, but I feel totally fine.” Zach digs into his breakfast. “How are you?”

Rafe looks down at his lap, sighing before he speaks.

“I freaked out,” Rafe admits. Zach stills. “She told me you said I would and you were right. But, man… she knew exactly what to do.”

“It happened when you were with her?” Zach knows what Rafe’s breakdowns look like. He has full-blown panic attacks. He’s nearly inconsolable. He wonders how jarring that must have been for you.

“Out in the parking lot,” he says. “It was just too much. All that shit came rushing back.”

Rafe shrugs, defeated. Sometimes, he’s able to give into the fact that he can do nothing but surrender to the chaos in his mind. He felt safe doing it in front of you last night. He felt safe every second he was with you.

“Are you okay now?” Zach asks. He notices the hint of a smile in Rafe’s face. A brightness he hasn’t seen in him in a long time.

“Yeah,” Rafe says. “I gotta ask you something, though.”

“What?”

“Does ‘off limits’ mean I can’t date her?”

“Date her?” Zach repeats, in disbelief. “You want to date her? Like, commit to her? You don’t commit to anyone.”

Rafe breathes a chuckle, pursing his lips.

“Well, now, I want to.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

Rafe looks like he got rid of a ten-ton weight that was sitting on his shoulders. He’s relaxed. He’s content. Zach can’t remember the last time he saw him like this.

Zach became hyperaware of other people’s emotions at a young age. When their parents would argue, he saw what it did to Rafe, who would shut down and lash out. Zach would distract his brother in every way he could.

Then their mom left and it became ten times harder to keep Rafe steady. But Zach did it and he never stopped trying. Because helping others, putting their feelings first, really does make Zach happy.

But right now, he feels really far from happy.

He looks down at his food. He had it all planned out. He’d get in his best clothes, find a nice place to take you, give you a whole speech about how he hasn’t stopped thinking about you for days and how happy you make him and how happy he could make you.

“She feels the same way? Did something happen between you?” Zach asks. His chest is a hole. A pit.

“Nothing happened,” Rafe says, scratching the back of his neck.

It was nearly impossible for Rafe not to give into the impulse to hold your hand in the booth you sat at together last night and tell you how pretty you are and how much fun he has with you.

But he really does want to be a better person. He wants to think before he acts. And that means checking in with Zach that he’s okay with this, considering how tense he is about Rafe getting involved with his friends.

“But I think she might like me, too,” Rafe says. “And I made sure she’s not into you. I guess I was just reading into stuff before.”

That’s the moment Zach’s heart breaks. He licks his lips, his stare low. So, you would’ve just rejected him.

“You really like her?” he asks after a moment.

“Yeah,” Rafe says.

“Why?”

“Don’t make me be corny,” he groans.

Zach’s head is pounding. He wants to be mad at Rafe. But he had so many opportunities to tell him that he likes you, and he was too chicken to admit it. And now, his brother is falling for you. And he looks so happy doing it.

“You’re gonna have to be corny,” Zach says. “I need to be sure you’re not just messing around.”

Rafe sighs. It’s always Zach doing this, gushing over a girl, freaking out over if she hasn’t texted him back, getting all nervous before a date. Rafe used to tease him about it. He gets it now, though.

“You suck,” Rafe scoffs, tensing up. It’s hard for him to talk like this, but he forces the words out. “I don’t know. I like who I am when I’m around her. And it’s… when she’s in the room, everything’s better, you know?”

“Yeah,” Zach says. He knows. He feels the exact same way.

“Is that corny enough for you?” Rafe says with a scoff. “Are you cool with this or no?”

Zach chews his food slowly only to buy time before he has to speak again. He’s trying to act unbothered and it’s working, considering how in the clouds Rafe seems.

He has no idea that Zach is falling for you. Because he’s too busy doing it, too.

He meets his brother’s eyes. He takes a deep breath. And, because Rafe’s happiness has always been more important to him than his own, he gives him his blessing.

“Go for it,” Zach says. “And don’t hurt her.”

He’s never felt so bitter. He hates that he hopes you’ll have a change of heart. He hates that he feels like he’d treat you better. He hates all of this. But he stays silent.

────୨ৎ────

You’re having a late breakfast when Zach replies to your text asking to keep you updated.

Doctor cleared me. I’m home and I got my stuff from Chance. Thanks for everything.

His message is cold compared to how he usually texts. But maybe he’s just tired from the hospital stay.

You gaze out your window, thinking about everything that happened last night. Rafe isn’t as different from Zach as you first thought. Behind his hard exterior, he’s sensitive and gentle and so badly wants to be loved.

He confessed to feeling like something was missing in him since he can remember. The look in his eyes when you told him that to you, he seems perfectly whole, is one you won’t forget.

Being with him for hours was a wonderful haze. You didn’t want to part. He made you feel heard. It’s a joy that you’ve been lacking for a long time.

Minutes later, Rafe texts you asking if he can take you out to dinner tonight. You smile at your screen. You love how you don’t have to wonder about if he wants you.

The restaurant he drives you to is lavish and elegant. Rafe is unbelievably handsome across the table over the candlelight, his dark button-up making his eyes look all the more blue. Your stomach is full of butterflies, yet a sense of calm fills you when you’re with him.

You pick up where you left off, conversation flowing without any effort. He looks at you like you put the stars in the sky. You’re sure you look at him the same way.

When Rafe pulls the car up to your place, in an effort to keep you from leaving right away, he presses his palm against the back of your hand.

“Did you have a good time?” he asks, tone low, adorably nervous.

“Of course. Did you?”

Rafe chuckles at the question. Good doesn’t begin to cover it.

“You’re…” he begins.

“I’m what?” you laugh.

He squeezes your hand gently, turning it so he can lace his fingers with yours. The contact is warm, his ring hard but smooth against your skin. Your heart pounds in your ears as he stares at you.

“Beautiful,” he says. “In every way.”

His tone is sincere and firm. He says it like it’s a fact.

“And I want to keep doing this,” he says. “Seeing you. If you want to keep seeing me, too.”

“I do,” you say. When he leans forward, his kiss is soft but hungry, making your mind spin.

Zach fakes a headache when Rafe gets home. All he needs to hear is that the date went well. He doesn’t want the details.

────୨ৎ────

You’re wrapped in Rafe’s arms, your back flush against his chest, as music and chatter float through the air around you.

You’re settled on his couch, talking with your friends as the party rages. Rafe’s still getting used to what it means to be a boyfriend, tense and quiet around your friends, but he’d get used to anything if it meant making you happy.

You’ve only been dating a few weeks, but he’s sure if this isn’t love, he’s damn close to it. Aside from his brother, you’re his best friend.

You smile when you feel Rafe’s lips press against the side of your neck. He’s ridiculously affectionate, touching you whenever he can, spoiling you, whispering sweet things to you all the time. He’s completely unguarded.

Zach’s in the kitchen, as far away from you as he physically can be. After the hospital, he hasn’t been himself at all. You can tell he’s trying to be, though, forcing smiles around you.

It makes no sense. He called you amazing that night. But, then, he pulled away. It’s like he’s mad at you for dating his brother, but he refuses to admit it.

