#the man is not unwell he just always needs the attention to be on him

[lilacevans]

Omg babe are you doing better now? Should I bury those doctors for making you sore 😡 Need me to have a talk with your pain? 🥺💕

-Curtis' 🐕

honestly, no. had to call the dreaded ex over bc i am way too unwell & all he keeps doing is complaining about how unwell he is.🙃. he’s literally fine, why do men do what men do🤣. i feel like i’ve been beaten with a sledgehammer and he’s like oh my tummyyyyy. fuck off

[marvel-spidey]

We’ve Still Got Time

Summary: After receiving some life-altering news, you try to make Bucky understand that it's time to let the past go. Inspired by the song “Falling Slowly” (in my mind it was written just for Bucky ok 🥺) Pairing: Bucky x reader Word count: 3.1k Warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, lots of tears, extreme fluff. A/n: English is not my first language, so sorry in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes. Enjoy! also, happy 2025 for us bucky girlies!!! our man is coming back soon! ✨

Bucky woke up to the sound of running water and a toothbrush being used. The white light from the bathroom spilled into the bedroom you both shared. The clock on his nightstand read 4:07 a.m. He slowly opened his eyes and turned to the side, realizing your side of the bed was empty. Furrowing his eyebrows, he wondered why you were up at this hour brushing your teeth. Unable to think of a reason fast enough, he decided to get up and check on you.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” he asked in a confused tone, his hoarse voice carrying the weight of sleep. His hair was a little messy, and his metal arm reflected the soft light from the bathroom. He was shirtless, and his gray sweatpants hung just above his hips.

“I’m sorry I woke you, Buck,” you replied, drying your face with a small towel. “I don’t know. I think I must have eaten something that didn’t sit well with my stomach. I just woke up feeling really nauseous. I threw up, but at least I feel a little better now.”

Bucky closed the distance between you, moving toward you slowly and giving you a quick kiss on the forehead. His expression was serious, his lips almost forming a pout.

“Why didn’t you wake me up? I feel bad knowing you were sick all by yourself.”

He held your face softly, and you looked up at him, scanning his features and silently admiring how concerned he always was for you. You couldn’t understand how someone so caring could think such terrible things about himself and carry so much guilt when this was the man he really was: calm, reliable, attentive. You prayed he could see it someday, too.

“I wouldn’t wake you,” you replied, caressing his cheek gently. “I know those nightmares have been coming back these past few weeks, haven’t they?”

He looked down, ashamed he hadn’t been able to hide them from you. You always knew.

He sighed and nodded, reluctantly admitting the unpleasant truth. His nightmares came in phases. Sometimes, they haunted him almost every night with terrible flashes from his past – people he had killed, accidents he had caused, futures he had destroyed. Or worse, scenarios in which you would get hurt. Sometimes, by him. Those were the worst ones. Other times they would come less frequently, almost letting him believe that he was making progress in his “healing journey”, as you liked to call it. But they eventually came back. To him, they were proof he would never truly be at peace, never able to leave the past behind.

“Yes, as usual,” he admitted. “But it’s okay. You don’t need to worry.”

“That’s impossible,” you replied, already recognizing his habit of downplaying things and subtly pushing you away, retreating into his world of self-loathing. “I’ll always worry. I just wish you would have talked to me about it.”

“I’m sorry,” he said while engulfing you in a warm hug. He had a defeated expression in his features that made you even more worried. God knows what kind of thoughts he was having about himself. You wish you could take them away.

“Let’s just go back to sleep, so you’re rested and feeling better in the morning. Deal?” You smiled weakly and decided to let the matter go, for now. “Deal,” you agreed, letting him take your hand and guide you back to bed. For the next few weeks, you continued to have moments where you felt unwell.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but your body started to feel different. Your stomach was more sensitive than usual, leaving you with the now-familiar waves of nausea. You felt sleepier at random moments during the day, and your stamina during training sessions at the compound suddenly diminished. You felt more out of breath during workouts and sparring. And food began to smell and taste different. One morning, the pancakes Bucky made you almost daily for breakfast smelled “eggier” than usual—you could smell the eggs in the batter from what felt like miles away.

After weeks of feeling like this, you thought it was probably due to low vitamin levels and decided you should schedule a routine doctor’s appointment soon.

But in one of your weekly sparring sessions with Natasha, you started to feel a slight dizziness, so you asked her for a time-out.

“Are you okay?” she asked, raising one of her eyebrows.

“Yeah, I just—I don’t know. I’ve been feeling kind of weak for a while now,” you admitted, closing your eyes and resting a hand on your forehead in an attempt to steady yourself. “I think I just need to get some blood work done. It’s been a while since my last check-up.” “Weak how, exactly?”

“I feel like I’m always tired lately. More worn out. And my appetite is all over the place.”

Natasha looked at you with a suspicious expression before asking an unexpected question.

“Hmm, feeling weak, huh? Have you taken a pregnancy test?”

Your eyes shot open, and you stared at her, trying to process what she had just said. “What?”

“Yes, have you?” Nat repeated, crossing her arms and leaning into one hip with a slight smirk as if she knew something you didn’t.

“I- No, I- I didn’t… My period is only two days late, which is sort of normal for me. Do you think I should?” you questioned her, not knowing if you were talking more to yourself or to her.

“(Y/n) yes, you should! Have you talked to Barnes about it?”

“Not really. I didn’t pay much attention to this. I didn’t have time to.”

The truth was, you and the whole team had been preparing for an important mission in a few months, one that had been weighing heavily on Bucky’s mind especially, since it involved Hydra. The team was set to infiltrate a secret Hydra base in Hungary in order to retrieve intel on potential undercover Hydra agents within S.H.I.E.L.D.

You were almost sure this was the reason Bucky’s nightmares had gotten worse. He tensed up every time you or someone else mentioned the mission, or during training, probably dreading the feeling of going back to a place so connected to everything that he wanted to forget. He tried so hard to hide it but for you, it was so easy to sense his anxiety. The way his blue eyes grew distant, drifting to the floor as if trying to escape his own thoughts. Or how his fists clenched, fingers pressing into his palms almost to the point of pain, while he tried to take deep breaths every time Steve went over the mission details with the group.

“Then take the test,” Natasha urged, stepping closer and putting a reassuring hand on yours when she noticed the frightened look on your face. “If you’re pregnant, you need to know before the mission. And you need to tell Barnes. You both need to decide if going on this mission is still an option.”

“But Nat” you began, squeezing her hand, feeling so scared and unprepared for the scenario she just mentioned.  “I- I don’t know if Bucky is in a good headspace for this now. He’s been so off lately. The Hydra stuff has been really getting to him.”

Natasha offered you a comforting smile, her confidence and support unwavering.

“You’ll both be fine. I’m here if you need me. And Steve is, too.” Later that same day, you found yourself in a situation you never imagined you’d be in right now.

Trembling hands, tears streaming down your face, and your heartbeat drumming loudly in your ears. A white and blue pregnancy test sat on the marble counter of your bathroom. You stared at the word that appeared on the small screen.

+ Pregnant

You froze. You looked at yourself in the mirror and blinked a few times to make sure you weren’t dreaming. You weren’t. A wave of happiness washed over you. So much happiness. It was unexpected, yes, but you had always told Bucky he would be a wonderful dad. Yet every time you brought up the subject, he’d say he would like to be a father someday, but that it probably wasn’t a good idea. According to him, he could never be a good role model for a child.

Your first thought was running to Nat or Steve. You wanted to tell one of them and hear that everything would be alright, that Bucky would be alright with all of this. But it was already kind of late. They’re probably asleep by now, you thought to yourself. At the same time, you knew the person who really needed to know about this was in the living room, watching a random reality TV show with Sam.

You couldn’t bear to be alone another minute. The anxiety was overwhelming.

You decided to text Bucky and ask him to come to your room. If you went to the living room, there was no way Sam wouldn’t notice something was up, and you didn’t need another situation right now.

“Can you please come to our room, it’s urgent.” You texted and hoped he would check his phone as soon as possible.

Not even five minutes later you heard the door of your room open, followed by anxious footsteps entering the room.

“Sweetheart? Are you okay? I just got your text.” Bucky asked, his voice filled with concern.

“Hi, love” you said, stepping out of the bathroom and faking a half smile, searching for his hand and guiding him to the bed. You were terrified but at the same time you didn’t wanna scare him. “Come with me, I need to talk to you.”

“What happened?” Bucky questioned, his eyes quickly searching your face for any clues of what might have happened. You could see the worry creeping into his expression.

You sat next to him on the bed and held his hands tightly. The cold touch of his metal hand on yours offered a brief distraction from what you were about to tell him. You took a deep breath, still unsure how to begin. You decided that starting with some context might be easier.

“So, basically, for the past few weeks, I’ve started to feel a little… off. Do you remember the night you woke up because I felt sick in the middle of the night?”

“Yes, I do” Bucky answered calmly, trying to figure out where you were going with this.

“Well, besides that, I’ve been feeling different. My stomach has been constantly upset, my appetite has been strange, I’ve been feeling more tired than usual, and I–”

“(Y/n), are you sick?” Bucky interrupted, already imagining all the worst scenarios in his head.

“Buck, no” you replied quickly, closing your eyes and trying to breathe to calm yourself down. “Listen. As I was saying, I talked about these symptoms with Nat today and she… she asked... if I had already taken a pregnancy test.”

You paused, watching his face closely for a reaction. He seemed to freeze, taking a few seconds to process your words. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath – a breath that felt heavy with sadness. It broke your heart.

He opened his eyes again and they were glistening with tears. His eyes looked even more blue than they already were.

For a moment, you considered not saying anything more, but you knew he needed to hear it – all of it.

“So, I… I took a test just now,” you continued, your voice trembling as tears began to run down your face. “And it’s… it’s positive.” You wiped your nose with the sleeve of your sweater, struggling to keep your composure.

“I’m sorry” you said crying, heartbroken because this was the reaction you had been dreading. You felt like you had ruined his life.

Now, he was the one silently crying. He still held your hands, his thumb softly tracing circles over your palm, his gaze fixed on your intertwined fingers.

“Please, say something, Bucky,” you pleaded, the silence only giving your mind space to imagine horrible possibilities.

“No, I’m the one who should be saying sorry, (Y/n),” he finally said, his voice breaking as tears slowly streamed down his face. “This baby deserves someone better. You deserve someone better.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, reaching out to hold his cheek, your heart breaking at the words that he had just spoken. “What do you mean, ‘we deserve someone better’?”

“Yes! Yes, you do!” he exclaimed, his voice rising as he finally let the storm inside him surface. “How is this baby going to grow up knowing all the awful things I’ve done?”

He got up from the bed, putting some distance between the two of you. He was still crying quietly, and it felt like he had been keeping this inside for so long. His body was facing the window. He couldn’t even look at you.

“You didn’t do those things, Buck. The Winter Soldier did,” you spoke clearly, hoping that he would somehow believe it.

“It doesn’t matter, does it? I still did it.”

“Of course it matters! You didn’t have a choice!” you raised your voice, frustrated at how he could still blame himself so much.

“Everyone tells me that, but it doesn’t help, you know?” he replied, turning his body back toward you. His voice was low. “When I lie down to sleep, I keep seeing their faces. I can still hear their cries, begging for help, for mercy.”

“Buck, I—I’m so sorry,” you told him, holding your tears back again. You’d give anything to take his sadness away.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be free from what they did to me,” he stated, his face showing a defeated expression. “I know Ayo got the Hydra programming out of my mind in Wakanda, but still… it’s all here,” he said, pressing his index finger to his temple. “I remember all of them, and I always will.”

You got up and decided to close the distance between you. You raised both of your hands to his cheeks and held his face gently, making him look at you. You needed him to hear every word you were about to say.

“Honey, look at me,” you began, your voice serious but soft. “I can’t even begin to imagine how you must feel. And I want you to know I’d do anything – anything – if I could to make this suffering go away. It breaks my heart to see you in so much pain and not be able to do anything-”

“No, sweetheart, but you do,” he interrupted you, wiping the tears from your face. “You have no idea how many ways you’ve saved me.”

He closed his eyes and kissed your forehead. Both of you were crying again, and you could feel all his gratitude in that one kiss.

“You save me every day. It would be impossible for me to survive those nightmares if I didn’t have your face to look at every time I wake from one of them.” He gave you a sad smile while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand resting on your cheek afterward.

You leaned into his metal hand and kissed his palm. Your eyes were once again glistening with tears.

“Do you see this, James?” you asked, hoping that he would understand what you were trying to show him.

“This is you,” you continued, placing one hand on his heart. “This is Bucky Barnes. The man who has a metal arm and touches me like I’m the most fragile thing in the world. The man who makes pancakes for me every morning. The man who’s afraid of punching me too hard in our sparring sessions, even though he knows I’m a kick-ass agent.”

“That you are,” he agreed, both of you crying and laughing at the same time. You quickly wiped his tears away.

“The man who watches trashy reality TV shows with his friend on a Thursday night. This is you. And this is the man who is going to be the father of my child,” you finished, placing his flesh hand on your belly.

He continued to cry. You just prayed that your words would finally make their way into his heart.

“So tell me, how could you say I deserve better? That this baby deserves better?”

He was still looking at his hand on your belly, trying to understand how he could still be worthy of having a family after he had destroyed so many others.

“Look at me, Buck,” you called, guiding his gaze back to you. “You suffered enough. More than enough. You’ve warred with yourself for so long. It’s time that you won.”

He closed his eyes and tried to absorb the words he had just heard. It was so hard for him to accept that he deserved happiness, but he was so grateful that you have never stopped trying.

“You made it. We’re here, and you made it. Now we’ve still got time. We’ve still got all the time in the world for you to finally live. Your life, how you want it,” you continued, kissing the palm of his metal hand again. It was your way of showing him that you loved all of him, even the part that brought him the most pain.

“This baby is so lucky to have you as a dad. And to be honest, this kid is going to brag so much to the other children about how his dad’s got a metal arm.” For the first time, you heard an honest laugh escape from his lips. The sound was wonderful.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but it must have been something really good,” he replied, finally pulling you close and giving you a warm kiss.

“I love you- we love you.”

“I’m so scared. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to… be a role model for someone.” You could see the worry in his eyes. He was genuinely scared.

“Bucky, yes, you do. You just have to be you. I don’t need you to be perfect,  I just need you to be here. Can you do that for us, Sergeant?”

He gave you a warm smile, filled with gratitude and hope - the hope you had just given him. He looked at your lips and kissed you once more, holding your belly delicately.

“Yes, I can, ma’am. Yes, I can.” he agreed easily “but.. speaking of sergeant, now there’s no way you’re going on that mission.”

“Excuse me? I’m still in the first few weeks of this pregnancy. And how about you? This baby will need both parents.”

“Okay okay, so we’ll let Uncle Steve decide who's going and who’s not. Deal?”

“Okay, sir. Deal.”

Well, you have suffered enough And warred with yourself It's time that you won Take this sinking boat and point it home We've still got time Raise your hopeful voice, you had a choice You've made it now ~~ Falling Slowly (from the musical Once)

Feedback is always welcome, feel free to comment, like and reblog! Hope you enjoyed 🤍

[merrybloomwrites]

Safe and Sound

Summary: Being an online personality on a well known Youtube channel comes with it's fair amount of attention. But when one fan starts to get too close for comfort, Spencer is there to keep you safe.

Word Count: 2.6K

CW: stalker, getting drugged

AN: Another story for Whumptober! This has been in my mind for awhile so I'm happy to share this protective Spencer story with you all! It's a bit of a heavier story again so please make sure to note the content warning and please don't read if those topics make you uncomfortable or trigger you in any way.

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You always knew that there are people on the internet that are creeps. Or are just plain weird. Getting a job as a cast member as Smosh only confirmed that fact. 

It doesn’t happen every time you're in a video, but you’ll occasionally see some odd comments about you. People who hate you, people who love you a bit too much, people who notice the tiniest, most random things about you. It’s a bit off-putting, but not enough to really concern you. They’re just randos on the internet you will never interact with in real life. 

But then you start to get this weird feeling whenever you leave your apartment. You figure you’re just being paranoid, but still, it’s uncomfortable. Almost as though you’re being watched. 

It’s disconcerting, but temporary, and by the time you arrive at work, or the grocery store, or the local bar to hang with friends, you’ve forgotten all about it. 

And then the letters start. Letters sent to your apartment with no return address. They’re typed, even your address isn’t handwritten but rather stamped on. 

As though the anonymity wasn’t bad enough, the content of the letters had your anxiety spiking. The person was clearly unwell, and obsessed with you. Sentences like, “I need to have you,” and “you will be mine” are all too common in their writing. 

