#they hate each other so much the task force is suffering in silence

[wanderingstories]

so guess who just watched death note

[7s3ven]

YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN, KID. platonic! task force 141

( short one shot that I randomly came up with after seeing a tiktok )

full masterlist

IN WHICH… night after night, you seek the comfort of your teammates until they can no longer offer you any.

“You’re on your own, kid. You always have been.”

Notes: character death, a little angst, no happy ending (sorry guys 😞), reader suffers from trauma, platonic! tf 141 x reader, reader has sleeping problems, not following the canon plot

—

You never slept well. No matter how soft your mattress was or how heavily your blankets weighed down on you, you just couldn’t drift off. The temperature in your room was perfect, the silence was comforting, your body was exhausted and yet your mind refused to turn off. It replayed the bloody moments you tried so hard to tune out, haunting you until you forced the thoughts away.

With slow movements, you begrudgingly shifted out of bed, soft pillow in hand. Your footsteps were quiet as you dragged yourself towards the small living room in the apartment you shared with your team.

The tiny room was lit up by only a dim lamp as you paused in the doorway, staring at your captain. He sat on the edge of the couch, reading a page of newspaper. Gaz and Soap were at each other’s sides, squished by Ghost who took up the majority of the space.

Captain John Price beckoned you forward. “Couldn’t sleep?” He whispered, careful not to disturb the rest of his soldiers. You took your head before wedging yourself between Ghost and Soap, forcing the masked soldier to move to offer you space. The large blanket your teammates were sharing engulfed you as you clumsily threw it over your body.

Ghost grunted, half awake as he shifted to the side. His heavy body fell onto you, resting his head on your shoulder. You leaned into his embrace. You heard the quiet click of the lamp being turned off, engulfing the room is darkness.

From your position squeezed between Ghost and Soap, you felt safe. Your eyes fluttered closed as you took a deep breath, the strong smell of Gaz’s cologne overwhelming your senses. And yet, it soothed you more than the lavender perfume you sprayed in your room.

Your lips curved into a small smile as your racing heart calmed down. Stuck in Soap’s tight grip, listening to Price’s quiet snores, hearing Gaz’s soft sleep mumbling, and feeling Ghost’s slow breaths on your neck, it felt like home.

Returning to the apartment without the rest of your team felt strange. You opened the door, staring at the interior. Your gaze trailed over the obnoxiously bright table cloth Soap had chosen and the large beer glasses left on the kitchen counter by Price.

You slowly blinked before shutting the door behind you. You half-heartedly expected Ghost to appear out of nowhere and offer you a short greeting like he always did. He did not.

Your team was dead. You were the lonesome survivor of the attack.

Your bag fell to the floor with a loud thud and you weren’t bothered to pick it back up. Your arms were not strong enough to withstand the weight anymore.

As if it was second nature, you trailed over to the liquor cabinet. You didn’t drink much so the cupboard was usually filled with Price’s beers and an occasional bottle of vodka provided by Soap. You grabbed the vodka, disliking the bitter taste of beer.

You didn’t bother to pour the alcohol into a cup; you simply popped the bottle open and gulped mouthfuls of it down. “Sorry, Johnny.” You muttered to yourself as you slumped in a seat, knowing how your teammate hated it when people stole his stuff.

The thoughts of your friends didn’t bother you as much during the day, where you could overwhelm yourself with unpacking and work. But when night hit, you felt yourself drowning in emotions.

You weren’t usually an emotional person, having been through the rigorous army training. Soldiers died everyday and you moved on like it was nothing, leaving a small gap in your mind to grieve for them. But this was different. This was your team, your family.

This was about Price who always assisted you when you needed something, who fixed your broken window when Soap accidentally hit it with a rugby ball. Who acted like an overprotective dad when you brought back a boy.

Soap who brought you snacks without the need to ask while you occupied yourself with paperwork, who somehow taped every concert of your favourite artist and showed you it with a bright smile.

Ghost who knew exactly how you liked your tea and bought you new cups to drink out of when your favourite wore down. Who secretly hated horror movies yet watched each and every one with you.

And Gaz who always returned with a new product to ease you into a more peaceful slumber and who didn’t mind staying up to comfort you from your late night terrors.

They were your closest friends and you missed them terribly to the point where your chest ached. You always hated when Soap raided the snack stash in your room but you’d do anything now to yell at him again.

You collapsed in your bed, exhausted and your body painfully throbbing. You closed your eyes in hopes of drifting off but your attempts were fruitless. You needed your teammates. You needed to sit on that damn couch in the living room with a blanket pulled up to your chin.

The hallway was pitch black as you walked into the lounge, peering through the darkness. It felt odd not to see Price reading his newspaper; your heart clenched at the short reminder that you would never see him again.

You tried to pretend the colorful pillows were your friends as you lay on the couch, that the smell of Gaz’s cologne wafting from one of the pillows was Gaz himself.

It tricked your mind into thinking they were beside you and you fell into an empty slumber.