You’ve asked him multiple times if things are good between you. He reassured you over and over that they are.

Maybe someone else would believe him, but after you pined for him for so long, you can read when he’s trying to hide that he’s upset. At parties, at casual get-togethers, even at work when you’re making content for the team, he’s absent-minded and disinterested.

And whatever’s wrong, he prefers to hold inside.

Nonetheless, while your feelings for Zach have faded, you genuinely hope he’s happy and that you can be friends with him again one day.

The next morning, you wake up in Rafe’s bed. His arm is around your waist, his breath warm against your back. He’s still snoozing when you slip out of bed to get water.

Zach’s sitting at the kitchen island, staring down at his coffee. It’s almost funny how just over three months ago, you were here for the first time, yearning for Zach to give you a hint that he liked you. Now, you’re falling for Rafe.

“Morning,” you say kindly.

Zach looks up from his coffee. His smile doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey.”

You open the fridge, the awful feeling he’s been giving you lately sitting heavy on your heart. He makes you feel unwelcome, which is something you never expected from him.

“Just getting some water,” you say, searching through the shelves. “He’s definitely gonna wake up with a headache.”

Zach tenses. You’re doing for Rafe what he daydreamed you doing for him. Sharing a bed with him, nursing his hangover, touching him and smiling at him and giving him what Zach would die for.

You look so pretty in the morning, your bedhead adorable, your pajamas complimenting your figure. Why won’t his heart just catch up with his mind? He keeps telling himself to get over you.

He notices that you have Rafe’s ring on your finger. He used to imagine you wearing his things. He’d love to see you in his team hoodie. But he never will.

In another world, you’re in this kitchen as his girlfriend, talking about last night’s party, sharing kisses and laughs. But not in this world.

“I never asked you,” you say, your back to him, “how was that book I got you?”

You hope it serves as a reminder for how much you did for him and how much you care about him. It hurts, the way he’s been keeping you at a distance.

Late at night, as your mind drifts away from you when you try to fall asleep, you’ve considered the possibility of Zach being upset because he’s jealous of Rafe and wants to be with you.

But Rafe told you he checked with Zach to make sure your relationship was okay with him and he even said he didn’t feel anything for you. Maybe Zach thinks you’re not good enough for his brother and he’s too nice to actually say it out loud.

“Good,” Zach says.

You grab two water bottles and close the fridge door. One word is all he’s willing to say to you.

You can’t do it again. You can’t ask him for the hundredth time if you did something wrong, just for him to say you didn’t and he’s sorry that he made you feel like you did.

You leave him alone in the kitchen, padding up the stairs. Zach looks down at his coffee again. His eyes are starting to burn with tears.

He wants to remind his brother that they agreed they wouldn’t let people overstay. And you being here for even one night feels like overstaying. He can’t have you and every time he’s reminded of that, it hurts.

He can’t stop thinking about that night in the elevator and wishing that instead of drunkenly rambling about his brother, he rambled about his feelings for you. At least then, everything would have been out in the open long before you really got to know Rafe.

The girl he met through the video messaged him last night, asking if he was up to hang out again. She’s cute and nice. But she’s not you. And it’d be wrong to pursue someone just to numb the pain of not having you.

That’s all he wants. You. And because he was such a coward, he’ll never have you. Maybe at some point, he had a chance. Maybe you would have grown feelings for him if he was honest with you.

But you seem happy. So does Rafe, who actually wants hold you and kiss you in public. He was never like that with any other girl.

Zach realizes that while he was always so sure he coped with everything that life hurled at them better than Rafe, he wasn’t paying attention to how destructive he is to himself. His martyrdom was never a virtue.

He’s too late. He self-sabotaged. He has nobody to blame for his aching loneliness but himself. That’s the most heartbreaking part of this whole thing.

Rafe’s hair is tousled, his smile lazy when you come back to bed.

“Thought you left me,” he murmurs tiredly into your hair, pulling you tight against his warm body. You smile, your cheek pressed against his chest, breathing in his comforting scent.

Rafe’s sure you can feel his pulse on your cheek. He feels like you own every beat of his heart.

“I wouldn’t leave you,” you tell him.

The tension from what happened downstairs leaves your system. You swallow down the tears that threatened to fall when you left the kitchen.

You plant a kiss on Rafe’s chest. You know where you’re wanted. And you’re happiest staying there.

(the end)

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[purpleyoonn]

The Line Between Love and War 12

C H A P T E R 1 2: PTD D1 AND OVERSTIMULATION

“It is said that the night sky is made up of tiny wishes that humans were never able to fulfill. That the stars only became bright by the fulfillment of those wishes. In your eyes, the stars that shine never seemed real, your childhood wishes dark and dim as you grow. But now, now you understand the twinkle in their eyes as they look down at you.”

Summary: Your experiences told you that soulmates were something you would never have the pleasure of having; something not given to you because of who you are, despite the soulmark that resides on your inner left wrist. During your solo trip to Los Angeles, you find out that you are more than capable, that your soulmates had been waiting for you for a long time, and would not be letting you go anytime soon.

Genre: soulmate au, bts au, idol bts, polyamory relationship, eventual smut

Paring: Idol!BTS x autistic!mc

Status: Ongoing (randomly updated)

Warnings: mental illness, talk of disability, lots of angst, miscommunication, feelings of depression, feelings of isolation, polyamory bts, stalking, dangerous behavior, eventual smut, 

Chapter Warnings: the concert, overstimulation, shut downs, not much, lots of feelings,

Taglist: @azazel-nyx​​​  @yuzon3​​​ @hannahdinse8​​​ @quirkybtsarmy​​​ @mageprincess7​​​  @fluffy-canada-pancakes​​​ @suckerforv​​​ @chaoticthingpizza​​​ @drissteele​​​ @carolinexkpop​​​ @avadakadabra93​​​ @lachimolala22019​​​  @justaweird0​​​ @singukieee​​​  @welcometomyworld13​​​ @toughbook​​​ @kimana122​​​ @kpopmultistantrashsstuff​​​ @0funsite0​​ @joyless-living​​ @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered​ @elliott-calls​​ @psychosupernatural​​

Masterlist // Chapter 11 // Chapter 13

————————————————–

Previously on The Line Between Love and War:

“Alright then. We well let Sejin and Seungho know. For now, I would appreciate if I could have some pre-concert kisses from my littlest mate.” Namjoon reached his arms out, pouting his lip a little knowing it would cause you to laugh at him. 

You struggle to get yourself out of Hobi and Taehyung’s embrace, who noticeably tightened their grip once Namjoon opened his arms. 

“Heyyyy, not nice!” You whine, finally pulling yourself away and falling into Namjoon’s arms. 

“But we want pre-concert kisses too!” Taehyung whined back, making you laugh again, hiding your face in Namjoon’s neck.

You could already hear Army beginning to enter the arena, voices and screams echoing as the pre-concert videos started to play on the big screens. Taehyung was sitting with you, having finished getting ready first. He was in the middle of making sure you were okay being in the security gates in front of everyone else. He knew how loud noises made you feel. 