You bring the letters to the police and explain what your job is to give context of how this stalker probably found you. They say they’ll look into it, but there’s not much they can do. 

Disheartened, you try to protect yourself as much as you can. You get extra locks for your doors and windows, as well as install cameras to catch anyone who may get close to your home. It’s not much, but at least you can feel a bit safer when you’re at your apartment.

You tell Ian and Anthony as well as a couple other higher ups at Smosh to make them aware of the situation. They ask if you want to take a step back from appearing in videos for the time being, but you want to continue on like usual. Whoever this person is, you refuse to let them force you to change things about your life. 

The letters continue, roughly one a week for a few months. You bring all of them to the police, trying to help get to the bottom of this, but you have nothing else to go on. 

Then one day as you leave for work, you have that feeling of being watched once again. You scan the area and notice a person sitting on a bench in the park across the street. Which wouldn’t be weird, except this man seems to be looking directly at you. It could be a coincidence, but something has you feeling like it may be something more sinister. You take out your phone and try to discreetly take a video of this person. 

You debate over sending the video to the police officer you’ve been in contact with, but since the person isn’t doing anything obviously nefarious, it would probably be a waste of everyone’s time. You do show it to Ian when you get to the office. You’re not sure why you share it, maybe you want him to validate you that it’s weird, or maybe you want him to tell you it’s totally normal and everything is fine. 

What you don’t realize is that it isn’t just you and Ian in the kitchen, but that Spencer has overheard the conversation as well. 

“Wait, what’s going on?” he says, walking over to you, a confused look on his face.

“I, uhm, well I kind of seem to have a stalker,” you state.

“Oh my god. Are you okay? Are you safe?” he asks worriedly.

 “Yea. I mean, I think so. Mostly it’s just letters getting mailed to my house. But I’ve been having this weird feeling like I’m being watched. And there was this guy looking at me from the park this morning, but I think that’s just a coincidence.”

“Y/N, that’s-” he stands there at a loss for words. “That sounds dangerous, like bad news waiting to happen.”

“I’ve gone to the police,” you explain. “They have all the information I have. But there’s nothing they can do, at least not yet.”

“You mean not until something bad happens. I hate that.” 

“I’ve done everything I can to protect my home so I feel safe there. If I didn’t then I wouldn’t stay.”

“I’m glad to hear that. But if you ever don’t feel safe, you can come stay with me,” Spencer says.

“Or me,” Ian adds. 

“Thanks guys. I promise that if it gets worse then I’ll take one of you up on that offer.” 

It’s nice to know that they have your back, that you have places you can go if anything were to happen. Because while you try to stay positive, you can’t lie. You’re scared. You’re scared that whoever this person is will do something more serious. And as terrifying as that is, you’re less anxious knowing you have people you can turn to. 

More weeks pass, and the letters continue. You see the same man twice more at the park, taking videos each time. After the third, you do send all of them to the police, since there now seems to be a pattern. The officer you speak with assures you that they’re looking into it, trying to identify the man. She also asks you to call them if he shows up again.

The following Friday a group of your friends decide to hang at a local bar to celebrate the end of a long filming week. You have a drink, dance with some friends, and for a moment, you forget about your problems.

But the feeling of being watched comes back. This time it’s worse than ever, your skin prickling with anxiety. Scanning the room, you notice a man whose eyes are locked on you. He looks vaguely familiar, but you can’t place where you might know him from.

Brushing it off, you go up to the bar to order another drink. It’s a busy night, and the bar is crowded so it takes a few minutes for you to get served. You scan the room, trying to find that guy again but you’ve lost him amongst the sea of people. 

When you look back at the bar your cocktail is waiting for you so you place down your cash, grab your drink, and head back to your friends. You dance with them again, taking sips of your drink and just letting loose.

After a little while you start to feel a bit dizzy and figure that the cocktail must be pretty strong. You slow down, drinking less and trying to take deep breaths to combat the lightheadedness. It doesn’t seem to be helping, and you start to feel a bit nauseous, so you excuse yourself to the bathroom. 

You walk to the hallway on unsteady legs, and miraculously are able to use the restroom. You slowly wash your hands, concentrating deeply on the task. 

On your way back to your friends you get confused, taking a wrong turn and going down the wrong hallway. It’s dark back here, and if you were more coherent you’d realize that customers aren’t supposed to be here, and the only door leads to a storage room. 

Turning around you find that you’re suddenly not alone. A tall man is there smiling at you. It’s not someone you recognize but you have a vague sense that you should know him. He steps closer and you start to feel anxious, not liking the situation you’ve found yourself in. 

“Excuse me,” you try to say, but your mouth feels almost numb, and you’re not sure the words actually came out. 

“I’m glad I found you Y/N,” he says. You stare at him, trying to figure out how you know him. “It’s time to get going, sweetheart.”

He starts to lead you away and you follow, unable to come up with a reason to stay. The music gets louder, lights are flashing in your eyes, and you’re becoming more and more disoriented. 

The next thing you know, a group of your friends are frantically speaking to you, the man nowhere to be found. You desperately try to focus on any one thing, but it’s chaos all around you. Hands cup your face and you flinch before meeting the eyes of the person who placed them there so gently. 

“Spencer?” you ask, needing confirmation that your muddled mind has at least one thing correct.

“Yea, it’s Spencer,” he replies as he moves his hands off of you, relieved that he now has your attention. “Can you tell me what happened?”

You shake your head no.

“Do you know who that man is?” Spencer asks.

Again you just shake your head.

You sway on your feet and Spencer quickly steps in and helps you sit on the floor. You lean your head back against the wall, but you find that makes the dizziness worse, so you rest it on your knees instead. You’re turned to look at Spencer, needing to focus on something safe right now. 

There’s more commotion, and you watch as Spencer speaks with a couple of people in uniform. He places a calming hand on your back and tries asking you more questions, but everything is too murky for you to understand.

You’re so drowsy, and you stop fighting your heavy eyelids, letting them close as the world around you finally goes quiet.

You’re not out for long, waking up a short while later in the ambulance. Spencer is still there, now holding onto your hand. 

At the hospital a lovely doctor checks you over to make sure you’re not injured. She takes blood and gives you some IV hydration. By the time you’re discharged, the world has stopped spinning and you’re able to understand and answer the questions you’re being asked. 

Two of the police officers come to the hospital to speak with you now that you’re more coherent, and you tell them about the man. One of the officers is the woman you’d been in contact with regarding the letters and the stranger at the park and she pulls up the pictures you had taken as well as a still from the security footage from the bar.

Your blood runs cold as you realize that it is absolutely the same person. Just a moment ago you were reeling from the fact that you had been roofied. And now you find out that it wasn’t just some random guy that did it, but instead one who has been stalking you for months. You weren’t drugged on some whim. This had to have been planned, thought out for who knows how long. 

You keep it together until the police officers leave and then you turn to Spencer, eyes wide and filling with tears.

After taking a deep breath you say, “Thank you so much for finding me. I can’t imagine what he would have done if you hadn’t come looking for me.”

“I would never have been able to forgive myself if anything happened to you,” is his reply. 

You can’t think of anything to say in reply, so you choose to lean into his side instead. He wraps an arm around you, and it might be your imagination, but you think you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head. 

“C’mon. The guys dropped my car off, let’s get you home,” Spencer says. 

“No!” You quickly shout. “He knows where I live. He’ll find me there.”

“Y/N, they have him down at the police station. But I actually didn’t mean your home. I meant mine, if you’re alright with that.”

“Oh. Yes, please, I’m good with that.”

Spencer keeps his arm around your waist as he leads you out of the hospital and to his car in the nearby lot. He opens the passenger door and pulls out a sweatshirt. He helps you pull it over your head before you sit in the seat. You struggle a moment with the seatbelt, and he leans in to click it for you. It’s embarrassing, him having to do all of this because you’re still so shaky, but he doesn’t see it that way. 

He talks the whole way to his place, and you’re grateful for the random stories that fill the silence. It keeps your mind from slipping into the dark fearful thoughts that keep trying to pop up.

Once at his apartment he asks if you want to take a shower or get some sleep. 

“Shower first, if that’s okay?” you answer.

“Of course it’s okay. Whatever you need,” he replies. “I’ll get some breakfast ready as well. Anything particular you want?”

Your stomach is still unsettled so you ask if it’s possible to just have toast.

“I think I can handle toast,” he says with a smile, causing you to giggle. “I’ll make you a smoothie too, how does that sound?”

“Perfect.” 

Spencer leads you to the bathroom where he starts the shower and shows you how to change the temperature of the water. He steps out for a moment and comes back with a stack of clean clothes for you to wear.

“I’ll be right down the hall if you need anything,” he says before he leaves the room.

You shower as quickly as you can, wanting to get back to Spencer. Being alone is the last thing you want right now, but you also need to wash last night off of you so you can feel clean.

It feels amazing to slip into Spencer’s cozy sweats, his old, worn t-shirt, and soft hoodie. 

He’s in the kitchen and you watch as he butters toast and pours the smoothie into two cups. Breakfast is quiet as you focus on eating slowly so as to not upset your stomach. You finish as much as you can before the exhaustion really sets in. 

“C’mon, you need to sleep,” he says. The polite part of you wants to help clear the dishes as a thank you, but he’s right. You can barely stay upright on the way to his room. He closes the blinds and tucks you in, and you fall asleep almost immediately. 

You’re not sure how long you sleep before a nightmare has you jolting awake, screaming. 

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asks as he runs into the room. 

He sits on the bed beside you and you try to explain the dream you’d just had in which Spencer hadn’t saved the day and you’d ended up with that man. But as you go to speak nothing comes out except a shattered sob. 

Without hesitation he pulls you to him and holds you close. He gently rocks you as he tells you, “You’re safe, you got away, he can’t get you,” over and over until the message sinks in. 

You don’t say anything, but slowly your tears fade away and your eyes start to feel heavy once again. You want to lay back down and rest some more, but you don’t want Spencer to leave again.

“Stay. Please.” 

It’s all you get out before you fall back to sleep. 

You wake up hours later with Spencer still holding you, and for the first time in months, you know that you’re safe, and that everything is going to be okay.

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

AN: Thank you for reading! I only have one or two more Spencer story ideas so lmk if you have any requests!

[aayakashii]

FINALLY IT'S ALMOST OVER but, I'll be posting Valentine's Day themed headcanons for each House in Tokyo Debunker!

All prompts come from this post here ♡

And dividers are from @saradika-graphics 🫶

Taglist: @wannaberecluse @cupcakesmoothie

Frostheim | Vagastrom | Jabberwock | Sinostra | Hotarubi | Obscuary | Mortkranken

Valentine's Day in Obscuary

Ed

how does he show affection?

You will never know true privacy ever again, and that is not an exaggeration. He simply latches onto you and never lets you go. He WILL be staying in your room whether you allowed it or not, he WILL link his arms with yours whenever you're walking somewhere and he WILL complain about the harsh sunlight everyday (you tell him he could just stay in Obscuary and you'd visit him later, but he refuses, saying human life is fleeting so he can't afford to waste a single second without you. Good luck).

does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?

He likes them, but his version of a hug is draping himself over you in a dramatic fashion – whether it's when he's "feeling unwell" or when he just wants all your attention to himself, Ed leans all of his body weight onto you, hands squeezing and petting everywhere he can reach. You have to pry him off of you when you two are in public, lest you want some Frostheim student clutching their pearls as they watch the vampire and his less-than-appropriate behavior.

is he good at flirting? how does he flirt?

Depends on what you think it's good flirting. Are you attracted to centuries old vampires that like to murmur innuendos in your ear while constantly invading your personal space? If yes, then Ed is the perfect man for you. If not, well... you might need to have a long, serious talk with him (spoiler: he won't change).

is he good at gift - giving or does he struggle to get it right?

His gifts are always a coin toss. He can either surprise you with a beautiful, vintage trinket from times of yore he has carefully kept safe for centuries, or he can straight up just gift you a one month subscription to his favorite twitch streamer. It's best if you just tell him the things you want – he might whine and tell you he has no money (even though he gives superchats to his oshis like. every day), but he will relent eventually and find a way to give you whatever you wanted in the end.

is he quick or slow to give his heart away?

Slow. His behavior sometimes makes everyone forget about it, but Ed has been alive for longer than anyone can understand. He's had family, friends, and lovers – now, all fading memories due to the passage of time. He intimately knows the horrid pain of losing a loved one time and time and time again. Going through something like that again isn't on his plans – he doesn't see the beauty in what's ephemeral anymore. So it takes him a long time to come to terms with his feelings. He might try to pressure you into letting him turn you into a vampire though.

does he find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Easy, but it takes some time for it to be genuine. Like most things in his life, words have become trivialized as well. He's forgotten the weight of them, finding it easy to say "I love you" as a way to tease and aggravate you (or Rui or Lyca). As he begins to accept his own feelings for you, however, it becomes less and less frequent – he sees truth in his own words, and it's alarming. Not to mention, he has cried wolf one too many times: the next time he says it, he wants you to finally believe in his love as much as he believes in it himself.

does he get jealous in a relationship?

Not really, but he'll never ever miss the chance of making a scene and putting on his drama queen crown whenever he sees you talking with some other guy. You might even think he IS jealous, but his plans are more mischievous than you expect. It's almost impossible for Ed to feel threatened, honestly – he's lived many lives, and he's tired now; jealousy requires a lot of energy and he just doesn't have it in him anymore.

what is his ideal date?

Diving into the most random rabbit hole on YouTube and spending all day together watching videos about it and discussing them all while cuddling on his bed (after deep cleaning his room, of course...). Soon, you and Ed will be extremely knowledgeable on the most niche subject possible, and no one will be able to decipher what the hell you two are talking about – and Ed wouldn't have it any other way.

would he ask the big question or expect their partner to?

He genuinely doesn't think about marriage. What is forever to someone who never dies? Unless you are willing to let go of your humanity and turn into a vampire to stay with him in his eternity, marriage won't be a reality for the both of you. He won't make promises if you aren't going to fulfill yours.

how does he feel about valentine’s day?

He thinks it's an interesting little human creation but doesn't really partake in it (besides watching Valentine's themed streams). If you care a lot about the date, however, he might have his curiosity piqued – after all, it's the perfect excuse to obnoxiously cling onto you without receiving any complaints. It's Valentine's Day after all!

does he get protective easily?

He wouldn't call it protectiveness, but it's what it would seem like to anyone who observed him. Ed is always watching, keeping himself in the shadows or in the corner of your vision. He steps in when needed, nothing more, nothing less. He has saved you from more predicaments than you will ever know, but you don't need to. There's no need for fanfare nor ostentation. He's too tired for that.

does he believe in true love?

He used to, centuries ago. Rekindling a fire that has been out for longer than any human can conceive seems like an impossible task... but you seem to be special. Why don't you take a shot?

Rui

(Like with Zenji, in these headcanons, Rui's curse has been broken, so it's not too angsty)

how does he show affection?

He could do anything and everything for you. You only need to ask. He wants to grant your every wish – be it some food or drink you want to try, clothes you want to buy or even just keeping you company whenever you need him. He wants to be your chaperone, your student partner, your helper, your date, your best friend – he wants to be dedicated to you, ready to be all yours whenever you want him. All he asks is for you to allow him to hold you in his arms as he does so.

does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?

LOVES them. He is constantly placing his arm around your shoulders or your waist, always ready to pull you even closer. His hugs are tight and almost suffocating – Rui presses you against him as if he's afraid you could turn into sand between his fingers. His hands trace circles on your back, soothingly; you just don't know if he's trying to soothe you or himself.

is he good at flirting? how does he flirt?

You know he's great. However, Rui flirts shamelessly and openly with anything that breathes, which, consequently, prevents you from believing his words whenever his attention is on you. It actually frustrates him greatly. He begins to wonder if he should change his whole behavior only to have you finally flustered when he winks at you or blows you a kiss. After all, his charm isn't working with the one person he wished to impress.

is he good at gift - giving or does he struggle to get it right?

He's great at it. He can barely wait for Valentine's Day to arrive so he can give you the enormous basket full of gifts he has assembled for the past WEEKS. He knows absolutely all your tastes, and he will show off, eager to receive some praise from you as you rummage through all the things he's collected to give you. He'll be even more elated if you wear all the accessories and clothes and perfumes he's given you – he feels like an even bigger part of your day when you do so.

is he quick or slow to give his heart away?