As the last remaining member of Task Force 141, Laswell originally wanted to add new recruits with you as their leader. You would have gladly taken up the position if it weren’t for your circumstances. Replacing your former teammates would have pained you beyond repair.

As a result, Laswell moved you to a new squad and as thankful as you were when they understood your hesitation, you still refused when they offered you a place in their apartment.

You needed the couch that sat in the living room, collecting dust, in order to fall asleep. You needed Gaz’s cologne, Price’s strange collection of newspaper, Ghost’s spare masks, and Soap’s stupid rugs to calm your horrible thoughts.

You needed the apartment to stay the same, like your teammates had never left, to ignore the images of their bloodied faces engraved in your head.

“L/N, have you completed the paper work?” Your captain asked as he paused by your desk. It felt odd to look up and not be greeted with a beard.

“Yes, sir. Here it is.” You handed him the file with a tight-lipped smile.

“As efficient as ever, L/N.” He complimented you.

“Thank you, sir.” You nodded your head in appreciation.

“How are you doing with your…” He trailed off, not knowing how to word his question in a way that didn’t sound rude.

He meant your trauma, your nightmares, your grieving pain.

“I’m fine.” You say a little too quickly for him to believe you. Nevertheless, he doesn’t question the crack in your voice or the way your eyes dart around. He simply tilts his head.

“Take a break, L/N. I’ll deal with your paperwork for a day.” He places a business card on your desk, tapping on it. “If you need additional support, don’t hesitate to ask.”

You glanced down at the card as your captain exited your office. Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment as you realised he had given you a therapist’s card. Was your grief you had been trying to strategically hide that obvious? Well, at least he cared enough to offer you help.

Your short run to the grocery store was lonely to say the least. You dropped the bags the moment you walked into the apartment, staring at the cold kitchen and living room.

The tea bags that you hated but Ghost loved fell to the ground, scattering over the tiled floor. You promised yourself you would unpack the groceries later but as the sun set and the sky darkened, the plastic bags still sat by the door. It was usually Gaz’s job to deal with the groceries.

You knew any attempt to sleep in your own bed would be useless so you gathered your blankets and pillows without any thought, pacing towards the living room.

You let out a loud scream when you came face to face with Ghost.

“Aye, what yer yelling ‘bout, Bonnie? It’s just us.” Soap uttered. You peeked around Ghost, spotting Gaz and Price already on the couch.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Price asked.

You knew this was only your mind feeding you delusions, messing with you, but you were too tired to care. All you needed was them and if it took talking to your imagination, you’d take it.

[ariascoven]

✹ ── DELICIOUSLY FORBIDDEN.

PAIRING : agatha harkness x familiar!reader

CONTENT & WARNINGS : gender neutral reader. legal age gap. power imbalance, i think. pet names ( bunny, pet, little one & angel ). lactation kink. a bit of mistress kink. praising.

WORD COUNT : 1.4k

AO3 | MASTERLIST

It was infuriating.

Agatha convinced herself that the Gods above decided to play a stupid prank on her as she kept producing milk while Nicholas grew up and became a beautiful child — perhaps a punishment for her ruthless killing of gullible and innocent witches. But continuing even centuries after he died? It filled her with rage, the way the universe seemed to make a cruel joke out of her. The pain was unlike anything she had ever experienced; holding her own breasts at night with small, pained groans as the liquid leaked and stained her clothing. Nothing she tried ever seemed to stop or even help relieve the suffering she went through — no matter if she used witchcraft, or tools used by lactating women.

She never wanted you to know about her peculiar condition — it was humiliating, and the shame of going through that situation swallowed her whole. However, it turns out that hiding anything from your familiar whom you shared a house with was quite the difficult task to complete. The older woman managed to hide it pretty well for the first couple of months, but on a specific night the pain was just too much, unbearable even for the witch killer. Her usually quiet groans became louder, bordering on screams. The pain made her brain fuzzy, hardly able to form any coherent thoughts or words, much less to stop you as you barged into her bedroom with worried eyes and rushed over to the bed.

It had been a while since that event happened, and after that, she began to not care whether you saw her im that state or not, often mumbling incoherently under her breath as she paced around the house with milk leaking through her shirt. During one of those days, she barged into the living room while you were cleaning, looking completely defeated with eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. “What did I do to deserve this?” She said grumpily. You raised an eyebrow. With a roll of her eyes, she let out a huff and plopped down onto the couch. “Don’t even answer that.”

You chuckled softly, putting your cleaning gear down and taking a seat next to her. Her angered expression melted away in an instant at the gentleness displayed on your face, that little sympathetic smile making something flutter inside her — and she hated it, she always hated the way you made her feel, disarming her completely. For a moment, a complete silence washed over the room as you stared at each other, and Agatha’s icy eyes scanned your face, looking for something even the older witch wasn’t sure of.