“Don’t worry Tae! I’ve got the headphones that Yoongi gave me.” You smiled wide at him, hoping that would reassure your stressed-looking mate. It didn’t reassure him at all though. He opened his mouth to say something else but was cut off by Seungho.

“Come on, Y/n. We need to get you to your seat before the boys start.” Seungho gives Taehyung an apologetic glance and nod before he starts to lead you out of the room. But before you can leave, you turn around and quickly give each of the boys a hug, not wanting to kiss them in case it ruins the make up the make-up artists spent so long on. 

“Good luck! I’m so excited!” You tell the last part to Seungho as you hold your hands up to your chest, your fists shaking in excitement. 

You went from traveling about a week early to experience Los Angeles by yourself because you couldn’t get any tickets to now having seven soulmates and being able to attend not just one, but all four of the PTD La concerts. Your entire life literally changed at the blink of any eye, or well, more like running into a wall. 

“This is your first concert, correct?” Seungho asked you, not remembering if you’ve attended anything before. 

“Yes!” You exclaimed back, your fists still shaking as you make it to the stairs that will get you to the ground floor and into the security gates in front of the stage. There was a good maybe ten feet between the security gates for the floor seats and the stage where the boys would be performing.

Hobi explained it to you that you would have a seat in the section right in front of the edge of the stage, and that it wouldn’t be close to the floor seats where Army is seated. 

They were worried to say the least. While they loved Army, and trusted them with you, they also knew there were some “fans” who were not happy that they found their last soulmate, and that it wasn’t any of them. They wanted you to be safe, which was why they wanted you up with their family in the box. Obviously, due to your fear of heights, they had to figure something else out, wanting you to experience their concert like an Army. 

Seungho escorts you to the seat set aside but you don’t sit down, to excited and pumped up. You stood watching the stage, taking everything in. It seemed way different than it did earlier before sound check. The entire atmosphere was different. You could feel the energy and excitement of every single Army coming in and finding their seats. Some even running down to the 100’s section. 

What caught your eye though was the people who had soundcheck coming back down to the floor section, all running towards you. You startled, Seungho moving directly in front of you once he caught the movement of the crowd. You held onto his arm before letting go just as quickly, not knowing if he was comfortable with your touch. 

Despite your aversion to touch, you felt safe with him; you just didn’t know if he also had an aversion to touch and you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. 

However, a single, subtle nod from him let you know your actions were okay, holding onto his arm again as you try to peak over or around his broad shoulders to see the group of Armies still running your way. You didn’t know if it was because you were directly in front of the stage or what, but seeing a group of men and women running towards you scared the crap out of you.

Now you understand how celebrities feel when fans spot them out and about, without security with them. 

“Stay behind me please, Y/n.” Seungho told you, feeling you trying to peek around him. He had a feeling they were rushing for you, trying to get close to the barrier in front of you. He had been watching your social media, following the discussions and posts about you. You were well liked by a lot of people, and also not so liked by some. He didn’t know which it was coming for you tonight, and he didn’t like it. 

You could hear your name being called; pictures being taken of you. It was weird and seemed a bit unreal, just like earlier when you did the Instagram live. You could feel some other members of the boys’ security team moving to help Seungho.

“Seungho, I think they are just excited. I don’t think they’ll hurt me. I have you to help protect me. Plus, there is about five feet between my seat and the barrier.” You were not going to lie, you were freaking out. But you didn’t want Seungho or the boys to have to worry about you the entire time, and if Seungho continued to try and hide you from Army, you knew that would happen. 

He looked back at you, and seeing how serious you were, only moved a couple inches to the left, still in front of you but not necessarily hiding you. Taking a deep breath, and trying to hide your nervous stimming, you looked at Army. 

“Hi guys! Please enjoy the concert! The boys have worked super hard and are so excited to see you guys again.” You spoke loudly, not wanting to yell in Seungho’s ears as he still stood close. 

“Y/n! What song are you excited for?”

“Y/n! Have you completed the bond yet?”

“Who is your bias?”

You ignored the second question, and the others like it that were being yelled your way, instead, you tried to answer some of the questions, but didn’t want to make the night about yourself. This night was about the boys, not you. 

“Please guys, the concert is about to start!” You decided to move back to your seat and not stand in front of the barrier anymore. 

You were now actively stimming, your body trying to help you feel more comfortable with the attention and new experiences. Your fists were clenched in front of you, shaking fast back and forth. It was a stim you’ve been doing since you were a kid, something you did when you got really excited or happy. You tried not to, despite how much you needed to, because you always felt embarrassed when doing that particular stim. You had been made fun of before for doing it, so instead you rocked your body forwards and backwards slowly. 

It took a couple more minutes before you could hear the intro starting, music slowly becoming louder until the boys came on stage from below. It also took the same amount of time for you to become completely overwhelmed and overstimulated. Despite your headphones, the music was loud and seemed to be louder than the screams behind you. The lights were flashing and the movement of the boys on stage had you practically shutting down. The stares you could feel on your back didn’t help, either.

You tried hard not to though, even though you know you needed it. Your boys needed this more. This was the first concert for them since the pandemic started and the went into the army. You knew they were happy being back on stage after so long and didn’t want to ruin anything for them. You wanted them to see you happy and not having any issues. You didn’t want them to worry. 

You could feel the sting from your nails digging into your palm as you clenched your hands. Your voice gone as you tried to show some kind of emotion resembling happiness or awe on your face. You didn’t need Seungho trying to bring you back into the dressing room and alerting everyone that something was wrong. 

So, you spent the rest of the concert rocking back and forth and mouthing along to all the songs the boys sang. Your nails were practically stuck in your palm and you were stuck in your head. You could tell the cord connecting your mouth and brain wasn’t connected anymore and didn’t know when it would again.

You just wanted Jungkook to hold you and rub your back again but figured you probably wouldn’t get that tonight. They would probably be too pumped up with adrenal after the concert to do anything other than want to celebrate with army like normal. 

You could probably get away with cuddling up to Yoongi’s sweatshirt again as you laid in your shared bed. You didn’t want to bother them when they shared this excitement and happiness with army after so long. The last thing you wanted was to be a burden. 

-*-*-

Despite being completely overstimulated, you thought the concert was amazing. You don’t think you would go to one again, but you could see why so many people always praised your soulmates’ concerts and performance skills. 

You waited in the dressing room as the last notes of the last song play out throughout the stadium speakers. Seungho had thought it a safety issue to exit with the rest of army to try and make it backstage. So, he had taken you back during the second to last song. 

You still haven’t spoken a word, and Seungho could tell something was wrong. Your facial expression was vacant and it seemed as though your eyes were glazed over as you stared down at the small table in front of you. He was worried. 

You almost didn’t notice the arrival of your soulmates, mind gone to the stimulation you felt. 

“Hey baby! Did you have fun?” Jin came up and sat next to you on the loveseat, securing the spot next to you before anyone else. It was a couple of hours until his birthday and he was feeling the excitement of having his birthday with his finally complete soulbond group. 

But once he saw you, zoned out and not even registering their entrance, he had a feeling of what was going on. He was reminded of the closet incidence, your wide eyes glazed and unable to track what was going on. He moved in front of you, kneeling down so he could catch your eye. 