Despite how freely he flirts with everyone, Rui is slow when it comes to falling in love. He's very aware, though, of what happens in his heart once he begins falling for you. He knows his words are more truthful than they used to be; he knows his voice is tinged with a sadness that only someone who's in love can understand. At a certain point, his flirting becomes some form of masochistic punishment to himself – you don't know how much he wants you to believe him, and he can't stop reaching out for you, only to be met with your distrust. He had to plan thoroughly how to convince you of the honesty of his feelings, but at this point he was ready to rip out his bleeding heart and present it to you.

does he find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

It's easy, although the occasion changes as he falls in love with you. Right as he met you, it was easy: he would say it whenever he wanted to compliment you, thank you, or just as a greeting. As his feelings grew stronger and more real, however, he began saying it only when you were in his arms – his lips close to your ears as he inhaled your scent. Those three words became the culmination of his emotions; the utmost truth he only allows himself to say with the solemnity of a man pledging his soul to his deity.

does he get jealous in a relationship?

A little bit. He doesn't let it fester, though. If someone looks like they're trying their chance with you, he's quick to appear by your side and pull you closer with his arm on your waist. He maintains a perfect smile, but you can see how it never reaches his eyes, a subtle twitch of his eyebrows being the only sign of his carefully contained anger. You squeeze him even closer to you, and his shoulder slump. How can he stay mad at some random asshole when he has his cutie by his side?

what is his ideal date?

He wants a little cliché date: an afternoon at a cafe, then a visit to a bookstore so you two can point out titles and he can learn even more about your tastes. If you want to, he'd be more than happy to follow you around at a trinket store as well, elated to see your excitement as you point out plushies and toys to him. While you have fun poking around and showing him anything that you find cute or interesting, he has fun watching all your reactions.

would he ask the big question or expect their partner to?

He would love to ask it. He wants to make a show (only for you) out of his proposal. He genuinely thinks you deserve all of the effort he can muster. Rui won't mind if you propose, though. He will probably malfunction for a little while, before his brain catches up on the fact that you just asked him to spend the rest of his life with you. Don't worry, though. He wants it more than anything else in his life.

how does he feel about valentine’s day?

He LOVES it. He's looking forward to it months before the date (probably started the countdown since December). He was already quite used to receiving chocolates and confessions every year, but he couldn't care less about it this time. All he's thinking about is whether or not he'll get a chocolate from you and how much he wants to give you your gifts. The rest doesn't matter.

does he get protective easily?

A little. He's very open when it comes to expressing his concerns about your safety. He asks you to send him text messages to update him on your day or if you need something from him. Calls you just to know if you've arrived safely at class or at your dorm. He accompanies you wherever you go if he's available. He may be busy, but he tries his best to be as present as possible in order to protect you from all the dangers lurking in Darkwick.

does he believe in true love?

He does and has always believed in it. For the longest time, he thought he was simply doomed not to ever find it. With you, he finally feels safe enough to allow himself to believe in it again.

Lyca

how does he show affection?

Another clingy one for the books. Not to be too redundant, but Lyca does follow you around like a lost puppy does to its owner. It doesn't matter when classes start, nor where they happen – he will be there, waiting for you. He's always right next to you during all of your meals, glaring at anyone who tries to join you (except, probably, Subaru). His bright golden eyes are always following your every movement, glinting with satisfaction when your attention is entirely focused on him. He drops whatever he's doing if he catches the faintest whiff of your scent. You're his favorite person, and he explicitly proves it to you every day, even though it's mostly subconsciously on his part.

does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?

He loves them, but he's too embarrassed to ever give you a hug. The only moment in which he slithers his way into your arms of his own accord is when he's feeling under the weather – when only your comfort can bring him back to his usual mood. Besides that, you're the only one who's always taking the initiative and pulling him down for a hug. He wiggles and squirms under your iron grip, stuttering about how embarrassing it is to have you holding him like that, but deep inside, he's just relieved that his tail isn't visible otherwise it'd be wagging a mile per second.

is he good at flirting? how does he flirt?

Poor baby. No, he doesn't know how to flirt at all. He can barely voice his feelings properly without getting dizzy and a bit sick. However, sometimes he does say he likes you, though it is through unrecognizable mumbles, fidgeting hands, and grumpy pouts.

is he good at gift - giving or does he struggle to get it right?

His gifts consist mostly of him giving you his own artworks. If he notices you like a plant, or an animal, or a place, he starts working on drawing it as meticulously as possible, just for you. He'll hardly try to give you anything else and will probably be very self-conscious if you mention other types of gifts, so... Let him show his appreciation for you in his own way, at least for a while.

is he quick or slow to give his heart away?

He's a little bit slow. Lyca is extremely guarded when it comes to anyone he doesn't know. It takes a little while for him to open up and get used to your presence. It takes him even longer to understand that he likes you in a way that's different from the way he likes his other friends. He might need a nudge, someone to explain to him what those feelings are in his chest whenever he's with you. However, Lyca won't ever confess to you straightforwardly. He lets his emotions show through his actions, through his eagerness to please you and how he's always seeking your company. You might be the one who needs to find out he has given his heart to you. Let's hope you aren't clueless like him.

does he find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Terribly hard. Lyca had very little chances to develop emotionally during his formative years. Years of fighting for survival, and then isolation, chipped away at his ability to feel his emotions properly. Being thrusted into a whole new reality without preparation nor professional help didn't magically fix his attachment issues. He has a lot of work to do before he even manages to feel things without trying to bury them deep into himself, let alone voice them. But you know him, and you know he loves you in his own way. You can wait.

does he get jealous in a relationship?

Oh, very much so. More than just jealousy, he's constantly afraid that you'll leave him on his own or choose someone else over him. Anyone and anything is a threat. Lyca probably doesn't realize what he's feeling, nor why it brings him so much grief to watch you have fun with someone else. All he recognizes is that unexplainable anger brewing inside his chest. He stomps his way towards you, lips pulled back into a snarl, his chest hurting something fierce. He only calms down once you brighten right as you spot him and immediately try to include him in whatever activity you're doing.

what is his ideal date?

He would love to spend a whole day drawing and painting with you. If you don't know how to do any of these things, he'd be more than happy to teach you. You'd probably have to get all the art supplies beforehand, but it would be worth it – you'd be surprised to know that Lyca is, in fact, a very good and patient teacher (and he loves to be dependable).

would he ask the big question or expect their partner to?

Lyca has never thought about it. Barely knows the existence of it. If you think you two are ready for such a commitment, then you'll have to ask him. Or you can explain the concept of marriage to him and plant the little seed of this idea into his brain. He might end up immediately proposing to you, though, without much preparation or thought. He doesn't complicate things. If marriage is between two people that like each other, then you two can simply do it right away, right?

how does he feel about valentine’s day?

Much like the wedding thing, he never thought about it, nor does he care. You can explain it to him, but he might just grumble about "weird human culture". If it's important to you, however, he can try to give it a little more attention.

does he get protective easily?

VERY. If Lyca catches the slightest whiff of bad intentions coming from someone (quite literally, in his case), he WILL jump in front of you and growl at the person until they leave you alone. He has no qualms with scaring everyone away if it means he will keep you safe. Sometimes, you might need to rein him in so he won't try to scare your friends as well, but then he looks at you with those puppy eyes, apologizing for spooking them away, and it's hard to stay mad at him.

does he believe in true love?

Rui has read him stories about it – those things called fairytales. If it's in a book, then it might be real, right? Isn't that how it's supposed to work? So yes, he does believe in it. And you're even more reason to believe.

[theogonize]

youngest intern in the history of ppth's oncology. thats you.

"you're still here?" wilson calls out to the void seemingly. your head peaks out from the crowded shelves of the lab to give him a nod.

oh this is bad.

this is not what you need. you dont need you're hot boss to distract you when you're trying to conduct some tests he asked you to. especially not when you haven't slept in 2 days and have had copious amounts of coffee in your system making you jittery. you dont need him to increase your heart rate to the point where your capillaries explode. oh you're gonna fuck up somehow. you're tell him you like him. because lord knows you do. your boss. you have a silly schoolgirl crush on your pathetically gorgeous boss. the kind that makes you nauseous and unwell because he's just so, so pretty. and you'd end up telling him that you'd risk it all if he just gave you the chance.

but you like this job. you need this job. you can't let it go just because you've got a thing for older men with kind eyes whose soft lips spill praises like...

"you there?"

"mhm" you gulp. somehow your mouth is really fucking dry. good god, james wilson. good fucking god. you just want to rub your face on his chest like a cat. you need him to touch you. to pet you. to run his deft fingers refined from years of surgery and paperwork and everything else through your hair or something... what's wrong with you? there's a pit in your abdomen that needs him. you need him to praise you, like he always does. you need him to look at you, take you in, take advantage of you. just dear lord do something. not just stand there and express concern as your employer. just come closer, please, your mind whimpers to him.

"i really think you should rest. we've made considerable progress thanks to your good work and extra hours. you've really proved yourself."

but you don't want this to stop. he thinks you're good. useful. your boss, the intellectual, witty and beautiful man you work for, the best doctor you've met. the one who puts in the hours and effort to better himself in what he does... thinks you did a good job.

wilson does find you admirable. he likes your work ethic, your thirst to prove yourself. he likes your obsession, he compares it to house's sometimes. he likes the way you talk, not much to him for some reason (maybe it's the "boss" thing or...) but everyone else in the oncology department. he likes that you're young and you hold him in high regard. you're always so attentive when he talks, so perceptive, so willing. among those things he commends, the kind of things he can tell his colleagues about, he also likes the tint in your skin when you stand under the dim lighting in the lab. some of it reflecting off your hair, slightly unkempt but beautiful. he likes you without the lab coat. he likes your keen eyes, your smile, your hands, your face, the swoop of your ass, your...

he lets out a deep sigh. wilson likes you. admires you. maybe overstepping his place as your boss, as your mentor, as whatever that is you're making him in your head, the reflection of which he sees in your eyes sometimes. something desperate. aching. calling out his name, as if to say "come heal me". heaven knows he wants to.

and he knows what it is. it's the same look of admiration he gives you. the murky one. the slightly lustful one. he knows what you are. pretty young thing, final year med student, who'd rather flirt with house than chase or foreman. but he'd rather pretend he didnt. rather kid himself into thinking he doesn't care when chase of all people calls you young. that he doesn't feel guilty for wanting you to want him.

but maybe if he played into it long enough, played dumb long enough, made you feel like this is just how he is. just this sweet. if he made you believe that he had a reason to fold his cuffs to reveal his rather slutty forearms, loosen his tie on a late night, take off his coat complaining about the new jersey weather, gaze into your eyes at every occasion he got, all in pure innocence. this isnt flirting. this isn't an old man's desperation and desire permeating his professionalism.

no. this is okay. all he hopes for is that one day you'll give in. confess your love to him like cameron did to house. fight for him. shed a few tears. maybe then he could wipe then off your pretty cheeks and sigh. he could then reject you. just speak those words of "i'm sorry, it's inappropriate and you're much younger than me" into existence. make them real, if only he could use all the rationality in the world to convince himself that he doesn't want you as despicably and carnally as he does.

he shuts his eyes and takes in a sharp breath. no. this isn't right. he'd be taking advantage of you. even if its what you want. even if it could be his little present to you.

"go home, doctor."

he leaves the door of the lab open on his way out.

[pomefioredove]

Hiya! Do you think you could write something romantic and fluffy with Vil? I love him!

hi anon of course! I am so unwell about this man

summary: being friends with vil schoenheit has its perks type of post: fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, FLUFFY, mentions of food, friends to lovers huhuhu, maybe a tiny bit suggestive but also not really? lap-sitting and kissing

Someone should write a guide on how to be friends with Vil Schoenheit.

It did not come as naturally to you as you would have hoped. There were times when he felt like a star in your presence, not the actor kind, but the heavenly body.

Bright, and burning, and millions of miles away. Even as he sat directly across from you.

"You're not eating," he remarks. The comment is not degrading, though it is tinged with curiosity. "Is it bad?"

You haven't even sampled the meal yet- something fancy and expensive that you likely couldn't pronounce. He'd ordered it for you.

"It's okay," you lie.

He either buys your excuse, or ignores it. Either way, he reaches across the gossamer table cloth and switches your plates without asking.

Vil Schoenheit Friendship Survival Manual, rule number one: always assume his judgment is correct, until proven otherwise.

You look down at the plate- some kind of vegetable dish. He urges you on with a nod, lilac eyes fixed firmly on your pleasantly surprised reaction when you take a bite.

Rule number two: his judgment is always correct.

"Better?" he asks, not bothering to finish your food. He'll likely get something else later. "You really shouldn't skip meals. If you were feeling unwell, you should have said so. I would've ordered something lighter for you."

"Sorry. Didn't think of it," you say, taking another bite of his meal, if only to appease him.

You're hesitant to mention that the heavy feeling in your chest wasn't from illness, and so you say nothing more.

"No need to apologize. Here,"

Vil delicately reaches across the table and dabs at the corner of your mouth with his napkin. You hate how light-headed such a simple action makes you feel.

"Better. And don't worry about smudging anything, I have a few new products I'd like to try out on you later,"

Rule number three: always accept his gifts.

"Thanks," you murmur.

You were starting to feel as if you really were ill, the way your entire body warmed in his presence. Vil brought out a feverish sort of stupidity in you that made outings like this a minefield to navigate.

How painfully cliché, you thought. Hopelessly in love with someone far out of your league, with infinite options, none of which you could even hope to catch up to...

It made these evenings together pure torture.

You felt guilty for wishing he wasn't such an amazing friend. Must he insist on showering you in gifts and holding your hand every time you cross the street?

But being in his bedroom is another, dirtier realm of guilt. Vil saw you as a friend. Platonic. Someone he confided in, who he took under his wing. You were allowed to see parts of him no one else had, and yet, you can hardly pay attention to what he's saying because you can't stop thinking about the way his lips look when he speaks.

"Did you understand any of that?" he asks, bending down to your level as you sit on his bed. On his bed. And you had the mind to be thinking about doing romantic things...

Rule number four: speak when spoken to.

"No, sorry, I've just had a lot on my mind lately,"

Vil clicks his tongue and holds a hand to your forehead, feeling for temperature. "And you're sure you're not ill?"

"I'm fine! Just distracted,"

He chuckles, walking across the room to peruse his vanity. "Hm... and what sort of thoughts have got you scatterbrained today?"

You can feel your skin burning again. He could tell, couldn't he? All these weeks of coming undone every time he so much as looks your way couldn't have gone over his head... could they?

Or perhaps he was just used to people staring at him, stumbling over their words every time he spoke. Perhaps you were just another foolish fan who'd gotten to know him before falling in love.

You couldn't help but wish that there was someone or something that would just tell you what to do.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

Vil sits beside you, a small, wooden box in hand.

"I'm supposed to promote these next weekend, but I'm not sure about them, yet," he says, opening the lid to reveal a plethora of lipsticks that likely cost more than your existence. "I'll need your opinion, of course."

"Right," you murmur.

"And I'd like to try them on you, as well,"

"Of course,"

"And you're alright with that?"

You nod. Ever the gentleman, always asking for permission. He's been quite generous with his products lately, giving them away to you like candy. You're almost certain he has a full list of your allergens somewhere.

Vil returns to the vanity, delicately prepping, and then applying the first shade. It's a marvelous, metallic pink, with dark red undertones that make it a regal color. It suits him, and you say as much.

"Oh, you think so? I suppose it does compliment my eyes, although I'd definitely need to pair it with something darker, else it become too overpowering..."

He clicks his tongue, and then turns to look over his shoulder at you.

"Your turn. Come sit,"

There isn't another chair at the vanity, and you take that as your cue to awkwardly stand in front of him until he tells you what to do. He chuckles, amused by some thought of his that he doesn't share aloud.

"What are you standing there for? Sit,"

You awkwardly look around the space, eyes searching for a mysteriously hidden stool, something that should have been obvious...

He smiles. "Oh, don't be shy. We've known each other long enough by now, haven't we?"

You can't think of the right thing to ask, although your thoughts are quickly cut off by the sight of him gently patting his lap.

Sevens. If there were any time to wake up, this was it.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

He's not joking, of course. Vil hardly jokes. And so, you awkwardly straddle his lap, facing towards him, and allow him to get a good look at your visage.

He holds your chin firmly, studying your features as if he hasn't already seen them a thousand times before.

"Stay still,"

He's going to give you a heart attack, and there's a little quirk in his smile that tells you he knows it, too.

You wonder what your tag at the morgue will say. Death by Vil Schoenheit?

He starts with your skin, commenting on how soft it's gotten since he met you, then your eyes...

...Once he's satisfied, as he always is with his work, he turns your head so you can admire the makeup look in the mirror behind you.