“Let me help you.” Your words came out of your mouth quietly, almost in the form of a whispered and shamecul confession, slightly shaking with uncertainty. However, the fire that burned within your eyes caused Agatha’s heartbeat to quicken, the implication in your offer clear as day.

The witch cleared her throat and clicked her tongue, turning her head away before giving you a sideways glance as she spoke. “You are aware that there is only one thing you could do that would possibly make this madness stop, right?” She said it in a warning tone, but the hint of excitement didn’t go unnoticed by you. At the silent confirmation you gave with a firm nod, she sighed before unbuttoning her blouse.

Your mouth went dry with every inch of smooth skin being exposed to your hungry gaze, fingers digging into the flesh of your own thighs in an attempt to keep calm — but how could you, seeing your mistress’ swollen breasts in display for you, and you only? They were leaking, and pure shame washed over you at the realization you were completely soaking through your underwear. How could the liquid that came from her breasts, so pure in its nature, get you so turned on? You forced yourself to push those thoughts aside and focus solely on helping the woman you called your savior.

You were completely unaware of the way Agatha was doing everything she could to stay composed as well, gripping the couch cushions with a firm grip that bruised her knuckles as she watched you kneel on the ground, between her spread legs. Your face was now at the same level as her chest, your eyes locked on the heavenly sight before you and glimmering with nothing but adoration in its purest and most genuine form You looked up at Agatha, asking for permission and confirmation. After she nodded, you immediately got to work, leaning forward and wrapping your lips around a nipple.

The two of you moaned at the same time, although yours sounded more like a whine. Agatha’s head fell back and rested against the couch with a long, low groan. It had been so, so damned long since the last time she felt the sensation of nursing — a bit uncomfortable, especially when she’d been producing for way-too-long years, never having someone to help ease the infernal pain that followed her for centuries. But there you were, seemingly enjoying the taste of her. It felt wrong, and it was probably forbidden; you were her familiar, for God’s sake! But she couldn't think straight, relishing in the feeling of the milk finally leaving her body.

A strangled gasp fell from your lips when you felt slender fingers tangling in your hair and pushing you closer against her breasts. “So good…” Agatha spoke huskily and you clenched around nothing, sucking and drinking from her with an eagerness that bordered on greed. Obviously, you wanted to help her with the pain, but enjoying the unexpected, unusual setting that fate had brought wouldn't hurt anyone, right? “Bunny—”

Her words were cut off by a shaky breath as you switched sides, giving attention to the other breast as well. The moans you let out were against your will, but impossible to hold back. She tasted like heaven, but simultaneously, like sin. Pure sin, and you could get drunk from it. When you opened your eyes to stare up at the witch, your heart skipped a beat at the breathtaking sight of a blissed out Agatha Harkness, looking down at you with half lidded eyes and parted lips. Her hand was still in your hair, now softly caressing it.

“You’re such a good little pet, hm? You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” If anyone asked Agatha what desperation looked like, she would describe you at that moment, frantically nodding in agreement at her breathless words as you continued to savor every little drop of the warm milk that ran down your throat. “Mhm, you love your mistress’ milk.”

You released her nipple with a satisfying pop, panting and nodding your head in a way that could only be described as utterly pathetic. With milk painting your chin and lips, you grabbed her thighs and squeezed them. “Love your milk so much, mistress. It’s the best thing I’ve ever had.” Her eyes darkened at your words. Your sweet little voice had slowly become Agatha's favorite sound in the universe, and hearing you say those things only made her crave you more. “Can I have more, mistress? Oh, please, allow me.”

A devilish grin that sent shivers down your spine curled on her lips and she bit her lip, the hand previously on your hair moving to cup your chin, yet never wiping away the liquid from it. She tilted your head up, pupils blown wide with lust at the way your puppy eyes pleaded for her. “Oh, love… how could I refuse anything to my little familiar who begs for me so beautifully like this, hm?”

With a smile that was weirdly innocent considering the situation you got caught up in, you returned to your actions. She moaned, hips involuntary bucking against the air. “You’re so good for me, little one. Such an angel…” Her words only spurred you on, suckling harder. Agatha’s body relaxed against the couch as the pain vanished away fully, leaving only pleasure and contentment behind. “Doing such a good job for me, bunny.”

Amusement was written all over the woman’s face as she observed her obedient familiar, loving the way you looked all adorable and happy with her milk filling your throat. “From now you, you’ll always help me with this little problem of mine. Do you understand me, pet?” Smiling around her nipple, you nodded eagerly, earning a hum of approval and a small smile.

Something inside Agatha had shifted. She spent centuries, endless years that she had truly lost count of a long, long time ago, hoping and even praying that her suffering would come to an end. But after hearing the adorably dangerous sounds you made and finding out the feeling of your pretty little lips wrapped around her was better than anything she could ever wish for… yeah, she could probably get used to it.

dividers made by cafekitsune

images found on pinterest

[lvlyghost]

pairings: simon riley x f!reader

summary: reader suffers from a chronic illness and ghost finds out.

wc: 1.1k

tw: chronic pain, chronic illness, slight angst i think, comfort. not edited and not proofread. that's it.

a/n: sorry y'all i'm struggling a lot with writer's block lately so i'm writing these silly little things to help me out of it so don't mind me!