“Baby?” Jin tried, but you were gone. He now had the attention of the others, and Taehyung and Yoongi made it over first. 

“What should we do? Should we hold her like last time?” Taehyung asked, remembering how Jungkook held you in his arms and how the physical contact helped bring you back. 

“Here, let me try something.” Namjoon took control, switching places with Jin who now sat back next to you. Their movement didn’t phase you, your eyes still glazed over. 

Namjoon moved slowly, just in case you came back to, and moved so his palm was cupping your cheek. At his touch, your eyes became focused again and he could see how truly tired you were. 

“Hi baby girl. Are you okay?” He knew you weren’t but he still needed to know if something was physically wrong, and you seemed to know his intention as you shook your head no. At this response, they all knew you were nonverbal; Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung all watching from the back as their hyungs take over the situation. 

“How about we go back to the hotel, and have a relaxing night, hmm?” Namjoon asks but stops as you shake your head, grabbing tightly to his forearm. His face scrunched up in concern, wondering what was going on through your head. 

You swallow your spit, trying your hardest to push words through your lips, only for them to keep getting caught in the back of your throat. Finally, you manage to push through one word, hoping they understand what you mean. 

“Celebrate.” You word is raspy, as if you had a bad cold recently. 

They had just gotten back from the military only months ago, managed to plan two weekends worth of content and concerts for Army, and as only a fan could know, they usually celebrated the concert afterwards with a live. You didn’t want that taken away from Army, and you didn’t want the boys to break a tradition just because you got overstimulated. It didn’t seem fair in any way. 

You would be fine; you always were before. Yeah, it might take time, but you would be fine. 

Army needed the boys more than you right now. 

“What do you mean baby?” Jimin asked from behind Hobi, eyes narrowed in confusion as he watches your expression. 

You knew you couldn’t push out another word, so you grabbed Namjoon’s palm from your cheek and held it flat in front of you, using your pointer finger you traced the word Army on his palm, hoping he would get it. You even trace it in Hangul when he didn’t get it in English. 

“You want us to celebrate with Army?” Namjoon finally realizes what you were trying to say, nodding his head as it clicks. 

You nod your head in response but stop once you see the look on your soulmates faces. You could tell they didn’t understand why you were asking them that. Why you wanted them to celebrate with army even when you weren’t doing good. 

So, you pull out the big guns, something Jimin taught you when Jin kept telling you no more ice cream. Jimin said it would bring out an immediate ‘yes’ from the hyungs every time, so you tried it.

You pulled out the puppy dog eyes and the lip pout. 

An immediate round of groans sounded throughout the room, every single one of your soulmates looked away from you, trying not to be drawn in by your expression. 

To seal the deal, you brought your hands together, folded in a way that everyone usually added with pleading words, but you couldn’t speak right now, so you held your clenched hands up close to your face. 

Eventually, Jin was the one who folded. 

“Alright baby! But we have some conditions.” He raised an eyebrow at you as you turned to face him. 

“We’ll do the live as long as you are there with us, so we can see you and make sure you’re okay. You’re going to drink some water, and let one of us hold you until the live, because that helped you a lot last time.” You knew they were talking about the last time you got too overstimulated, so you agreed. 

Maybe selfishly, though, you agreed to the terms. You kind of just wanted to be cocooned in like a little safety nest as you watched the boys do their live, maybe covered in one of their shirts or sweaters again. They always made you feel safe and comfortable and were slowly becoming a part of your collection of safe clothing. 

“Okay, boys, lets grab our things so we can get back to the hotel. Namjoon, why don’t you grab out little soulmate and go get into the car, we’ll grab your things.” Jin clapped his hands together after moving the night along, wanting to get back to the hotel. 

It didn’t take but a couple seconds for Namjoon to pick you up, his hands moving under your thighs and holding you to him so you were chest to chest. 

“Come here baby. Let’s go.” You looked around for your backpack, only to see Seungho handing it off to Jungkook who had deemed your backpack his responsibility. You can’t fight him for carrying you this time, exhaustion finally hitting you as you tuck your head into the curve of your soulmate’s neck. 

It was a good thing too, as you didn’t realize some fans had figured out where the boys’ vans were and had been waiting outside for you all to leave, phones at the ready to take pictures and videos. This also meant that it would take longer to get back to the hotel, as some fans loved trying to follow the boys to figure out where you all were staying. 

One of Namjoon’s hands moved from your holding your thigh to covering your face, protecting you in what he considers a vulnerable moment. He walked faster, Sejin moving with him so he could open the door for you both before having a word with one of the drivers. 

Even as you get into the car, and Namjoon’s sits down, he still holds you on his lap, crossing his arms behind your back so you were practically glued to his chest. He moved his left hand lower, almost touching your butt as he moves his hand under your shirt, making contact with your back and begins rubbing his hand up and down your back. He knew this helped you last time and it was one of the only things he had to go on right now as far as helping you out of your shut down. 

You both wait patiently for your other soulmates, time passing slowly as you turn your head and watch fans take pictures of the van. You knew they couldn’t get pictures of you through the tinted windows, but you still felt a little vulnerable. You were unable to protect yourself in anyway, nonverbal and in the middle of a shutdown, and it was a little daunting. 

You turned your head back into Namjoon’s neck, your head resting against his chest as you watch the boys all begin to make their way quickly to the vans. Jungkook, Hobi, and Yoongi made their way into your van, while the others went into the first one. 

“Okay, so Sejin is going to separate our vans, each going a separate way to make it back to the hotel so we aren’t followed. We also have three deco vans waiting to draw confusion.” Yoongi’s voice was raspy and slow from the concert and his own emotions. 

He, along with the others were feeling a lot of emotions from finally being able to perform at a concert for Army, but also watching you shut down from the very same concert. It was a lot. 

“How is she?” Jungkook asks quietly. 

Out of all your soulmates, Jungkook seems to have taken on most of the responsibility for your care and well-being on himself. He finally has a soulmate younger than him, that can rely on him and that he can provide for. So, for him, he has put the responsibility on his own shoulders, something his soulmates have already talked to him about. 

“I’m okay.” 

You were. You had just been relishing in Namjoon’s touch and had felt the connection build again between your brain and mouth. You still weren’t used to being taken care of, to mean something to other people, and you knew it would take a while but you loved the way they worried about you, the way they cared for you. 

It was the same way you cared for them. 

-*-*-

It had taken you over an hour to make it back to the hotel. There had been several vehicles trying to follow you, the final car getting lost at a traffic light about fifteen minutes ago. To be safe, the driver kept driving around. 

Your van had been the last to make it back to the hotel, and when you go to the room, a small bundle of blankets and pillows, along with some of the boys’ sweaters had been made into a little nest for you by the far wall close to the kitchen. You were in perfect view of the boys as the couches and chairs had been rearranged so they could all be in view of the camera. 

When Namjoon let you down, a bundle of clothes had been shoved into your hand as Jimin led you to your shared room with Yoongi and Jin to change. Jimin walked into the bathroom while you changed into a pair of your comfy leggings and one of Taehyung’s shirts. 