"Stunning," he comments. "But you're missing something."

You look back, eyes wide. Surely, he hadn't forgotten something...? That's simply not in his nature.

He smiles at your confusion. "Remember? You promised to test these for me?"

Right. The lipstick. You nod. "Yes, but, I thought you'd already..."

"Oh, I do like the color. I'm just worried about this brand," Vil says. He looks away for a moment, almost as if to summon his courage... what a strange expression on him.

"What's wrong with the brand?"

He turns back with a small smirk. "They have a nasty reputation for smudging easily. I wouldn't want to make a fool of myself next weekend, hm?"

His cups your chin again, bringing you closer.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him!

He tilts his head to the side. "You don't mind, do you?"

You couldn't have shaken your head any faster, even with his grip on your chin.

"Good. Now, stay still. I think this will be a good color on you, anyway,"

He pulls you in with ease, letting his lips rest on yours for a second or two, before pulling back. Short but sweet, enough to make you feel like your entire body has gone numb.

He inspects your face, humming to himself...

"Good so far," he says, bringing you closer again. "But that was too safe. I won't hold back next time. Are you ready?"

You nod. Barely anything had happened, and you're already breathless. "Ready,"

Another smile crosses his perfect face, though he doesn't give you any time to admire it before he's kissing you again, one hand still cupping your face, the other holding the back of your neck and pressing you closer.

Definitely not a very platonic kiss.

It takes him longer to pull away this time, though when he does, it gives you a perfect view of his still-pristine makeup.

"Hmm... still nothing. I'm quite impressed with this line," he says, reaching behind you and returning with the wooden box. "How do you feel?"

Dizzy. Light-headed. Warm.

"Good," you say.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

Or do.

"Not too much, I hope?"

A delightful realization was beginning to come over you, one that made all you had thought about him null and void:

No one else could possibly give you a guide on Vil Schoenheit, because he writes the rules himself.

"No. That was perfect,"

"Excellent," he smiles, and flips the box open again. "Because we still have six more colors to test."

[the-traveling-poet]

House-Husband’s Love

When life becomes too overwhelming, maybe even simultaneously underwhelming at times, sometimes you just need a break. Just a day off to lay around and do nothing; give your brain a chance to calm down and reset. With Levi as your partner, you can bet he would be the one to ensure you got your breaks. And some attention, of course.

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x gn!Reader (relationship isn’t specified, so imagine how you prefer!)

Warnings: SFW, hurt-to-comfort kinda, themes of depression/disassociation/sensory overload, fluff ending

A/N: Needing some modern!househusband!Levi rn cause I’m nearing my breaking point again and needed to write some brain rot to completely disassociate again. I guess also to distract myself from writing my fics? I dunno man.

1.2k words

It must have been one of those days; where everything felt off-balance. Levi always saw. He could tell by just a glance your way the morning before.

Another day of feeling as though every sight before you became dull and muted in appearance. Unnoticeable, nearly, while you disassociated. And yet somehow, all at once, the more noticeable everything became, making you paranoid and panicked.

He could figure out your tell-tale signs well enough by now, from his own curious observations over time. Occasionally, after some time of letting you sort it out yourself, he’d talked it over once or twice with you. He’d asked you how exactly you felt on days like these; days where your eyes stayed wide and brows raised in an expression of alertness, even as your jaw clenched and hands shook, your eyes glazed over as you kept yourself in near constant motion. He knew the signs, and what they meant.

You were spiraling again. Sensory overload, dissociation…He hadn’t seen it so bad in you before.

Always moving, always forcing yourself to focus no matter how shallow it made your breath...He hated seeing you in such a state, when you wanted to focus on anything but your own thoughts.

Sometimes these moments lasted a few hours, sometimes even just one. But often, they progressed into days of forced hyper focus and constant activity to draw yourself away from your own mind, busying it with tasks and work.

But this time…this time, it had been weeks.

It hurt him to see you so stressed, no matter the situation.

And so, one such morning, following another rough night, he took the liberty of disengaging your alarm for the morning. The simple press of a button, he hoped, would keep you asleep for just a tad longer. Your mind needed the rest of a couple more hours, he reasoned.

After only a second’s hesitation in which he still held your phone, he also sent a quick email to your employer; some excuse about being unwell enough to not clock in today, and warning about a possible similar hinderance for the following day.

'If you need more information, feel free to message my emergency contact, as he's looking after me today while I recover.'

He sent the email, slightly smirking to himself as he turned your phone off and set it back onto the nightstand.

He would handle it for you, as much as he could.

Pulling the covers up over your shoulder, Levi slid out of the bed soundlessly.

With you still soundly asleep, he went about tidying up what he could around the apartment, keeping any noise to a minimum to ensure you stayed asleep.

'A clean space helps clear the mind,' he'd always believed, and as such he wanted to provide you with such a fresh start today. Whenever you chose to wake up, that is. He wouldn’t enforce it today.

It wasn't until late morning he heard movement from the bedroom, your weight shifting over the creaking bed as you stumbled out in a panic moments later.

"My alarm, I must not have set it-" You'd started, obviously anxious as you raced to throw on a new top and a pair of jeans.

Before you could get to slip anything off, Levi’s hand found your shoulder, softly holding you in place.

"Don't worry about it, love. You have today off. Maybe even tomorrow, unless I get a call."

He mumbled, gently taking a jacket from your shaking hands.

You stared up at him blankly for a moment, completely in disbelief.

"...It's Wednesday. I work a 9-5, babe...I'm not off today; it's not a holiday." You tried to protest weakly, but once again were silenced by a slender finger against your lips.

"I know. I called off for you, though. Besides, the shift started three hours ago, so there's no need to bother going in now. Just take a seat, breakfast is half done."

Still regarding him in complete bewilderment, you hesitantly took a seat on the couch and watched him meander back towards the kitchen, returning his attention back to the stove. It was only then you noticed the array of pans neatly set on the hot surface, and the toaster on the counter already slotted with bread. The smell of frying foods wafting over to you, causing your stomach to protest weakly.

When was the last time you’d focused on a full meal, instead of eating a few small bites here and there throughout the day?

It wasn't long until he'd plated the meal, and brought you a plate with a cup of tea to pair it. Once you were settled in with your plate and utensils, he sat down on the couch beside you with his one of his own. He'd never been fond of eating on the couch, you knew, so this must be a 'special occasion' of sorts.

"...Why?" You eventually mumbled between bites of toast and sips of tea, digging in the moment he’d sat.

He swallowed the bite of scrambled eggs from his own plate before answering, a napkin already in hand to wipe away any invisible cooking greased from his lips.

"You're stressed out, baby. I've seen it for several days now. Relaxing evenings after work weren't doing it, so I wanted to give you a full day's worth, instead."

"...I'm fine. Life is just rough sometimes-"

You'd started, setting down your mug to weakly protest his concerns; but he easily held a hand over your wrist, lowering the warm beverage from your lips.

"Then isn't it my job to try and make life a little less strenuous? One day off won't kill you, and won't impact the income too greatly. We can manage; but your mental health can’t, not like this.”

He sighed, setting your mug down onto the coffee table for you.

“Just relax, yeah? Relax, and let me handle today for you. It’s the least I can do, for all that you always do.”

Huffing quietly in muted amusement, you smiled his way, eyes welling with unshed tears. Tears of silent relief.

“…I haven’t had a work day off in ages, maybe months. Two days a week are nice, but…”

“…But not enough sometimes. I know sweetheart. I know. I can see it in you. So just relax today. We don’t have to be productive every day.” Levi reassured softly, keeping his hand around yours.

“Hell, I’ll bully your boss into giving you another day off-“

“Levi I need this job, you can’t,” you giggled, leaning against his side and curling up onto the couch.

“…But thank you, my love. I think I needed this,” you finished in a whisper, briefly closing your eyes.

“I know you did.” Levi stated calmly, running his free hand’s fingers through your hair.

“Just rest…I’ve got everything else. I’ll deal with it for you.”

(A/N: I’m a whore for the idea of Levi calling us ‘baby’ or ‘sweetheart’ leave me alONE-)

For mroe Levi Ackerman content, feel free to check out my other masterlists!

[candiyaa]

hiii i love the way u depict kokushibo its so accurate 😭😭🙏🙏 do u mind writing smth where y/n tries annoying kokushibo to see how long it’ll take for him to say something

OHHHHH YES YESS A MILLION TIMES YESS LOVE THE IDEA !!! thanks a lot for this request I tried my best and hope you guys will like it !! ✿ Also I really do apologize for the delay idk yet how to properly balance school with other activities but here I come again with new stories for y'all to giggle abt lol

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄...

Your husband , Kokushibo , was a simple man. He always seemed to have it all together and that unflinching stoic demeanor that seemed to always stay in place. You would try to move him ? He doesn't budge. Trying to make him blush ? Not happening. Trying to fluster him ? Still nothing. No matter how hard you tried he was always so composed and didn't let his emotions show , or at least not fully. It was getting frustating, how can someone be this composed and unbothered ! You needed to shake that unfliching demeanor out of him ! To shatter that mask he seemed to have and break through his stoic facade ! But.. you had to start small. You didn't know yet how he might react after all..

As Kokushibo was doing his usual reading on your shared bed , you gently settled in bed next to him.

He stared down at you for a moment , acknowledging your presence, then gently almost impercetibly shyly scooting closer to you (hes just such a cutieeee ahhh) , raising a single eyebrow as if silently asking you "What is it ?" You simply shook your head as if saying "Nothing.." , from that moment Kokushibo already knew that something was up with you, but couldn't quite pinpoint what , perhaps it was that smug and mischevious smile that seemed to twitch at the corners of your mouth or... his simple intuition.

Poke.

Kokushibo's eyes widen slowly as if processing what just happened to him. As he blinks slowly before slowly turning his head to stare at you , a dumbfounded expression on his face as you just poked his cheek .(Ik his lower eyes take most of the place but let's just imagine he got cheeks for that one lol)

"What....is it ?" he asks almost nervously yet still with that unflinching demeanor and gravelly voice.

"Nothing..." you answered , the smug look never leaving your face.

Kokushibo's eyes slightly narrowed at you, not in a threatening way but in a curious way , as if trying to understand what were your true intentions and thoughts at the moment. But after some time of simply staring at you he resumes his reading , while you can still feel him briefly side-eyeing you from time to time to see what you're up to. His reading time was definietly disturbed now , his six eyes flickering across the words but without really acknowledging them , his focus was now unconciously devoted to you.

Poke.

Poke.Poke.

Your husband nearly flinched at that , genuinely sensing that something was off this time, but poor him is not really good with communication. Are you sick ? Feeling unwell ? Is he not giving you enough attention , is that why ? Has he been distant ? he thought..

"D..do you wish to read with me ? Why are you touching me like that..?" he was not annoyed nor mad in the slightest at the moment. (not yet..) He was just curious as to why you were acting like that.

"Umm..no I'm okay" you said completely ignoring his second inquiry , as you got up from bed , now going back and forth in the room doing whatever , you wouldn't sit still : one moment you were at the window. And the next in bathroom , some seconds later here you were putting on TV....Kokushibo liked calmness and when things were steady , neat and silent and you knew it quite well . However, he couldn't help but follow your every movements , every places you kept running to and it started to overwhelm in a way. Why on earth are you moving around so much ? he thought. He tried , tried , tried really hard to focus back on his book but the words were getting tangled , each sentances seeming now blurred together , it's like the book was mocking his centuries-honed resolve and concentration he menaged to master.

Although you didn't stop there...you were now playing loud music and pacing in the room loudly , doing as much noise as you could when finally... ──── silence ────

The music was shut down. The lights flickering as if threatening to go out, the cold breeze invinting itself by the open window making you shiver , you didn't have the time to look at the scene behind you , no... actually you didn't need to...you could sense it now...he was definietly mad now..

Before you could react , you're suddenly pulled down on the mattress in a swift movement ,it was so quick you didn't even quite understood what had happened. Your husband , caging you in with his body as he hovers over you , his face was so close to yours , your lips only inches away. The movement was swift yes but not harsh he was gently holding you in place by the forearms , his grip was firm but not tight. He was always like that , handling you as if you were precious porcelain , as if his touch, if too tight could shatter you in millions of pieces. That gentleness , he conveyed it in his touch.. even if he was clearly upset at the moment or perharps frustrated would be the word.. You could feel his breath tickling your face while he stared down at you with his eyes narrowed ,this time darkened with slight irritation. His brows were furrowed but in his eyes , you could still see it , that softness that only seems to glim in his eyes whenever he looks at you , he could never be truly upset with you.

"What. is. the.Meaning Of. This... ?" he said his voice coming out with that little irritated edge but still soft enough to not scare you away completely. It wasn't his intention anyway , because deep down he was just genuinely confused.

Hmm well... now how do you explain to your centuries old husband from a complete different and distant era what a prank is..?

⋆˚✿˖° Heyyy hope u guys liked reading it !!! I'm just so obsessed with THIS MAN ATP AGHHHHHHHHHHHHH But once again I really like really do apologize for all the possible grammar mistakes Ive done or the ones I'm doing rn lol I hope it's not too disturbing 😅 Was it too short tho ?? Ahhh I'll do better I promise lol !! Anywaysss I had a lot of fun writing this one so feel free to make requests and I'll do my best !! xoxo ♡ ⋆˚✿˖°

[avocadorablepirate]

Beneath The Surface - 1

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x fem!reader

Summary: When memories, buried deep within your sea of emotions, resurface, you’re left to question what lies beneath the surface. Did he truly mean to leave you behind, or was there something more to his silence than you ever understood?

Word Count: 1.2K

Warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of death, mild gore, OP spoilers, this story follows the Dressrosa arc

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So I haven’t properly proofread this chapter…been a bit sick this past week, but I was determined to post this part today. It’s not terrible though 🤔…I think.

You had locked yourself up in your room, claiming to be unwell. The truth was simpler: your mind had been consumed by memories you thought you had buried. Memories of him. The boy who once soothed your pain had become the man responsible for it.

He left me behind.

That thought replayed in your head, each repetition sinking deeper into your chest. Just the image of his face brought a sickening churn of emotions — hurt, betrayal, anger, and a flicker of something you refused to name.

The soft knock on your door is what finally drew your attention away from your thoughts. On the other side of the door stood Viola, a small but gentle smile on her face when she found you sprawled on your bed.

“I heard you were feeling sick, everything okay?” she asked, as she made her way further into your bedroom.

“Yeah, nothing a good day’s rest won’t cure,” you responded, and her lips immediately contorted into a frown.

“Then you’re not going to be too happy about this.” Her voice softened, tinged with regret. “Doflamingo needs you.”

You sighed, pushing yourself up into a sitting position. Of course he needs me. You didn’t know why you ever thought you’d be able to get a day to yourself, it had rarely occurred before.

“Of course he does,” you muttered under your breath, setting aside the book you had been pretending to read.

Viola gave you a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry. If it were up to me, I'd let you rest."

You forced a smile, appreciating her kindness. "It's okay. Thanks, Viola."

She nodded, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before leaving the room. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself for whatever Doflamingo had in store.

The walk to his room felt long and unpleasant as always. The entire palace always made you uncomfortable, its grandeur a stark contrast to the simpler, slightly happier times of your childhood. It was also a reminder of the life you once lived along side your parents, and without him to console you over those memories, it only brought more pain.

But it hadn’t always been like this. You remember when you first moved in, though a palace, it had a comforting and almost cozy feel to it. However, Doflamingo had made drastic changes, his reason being that the Donquixote family should live in a place that befitted them.

You had tried to get him to let you live outside the palace, the discomfort it brought had been too much at first. But Doflamingo insisted that the entire Donquixote family stay within the palace walls. And that’s why you had tried to make your own room as comfortable as possible. However, that had done little to help. With how often Doflamingo made you run around doing errands for him, or insisted that he watch over you, there was barely any time to relax.

As you gave a soft knock against the heavy wooden doors, to let Doflamingo know you had arrived, you pushed it open to find him standing by the window, his back turned to you as you entered.

“You summoned me, Doffy?" you called out, as you slowly made your way towards him, the atmosphere of the room always making you feel uneasy. It was as if the room itself embodied his very being - intimidating and frightening.

He turned on hearing your voice, a smile plastered on his face. "Ah, my little Rose there you are. Feeling better, I hope?"

You nodded, knowing the question was nothing more than a pleasantry. "What do you need?"

His smile widened, and an eerie chill ran down your spine. "I have a special task for you. I need you to retrieve someone for me."