By the moment Ghost enters his shared office he's frowning so hard that he fears it might leave a permanent mark on his forehead. The first day wasn't unusual as it was normal for soldiers, technicians and federal agents to come and go. Gaz is humming under his breath and greets him with a slight nod when he spots him but he barely returns the gesture. His desk is full of reports waiting to be filled some labeled 'Urgent' in big red letters.

Sitting down he manages to get done the first stack of papers but his mind was lost elsewhere barely paying attention to the work he never had trouble getting done in no time. Part of him wonders if Kyle will tease him if he asked about her. But better asking him than Johnny. As he leans back in his chair, fidgeting with the pen in his hands. Gaz barely pays attention, too enraptured by whatever he's watching on his own computer.

"Where's the girl?"

The Sergeant startles at the sudden sound of his deep voice. Hard and demanding.

"Sir?" He half chuckles when brown eyes meet each other.

"Have you seen her? She's supposed to report back to me and she hasn't." It was only half a truth. She did have to report to him every progress made for future missions, give him the intel so he can report to the Captain. The thing was, there were no missions taking place soon. No black ops, nothing. But Kyle didn't know that.

Gaz lifts his brows, trying to figure out who his Lieutenant was talking about, until it hits him.

"Oh." He murmurs. "The tech girl, Lt?" He shrugs. "Haven't seen her in a few days, have you tried calling her or you know... going to the women's barracks?"

Ghost scoffs as if the mere idea was ridiculous.

"No. Guess she'll show up."

She has to.

Standing up he exits the office under Gaz's questioning look. The hallways feel endless the more he walks to the tech wing, he knows if he passes down that specific hallway he'd be able to see through the glass that serves as walls if she's there or not.

Much to his already building annoyance she's not there.

-

Rolling onto your back you squeeze your eyes shut once more. An unyielding pain throbbing in the back of your skull shoots yet another wave of nausea making you feel more miserable than ever.

It's been two days since the whole ordeal started. It began with a subtle pain that couldn't recognize the symptoms at first, merely blinking away the black dors that started to blurred your vision one afternoon when you were trying to fill the reports for Ghost, pages and pages of new intel recovered from long lost contacts online.

Saying it was hard to dig in all those dark places was an understatement. You had tried to push the symptoms of uneasiness to the back of your mind, typing and decoding algorithms for what could be days. Days without sleep or proper and much needed rest.

So, when the first wave hit you had ran to the bathroom, throwing up what little you had eaten that day. Oh how you hated it. Tears prickle in the corner of your eyes and the terror began, everything went down hill from there.

Shutting the computer off you gathered your belongings. The corridors were in complete silence, abandoned hours ago when everyone went to their dorms.

You remembered picking up some of your things from the women's barracks and retreating to your personal dorm where no one would bother you. As a member of the task force you had a place for you alone —just as the rest of the team— and you're grateful because the next days were a nightmare.

The curtains were tightly closed. Not the tiniest bit of light could pass even if the sun burned brighter. The earplugs helped but they didn't do much to alleviate the external noises. Fuck why were the soldiers so loud? You asked to yourself, jaw tight in an effort to soothe the pulsing on your forehead.

After laying in the same position for another hour you decide to get up, dragging your feet in an enormous attempt to get to the bathroom. With the lights turned off you undress as quickly as you can; standing on your feet is hard enough already but you wait nonetheless for the bath to fill with cool water.

With numb extremities you step in and lower yourself, it's almost soothing and calming the way the water swallows your body and then your head. Ever since these headaches —these migraines— started to interfere, you learned that cool water could help to ease the symptoms. Time passes by and when you emerge your teeth chatter, lips turned purple but it was worth it. God was it worth it.

You're exhausted, this has taken a toll on you. Fitting your pajamas feels like an impossible task. Your head throbs with the slightest of movement. And then the door opens just a tad, reveling the dark shadow of the man you'd recognize anywhere.

"Ghost," you murmur acknowledging his presence, half shocked half embarrassed that he's right here in your bedroom. Your bathroom.

"Why is everything dark?" His voice is too loud and it makes you flinch; he's quick to notice even in the sheer darkness. He notices the whimper in your voice when he speaks too loud. He notices the way your body sags, and when he takes a step close you lean on him. Forehead pressing down on his broad chest. "Hey." He calls you, voice lowering this time. "Let me take you to the bed."

And you almost want to say something it. Make a comment about it being inappropriate but you're too sick to even do it so you let him guide you. You let him lay you down and surprises you when he follows.

Bodies curling against the other. You rest your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes so hard until the pain soothes. "You never told me about it."

"Never had the chance. Thought you hated me, remember?"