After doing your skincare for you, wanting you to feel nice and clean while you waited for them to be finished, Jimin helped you back into the living room and into your small nest, bundling Jin and Jungkook’s sweater around you while you watched the boys set up snacks and drinks on the coffee table. 

“Okay, now, don’t move.” Jimin pointed his finger at you, his face scrunching playfully as he tries to make you smile. And it works, a small giggle making its way out of your mouth catching the attention of your soulmates. 

“Here,” he pulls your phone out of his back pocket, pulling up the live on it before handing it to you. “Keep an eye out for questions you think we should answer, okay baby?” He asks you, wanting you to still be involved in their tradition with Army. While he would rather you be seated with them on the couch, he knows it’s not what you need right now. 

 “I will, Minnie.” You nod and smile tiredly at his request. He smiles back, kissing you softly before pulling back entirely, Jungkook taking his place with a bottle of water for you. He stays quiet, kissing your forehead before moving to sit with Hobi and Joon on the couch. 

You watch them as the live starts, hundreds of questions showing up on the screen as thousands of viewers turn into millions. At first a lot of the questions are about you, why Namjoon was seen carrying you out of the venue and some were even asking why you stayed seated the entire concert. 

The boys said a simple response to questions about you. They agreed that they wanted to stop the rumors of any health issues or problems while they could, especially after Namjoon was seen carrying you out. 

“Y/n is doing okay and is resting here with us after a long and overstimulating day. She had a lot of new experiences and is in the middle of processing them.” Namjoon spoke in his leader voice, glancing at you for a few seconds as he speaks. 

The questions and comments continue, but this time mainly about the boys and the concerts and their upcoming plans. You even commented a few things, trying to remember what it felt like to be Army, commenting “I love you” and hoping they would see it. 

You did that the entire time, finding cute little comments and even yelling out “Yoongi Marry Me” every time you saw it which did not amuse your cute soulmate who only looked your way while the others laughed every time. You also drank your entire bottled water, knowing that was one of the promises you made to Jin. 

And in the end, once the live was finished, he was the first to go to you, picking you up out of your little nest and into his arms. You were feeling a lot better, no longer overstimulated due to your soulmates care. 

“How are you feeling, baby?” You could hear the concern in his voice. 

“I’m doing a lot better! You all always seem to know what to do.” You hug him tightly, kissing his jaw in a show of thanks. 

“Well, I bought tickets for an amusement park for tonight for us. Do you think you might be up for it?” Jin couldn’t even finish his question before you were squealing in his ear, jumping from his hold and rushing to your shared room. 

“I guess that is a yes.” He told Yoongi and Taehyung who were staring at Jin, seeing the entire thing before walking off to the room. 

Jimin and Jungkook were already in the room, helping you pick out a matching outfit with Jin, who was going in a pair of his overalls and a white shirt. He wanted you all to match, but you and Jimin were the only ones who currently had a pair of overalls to wear. 

You were excited, jumping in your seat as you waited for everyone else to get ready to go. You loved the rides and playing the games but you think your favorite was the food. You never really went to the fair often, which was as close to an amusement park as you had gotten, your mother thinking going to a big field full of people of all walks of life below her standing. 

But you loved it and couldn’t wait to experience it with your soulmates. 

[inkystaar]

hey. don’t cry. mafia dash simulator.

canary-in-a-timeloop reblogged

🌟 canary-in-a-timeloop Follow

guys!! angel duo is literally so toxic why are you shipping them :(( and cedar is like!! a bajillion years old and gem’s way younger!!! it’s really weird :((

🪽 angel-certified Follow

You literally ship Bowie/Jordan for goodness sake… Please be quiet.

🌟 canary-in-a-timeloop Follow

oh so now i’m banned from joy and whimsy?? i see how it is!!!

#literally so rude #just because i want a little enemies to lovers??? so toxic

36 Notes

localshapeshifter reblogged

🍄 localshapeshifter Follow

actually so pissed off that cinth broke the bond with icarus… like yeah it was an accident but he’s still to blame…

💀 cinth-numberonefan Follow

EXCUSE ME??? CINTH IS LITERALLY THE BEST!!!! AND ICARUS FORGAVE HIM!!!

🍄 localshapeshifter Follow

i was going to argue with you but in your bio it says you’re 15…wait a few years, okay sweaty?

103 Notes

toothrotting-angst reblogged

🪼 toothrotting-angst Follow

any 1 else miss the polycule 😞

like…remember that 1 ship art of them cuddling?? so cute…and now they barely interact…

🥩 twink-of-fortune Follow

op have you considered that they have seen the Horrors? tweaks literally went insane and bowie and gem had that whole drama?? /lh

🎭 fanof-fallenstars Follow

shh…op is living in blissful ignorance

🪼 toothrotting-angst Follow

WAIT WHAT!!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭

213 Notes

📜 bones-and-braids

did i write another bones duo oneshot? yes.

is it the 6th one this week? …yes

do i miss bones duo? YES!!!!!

#someone save me it’s only tuesday #bones duo #they moved into my brain and won’t leave

12 Notes

twink-of-fortune reblogged

🥩 twink-of-fortune Follow

AUGH…. BAM….. THEY MAKE ME MENTALLY ILL…………..

💀 cinth-numberonefan Follow

BOWIE LITERALLY KILLED SAM??? KINDA FUCKED UP FOR YOU TO SHIP THAT!!!

🥩 twink-of-fortune Follow

but it was so heartbreaking!!! and the fanfictions that came from it were so amazing :((( (if anyone has bam fic recs PLEASE please please tell me /gen /nf)

42 Notes

arson-at-eight reblogged

🪻 arson-at-eight Follow

everytime m!gem swears a little bit of my soul leaves me

🦌 t4t-braid-duo Follow

so do you just not want her to swear LMAO?? it’s empowering

🪻 arson-at-eight Follow

help??? that wasn’t my point???

🦌 t4t-braid-duo Follow

then what was your point? omfg no need to be an ass abt it

🪻 arson-at-eight Follow

omg nevermind this literally isn’t worth my time

28 Notes

[nymph-ette111]

pls write Simon henriksson headcanons I’m gnawing at the walls of my enclosure 👩‍🦲

WARNINGS; SUBSTANCE ABUSE (SMOKING/DRUGS) MENTIONS OF MENTAL ILLNESS (DEPRESSION/ANXIETY) MENTIONS OF INTERNALIZED MISOGYNY, UNHEALTHY COPING MECHANISMS (SELF-HARM)

AUTHOR'S NOTE; FIRST CRY OF FEAR REQUEST LET'S FUCKING GOOOO !1!1!1!1!1!!1!! kind of short, still new to the fandom so my headcanons of the characters might change overtime.

-it was confirmed that Simon is a fan of heavy metal and DSBM :3 personally I am not an avid listener of this genre, I think it's pretty cool. I'd like to headcanon specific bands that I think are suiting for Simon but I barely know anything so I don't really have a say on this.