You frowned, confused by his unforeseen happiness. You had heard there was an incident at Punk Hazard, and although you didn’t know the details, you knew Doflamingo had been beyond enraged. It was another reason why you had chosen to stay in your room, to avoid his temper. So, his uncharacteristic cheerfulness almost baffled you.

“Who?” you questioned, although you had an inkling of who it might be.

“Caesar,” he said simply, his tone light but his eyes watching your reaction closely. “I’m sure you’ve heard, there’s been some...issues. I want you to bring him back from Greenbit."

A wave of confusion hit you once again. “Why me?”

It wasn’t like him to send you on retrieval missions. While you had been privy to fights and conflicts, you had never been a fan of them, and Doflamingo knew this. It was why you mainly ran around doing tasks within the palace. He had called it “protection,” but you had always suspected he thought you too soft-hearted for the darker work.

It had happened before, when you were younger and out on a mission. He had nearly lost you then, and he wouldn’t have it happen again.

“I’ve decided you need to be involved in these matters as well. You can’t be the only one who doesn’t get involved, it’s not fair to you. ” A cold knot of dread formed in your stomach when you saw Doflamingo's eyes glint dangerously. You had thought that you would be able to stay away from such tasks given your temperament, but that had clearly changed.

“But why now?” you asked, and you could feel your heart rate pick up when Doflamingo gave you an almost sinister smile.

“We’re short on people. The pirates who attacked Punk Hazard killed Monet, so we need as much backup as we can get. Plus, the others think you need to start doing your bit,” he said, almost nonchalantly, as if the death of one of his comrades didn’t bother him at all. But you brushed it off, subconsciously convincing yourself it was his way of dealing with grief. “And I think this would be the perfect opportunity to test you Rosie.”

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the task ahead. You had always known that the latest additions to the Donquixote family, all but Viola, did not like the almost favouritism that Doflamingo showed - always tasking you with the simpler jobs. This was your chance to prove your worth, and finally get them off your case. Besides, what harm would come from a simple retrieval mission?

"Alright, Doffy. I’ll bring Caesar back."

He smiled, a satisfied gleam in his eyes, almost akin to a predator satisfied with its prey. "Good. And remember, I expect nothing less than success."

As you stepped out into the hall, your resolve wavered slightly, the enormity of the task ahead settling in.

So caught up in your thoughts, you didn’t notice that someone had walked by you into the room. The shutting of the door is what finally drew you out of your thoughts and you briefly glanced back, the voices within the room, a stark reminder of the life you had chosen.

You shook off the unease and focused on the task at hand. Whatever doubts you had, you pushed them aside. There was no room for weakness. You had a mission to complete, and you would do it with all the strength you could muster. For the town you now called home and the people you called family.

As you walked away, the voices in the room grew distant, and you missed out on listening in on a conversation that would have likely saved you from your impending misfortune.

“Doffy why are you sending her to retrieve Caesar?”

Despite his recent misfortune, another sinister smile spread across Doflamingo’s face. “It’s about time I test her abilities. And who better than Law to be the test subject?”

—————

Part 1 done! I feel like I may have included some unnecessary bits here and there, but oh well. I hope you liked it. Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist.

taglist: @riftmage27

[breezeoow]

Seventeen as an act of love-

(HIP-HOP UNIT)

ミScoups as sharing quality times

seungcheol is such a quality time giver man. it doesn't matter if it's one of your worst days or best, he's here. you had a bad day? he's here with all of your favourite snacks. you don't feel okay for unknown reasons today? he's here to cook you dinner and cuddle with you. you are felling so happy today? he's here to share the joys with you. it's your birthday tomorrow? he'll go on shopping with you and obviously all is on him. it doesn't matter what kind of days you guys are passing, all he wants is to spend times with you; laughing together, eating together, playing mobile games together, watching movies together, doing online shopping together, cooking together, everything just together.

ミWonwoo as giving space

wonwoo is a person who can read people really well so it'll be so obvious that he would understand instantly when you'll need alone time. you had a bad day at work? he'll put a comfortable pajama set on bed for you when you'll go for shower. you feel physically unwell because of unhealthy mental state? he'll book a single room at the nearest sauna for you. you had a nightmare and don't wanna talk about it? he won't utter a single question rather he'd choose to hug you until you don't want to. you have a sudden melancholic feeling? he will leave you alone the way you want, he'll order your favourite dishes from your favourite eaterie, he'll go buy you your favourite chocolates. he'll be watching over you, patiently, time to time until you're ready to open up. No matter how much silence you'll give him, he'll understand your that side more and more and will treat you the way you need.

ミMingyu as cooking meals

mingyu is that one man army who never tells no to cooking and who never asks for cooking too. his fast thinking ability can instantly track in what mood you're right now and he knows what he should do. cooking for you. you're physically unwell? you're favourite soup is in front of you. you had a heartbreaking day? your favourite recipe of him is waiting for you on the dining table. you had a victorious day? victorious meals are ready for you. you're having a hard time in sleeping tonight? midnight dinner is on the way. he himself is a foodie and he loves to watch you eat. specially when you eat his own cooked meals and the joyous healing sparkle becomes visible on your face. And his most favourite thing after cooking for you is eating with you, together, in the same table, front in front, starring at you.

ミVernon as understanding attentively

hansol is always so good at reading situations and personalities that it won't be so hard for him to read you and your wants. understanding someone is like a basic brain storming for him and he would never let know the person next to him that so easily until it's time. you are stoic person? oh it's fine, he knows. you're so bad at expressing and putting the words together organised till you can speak comfortably? it's okay, he'll wait. or better he will tell you to just speak so he can organise your words for you. you have hard time clearing your mind from negative thoughts? he will look into your eyes and send you the most healing sentences ever. he will read you, your eyes, your hands, your tones. because that's what he want to do for you; he wants you to know that it's not hard for him to understand you and you're never a burden.

[coralinnii]

Hello! If u dont remember me I'm the person that requested the villainess au Trey x reader from a long time ago, just wanna drop in and say I really look forward to your works and hope you have a great day/night/time! Sorry for bothering you if this message ends up being a bother

‧₊˚✧ Being Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy‧₊˚✧

feat: Trey

genre: slow burn, coworkers-to-something more

note: no pronouns were used for reader, reader is implied to be old enough to work, mentions of poisoning and assassination attempts, reader is somewhat emotionally constipated.

extra note: While Trey is not quite in-character as I would like, he is supposed to be younger than his canon version, so I wanted him to be more unsure and inexperienced than his future self.

I did it, I finally got this done. Praise me (don't)

Being Reincarnated as the Bad Guy aka Villain/ess AU masterlist

You don’t get paid enough for this nonsense. No, you seriously don’t.

One minute you were finally getting off a particularly bad shift at work, only to be in this strange world you don’t recognize…as a low-ranking servant to the bloody royal family!

The rules, the standards, the pretentious nobles you have to smile in fear of having your neck sliced…where’s OSHA when you need them?

At least your coworkers were decent and you’re not in charge of anything too major like waiting on the Queen or her son, unlike that young aide-in-training you see running up and down the palace…poor Sir Clover.

Not your problem, though

…Until a couple of greedy noblemen forced a vial of poison into your hands, promising you a grand reward of money and status for your compliance. They wanted you to spike the drink of the crown prince’s closest aide-in-training so they could plant their own men by his side.

With your best service smile on, you handed back the vial back.

“No ❤️”

When they try to threaten you, you kindly remind them that if they plan to drag you in the mud, you’re not above pulling them along with you.

“If I’m going down, I’m dragging everyone with me.”

Once that was over, you wanted to cleanse yourself from this ugly conspiracy. You were way too busy worrying about your own neck, and you assumed that Sir Clover was cautious over his own safety that you, a mere worker bee, have nothing to contribute.

However, you do notice that the young green-haired man seems to prioritize others over himself, and the lights to his room are often still lit until late into the night. An honest young man burdened with responsibilities; his defenses may not always be on guard…

Ugghh, what a pain in the-

“Um, excuse me?” You looked to the tall nobleman trying to capture your attention.

“Yes, Sir Clover?”

“Were you originally scheduled to work today?”

You held your urge to click your tongue. Of course, Trey would be aware of at least who was scheduled to wait on Prince Riddle and him. What an annoyingly conscientious man.

“My colleague was feeling unwell so I offered to take her place for today. I apologize for not informing you beforehand.” You bowed politely which made the bespectacled man a little flustered.

“No, I’m grateful she could take a rest. Thank you for taking up the role but please let us know next time so we can offer some medical help if needed.”

That wouldn’t be necessary, you thought as you nodded regardless. Your coworker wasn’t really sick in any way but she was more than happy to switch schedules with you.

Many of the servants are under the impression that you harbored a crush on the admittedly cute aide-in-training since you were caught glancing at his direction more often than usual. It wouldn't be surprising if your “crush” in question is also aware of the gossip, which leads to his tenseness around you. Be it kindness or hesitance, Sir Clover chose not to reprimand you for doing as you please.

“What a pain, but I guess it works in my favor anyway.”

A knock rang through the room and with Riddle’s permission, an anxious maid came in with a tray carrying a tea set, confusing everyone in the room.

It’s not time for afternoon tea yet.

“What is the meaning of this?” For someone so young, Riddle’s sharp tone ran a deadly chill down everyone’s back. “Afternoon tea is not for another 13 minutes.”

The maid stuttered in fear, the tea set clattering slightly in her hands. “T-The servants thought that His Highness and Sir C-Clover have been working tirelessly today and perhaps some tea could help.”

You had too much of a survival instinct to dare look at the prince but the silence and building heat in the air was evidence enough that the thought was not appreciative.

Trey was quick to clear the tension with an awkward cough and a smile. “Thank you, I could use some.”

At his words, you dutifully proceeded to reach for the set when the maid hastily pulled it away from you.

Strange

“I-I can do it. Please excuse me” Without sparing a glance towards you, the maid quickly set the tray down on a nearby table and worked to pour a cup.

You’ve seen this maid only a few times. She was a new addition to the roster, too new to approach the royal family but here she was. She hadn't even learned how to properly hold the pot which was noticeable to everyone but was ignored (at the behest of Trey’s wordless plea) due to assumed inexperience.

“She’s so nervous but here she is, so adamant about serving some damn tea…”

A suffocating feeling rising in your throat, you watched with trepidation as the maid walked towards Trey while holding the teacup almost too preciously.

“Eek!” The maid shrieked when your hand squeezed her wrist in an unforgiving grip. She turned to question you but your glare kept her silent.

Trey looked at you with confusion, but your attention kept on the shaking maid and the teacup. With your other hand, you reach for your silver brooch given as part of your uniform to symbolize you as a person of the royal family.

The confusion in Trey’s eyes turned to disbelief when he watched your silver brooch become a damning color as you dipped the silver into the tea.

The broken maid would have crumbled completely onto the pristine floor if not for your hand still on her wrist. While she seemed to be a bumbling mess begging for her life, you couldn’t risk her making a run for it.

You don’t get paid enough for this nonsense.

”So, it was a plan to replace me…permanently.”

You stood silently in front of the solemn man in his office. After arresting her, it was easy to extract information from the maid and prince Riddle is gathering evidence for their act of treason, including your own interrogation.

“You are the trusted aide-to-be of the prince that cannot be bribed. You’re considered an obstacle.” You bowed your head. “I apologize for not speaking out sooner but if it were just my words without evidence, I could have my tongue removed for accusing nobility.”

If it was just you, then you wouldn’t be as confident. But to think that those corrupted nobles managed to convince someone else to do their dirty work. They were desperate and now that there was an attempt, the higher authorities have to take action.

“I shouldn’t feel bad for that maid…why should I for the choice she made…” you could still feel the sensation of that woman’s shaking body in the hand that held her. You don’t like it.

“Ha, you really don’t sugarcoat your words.” Trey’s voice pulled you back as he tried to laugh but his young body felt too heavy to put his whole heart into it.

But it’s finally over. The poisoning failed and those stupid noble scums were on Prince Riddle’s hit-list. That feeling of guilt that ate at your heart could finally rest in peace…right?

Even when he was the victim of all this, Trey was still sitting in his office in charge of investigating his own assassination attempt, on top of his usual duties in assisting the Royal family.

“Thank you for your time,” he even dares to smile kindly at you with dark circles under his warm eyes. “If you could, please call over the head staff to plan on interrogating the rest of the servants.”

“No.”

“N-No?”

“I won’t be doing that. I could ask the head staff to leave his schedule open if needed or if he could handle it with the guards since that’s his f*cking job,” You stared right into Trey’s eyes which widened in surprise. “For now, I humbly suggest Sir Clover to take a rest in his room or to work on something other than your assassination case.”

You didn’t wait for your stunned employer to reply as you bowed politely once more. “If there is nothing else, I shall take my leave.”

You moved away, making your way to the door before pausing. You glanced back at the young man in such a large office and your consciousness felt heavy. Your body was physically no older than Trey or Riddle but the weight on their shoulders was immeasurable, too much for either of them to handle on their own.

“Sir Clover,” you refused to look him in the eyes, “if you ever need anything…I’m willing to assist however I can.”

Immediately regretting your embarrassing words, you quickly added “but during work hours only!” before hastily leaving the office.

A shame really, since you missed the way Trey let out a genuine laugh after so long.

[frudoo]

Random König Headcanons

Hey y'all! This is my first post on here so I hope it's alright <3

These are all pretty SFW (for now >:)), so I don't think there's really any content warnings??? Idk let me know if I'm wrong.

Likes going to Build-a-Bear. Will definitely make your bear and his bear kiss.

This man can COOK. Oh, you want takeout? Nah. He's already pulling out the ingredients for your favorite dish. Buys the two of you matching aprons.

Talks to animals like they're babies. I also feel like the man just... attracts wild animals like birds and squirrels. Undercover Disney princess??? Perhaps.

Speaking of babies... the man is so good with kids. Laughs all giddily when toddlers climb him like a tree. Wants you to have his babies so bad

Actually has a decent singing voice. Get him drunk enough and he's doing karaoke like a pro. Oh, and if you agree to sing a duet with him??? He's GONE. Goes all out.

Likes to hold pinkies when walking around in public. He likes holding hands, too, but when he's feeling a little more anxious he'll intertwine your pinkies. PDA isn't his strong suit but he HAS to be touching you at all times, and it's like a pinky promise that he'll always be there with you :,)

Draws patterns/words on your back with his fingertips when y'all are laying in bed. Mainly a bunch of pet names, "I love you"s, and hearts. And cartoon penises

This big burly BEAST of a man loves being the little spoon, no matter how impractical it is. Honestly loves any cuddling position though.

Pouts when you're not giving him enough attention. His lips get SO puffy when he's jealous. Talking to one of his friends? He's grumbling German insults to them under his breath. Eventually he'll just scoot closer to you on the couch and rest his legs on top of your lap. BAM, now he's got your attention, even if it's just you telling him that he's crushing you. Big ol' lap dog.

Likes to do your hair!! He'll take pictures of what he's done and show them to you like a hairdresser :,) It could be the worst hairstyle you've ever seen but you're wearing it PROUDLY.

On the rare occasion that you two go out to a restaurant, he REFUSES to tell the waiter if his meal is wrong. Oh, it's shrimp and he's allergic to shellfish? He's telling the waiter he loves it and will just stare at the untouched plate sadly. Also will not let you trade plates with him because what if the waiter sees??? Tries to sink under the table when you finally cave and tell the waiter that the order is wrong. Glares at you the entire time he eats his new correct meal but is secretly so thankful. <3

Is absolute trash at video games. One of the best combat soldiers on the planet, but put a controller in his hands??? He's lucky if he gets three shots in.

Bought an engagement ring two weeks after you two started dating. I mean, he literally fell in love with you immediately upon seeing you for the first time, so are you really surprised??

Is a really good gift wrapper. His hands always start cramping around the holidays because he does most of the wrapping. His love language is 100% physical touch/gift giving btw.

Adding onto the singing thing... I just think he would be a really good musician, specifically a drummer.

NOSE NUZZLES. Like the Brendan Fraser type of kiss where you just rub noses after. He just gives off those romantic vibes <3

Unconventional kisses. Eyelids, the tip of your ear, everywhere you have moles, your calves, ankles... the man is obsessed with you, and he's kissing you wherever he can reach.

ADORES taking baths with you. Candles, rose petals, bath bombs: he does it all. Washes your hair for you. Lots of forehead and temple kisses.

I am unwell. I need him so bad.