Ghost sighs. He had never intended for you to feel like that around him, he just wasn't accustomed to having such a nice person around him. You were so different from everything he knew.

"Forgive me, love." He mutters. "They're gonna start asking questions."

"What do you mean?" You grab him by the shirt when a sudden wave of nausea hits you. He caresses your hair in a calming manner.

"I asked Garrick about you." Before you can fight it a smile spreads on your face.

"Johnny..." you snort, regretting it the moment the laugh rattles in your brain. The Scot is about to have a field day when he finds out. "Ow..."

"Will never hear the end of it." His thumb presses down on your temple massaging the spot. "Better?"

"Yeah." There's a moment of brief silence where all you can hear is the sound of feet outside your dorm. People carrying on with their lives. "Would you stay with me tonight Lt.?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

[grapementos]

night terrors

aged up bakugo x reader

cw: night terrors

bakugo doesn't sleep with more than one blanket or pillow. when he's persuaded into participating in halloween, he refuses to wear a full-face mask.

covid was a nightmare for him. he didn't go outside when he didn't have to, which meant plenty of grocery deliveries. masks triggered his anxiety to the fullest, but of course he wore it when he absolutely had to leave the house.

now, you had plenty of opinions and reservations about u.a. and the hero commission, most of them comprised of colorful language and a world full of screaming until you're red in the face.

they ruined not only bakugo, but so many other teenagers that thought they were doing the right thing. they thought they were training to become admirable role models, people who were going to be trained to use their unique gifts to save and protect people. they thought they were going to become heroes.

instead, all they got was ptsd and a handful of other mental illnesses that left them in therapy, on meds, or with debilitating night terrors.

bakugo unfortunately suffered from frequent night terrors. despite therapy and going on 3 years of being medicated for his anxiety, he still woke you up in the middle of the night with throat-ripping screams.

sometimes, you'd find him in the corner, screaming at you to get away, stop, leave him alone. it was heartbreaking.

-

some days you could gauge when he was going to have an episode. his hands were shakier, eyes unfocused, and his mind was just elsewhere.

today, he was exactly like that, only worse. you could tell his brain was all over the place, and you hated it. you hated how his brain turned against him and forced him to think the worst, most painful thoughts. it bound him to his worst memories, forcing him to relive his them over and over. his own brain.

you did everything you could to assuage the brain fog. you made him tea in the mornings, kept the house tidy, and tried to keep him from performing any heavy tasks. it was difficult, considering he didn't much fancy being helped or taken care of. when it was you, though, he let you.

after a particularly difficult day, the two of you settled into bed together, silent as you faced each other, gazing in silence.

"i'm scared." he whispered, finally breaking the silence.

just a look in his eyes was all it took for you to know it was true. he was terrified.

you placed your hand on his cheek, caressing your thumb over the skin, "i know. it's okay to be scared."

he shook his head, squeezing your hand. he squeezed his eyes shut, breaths quickening as he thought about the idea of sleeping. sleeping wasn't kind to him, and he knew it, because he never, never slept well.

"hey, hey, just breathe, okay?" you breathed deeply to set an example, one slow inhale preceding a lengthy exhale, "like that."

he followed your example, slowly relaxing his features, "yeah, yeah, okay."

"i know you're scared," you whispered, "but no matter what, i'm here. no matter what monster you see, no matter who's out to get you, you're going to open your eyes and it's gonna be me. it'll always be me."

he nodded, wordlessly, and scooted into your waiting arms.

-

you slept lightly since living with bakugo. that's what made it so easy for you to identify the earliest signs of his episode.

every shift in the bed, every ruffle of the sheets, you were stirring.

so when he sat up, you were half-awake. his steps fully woke you.

you shot up to a sitting position, watching carefully as he stood still for a moment.

"baby?" you whispered, scooting over to the edge of the bed.

no response. he walked over to the center of the room, going stiff.

"kats?"

just as you called out to him, he let out the most throat ripping scream you'd heard.

you jumped on the spot, blood going cold as the shriek reached your ears. your hands shook as you took your first step on the bed, careful to not get too near.

he faced you, eyes open but unseeing. they were glazed over, looking right through you with the most fear-filled eyes you'd ever seen. he was terrified, looking at you as if you had a knife in your hand and a slasher theme following you wherever you went.

"get away!" he screeched, staggering backwards, "get the fuck away!"

your heart shattered at his words, but you knew it wasn't about you. you sucked up your fear, your sadness, and took a deep breath to ground yourself.