-probably has some sort of internalized misogyny. he grew up all alone, his mother being quite overprotective didn't help with that at all and seeing no mentions of his father in the game makes me think his parents were divorced quite early in Simon's life. being exposed to such settings at a young age might have messed with his perception of love and healthy romantic relationships. despite that, he doesn't care much about gender norms now that he's older. left that mindset long ago.

-picked up on his coping mechanisms in his early teens. he was a bit scared at first of trying something like self-harm, it took him him a lot of time and internal conflict but then decided to just fuck it, he had nothing to lose. felt guilty at first, dropped it for a bit and then picked up on it again. he knows it isn't a healthy way to deal and cope with his negative thoughts but he couldn't care less at that point.

-isn't unfamiliar with drugs but not that crazy about it. not as much as cigarettes, although he does it occasionally, he could still smoke like a pack in one sitting if the situation really called for it. usually just sticks to 2-3 cigs, thinks it's a good enough amount.

^ can you tell I have no idea what I'm talking about.

-you'll never get that crusty ass grey hoodie of his off of him. it's like a cartoon where the character's never change outfit throughout the entire show. besides the fact that it's a literal video game, even in his daily life he almost never switches things up. not necessarily dirty, just worn out and stained with stuff that doesn't want to come off no matter how many times he washes it.

-has a mini fridge full of energy drinks in his room. and by full I mean like two cans because the rest have been consumed and thrown somewhere onto the ground.

-cannot save money for the life of him. as soon as he gets his hands on some cash, it's immediately spent on either a pack of cigarettes or some useless shit. he doesn't even remember what he spends it on, it's just gone.

-hadn't picked up his camera in quite a while, he's slowly loosing grip on his interests. not necessarily because he is starting to dislike them, just doesn't have the motivation.

-but it's usually full of recordings of him on the train, lonely streets of Stockholm or some stray cat that has grown a liking to Simon for some odd reason.

-one time Sophie took his camera without telling him and recorded a small video of herself, just doing something simple like a peace sign or showing off a little doodle she drew in her notebook. despite trying his best to move on, he watches that video from time to time.

[rip-headphones-users]

pls tell me abt your personal scenelights headcanon/storyline

(Rubs my hands together with evil intent) This is gonna be a long post, everything will be under the cut. I’m still early into my Regretevator mental illness arc so a good chunk of this will more than probably change.

So Kasper and Lampert have been friends since elementary school age (I’d give 8/10 years old).

Their friendship started with Kasper crying over something (he gives strong “i hate my stepdad/stepmom” vibes), and Lampert, who is not really great at soothing emotions through words, distracts him by turning into various objects. Kasper is like YOOOO THIS IS THE GREATEST THING IVE EVER SEEN and from then on out they’re inseparable. Kasper always pushes Lampert to do things he’s scared of, and Lampert will always do his best to calm and ground Kasper when he’s unstable. (I hc Kas as being impulsive, esp when angry/sad) Also, Lamp is just happy to have someone who genuinely enjoys his company beyond the use of a light source for the first time in his life.

Kas did online school, with and lamp being like??? An a young entity of the elevator??? And having like no obligations or responsibilities beyond being anthro furniture, the two of them spend most of their time either exploring/chilling in the infinite rokea, or playing games in Kaspers house.

(Oh boy group angst begins now)

Lampert has almost always had a crush on Kasper, (He cant help it, cute scene boy) and it only got worse into their teens. Boy was pining HARD, and was always pretty sure that Kas never liked him back, or that he was closer with other people.

Kasper? Not so much. He likes Lampert too, sure, but is in the biggest state of denial over it. His search history is full of “is it gay to want to kiss your best friend???” Lmao. He is also terrified that he could ruin his friendship, again- he tends to be impulsive so he’s scared of hurting lamp in any way. He just. Keeps that portion of emotions stuck in there. Tight under lock and key.

Lampert asks Kasper out. Kasper rejects him. They remain close, but something seems… off about Kas sometimes.

The infection takes Kasper slowly after he agrees to let the parasite in. (A whole other set of headcannon I have in mind haha) and things are normal for about a year or so. As the parasite begins taking more resources from him, Kasper begins to drop weight, sleep for 12+ hours in a day, mumble to himself about insane things, and become more forgetful. And Lampert is TERRIFIED. In an attempt to elevate his spirits, he asks Kasper out on a date. Saying that it didn’t have to be something romantic, but just to get Kasper out of his house. He’s practically locked himself in his room for days at a time now.

Infected agrees, having completely forgotten why he was so scared of being with Lampert in the first place. He remembers the emotions of being with lampert, the joy he brings him- but doesn’t know how to place them into memories. He sees lampert as a kind new friend, who he sees and is immediately filled with hard to place unbridled joy- and so happens to know everything about him, how to make him laugh, how to calm him down, his favorite foods and games and places to go… (AND HE’S CUTE??? SCORE.)

LAMPERT. IS. TERRIFIED. He is so, so scared. His best friend, the guy he sees as the love of his life finally reciprocates those feelings with him, but only because he isn’t in the right state of mind to deliver those feelings properly. Lampert is the first to notice infected has taken place of Kasper, and is the first to attempt to being him to a hospital. Infected just kinda discharges himself, he’s an adult now and not necessarily a danger to himself or others (yet). And doctors can’t place what is wrong with him.

So, lampert is holding off on whatever romance he feels towards Kas until he can figure out what’s going on with infected. (Also in tandem with his own germaphobia) he has become extra wary of illness and the spread of germs within the floors of the elevator because he fears the other residents potentially catching what Infected has, or his illness mutating or something.

He also realizes eventually that Kasper and Infected are sorta two things inhabiting the same body. When Kas is more lucid/the parasite has less control, they can be addressed separately. Usually the parasite has more control though, shambling around and using the body as a clumsy vessel.

Lampert absolutely hates the parasite, and will only ever address Kasper as Infected when speaking directly to the parasite (screaming at it for taking his friend from him while it laughs in his face) he is of course, disgusted, but will do anything to save Kas.

Kasper is hardly there mentally. He disassociates whenever he feels infected is essentially piloting him. He hears lamperts voice, but ever only answers when he has the energy anymore. It’s sorta okay though, he did let this happen after all.

Infected is still getting used to existing in a human(?) form. It shambles about like a zombie. The thing can hardly keep its own brain from melting out of his nose. Ofc when it speaks it sounds like a bad mic. Its only recently learned it needs the vessel to eat so that they both live! It likes Lampert though, though he only ever insults it (it finds him funny). Maybe if it learns to act more like Kasper, whatever that means, Lampert might like it too.

So anyway Lampert is in this Queer-platonic relationship with his crush and by extension the parasite pretending to be his crush, because he doesn’t know if the real Kas would truly want to be in that deep of a relationship if he were fully lucid.

(Thanks for coming to my ted talk i hope this makes some sense, I’m way better at explaining things via 100+ pages of fancomic.)

((This took like an hour to write lmao))

Btw this song is them. To me.