Please feel free to reblog if you'd like!! I hope y'all enjoyed my little (very self-indulgent) rambles. :)))

[kyokutsu-sama]

Can I request a fic where Gyomeis wife is pregnant with twins? I saw how you wrote Sanemi and I just absolutely loved it. Maybe Gyomei could start off being nervous (he hopes the babies dont inherit his blindness so he’s happy y/n is pregnant but nervous at the same time)

I would just love to see how attentive he would treat her even if he’s blind. Like he’s insanely strong so carrying her or coming behind her to gently lift her tummy to ease the tension in her back and off her bladder wouldn’t be a problem. He’d LOVE touching her belly and holding her. I think he’d do so well with twin boys. 🩷🥹

Hi @totallygyomeiswife !

A/n: This Sanemi fic will always be the one I enjoyed writing the most😍 and I also thought about writing one for Gyomei but I ended up starting other projects and I left that one aside but now that you sent the request I decided to write it.

I would give anything to see a man that size holding his tiny baby in his hands. It would be so cute❤️🥹

The first rays of sunlight entered through the crack between the window and the curtain, waking you up. You slowly sat up in bed and when you looked to the side, all you could see were the sheets unfolded and an empty space. Gyomei had probably gotten up before sunrise to go to a quieter place to say his prayers. A habit you were already used to.

You felt nauseous and unwell, it seemed like you were going to vomit. Something you had been feeling for a long time and it wasn't just when you woke up, it was also with certain smells that made you feel like this. The nausea was starting to intensify and that was when you ran to the bathroom to throw up.

When that episode was over, you got up a little shakily and flushed the toilet. Your eyes faced your own reflection in the mirror as you washed your face and pondered what had just happened.

You didn't want to think that there was something wrong with your health, but something else popped into your mind and you widened your eyes at the thought.

"Could it be?" You wondered. "No, maybe it's not that. I mean..." You closed your eyes and sighed

It was very likely that it could be what you were thinking. It was very likely that you could be pregnant.

You then left the bathroom to get dressed and go to the butterfly mansion to clarify this whole situation.

~~~

You entered the bedroom and saw Gyomei sitting on the balcony. You approached him, and even without seeing, he could feel your presence.

"These footsteps sound exactly like those of my lovely wife, am I right?" He asked with a little smile

"Yes, you are." You smiled, sitting next to him, holding one of his huge hands that covered yours

You remained silent for a while, caressing the calloused skin of his hands, the result of his hard training. You were thoughtful and tense, something he could feel.

"Are you okay, my love?" He asked, looking to the side where you were, as if he could see you there.

"Yes, it's just..." You were going to continue the sentence, but you got a little nervous. "I've had something to tell you for a while, but I'm afraid."

"You can tell me, my dear, I'll always be here to listen to you. There's no need to be afraid."

"Gyomei, I went to talk to Shinobu a few days ago and... and I found out something."

"What? You don't have anything serious, do you?" Gyomei felt tears on the verge of falling down his face

"No, it's nothing like that. Mei, I'm pregnant." You finally spoke and it was then that the tears fell down his face

You looked at him and he was crying, his hand intertwined with yours on your lap as he cried, making you cry too. You thought he was sad about the news, but he soon proved otherwise.

"I didn't know how you would react. I didn't want to tell you because I was scared and anxious." You whimpered with a few sniffles

"My love, I'm just so moved. You're carrying something so precious and so innocent inside your womb, something that belongs to both of us and that I will protect no matter what." He answered, making your heart feel lighter at that moment.

"Oh, my love." You moved to his lap, hugging him just to feel his strong arms around you, giving you the great feeling of protection that you loved to feel

~~~

He decided to talk to the master Ubuyashiki after finding out he was going to be a father so that he could have the opportunity to spend more time with you, not going on as many missions as before. Unless it was an emergency that he really had to be called in for.

The master not only congratulated him but also agreed, which made tears of gratitude fall.

When his hands felt your belly start to grow, he made a point of carrying you everywhere in the house. You only got out of his arms when you sat at the table or when he laid you down.

When you had insecurities about looking heavier, he assured you that you were still perfect and that there was nothing that his strong arms couldn't carry.

"My love, I may be blind but I'm still sure that you're still beautiful." He said and you cried

Those months also made you more sensitive and now he wasn't the only one who cried over everything.

He loved the afternoons you two spent together cuddling and when he could run his hand over your round, soft belly.

"What do you think it is, love?" You asked, placing your hand over his. "A boy or a girl?"

"Maybe a girl with a beautiful, cheerful voice like her mother, or a strong boy like me." He smiled and you wiped his tears with your thumb, caressing his cheeks."I just hope they come out with good health and that they in no way inherit my blindness. I prayed hard that they would have the blessing of being able to see when they were born."

"Everything will be fine, my love. Whatever it is, they will come healthy and with good eyes so that they can see not only me but also the wonderful and loving father that you are." You smiled at him, holding his face with both hands. "I love you." You placed a kiss on his lips and he wrapped you in a tight hug

"Me too, my dear."

~~~

"The master asked that all the hashiras gather in the meeting room tonight. I wanted to stay here with you, but I don't think I can. I'm sorry." Gyomei said, lowering his gaze a little, but you comforted him by holding his hands

"It's okay, baby. I'll be fine, don't worry."

"I know, but even so... It's already night and those creatures are out there. I'm afraid the same thing will happen that happened that night when I lost all those people in the temple."He said

He didn't want to lose his wife and child in the same night. He couldn't bear to live through a night like that again.

"Gyomei, I promise. I'll be fine and no one will hurt me. Do you trust me?"

"Alright, then. I'll go, even if I'm a little nervous, but everything will be fine." He gave an optimistic smile

"Come here, my big boy." You raised your arms, trying to embrace his broad frame that towered over yours. He was as big as his heart. A true gentle giant.

~~~

It had been some time since he had left and you now found yourself sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard while holding the Buddhist rosary he had left with you as a protection. The same rosary he always carried in his hands during prayers in which he asked for protection over you and your womb and also for strength for him so he could protect his family.

You looked at the rosary beads and all you could think about was your husband's face. He prayed each one patiently and full of faith.

A strong contraction appeared and you held your belly with a groan of pain. You thought it had been just another random kick from the baby, but seeing how the pain only intensified, you realized that it was not just another kick, but the birth of your baby.

You began to cry in pain and clutched his rosary tightly, hoping that he would come home soon to help you.

"And that's it for today, my children, the meeting is over." Master Ubuyashiki declared and the hashiras bowed before leaving

Gyomei stood up but the master held his hand, which made him stop and sit down again.

"Oyakata-sama? Is everything okay?" The hashira asked

"I just wanted to wish you good luck with the birth of your children. They are twins." The master said, shocking Gyomei

"How... How did you know?"

"I had a vision a night after you told me. I also scheduled this meeting so I could tell you this. You must take care of Y/n, she needs you. I believe you will be a good father. I trust you, Gyomei Himejima." The master said with a proud smile and the hashira was soon moved

"Thank you, oyakata-sama!" He knelt and bowed in respect. "I will pray for your health."

"Thank you."

When he got home, Gyomei heard screams coming from the bedroom and immediately thought the worst. He followed the sound of the screams of pain and reached the bedroom where you were crying.

"Y/N!? What's going on?" He asked, approaching the bed

"Gyomei... Help me...it's now." Your words came out between sobs and moans of pain, unable to form a plausible sentence, but he soon realized what it was about

"I'm going to take you to the butterfly mansion. Let's go." He carried your body in his arms and left the house

The entire butterfly mansion was shocked when they saw the stone hashira come running in with you in his arms.

It was a difficult time, with a lot of pain, crying, and emotion. Gyomei didn't let go of your hand for a single moment. Bringing two boys into the world caused you a lot of pain and he could feel it in the way you held his hand tightly.

The master was right, they were twin boys and according to Shinobu, both were in good health. He felt great relief in his heart for them, but those tears he was shedding were not only from emotion for the birth of the boys but also from pity for you for having gone through all that.

You slowly turned your head to the side to see your husband crying and holding your hand. He was your greatest support throughout that special moment and his affection and care made you love him even more.

"Honey, it's okay." You spoke softly, without strength, but he raised his head enough for you to bring your fingers to his face and wipe his tears as you always did, even when he cried over small things."I'm a little weak but... I did my best to bring our boys into this world. After all, they were two little boys... they will be strong like their father." You smiled and he smiled back

"Thank you for being so strong during all this time, I will do my best for you and for them." Gyomei said, leaning in and kissing you

His kisses were always slow and very soft, coming with a lot of love and affection.

"I love you." You whispered against his lips

Shinobu entered the room with the newborns in her arms and blush when she saw you two so close.

"Am I interrupting something?" She giggled

"Oh, no, it's okay." You stated, feeling your cheeks turning red

"I just came to give you what's yours. Your cute little boys." She said, handing the boys into your arms

"My beautiful boys." You said, tears of joy fall as you picked up the little ones. "I love you two."

"Y/n, can I hold them?" Gyomei asked

"Of course you can." You handed them to him and he held them as if they were made of glass

That man's hands were strong enough to destroy a demon, but at that moment they felt like velvet, holding something as innocent as a baby.

He cried so much because his blindness couldn't allow him to see their faces, but at the same time, the feeling of having them in his hands made his heart explode with joy.

"I can't see them but I can tell they are two wonderful blessings." He said and you smiled at how tiny they looked in his hands.

"They'll be as proud of you as I am, Gyomei." You said, kissing his forehead where his scar was. "You'll be a good father."

"And you'll be a wonderful mother."

[hellfirecvnt]

I've Got My Eye on You Pt. 1

Benson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Misogyny, bullying, cheating, everyone's traumatized, abusive relationship (not with Benson), body shaming, mention of body dysmorphia/ weight concern due to harassment, kidnapping, stalking, violence, angst, Y/N is mentally unwell in a big way, it's not a Stockholm situation, but it's really gonna seem like that at first. Pls.

Summary: Benson's displeased with your inability to stand up for yourself. You're the distraction he needs to keep him from snapping.

"Are we really doing this again?" You pinch the bridge of your nose, staving off a headache. You've barely been awake for half an hour when your partner starts an argument. He claims you use a "tone" with him "all the time." But yet, he can't give an example. It's clear his baggage has caught up to him, and he's projecting onto you. You're too tired. You've had this argument a million times.

Despite the drama, you manage to get dressed and presentable for work. Being a paid intern isn't so bad, except yes it is. Your boss, Mr. Andrews, is a kind man, but his colleagues are another story. And it'd be a cold day in hell when someone checks them for it. With your significant other still bitching in the background, you mumble a goodbye and step out the door. If you give him too much attention, he'll make you cry again. And last time you went to work after crying, those... men had a heyday hazing you.

It's like any other day. You're an asset to the team and anyone would agree, but this doesn't free you from misogynistic comments and vulgar remarks thrown your way regularly. All you can do is remind yourself of all the changes you'll make when you're in their seats.

"Hey, Y/L/N, what are you thinkin' for lunch?" One of the more smarmy men asks.

"Oh, um-"

"Let's do that burger joint down the road. They're doing a deal." He interrupts, clearly uninterested in your answer.

"Yeah, okay. That works!" You chime, always oh so easygoing.

"Great, just go around and get everyone's orders and pick that up, will ya?" He grins and turns, taking off to his nice, fancy office down the hall. You roll your eyes, sighing heavily before doing exactly what he so rudely demanded. Whatever, at least I'm paid for this, you tell yourself.

You gather everyone's order and even decide to expand out to the "lower" level employees, seeing as no one said not to. Free lunch de company credit card. You make the trip and hesitantly step through the untidy entrance of the restaurant. It's not all around filthy in there, but it's certainly not hygienic. You make a mental note to stop somewhere else for your own food.

An unenthusiastic young woman at the counter takes your order monotonously and you take a seat at one of the empty booths while you wait for the large order. It's an odd bunch, the employees of this establishment. A handsome, broad-shouldered man keeps his eyes downcast as he mops the dining area. A scrawny blonde man silently cleans trays in the corner. In the kitchen you can hear two men arguing about something. You can only hope they're still cooking while yelling at each other.

You're visibly intrigued by the growing volume of the kitchen dispute and the man with the mop takes notice. He looks at you, and then to the kitchen. "They're always like that. Shouldn't take too long." He mumbles as he strategically cleans around the table right beside you. You notice his name tag says Benson.

"Oh, it's fine. It was a pretty big order," you chuckle. "Uh, for my coworkers." You clarify. You're not sure why, but you shudder at the idea of anyone thinking it's all for you, even while it's obviously a group order. It must be all those comments on your weight fluctuating. You know, like humans do. Benson slightly tilts his head and you shake your head and fake a smile, displeased with the power your superiors have over you. Even on a mental level. Even when you're alone.

"Alright," he nods, continuing across the dining area floor with his scraggly mop. The quiet blonde kid in the corner has moved on to another task, straightening up, trying to fix all the flaws you spotted on the way in. You sigh, waiting for what feels like ages, but it's only been a few minutes. Suddenly, your phone rings, causing you to jump. Benson notices your reaction across the room.

"Hello?" You answer nervously, already knowing it's your boss without having to check the name.

"Where you at, kid? These guys are getting overbearing over here," your boss laughs. He's the only tolerable one out of the whole group, and he runs this branch of the company, so you often wonder why he doesn't correct his underlings when they accost or harass you.

"Oh, it'll just be a little while longer. I ordered for everybody, so-"

"Everybody? Like sales and accounting too?" You can hear a commotion on the other end of the line and then someone else's voice booms through the phone.

"Who the fuck told you to do that? That's gonna take all fuckin' day!" An angry voice you can't place on its ugly face.

"I just did what I was told," you try to keep your voice low. "Mr. Dockins said to get everyone's order-" you're cut off again.

"You know good and god damn well what he meant, Y/N!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Get the fucking food and get back here STAT." You can hear your boss' calm voice ask what that was for as the phone is slammed on the receiver. You're already aware the whole, silent restaurant could hear the scolding you just caught. After this morning, you're fighting for your life to hold back tears. When you turn to see if anyone's staring, you're shocked to see every single eye on you, except Benson's. He's mopping away as if he's not taking in any and all information he can.

"My apologies," you breath, trying to remain composed. You can feel your nose and eyes reddening, but you don't let a single tear fall.

"Your boss a prick or what?" The unenthusiastic girl seems to perk up as she pries. Smiling deviously like your pain entertains her. She can't be older than 20.

"Uh, sorta. That wasn't really my boss."

"Yikes," she laughs, tauntingly. You want to be snarky in return, but she's young and could be off doing worse than working in a shitty burger joint. So you just smile flatly and return your attention to your phone. You answer as many emails as you can, scheduling several meetings and appointments in the process. Finally, the food is ready. You thank you mean girl and take your order to the car in two trips. You nod to the quiet kid and he thanks you for coming, inviting you back soon. No thanks, you think.

When you return to the office, you pass out everyone's food on the lower end first, just to make sure it makes it to them. They're thankful and a few women look at you with sympathetic eyes, knowing the extra time lost is gonna earn you a verbal lashing. "Mr. Andrews, I have your-"

"Y/N, you scheduled all my meetings for 3:00 PM." A different, equally terrible to Dockins, man meets you at the door as you walk into your boss' office.

"Yes, sir. You have a planning hour all week from one to two-thirty. And Wednesday, you have a luncheon with the investors."

"Three isn't going to work. You need to refigure the schedule. Can you work through lunch today? Since it took you over an hour, after all?" You tighten your jaw, 100% certain it did not take an hour, but you don't argue. You forgot to grab yourself something anyways.

"Of course, sir. Send me your planner link and I'll get right on it." You set the bags down and turn, ready to tackle this tedious next task.

"Wait!" The man snaps at you. "Give these people their food first. You've kept them waiting long enough." You sigh and feign a smile, taking the bags and making the rounds to pass out each complicated, stupid order. Your frustration rises by the minute. After fixing a schedule that was already perfectly laid out to a T, you relieve yourself of duty and clock out. The last person in the office, and of course, most of the lights have been turned out, leaving only a frustrating dim glow of the emergency lights.

You're tossing your belongings in the back seat of your car when a car passes by on the unoccupied street. They seem to slow down, but you're not thinking much of it. You're dreading getting back to your house after leaving during an argument this morning and it's taking up too much of your mental space for you to be aware of your surroundings.

It's a tan 1974 Chrysler Newport Custom 4-Door Sedan. A very specific car that you've seen before, but don't recall because of the insignificance. You're on your way home, dissociating and listening to music before returning to the warzone you call home. You're so zoned out that you don't notice the same car emerges from the side of the road. It lingers just far enough behind to leave you unbothered, unaware.

When you pull into your driveway, you're met with a bittersweet feeling. Your partner isn't there, but that also usually means he's out being unfaithful. At the very least, he's out being untrustworthy with your shared finances. You can only sigh. You leave your stuff in the car, too tired, mentally and physically, to cart it up your porch steps. Benson slowly cruises by, taking in every detail of your house. The address, the entrances he can see from the road, the broken garage door you tried to hide by just leaving it closed all the time.