"okay, okay. i'm sorry," you spoke calmly, sitting down on the floor cross-legged, "i didn't mean to scare you."

your voice still wavered, still shook with the fear you definitely felt.

he didn't seem to hear you, but your smaller presence seemed to make him feel less threatened.

he was grunting, groaning, crying. his stance was defensive, ready to defend. those hero instincts that he learned as a teenager, the need to protect himself because he was always, always in danger, never left.

that always scared you. the possibility of him activating his quirk and using it on you. but being hurt isn't what scared you--it was the guilt you know he'd feel. you were terrified of him leaving you because he thought he was a danger, or too much to handle. that couldn't be farther from the truth.

you just watched, at least five feet away from his shaking form. you wouldn't touch him, wouldn't yell or panic. you'd just watch, occasionally whispering some affirmations.

it took a while for him to calm down, to stop yelling and crying. about ten minutes later, his eyes went blank again and he walked himself back to the bed and laid down.

you followed him with your gaze and pushed yourself up with a soft sigh. after a moment of processing, you grabbed a water from the kitchen and set it on his nightstand.

you checked him once more to make sure he was comfortably asleep before taking your place next to him.

you watched his face, scanning it for any signs of discomfort or anxiety. nothing. as if it had never happened.

you kissed his forehead, "i'm so sorry, my love. i hope things won't always be like this."

ngl, i have so many opinions on all the trauma these poor kids have gone through, but i like to avoid discourse at all costs. also, i had to do some research on night terrors, so i hope i wasn't too far off.

[ascendancy-echoes]

Chapter 27: Oaths

After Kallisto’s attempted pep-talk on faith, Ismene pocketed the pendant in her apron and went back to the useless but distracting task of taking stock of her supplies. She had barely looked up when Janus was dragged into the church by Belinay and Silence. Both of which, of course, ignored her presence. Ismene watched as Belinay tied up Janus to a column, then talked to Silence who left before Belinay gloated to this ‘Janus’ and exited the building, walking out of sight.

Janus Ashtear had glanced her way, but said nothing. Not that he could, he had a cloth gagging him so he couldn’t speak. Instead, he closed his eyes and wheezed through shallow breaths. Ismene knew that kind of breathing. The human had asthma and without treatment, would suffer greatly. Although Ismene had never seen anyone die from it, she remembered the medical journals she had read in Paion’s clinic and knew asthma could be fatal if left untreated.

As an apothecary and healer, it was Ismene’s duty to help heal the sick. But this was a human, one of the monsters who probably killed her parents. So why did Ismene feel compelled to help him? Ismene bit her lip in frustration, so tightly it was a wonder she didn’t draw blood. She turned her focus back to recounting her supplies. She was going to stay out of all of this as much as possible.

Less than half an hour later, Silence and Belinay returned with another human. Ismene watched Janus’s eyes widen in panic at the sight of the new human being tied to another column. Again, Belinay and Silence ignored her presence and left without looking her way or saying a word to her.

Ismene was content to ignore this human as well when she heard them ask Janus about their daughter. That caused her to look up and watch the conversation unfold. While she could barely hear Janus because he spoke so softly and his voice was hoarse, she caught enough to know what was going on. If she heard Janus correctly, Russ had managed to capture Janus, the humans’ child was missing through some kind of magic portal and now they were holding on to the slim hope they would escape and find their child.

Ismene scoffed quietly to herself. Even humans had a stupid belief in faith. While she still doubted that Oz was going to summon Lavos, Ismene felt the humans were being naive to believe they stood a chance now. They were powerless and outnumbered.

~o~O~o~

While Ismene sulked in the church ruins, Oz called for everyone to gather around as the morning sun made its way higher into the sky. Even though Oz had called for the meeting, Belinay quickly took charge.

“Since the threat of being caught in disguise is gone, we will begin the process of dealing with the guards so the king and queen are outnumbered and unguarded.” Belinay explained as she produced some vials of dark liquid from a bandolier under her robes. She handed one to each of the Mystics gathered around. “As discussed before, a small force will remain with Oz and our hostages while the rest of us go to the castle.”

“What are these?” Russ asked, accepting the vial in his hand.

“A simple potion that will bestow the ability to disguise yourself as a human much like my power,” answered Belinay. “Temporarily though, unlike my ability.”

“What exactly is in this potion?” asked Russ as he peered at the vial.

“Don’t ask questions you’ll hate the answers to,” Belinay replied, waving her hand to appear as a human woman with black hair, wearing a blue uniform.

Russ looked down at the vial, feeling reluctant to drink the potion but he knew he had to do what was expected of him. He looked around at the others for reassurance and guidance and saw none of the others hesitated and drank their potions.

It was an unsettling and surreal sight to see his companions morph into humans. Belinay’s spell was like a wave of shadows that replaced her appearance with that of her disguise. The potion’s effects were more akin to their forms shifting to that of human in appearance, hiding any signs they were ever Mystic. With everyone else disguised as humans, dressed in the same uniform as Belinay, everyone’s eyes went to Russ expectantly.

Russ took a breath and drank the contents as quickly as he could. The liquid was thin and had a bitter and faintly metallic taste to it, followed by an acrid and dry aftertaste. It made Russ want to gag and spit it back up, but he couldn’t fail again. He closed his eyes to focus on breathing and persevering through the potion’s taste and the unsettling sensation of the disguise taking hold. The sensation was brief and Russ opened his eyes to look down at his human hands. Tawny fur was replaced by bare skin, olive in complexion and suntanned. It was unnerving in a way Russ couldn’t place.