[wonkyplate]

how could you not be obsessed with the soong's when this whole family are designed to make each other depressed

a brilliant man who fathers androids in his own likeness, more concerned with the continuation of his legacy and research than with showing love to his own children

a kind woman with so much love to give but her husband and children can't love her back in the same way (except maybe lore, but we know that at some point she came to fear him and he was deactivated)

[spoiler] the eldest android, one of noonien's first prototypes, who lacks the positronic net his younger brothers are built with. i can only assume he was treated differently by his father for the "failure" he built him with

the middle child who is designed with all the faculties of someone who can experience the best and worst of humanity and is punished for becoming wayward as a result, with little to no guidance or help ("you could have fixed me!")

the youngest android who is perfectly suspended behind the window of humanity and spends his life trailing after it, constantly in search of fitting in when he's aware it may never happen. if this father truly loved any of them, data was the most loved - which begs the question: was noonien so afraid of showing love that he required a son who couldn't know the difference?

and then you've got:

data not remembering anything about his family (wiped clean) but he has all the memories of the colonists who feared him ???

[spoiler] juliana's memories and humanity being unknowingly transferred into an android because her husband couldn't bear the thought of losing her, something which data learns after he meets her decades after the memory-wipe, but noonien still ends up losing her when she leaves years later and remarries

[spoiler] the conflict of morality when choosing whether to tell your mother she is now an android because you're desperate to have some sort of a family to share your life with, and not telling her to save her happiness !!!!!!!!!!!

data being left behind out in the cold on omicron theta while the crystalline entity destroyed the colony and all organic life on the planet, because juliana was afraid that he would turn out like lore and she couldn't bear the thought of damning another son to a life of misery

lore and data clearly feeling some sort of sibling connection but neither of them being well equipped to be the perfect brother. lore is on a crusade for a satisfaction that he'll never achieve without his family's help and data is too rigid to fully understand the intricacies. there have been too many betrayals and too much hurt for data to let lore in willingly (+ vise versa but the Mentally Ill edition)

b-4 being entirely too good for this world. he deserved so much more

this family is one of the most fucked up things about star trek. roddenberry didn't want to introduce conflict into the utopian series and so while it's a beautiful vision to aspire to, it's got this naïve and unfulfilled feel to it. people and stories thrive on conflict & solution, so the writers must have an exceptionally difficult time keeping things interesting for us. tng pulled it out of the bag with the soong tragedies

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

Endure

This is just deeply self indulgent, inspired by @mumms-the-word's fic featuring chronically ill Tav (forgive me please; I want to read it but I have to be mentally strong to do so I think.) So this is just... a little bit of truth from my own life. The diseases are from the setting, but that's it. So this is a little bit of me, fictionalised. Be kind, please.

'I must become a lionhearted girl, ready for a fight.' - Rabbit Heart, Florence & the Machine

Taglist:

@boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana

@auroraesmeraldarose @aryancunin @miradelletarot @marlowethebard @silent-words

@netherese0rb @sorceresssundries

Tav stared into the campfire, walking cane across her lap. I’ll be alright, she thought. A tadpole is nothing compared to what I’ve been through. I’ve got this. Still, she felt the familiar sneak of anxiety in her gut. Now they were in the shadow cursed lands, and death loomed over their shoulders. Astarion was pretending to read a book, but she could feel his feline gaze on the back of her head. Gale was really reading, but she noticed he would glance up at her every few pages, as though checking she was alright.  Shadowheart was eavesdropping on Wyll and Karlach’s conversation, Lae’zel apparently uninterested in socialising, engrossed as she was in a githyanki slate. So Tav sat alone, thinking.

Why did you bring me back? She closed her eyes, furrowing her brow. I never asked for any of this. I’ve been so strong for you my entire life and you let this happen to me. Why? Without warning, tears slid silently down her cheeks. She heard the soft thud of books closing and felt Gale and Astarion settle on either side of her. Astarion’s cool fingers stroked her back soothingly as Gale reached for her hand and ran his thumb over her knuckles, both of them comforting in the ways they could. ‘I’m fine,’ she said, not even opening her eyes to look at them.

‘Pish posh,’ said Gale softly, nudging her shoulder. ‘You don’t need to lie.’

‘Just having a crisis of faith, I suppose,’ she said, sniffing and opening her eyes. She wiped fiercely at them with her free hand. ‘Hating my lot in life a little bit tonight.’ She sighed, deep and tired. ‘I thought you could choose your deity. Not me. I was plucked from the brink of death, and I’ve been fucked ever since.’

‘The gods are bastards and wretches,’ said Astarion bitterly.

Tav shrugged. ‘Without him I’d be dead. Still, it’s not like he’s offered me a bounty of beauty or particular skill or-’ she gestured vaguely, ‘-magic. It’s just been a litany of hurts. I’m tired.’

‘I never asked,’ said Gale. ‘About…’ He gestured to the cane.

‘Don’t you dare pity me,’ she said through her teeth. ‘I hate it.’

‘I wasn’t. I just want to know what you’ve been through. And not from some kind of morbid curiosity either. You’ll forgive my bleeding heart if I hate seeing my friends in pain.’

‘It’s not good form to ask these things,’ said Astarion tersely. ‘But then you always were incredibly intelligent and breathtakingly stupid, Gale.’

Tav almost laughed, a single huff of air from her mouth. ‘Sure, I’ll tell you. But remember you asked.’ Dimly aware the camp had quieted, and her audience was beyond the wizard and the elf, she spoke to the flames. ‘I was born too early for anyone to expect me to survive. My lungs didn’t function, there was a stutter in my heartbeat, internal bleeding on the brain, all that. I had some necrosis and blacklung and even spotted plague, all at once could you believe it? I should’ve been dead five times over. I was put through my paces. I don’t know how or why I made it and sometimes I wish I hadn’t. But I did. And I got to grow up.’ A bitter edge crept into her voice. ‘And then something happened to me later, some people happened to me, and now I’m in pain all the time. It never goes away. I can manage it, on a good day, with rest and the odd spell. Potions don't work for me at all. I can’t do too much though, you see.’ Her face hardened. ‘Because the god who refused to let me die was Ilmater. My suffering is divine. I can’t even walk away because I owe him my very existence. How does a baby bargain with a god like that? So I push on. I endure, because I must.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Gale. ‘I empathise, believe me.’

‘Right,’ Tav said, voice softening a little bit. ‘The orb.’

He nodded. ‘Still. Self inflicted. It’s different.’

‘Yeah.’

‘If I’d known…’ he continued.

‘You wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about it and you can’t now,’ she snapped. ‘I appreciate it Gale, I really do, but this is just my life. And now we have these things.’ Jabbing her finger at her forehead she set her jaw in determination. ‘I’ve been through worse. Doubtless we all have. We’re going to win this fight. We don’t have a choice.’

‘Hear hear,’ said Karlach softly.

‘You deserve more credit,’ said Astarion. ‘You’re strong.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘I don’t want to be though. I want to be soft. I want to rest.’

‘You don’t have to do this alone,’ said Wyll, sitting across the fire from her. ‘You have us now.’ His smile was so gentle it broke her heart.

‘Your endurance is admirable,’ said Lae’zel, sitting on Astarion’s other side.

‘For once I agree with you, Lae’zel.’ Shadowheart stayed back from the fire until Karlach grabbed her wrist and plonked her down next to her.