Finally, you notice the car's strange behavior and you glance behind you, towards the road. Your hand on the key in your doorknob as you narrow your eyes. The car picks up a little speed and disappears beyond the trees. You shrug, figuring they were lost or admiring the lawn gnomes you've had to re-glue several times due to your partner lashing out. The memory makes your chest ache. You find yourself wondering how you ended up in such a loveless situation with someone so cruel and so different from the man you knew years ago.

When he finally returns home, yelling ensues almost instantly. Neither of you is keeping calm, as you've had time to recharge and now you're ready to return his energy, knowing nothing good ever comes of it. You're both going back and forth, slinging the meanest, most vulnerable insults you can fathom. You each grow angrier by the minute.

Unbeknownst to you or your partner, Benson's car sits right outside, and he watches the argument through your wide-open living room curtains. He can't hear anything from the fight, but he keeps a hard, focused eye on the man screaming at you. All of a sudden, your lover-turned-adversary grabs one of the large, decorative, glass candle holders and lobs it in your general direction. The heavy candle within lands with a loud thump against the wall, shattering the glass surrounding it. It misses you by quite a good bit, but even just throwing it near you sends you into fight or flight. Benson speeds off, squealing his tires, but it barely catches your attention.

"What the fuck?!" You scream. You're used to his violent outbursts, but he's never hurt you or even come close until now.

"I need to go the fuck to bed. I have work tomorrow," is all he says before stomping to the bedroom and slamming the door. You already know this means you'll be sleeping on the couch. Mostly by choice, so the argument isn't prolonged into the morning hours. He knows he overstepped, but he also knows you won't do anything about it. And you know it too.

The next day, work is like any other day. You're getting to actually complete tasks in your job title without interruption until about lunch when Mr. Dockins appears, peering over your cubicle. "Hey, Y/N," he draws out the vowel of his greeting, letting you know you're about to be given a demand in the shape of a "favor."

"What can I do for you?" You smile, unbreakable, at least on the surface.

"Me and the guys are thinkin' of hitting that burger joint again. Think you can make that run in under an hour this time?" He laughs, insinuating that the other employees are not included in this free food run.

"Of course, sir. I'll get everyone's order right after-"

"Just get the same things we ordered yesterday." He waves a dismissive hand, already walking away. You groan and lean over to your desk trash can to find the list of orders you threw away the day before. The liner has been freshly replaced, and another groan escapes your lips. You track down the janitor on duty, a kind woman, thankfully. She allows you to shamefully dig through the office trash and find the list. Luckily, the trash consists mostly of shredded documents, crumpled paper, and empty disposable coffee cups.

Piece of trash in tow, you make your way back to the restaurant. This time, the quiet kid is behind the counter. Benson's cleaning tables and there's no yelling coming from the kitchen. You read the quiet kid's name tag, Bradley. "Anything else?" He asks, smiling politely with hollow, sad eyes.

"That's it for me, Bradley," you chime. The pleasant interaction is visibly appreciated by both parties.

"Randy," Benson speaks suddenly.

"Excuse me?" You raise a brow, wondering if he might be on the phone or something.

"Bradley is his last name. His name is Randy."

"Oh! Okay, well." You swallow the knot you didn't realize was forming in your throat. "That's it for me, Randy. Thank you." You both smile, equally off-put by the interruption. You sit at the same table as before and check your messages. You missed a call from a coworker, so you take this time to check your voicemail. At full volume, your phone explodes the message into the dining room.

"Hey, Y/N!" The voice is taunting and you already know something terrible is coming. You try so hard to silence it or turn it down, but nothing's working. "Company card is only covering you if you get a salad. Those little skirts of yours are looking snug." You can hear others in the background snickering just before the message ends. You're mortified. You've never felt any sort of way about your body before this job. You were a normal person who didn't see fat as bad and you still don't... On other people. But on you? My God, it's like they climbed inside your head and reshaped the way your reflection looks in your eyes. It's not that you fear fatness, you fear giving them something else to bother you about. Nevermind the fact that most of them have beautiful, fat wives. Your face burns with embarrassment.

"Do you want me to, um..." Randy points to the register and to the kitchen with each of his hands.

"Yeah. A salad." You chuckle, but nothing's funny. You're just thankful the young woman from yesterday isn't working and didn't get to give her input on that disrespectful message. You decide it's just best to set your phone down and pray no one else from the office calls. Somewhere in the kitchen, the sound of shattering glass tears through the atmosphere. You jump, a reaction far too big for the extremely mild accident that must've happened just out of view. Your pulse is racing as all you can think about is the sound of the hefty decoration smashing just a few feet away from you the night before. Your face flushes and Benson doesn't miss a beat.

Your food is ready, much quicker than last time and you notice the gross, fast-food salad seems to have been prepared a little nicer than usual. Fresher. With extra dressing cups. You smile at Randy and Benson and nod your goodbye before heading out the door. The food run was swift and easy and your superiors burst into thunderous laughter when they see you with your salad. You're ashamed you even ordered it. Every day consists of you trying to eliminate anything that could get you in trouble, at home or at work. You thought getting the salad would alleviate the bullying, but it's clear that was a miscalculation.

The next two days are peacefully quiet. Your partner is acting normal for once and the men at work are finally getting together on a project, so it's taking a lot of their free time. ergo, there's no time to insult your appearance or IQ. Regardless of the fact that you are provably smarter and more efficient than any of them. None of this will matter when I'm climbing up that latter, you silently relay your mantra. Hoping it gives you the will to go on.

You haven't had to make any food runs, they have everything delivered when they're in meetings like this. You often wonder why that isn't always an option. You're almost allowing yourself to smile when you walk in the door and find your partner, once again, livid over a situation he seems to have made up. "Oh, God," you sigh.

"Why the fuck are you texting all these other guys?" You spend almost two hours explaining that your job is to text various clients links to their meeting planner and they respond to confirm. Not a single message goes further than that, but he's not hearing it. It's clear that he was out cheating the other night and now he's projecting. Benson's watching the whole time. He's taken to it like a hobby. He even parks his car at the end of the road so he can just stand in the dark and watch you. He's there most nights, watching the way you cave and crumple beneath yet another angry man.

Benson makes sure to never linger too long, almost like he's done this before. He takes off to his car, casually strolling down the road. He's gone and nobody on the street is the wiser. The next day, your peaceful streak has been crushed to nothing. In fact, your life changed completely overnight.

No one at work notices anything, why would they? You're almost thankful to be invisible while the others are so busy. Your desk phone rings and it's your boss, sending you on another food run. He explains that they waited too long to order delivery and it'd just be easier if they sent you. You happily agree. You take your list, saved this time, and head to the same restaurant for the third time to order the same things. Monotonous. Work is, at least.

As soon as you walk in the door, Benson's eyes are on you. He's no longer being secretive with his side glances, now he's staring. Staring right at your swollen, bruised eye. Not quite blackened, but damn near. Randy takes your order with a sympathetic look, but he doesn't say anything. He disappears into the kitchen.

"When did that happen?" Benson asks, breaking the silence. He's certain it wasn't there when he left your yard, but he can't quite say that.

"Oh, it's been there. I had a weird reaction to a new food." You're professional and sure-sounding. He almost believes you.

"Yeah? From here?" He raises an eyebrow.

"No, no. It was a seafood thing, I think. No big deal." You turn back to the empty counter, awkwardly waiting for your order. Wishing so badly it could be made in an instant so you can run and hide the evidence of your failed relationship. Benson glances at the kitchen, you're alone with him.

"Someone hurtin' you?" He asks, not looking up from his cleaning. You feel frozen. Like some sort of horrible fate awaits you if you answer.

"I- uh, no. Of course not," you force a laugh.

"You gotta stand up for yourself." And he's gone. Slipped into the back area off limits to customers. Almost like a ghost. You sneer at his words. How could he possibly know or understand the shit you endure at all times? Work and at home. Fuck him. You stare angrily at your phone, watching the number on your email app continuously grow.

Work wouldn't be so hard if your partner wasn't dragging you down. Your relationship might not have deteriorated if you had a less demanding job. You can find a way to blame yourself for anything, can't you? "Here you go," Randy says. He seems to be the only normal person who works here.

"Thank you." You grab the bag of greasy, fried food and do everything in your power to keep from running out the door. In the car, you waste no time reapplying your makeup, hoping to cover the visible mark that no one at work has so much as asked about. You're relieved they haven't noticed, but it's just another reminder of how little you're valued there.

Back at the office, it's the same old, same old. You can hardly allow yourself to react, so what's the point in feeling anything about the harassment at all? You force yourself numb, counting the minutes of your internship as it slowly ticks by. When you finally get off work, you dread the drive home so badly, you begin to cry. You allow yourself a private sob in the comfort of your car before driving home.

In the driveway sits your partner's car. Something in you feels dark and heavy. You know there is an argument looming over you and it's sure to only escalate in violence. Sure to surpass the closed fist to the eye you'd just taken the night before. You inhale a deep breath and exhale with closed eyes. As you do this, you feel watched. Your trembling hand frees you from the safety and peace inside your vehicle, and you head for the door.

You cram the key into the doorknob and hold your breath as the door opens. It's just like clockwork, so you expect the house to erupt into screams as soon as you step in the door. You're stunned when it's silent. Your pulse is racing, thumping hard against your chest as you slowly close the door behind you. Anxiously, you scan the whole house, only to find it empty. Everything's the same save for a broken glass in the kitchen that wasn't there when you left.

You assume your partner pitched a fit and left, maybe with some friends since his car is still in the driveway. With a depressed sigh, you settle into the couch and watch TV. You do everything you can to hold it together, despite your assumed lack of audience, but you can't. You allow a few silent tears to fall down your reddened cheeks as you watch your favorite show. It's the most peace you've known at home in a while. It's not unusual for him to run off, but something feels different. It's a new level of quiet. Like he never existed in the first place.

From outside your home, Benson watches. He tilts his head, a disgusted look on his face as he watches you cry over someone who saw no issue in harming you. Someone who still expected love and loyalty from you after tormenting you. Physical or not. He shakes his head. What could possibly make you ache for something like that on top of how you're treated at work? What's your limit? He wonders as he disappears into the night.

The next morning, your bed is still missing a body. You frown as you look at the empty space next to you. Work is as it always is. Annoying, disgusting, and disheartening. You're once again sent to get lunch. Same place. You almost start to believe your coworkers are doing it on purpose, knowing you'll get that gross, wet salad every time after the comment one of them made.

When you walk in, Randy greets you like a regular. It grosses you out a little to be considered a regular in a place like this. But at least Randy is sweet. "Bradley, you heard from Benson yet?" The manager yells from the office. He's distressed. You glance around the restaurant and realize that's what was missing.

"No, sir. He hasn't called in," Randy answers shyly. The manager sighs and slips back into the office area. "Sorry. Short staff today."

"No problem, Randy." You smile and he seems shocked that you remembered his name, despite the incorrect name tag on his shirt. Once the order is done, you return to work. Everyone at the large, round meeting table shamelessly accepts their meals without thanks, and you're hardly surprised.

For a week, this continues. Your partner's car stays sat, your bed stays empty, and your bosses treat you worse and worse as they watch your mental health deteriorate. You find yourself wondering what any of it was or is for. You moved here with the love of your life to pursue a career you thought you'd only ever dream of. Your sleepless nights drive you further into irrational, uncontrollable rage. Every sound your house makes feels like a fake out as you bold down the hall to greet no one.

Back at work, while you're dropping off lunches, you're distracted and absent-minded. "What the hell is this, Y/N?" A higher-up asks, prodding into his burger with his bare hands. Enough to make you want to gag at the childish action.

"What's wrong with it?" You ask, unsure how it could possibly be any different than the last 97 times they had it.

"I'm not eating this shit," he tosses the food onto the middle of the table. Discarding it like a picky toddler. You shift uncomfortably in place, fighting back the boiling anger in your blood. You wait for him to answer your question. "This is exactly why you're getting kicked at the end of your-"

"Hey!" Your boss cuts him off, but you already know what's been said. You snap your vision toward the man in charge.

"What'd he say, sir?" You ask with a sinister calm in your voice.

"Y/N..." He starts, rotating slightly in his chair, fidgeting with his thumbs. "It's just not the kind of environment for you, but we're letting you finish out your internship."

"Oh." You drop the contents of your arms in the floor, earning disgruntled groans from everyone.

"Jesus Christ, I told you she was gonna act like this." A man whose name slips your mind calls from across the table and before you realize it, you've picked up an ink pen and driven it straight through the top of his hand and onto the desk. By the time you snap back to reality, you're already in your car, flying down the road.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck," you repeat over and over as you hastily pull into your driveway and dip inside. You're not worried about charges being pressed considering the absurd amount of bad business being conducted in that building, but you're certainly out of a job. "Oh, god. What did I do? What did I do?"

Suddenly, there's a knock at the door. You nearly jump out of your skin. Maybe you were wrong about them calling the cops after all. Your head rushes and your heart pounds in your throat. Part of you wants to grab the emergency firearm your partner keeps in the drawer by the door, but you quickly shake that thought away. You concern yourself for even considering it. With trembling hands, you unlock and open your front door.

"You got out of there kinda fast," Benson says, standing before you. You're shocked to see anyone by the cops, but especially him.

"H-How do you know where I live?" Your voice is still steadying and your breathing has yet to calm. Benson looks you up and down, assessing your emotions like a computer. Soulless. When his eyes return to yours, he slips right past you, letting himself inside. All too familiar.

"You don't usually get off this early." He speaks like you two are old friends, running into each other at the supermarket.

"I stabbed a man in his hand." You blurt, guilty and desperate to confess to anyone who will listen. Disgusted with yourself for relishing the rush it provided. Such a long time coming.

"Stabbed a man in his hand," he laughs, repeating you. "What? You use a fuckin' letter opener?"

"Pen. Ballpoint." You shudder, recalling the sound it made, vibrating through the pen and into your angrily gripping hand as it broke past his skin and tendons.

"What'd that feel like? Standing up for yourself."

"I don't know if that's what I'd call it. I-"

"Are you the type of person to stab a man in his hand for no reason? A psychopath?" Benson grins deviously.

"No! I didnt- I don't know why I did that." Then, the adrenaline high begins to plummet. "Why are you here? Why are you in my house?" You're anxious, suddenly hyper aware of the stranger sitting across from you in your own living room.

"Just making sure you're okay."

"Okay. What? Why do you know where I live? Why are you inside my house? Get out of my house!" Your heart starts to pound again.

"This is the thanks I get for getting rid of that fuckin' prick for you?" He leans back in the recliner and you stare at him from the couch.

"What?" You glance down the hall to your bedroom, considering the car in the driveway, the broken glass, and days of silence. You slowly turn your attention back to Benson.

"Black eyes aren't usually a symptom of an allergic reaction." His face darkens. "I didn't think you'd do anything about it. So I did." His words nauseate you. The room seems like it's spinning and you wrestle with the intrusive thoughts. The ones thanking him for handling it for you.

"What did you do?" Your voice is only a breathy whisper.

"He's at the bottom of a landfill, two towns over." He speaks blankly. Unfazed by his confession.

"You killed him? F-For hitting me?" You arch your brows in fear and disbelief.

"Are you stupid enough to think it would've ever stopped there?" He looks at you, confused. "Does it ever stop there?"

"Well-"

"The answer is 'no.'" he interrupts. "I did you a favor." He stares at you, his expression returns to its serious, dark nature. "Say thanks."

"Thank you," you whisper. You're unsure why you're so quick to obey. Is it that you want to appease a man in your home who's admitting to murder, or is it that you really might be thankful?

"Come on," he instructs, hastily standing from the recliner chair. His sudden movements startle you. You stare at him as he walks right up to the drawer by the front door and retrieves the gun he shouldn't know about. He notices your confusion. "Your man tried to use this, but he's not very fast. Wasn't very fast."

"Please..." You balance on the cusp of begging for your life, hoping he'll take the gun and take off, leaving you with the heavy reality. You know it's wishful thinking. Benson stuffs the weapon into his waistband and meets your gaze.

"Y/N."

"P-Ple-"

"Y/N, I could've killed you a hundred times by now. Would you get in the fucking car?" He exclaims, snapping you out of your frozen trance. The sudden change in his voice, volume and tone, forces you to stand up straight and do exactly as he says.