For a heartbeat, Russ found himself curious as to how he looked, based on how everyone else had changed thanks to the potion, but he was quickly given a crossbow by Silence and told to follow Belinay into the forest and towards the castle. There was no time for idle curiosity. Russ cast a quick glance back at those who were staying back with Oz, hoping that Ismene would be there.

Seeing Ismene’s tail vanish back into the church ruins, Russ sighed and followed the others to the castle. He began to worry that Ismene would never forgive him even if victory was assured. Pushing that worry aside, Russ focused on following Belinay through the forest and away from the church ruins.

~o~O~o~

Ismene heard Oz call for everyone to gather around. She slithered past Janus and Lucca, pointedly avoiding eye contact with them and stood by the remains of the doorway to humor Oz with her presence. Oz cast a smug glance her way before turning his attention to the Mystics gathered around him and Belinay. She watched as Belinay took over the meeting. Seeing Belinay use her sorcery gave Ismene some cause to wonder how often she had run into her while Belinay was disguised. It didn’t surprise her at all when everyone unquestioningly drank whatever concoction Belinay had given them. They were all zealots blindly loyal to her and Oz.

Everyone, but Russ. Russ, ever the anxious follower, was the last to drink the potion only after seeing what everyone else would do. Ismene watched with some reluctant curiosity as her fellow Mystics were transformed into humans. “Freaky” would be the best way Ismene could describe the whole thing. Despite now looking human, there was enough of their appearance that Ismene could tell the people before her were still the Mystics she knew. Eye shape and color, the way they stood. Most uncanny of all was perhaps Russ. It wasn’t so much of a stretch to change from feline to human. He still had his oddly colored eyes and his fur, or rather his hair, was still the same tawny dark blond.

Utterly unsettled by what she witnessed and sure that Oz was satisfied by her brief appearance, Ismene slithered back into the church ruins to find Lucca struggling against her restraints. Ismene stood by for a moment as she watched Lucca muttering to herself and squirming in the ropes that bound her.

“Forget it human, those stupid cuffs keep you from using your magic and Belinay tied the knots pretty tight. You and your friend aren’t going anywhere,” she finally sighed, annoyed at Lucca’s persistence.

Lucca looked up, surprised to see Ismene was talking to her. She stopped struggling against her restraints and sighed. Closing her eyes for a moment, she asked Ismene why they were doing this.

“Why are they doing this?” Ismene asked back. She shrugged and answered, “Cuz they’re fucking idiots hellbent on revenge against your kind. I’m just as much a prisoner as you are in all this bullshit. Those assholes out there made me come along for the ride. I’m just a healer, damnit.”

Lucca looked up, squinting slightly. Although slightly out of focus, she could see that, despite the fierce scowl on her face, Ismene was probably the most harmless Mystic she had ever seen besides the Daemon that now lived outside of Truce. Lucca wondered why the others had forced Ismene to come along. Maybe they needed her to heal them in battle.

“You’re a healer?” she asked quietly.

Ismene rolled her eyes. “Did I stutter, human?”

Lucca looked past Ismene towards Janus. Janus had grown quiet after explaining what had happened. Part of it, Lucca knew, was that Janus had a tendency to become non-speaking in times of great stress. The other part, the one that worried Lucca the most, was that Janus’s breathing continued to struggle. He needed medicine and they were both tied up and far from any help. There had to be some reason they were being kept alive. Lucca knew that the other Mystics could have easily killed them both, but they hadn’t. It was a longshot but Lucca wondered if she could get this Mystic to sympathize with her for even a second and help Janus.

“Please, my husband… he needs help,” she pleaded. “He- When his magic is drained, it hurts him a lot. He gets asthma and-”

“I know… Been trying to ignore that wheezing since he was dragged here,” Ismene interrupted.

“Please!” Lucca begged, tears building up in her eyes. “You said it yourself, you're a healer. There has to be some reason you’re keeping us alive. He’ll die if he can’t breathe. Help him, I beg of you.”

Ismene scoffed and looked over at Janus. His eyes were closed and his breathing was getting worse. It was a sad sight… and it reminded her all too much of when Russ was younger and needed comfort when he suffered those unexplainable night terrors and the times he fell ill. She also remembered overhearing Belinay talking about wanting Janus alive for the ritual.

“Fuck it all…” Ismene cursed as she slithered over to her satchel and opened it up. She tried to convince herself she was doing the stupid human a favor so she wouldn’t have to listen to his pathetic wheezing breath as she dug around for something to stop Janus’s breathing troubles. She was only keeping them alive for Oz’s and Belinay’s sake. Eventually, she pulled out a satchel of dried leaves. With an annoyed sigh, she remarked to herself, “There. It’s not ideal but it’ll do.”

“…. What is that?” asked Lucca. She eyed Ismene suspiciously.