‘Any spells or potions you need, I’ve got you,’ said Gale. ‘It’s the least I can do given you helped me with my condition.’

‘Sweet as that is Gale, perhaps you could start with dinner? Karlach’s stomach is snarling like an angry bugbear,’ said Astarion lightly.

‘I saw that archdruid whittling in the grove earlier,’ said Shadowheart. ‘Maybe he could make you a new cane.’

Tav looked down at the cane in her lap. It was crudely hewn and splintered; she’d done it herself. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Yeah, maybe I should ask him.’

[stargazer-sims]

TLC (2)

previous

Mishka: I'm sorry.

Nikolai: For what? You haven't done anything wrong.

Mishka: I was trying so hard.

Nikolai: To do what?

Mishka: To... to be brave. To be strong for you and Sasha, and to take care of everything around here while you're working. I don't want to be clingy and needy and... and a whole mess that you have to deal with.

Nikolai: You know I don't see you that way.

Mishka: It's how I feel.

Nikolai: I love you, Mikhail. No matter what, I will never see you as a burden or a mess that I have to deal with. I need you to understand that, okay? When I promised in front of all our family and friends that I'd take care of you, I meant that. In sickness and in health, for better or for worse, remember?

Mishka: Yeah.

Nikolai: You don't need to hide stuff to try and prove how brave and strong you are. It doesn't matter if we're talking about your mental illness or just a summer cold, or anything. If you're not feeling good for whatever reason, I want to know so I can help you.

Mishka: Okay.

Nikolai: So, do you think you can tell me what you need?

Mishka: *tearful* I just... I need you to not be mad. Please.

Nikolai: Sweetheart, don't cry. I'm not mad. It's not your fault, and I'm not upset about it. Things like this happen.

Mishka: But it's happening at the worst time.

Nikolai: No, it isn't. It's not like I'm getting the kids ready for a competition or I need to travel or something. I'm here, and I'll take care of you. Everything'll be fine, I promise.

Mishka: What about the ice show? You have to get ready for that.

Nikolai: I think they can get along without me for one day so I can stay home with my husband. We'll have a nice quiet day, just the two of us, and if you're not feeling better after tomorrow, we'll figure out a new plan.

Mishka: Do we really have to send Sasha to stay with your parents?

Nikolai: We don't have to, but I think that'd be best, don't you? If you are coming down with a cold or the flu, we don't want him to catch it.

Mishka: He's never been away from us overnight before. What if he gets scared? What if... what if he thinks we're leaving him there forever and he'll never see us again?

Nikolai: Look at me for a second. Do you really believe Sasha is going to be worried about that, or is it something you'd worry about?

Mishka: *weeping* I'm sorry.

Nikolai: Shh... It's all right. I've got you.

Mishka: I don't want to leave him. I remember how scary that was for me, and how I'd scream when Mama left the house because I thought she was never coming back, like my biological mother did. I... I remember I couldn't stop crying, and I'd always feel sick after.

Nikolai: How far back can you remember that happening?

Mishka: I don't know. Forever. All I know is that I can't do that to Sasha. Please, Kolya? Can't we just keep him here with us? I know I won't be able to cuddle him and kiss him like I usually do, but I want him to know I'm still with him because... because... *crying*

Nikolai: *softly* Deep breaths, sweetheart.

Mishka: *gasping*

Nikolai: Slowly, Mishka. Breathe slowly. You can do it. Just like we practiced. We’re not going to panic. We’re going to…

Mishka: Find our inner calm.

Nikolai: Good. You’re doing good. Keep breathing like that.

Mishka: Don’t let go.

Nikolai: I won't. Not until you tell me you're ready.

Nikolai: Better?

Mishka: A little. You probably think I'm ridiculous.

Nikolai: No, I don't. I think you're scared, and knowing what I know about you, that seems like a pretty logical reaction. But, you know what else I know?

Mishka: What?

Nikolai: I know that despite what you think, you are brave and strong. You've been through a lot, and you've survived all of it, and you never let it take away the best parts of who you are. You should be proud of that.

Mishka: I'm trying, but it's hard.

Nikolai: You'll get there. Some day, you'll see yourself the way I see you. You'll trust yourself and you won't be as scared any more.

Mishka: What am I supposed to do until then?

Nikolai: Take baby steps. Make one little bit of progress at a time, just like you've been doing all along.

Mishka: But, how?

Nikolai: You know how. Push your boundaries a tiny bit at a time. I've seen you do that so many times already, so I know you can.

Mishka: This feels bigger than a baby step.

Nikolai: Maybe, but it's okay to take a bigger step once in a while. What do I always tell you?

Mishka: Taking risks is one of the ways we succeed?

Nikolai: Right. You know, you've taken some super huge steps this year. I don't think you even realize how much progress you've made.

Mishka: Do you think so?

Nikolai: This time last year, you wouldn't even leave the house without me. Now you're going grocery shopping by yourself, and going to your English class and volunteering and taking Sasha to his baby socialization group. You're trying new things and making friends. That's a lot.

Mishka: But I'm still scared. I still worry about... everything.

Nikolai: That's not stopping you from doing things now, though, is it?

Mishka: Not all the time, but... I don't know. I feel like it might stop me from being away from Sasha. I trust your parents, but it's still terrifying, wondering whether he'll understand that it's just for tonight and tomorrow.

Nikolai: Tell me something. When I leave the house, do you ever think I'm not coming back?

Mishka: No.

Nikolai: Why not?

Mishka: Because I know you love me and you'd never leave me, and I trust you.

Nikolai: Do you think Sasha knows you love him?

Mishka: Yes. I tell him every day.

Nikolai: And do you think he trusts you?

Mishka: *nodding*

Nikolai: Then, don't you think he knows you'd never leave him? He can be with his grandma and grandpa without you, just like you're here at home during the day without me, and he'll be waiting for you to come back just like you wait for me.

Mishka: Do you really think he'd be better off with your parents overnight?

Nikolai: I do, but I'll leave the decision up to you. I want you to have a chance to rest and to let me take care of you without either of us having to be concerned about how we're going to manage looking after the baby too, but if you'd rather keep him here, then I'm willing to do my best for both of you.

Mishka: If we let your mother take him, do you think she'd mind if I called her on FaceTime a few times? You know... just so I could see him.

Nikolai: You can ask her, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind that at all. If you're feeling up to it, you could even talk to him and sing the song you always sing to him when you put him down for his naps.

Mishka: She'd know everything she's supposed to do for him, right?

Nikolai: Well, if Natascha and I making it past our childhood is any indication, I'd say yes.

Mishka: All right. I think... I think I'm okay with him going there.

Nikolai: Okay, if you're sure.

Mishka: Call her before I change my mind, please, and can you get me a pencil and some paper so I can make her a list of things to do? Just in case.

Nikolai: I can do that. I'm going to get you a bottle of water and some fever reducers too. You're really hot, and not in a good way.

Mishka: Can you open a window?

Nikolai: It's raining, but I think that'll still be fine.

Mishka: Thanks.

Nikolai: Try to rest. I'm going to call my mother, and then I'll be right back.