The interior of his vehicle stinks of cigarette smoke, but nothing can stop your deep, panicked breaths. You watch him through the windshield as he closes and locks your door, and you wonder when he got his hands on your keys. When Benson finally gets in the car, he holds out his hand. You stare at it in shocked confusion. "Cellphone." He huffs.

"What?" You furrow your brow.

"Give me your fuckin' phone. I know you're smarter than this." You hastily fumble with your pocket, finally placing the device in his awaiting palm. Benson stuffs it in his pocket. He whips the car out of the driveway and you're off on an unknown adventure. You glance at him every so often, trying to read his expression. He's flat-faced and dead-eyed. Something about the way a fake smile slips across his face makes you shudder. "Y'know, I told you, you needed to stand up for yourself. I don't know if that meant stabbing a guy."

You're stunned silent, but still astounded by his hypocrisy. He'd just killed a man for harming a stranger. You, the stranger. He continues on in the wake of your silence. "It's like, you're what? Twenty-something and barely an intern, getting talked to like garbage with a smile on your face?"

"It's a paid intern position. I'm very fortunate to..." You trail off, the defensiveness leaving your body as you remember how that position was a lie. You weren't working toward a permanent high-up position, you were half a secretary doing the work of at least four.

"Yeah, sounds about right." Benson laughs. "You know, this is the same shit I watch Randy go through every god damn day."

"What? Your coworker?"

"He takes more shit than anybody I've ever seen, 'cept maybe you." You frown. "Watching that shit go down. The way you both just take it... It's enough to make someone snap." You get the sense that the "someone" in that sentence isn't referencing you or Randy.

"So... Where are we going?" You ask hesitantly, unsure if you want to know the answer or not.

"That's up to you." He shrugs, grinning warmly. It's a distinct juxtaposition to the seriousness of the moment. You're strangely comforted by it. You cling to that smile before words blurt right out of your mouth.

"I want to go home."

"I don't think you do, Y/N." His voice is sweet and mellow, but his words feel threatening. And yet, he's right. "You hungry?" You don't get the option to respond, it's clear he's made the decision. You're not in control of anything. You never have been. You sit in the dulling static of the rowdy music blaring through the radio. A band you recognize from your days outside the corporate world you'd worked so hard to enter. Moistboyz. You had their T-shirt once upon a time.

You're shaken from your thoughts as Benson puts the car in park. You were deeply dissociated from the moment, doing anything to escape the confusion of why you aren't more panicked. Scared? Of course. This man intends to do harm. He's already killed someone. Things aren't going to end peacefully, and he's only just gotten started.

It's a diner. It's small, cute, and a little dated. You stiffly follow Benson inside. You're still in a state of shock, but Benson is uncharacteristically charismatic. He's almost giddy. He makes a few inquiries about the menu, but you tune him out. You tune everything out. All you can think about is the fact that your long-term relationship has come to a violent end, you've gruesomely assaulted your coworker, and you've lost a job you spent years humiliating yourself for. It's all just over. And all you got to do was cram a pen in his hand.

"And you, ma'am?" The waitress turns to face you. "Ma'am?" You're still deep in thought.

"She'll have an orange juice or somethin'." Benson interrupts, dismissing the woman. You finally tune back into the conversation, only in time to watch her walk away. When you turn to face Benson, he's already staring at you. He looks like he can read your mind and you'd almost think that to be true when he begins to speak. "A lot to take in."

"Yeah." You mumble.

"Well," he says as the waitress sets his plate in front of him. "You don't seem too worried." He smirks, digging into his food. You feel a flush of heat on your cheeks, embarrassed by the truth in his words. You're not as worried as you know you should be, and that scares you more than being dragged along on Benson's ambiguous bender.

After he finishes his meal and pays, the two of you are back in the car. Back into uncertainty. By now, you're not sure if you're scared for your own life or not. "Where to, now?" Benson asks, to your confusion.

"Why are you asking me?"

"Why am I asking you?" He repeats, equally as confused. "This is all for you. I'm trying to help you." He sounds desperate.

"Help me? You killed my-"

"I took out the guy that was only gonna beat you more and more until you were in the landfill. Don't play stupid with me." His voice is serious and stern. "Where to?" He returns to his original question. You hesitate for a while, allowing a thick, tense silence to settle over the moving vehicle. Benson's just about to drop it all together when you finally speak up.

"I wanna get on the roof of the old, abandoned mall." You pick something that requires a lot less murder. Something to satiate his impulsive needs.

"Are you fuckin' 13?"

"I really need to smoke. It used to be my favorite place to go when I was... Younger." You hesitate awkwardly, not even entirely sure why. Benson notices right away. "I just want one more joint up there. Like I used to."

"Alright. Roof of the mall." His taunting nature seems to diminish instantly. And for a moment, you think you realize what it feels like to be heard.

PART TWO

[yesimwriting]

False Prophets

A/n was looking through my drafts and decided to let this logan fic leave the vault also fun fact the title is inspired by a line in a gracie abrams song

Summary: After the laboratory that's served as the only home you've ever known is ambushed by those that don't believe in the mission you've dedicated your life to, you're left with no other option but to trust the stranger that helped do so.

Warnings/info: slight allusions to manipulative use of an unspecified religion, reader has a touch of stockholm syndrome bc she was raised by a cult that experiments on mutants, brief mentions/implications of being medically abused by a caretaker, age gap (reader is in their early 20's)

----

The knife is as intangible as everything else. You squeeze the blade's handle regardless, knuckles straining against your skin as you try to force the metal's weight to mean something to you.

How did--how did things turn so quickly? Father Daniel grabbed you by the arm, he dragged you up the stairs and into the above ground. He gave you little instruction and even less explanation.

Protect the cause. That was all he could say before the defiers found you. Things had moved so quickly, your instincts allowing you to neutralize an assailant before--before the world became little more than a nauseating haze.

The pulsing ache behind your skull, the weight of your limbs, the resistance of your lungs, the dark spots clouding your vision. You set a palm against the floor, the coolness of the tile doing little to ground you. It's not unusual for you to feel unwell after over exerting your abilities, but this has been something else.

You need to--to evaluate, to begin the contingency process. Who knows how much time you've lost?

You bend your legs, hand pressing against the ground as you try to stand. A sharp pain immediately latches onto every tendon in your body. You screw your eyes shut. Breathe. Breathe.

A soft creak brings you back to where you are. The handle in front of you begins to twist. The door's pushed open, revealing a man who occupies too much of the doorway for you to consider bolting.

His attention shifts around the small space before settling on you. Everything about the stranger is harsh--his stance, his expression, the blood staining his clothing and skin.

The man takes a step forward. You flinch, head hitting the closet's back wall. He presses his lips together before exhaling. He holds his hands out in front of him as he steps back to where he was before, behind the doorway's threshold. "I'm not going to hurt you."

One of the many lies Father Daniel had warned you about. When you don't respond, the man sighs again. "So drop the knife. You look more likely to hurt yourself with it than me."

The perceived weakness only adds to your mounting unease. You scoff. He may have the physical advantage, but you have something he doesn't. You tilt your head, ignoring the pounding of your skull as you focus on mentally reaching for him. He's easy enough to latch onto, but actually doing anything takes more from you than you'd ever admit.

You take a deep breath, letting your energy build before pushing it onto him. It takes longer than it should, but eventually, your mind finds the strength to obey you. Just as the man's starting to bend to your will, his feet beginning to drag against the floor, your hold on him lapses.

Great--you've revealed your only real advantage and for what. You try to stand a little straighter, eyes landing on the stranger. You stare at him with wide eyes, fear making it difficult to breathe right. Father Daniel has always warned you about what happens to your kind in the real world.

You don't know what you expect from him--anger, horror, something else equally brutal. Instead of displaying any of that, the corner of his mouth briefly pulls itself upwards. "Got it out of your system, kid?"

"I'm not a kid." The raspiness of your own voice surprises you. "Where is he?"

He seems to know what you mean immediately. "The man that held you hostage and experimented on you for what--twenty years?"

Of course that's what he'd believe. "Father Daniel is a visionary with a divine calling, who is doing what he needs to do to pioneer a better future for mutants and humans alike."

"Yeah? Is that why he hasn't let you go outside in two decades?"

You scoff. It's not--the situation isn't like that, and to pretend that things are that black and white is ridiculous. You've been outside. Family outings to the movies after particularly strenuous medical trials, birthdays, and sometimes Christmas. Sure, you're not worldly, but that's the cost your family pays for safety. Until society is no longer cruel to your kind, you're safer in the lab.

If you were feeling a little more like yourself, you'd tell him all of this. But all you can manage is a defensive, "I've been outside."

His eyebrows draw together, something in the look coming terribly close to un-harsh. He doesn't believe you. Whatever. This man's opinions mean nothing to you. The only thing you know about him is that he's one of the ones that decided to invade your home in order to target you and Father Daniel's work.

His eyes drift downwards, landing on the band-aids stuck to your forearms. Some urging part of you wants to explain that things aren't always like this. That your labs and medical trials only make a fraction of your life, that these last few weeks have only been extra uncomfortable because Father Daniel has been getting closer. But the words needed to explain this to a stranger feel so far, and you doubt he'd be able to understand, regardless, so you settle for turning your forearms away from him.

"Congratulations," he mumbles dismissively, attention shifting away from your arms, "You're going again."

"What?" He sighs, as if there's something deeply irritating about the question. He can't--he can't possibly mean to take you from here. You squeeze the knife's handle. "No. I'm not--" Your protests don't impact him in the slightest. "No."

"I know it doesn't seem like it," there's something measured about his gruff assurance, "But you'll be okay if you come with me. I'm taking you to people that want to help you."

You press your a hand against the wall, as if the plaster will offer you a means of escape. "No one like you wants to help someone like me."

He watches you for a moment, something behind his expression becoming a little less fragile. "Someone like me?"

The man takes a measured step forward, crossing the door's threshold. Dread digs into you as your mind tries to reach for him. You've barely touched his energy before a piercing ache in your skull forces the connection to snap. If the stranger noticed your attempt at self defense, he gives no indication of it, taking another step in your direction.

He continues forward, his movements slow and definitive until he's so close you have to tilt your chin upwards to look him in the eye. Like this, his anger feels less...prominent.

After a moment, his eyebrows draw together slightly. If you didn't know any better, you might have mistaken the look for a barely there grimace. The man drops his gaze downwards, and you follow his line of sight.

His hand, the back of his palm--he had been weaponless before. And now, sharp, metal blades have split his skin from the inside out. You lift your chin to meet his gaze. He's not exactly smiling, but there's something gentle about the set of his mouth.

You angle your head downwards again, carefully pulling your free hand away from the wall. You move slowly, holding your arm out between the two of you for a moment before letting your pointer finger touch the edge of one of the blades. In another life, you might've been willing to tell him how cool you find his mutation.

He pulls back immediately, his hand moving away from you as his claws retract back into his skin. "You get it now?"

You press your lips together. Just because he's a mutant doesn't mean he's like you. Very few people understand your family's mission, and he isn't one of them. The fact that he broke in here is proof of that. But the ache in your skull is too disorientating for you to be efficiently hostile, and maybe there's a small chance that the fact he wanted to ease you when he could have easily just attacked you is throwing you slightly.

There is no good answer, so instead, you offer another question, "Where is he?"

"He left." The response is flat. "Ran downstairs and then disappeared."

What? Father Daniel--he left. That's not...that's not part of the contingency plan.

Okay--you let out a breath in an attempt to neutralize your expression. If Father Daniel left, he must have had a reason. There are other things that needed protecting. He'll come back.

You must look as thrown as you feel, because the man sighs. "Do you understand now?" When you don't react, he pauses. "You can stay here--in an abandoned warehouse, or you can come with and--and get some help."

Help. The word digs at you. You're not--not some kind of victim. You were chosen for a higher purpose, your mutation was given to you so that you could help others. However, that doesn't mean that the prospect of staying here, in a now compromised lab, without your family, isn't much more unappealing than leaving with this stranger.

You swallow, ignoring the lump in your throat as you weigh your options. Maybe there's something to remaining within a certain proximity to those that attempted to destroy Father Daniel's work. You could learn about their operations, their goals and desires; then, when the time is right, you'll have information to share with your family. It might not be the simplest task, but it's better than waiting.

This man also knows more about the outside world than you do. You could always just use his offer as a way to get some distance and then bolt once you're somewhere more secure. It might be easier to find Father Daniel from somewhere...out there.

You can't will yourself to look at him as you nod, wounded pride only amplifying your anxiety.

"Okay." His voice gives you no indication of what he thinks of your compliance, but something tells you that he'll be cautious of you for awhile. "You gonna drop the knife?"

The request is spoken so casually, you do briefly consider listening. You've never been much of a physical fighter, and you're sure the stranger could easily overpower you regardless of your small weapon, but you can't bring yourself to let it go. Besides, the stranger gets to have multiple knives physically attached to him. You should get to keep your one.

You briefly lift your chin in a vague gesture towards his hands. "I'll lose mine when you lose yours."

Some aspect of him seems to shift, his brow relaxing and his lips pressing together. The differences are gone too soon for you to dwell on them, his expression returning to its default blankness as he turns. You assume that's the closest thing to an 'okay' that you're getting, so after a beat, you follow him.

----

a/n i was considering adding to it and it lowkey feels like a waste of lore not to, so if you'd like a part 2 lmk!!

[spacebaby1]

Kakucho headcanons in a relationship pretty pleaseee <3

Absolutely!

1. Kakucho is the type to wake up early just to make you breakfast. He believes that starting the day with a home-cooked meal is essential especially big breakfast. Surprisingly enough he had learned to cook when you two started dating so he can cook for you.

2. He loves cuddling and would whisper sweet things to you while you two cuddle. He finds comfort in those intimate moments, where he shares his hopes and dreams, and you find solace in his soft voice, knowing he’s right there beside you.

3. Kakucho’s love language is touch; he believes in the power of small gestures. His fingers may brush against your spine as he passes by, or he'll gently intertwine your hands when you walk together. This man does not fear PDA he shows your love off!

4. He notices every little detail about you, from the book you’re currently reading to your favorite flowers. On random days, he surprises you with small gifts that show how much he pays attention to your likes and dislikes. Even a simple note left on your pillow can light up your day, reminding you of his thoughtfulness. He's a giver.

5. Kakucho has a deep appreciation for nature and often takes you on scenic walks. A peaceful walk at the park where you can sit and watch the clouds, he loves sharing these moments with you. He also loves hiking so most dates are an adventure.

6. He’s an excellent listener, always ready to lend an ear when you need to vent. He will let you express your emotions from a long tiring day and never complain but instead gives you great advise if you need any which are absolutely great.

7. Kakucho enjoys quiet nights in more than anything. On weekends, he’d rather stay in than go out, preferring to cuddle on the couch, binge-watch your favorite series, and share popcorn.

8. No matter what life throws your way, Kakucho stands firmly by your side. He’s your biggest cheerleader, encouraging you to pursue your passions and dreams. When you face challenges, he’s there to remind you of your strength, offering both emotional and practical support. He believes in you more than anyone.

9. When going out, Kakucho prefers low-key settings. He enjoys quaint cafes with soft music playing in the background, where you can share a slice of cake and engage in sweet conversations.

10. Despite his gentle demeanor, Kakucho loves engaging in playful teasing and banter. He knows how to make you laugh, often joking about the little things in life. Whether it's light-heartedly competing to see who can bake better cookies or playfully challenging you in video games, his humor adds a layer of joy to your relationship. He can act like a best friend and less of a boyfriend at times if he knows that you need that on that specific day.

11. His hugs are one of the best parts of being with Kakucho. They’re warm and enveloping, instantly melting away any stress or worries you carry. He holds you tightly, often swaying gently as if you were dancing, filling you with a sense of safety and love. He's such a gentle teddy bear. He's always warm.

12. Kakucho believes in celebrating every achievement, no matter how small. If you nail an interview or even finish a tough workout, he’ll be the first one to shower you with praise, sometimes organizing a little celebration, a homemade dinner or a surprise picnic in the living room. He will always make your achievement noticed.

13. Cooking becomes an adventure with him. He loves to experiment, whether that means trying a new recipe or making up one as you go along. Like I said he learned to cook for you now it's his favourite thing to do and if you want to join him, even better.

14. Kakucho has a nurturing side that extends beyond his romantic gestures. He cares deeply about your well-being, often checking in on you when you're feeling unwell or stressed. Losing his parents at a very young age made him realise that he now needs to take care of himself and it became a habit of his to be the one caring for others and especially when it comes to you.

15. He's a man who dates for marriage. He's always planned a proposal in his head and he makes sure to note down in his mind about your "random" ideal proposal and how you want it or where..