“Belladonna,” Ismene replied, slithering back towards Janus.

“What?! I won’t let you poison my husband!” Lucca snapped, now more scared than ever. “I said I wanted you to help him!”

Ismene stopped and turned towards Lucca. She rose up on her tail to appear taller and hissed, “I’m not going to fucking poison him, dumbass!”

“Belladonna can help treat breathing problems… IF you know what the fuck you’re doing,” she added curtly. She turned her attention back towards Janus.

“Unlike some people here, I’m a healer, not a killer,” she concluded as she counted out a couple of small leaves in her palm. She pulled a small mortar and pestle out of her apron and crushed the leaves in it, turning the dried leaves into a powder. This wasn’t going to be ideal, but the only way she was going to get this to work was to burn the leaves in the mortar and blow the smoke in Janus’s face.

“Hey, human! This is going to suck for a few seconds, but I need you to keep breathing and inhale the smoke, got it?” she snapped at Janus. Looking back at Lucca for a moment, she added, “He’s going to cough a lot before it gets better so don’t complain.”

With a flick of her fingers, Ismene summoned a small flame and set the dried powder on fire. Taking a deep breath away from the rising smoke, Ismene turned to face Janus and blew the smoke into his face. True to Ismene’s words, Janus began to cough violently. So much so, Lucca wondered if he’d break free of his ropes or hurt himself.

“That’s normal, just give him a moment,” Ismene deadpanned, setting the mortar and pestle down. “There might be some side effects but he won’t suffocate now.”

As his coughing subsided and his breathing eased, Janus slowly opened his eyes and looked towards Lucca. Lucca could tell he was a bit disoriented, maybe tired from everything that had happened, but he was breathing a bit more normally.

Lucca sighed in relief. She looked at Ismene and said, “Thank you.”

“Whatever,” Ismene muttered, picking up the mortar and pestle and slithering back over to her supplies. Just as she settled in, Oz appeared at the doorway. Ismene ignored him for a second before looking up and smiled slightly.

“Yes, Elder?” she asked calmly, almost saccharine in her tone.

“Don’t start that shit with me, Ismene,” Oz growled.

Ismene placed her hands in her lap, still smiling and eyebrows raised. Sounding astonished, she sweetly remarked, “But you asked me to be more respectful. Is there a problem?”

Oz levitated over towards Ismene and said “I heard all that shouting and coughing. What the hell is going on here? And drop the fake niceties, I don’t have patience for your bullshit.”

Gesturing towards Janus, Ismene calmly and flatly replied, “That human was having an asthma attack. Those can be fatal. Belinay said she wanted him alive for your plan so I treated his breathing. Trust me, a dying human is rather annoying to listen to.”

Seeing Oz eye Janus, Ismene continued, “Don’t worry, they’re still helpless and drained of their magic.”

Oz huffed and turned to leave. “Be sure that’s the only help you give them… Understood?”

“Understood,” Ismene replied politely, although she was glaring at Oz since his back was turned. Of course, she didn’t intend to be kind to Janus or Lucca, but she also didn’t enjoy being bossed around by Oz. After Oz left, Ismene noticed Lucca looking her way. She glared at Lucca and said, not even bothering to phrase the word as a question, “What.”

Lucca spoke softly as she said, “You called us killers…”

Ismene didn’t like where this conversation was heading. She got up once more from where she had been sitting and slithered over to Lucca. In an angry whisper, she cut to the chase. “Yes, I did. Because you are. Him, you… maybe it was your precious king or queen, doesn’t fucking matter. Magic-using humans killed my parents and several others that tried to get revenge for the war. The others lost their fathers or their mothers, but I lost both before I could even remember them. You stole that from me, human.”

“If you two are gonna chit-chat about your fates, do it quietly… I need to concentrate,” she added, her voice beginning to crack.

Slithering back over to her supplies, Ismene kept her back to Lucca and Janus. She fought back the tears that started to trickle down her face. Even if she spoke out against revenge, she had always deep down wanted for the humans responsible for her parents’ deaths to pay for what they had done. Now they were going to. Even if Oz couldn’t summon Lavos, Ismene realized the others actually stood a chance of defeating the other humans. Guardia would finally fall. Her parents’ murderers would get what they deserved.

So why was this feeling so wrong?

[yanderecandystore]

Could you please do a fanfic for a male version of Yandere! Lady Dimitrescu (from Resident Evil Village game) with the reader.

I really like the Resident Evil franchise but I'm too lazy to know what the hell is happening in the older games XD I'm so sorry about that-

I loved watching playthroughs of Resident Evil Village (can't buy the game ;-;), but I felt like it was a bit empty, idk- I felt like the lords weren't really explored enough.

Also the Duke is the best husbando in the whole game- Fight me! >:3

TW/Tags: GN = Gender Neutral, I normally forget to properly name it when it's gender neutral, most of the time I just say "reader" // maybe ooc // lazy genderbent, I'm terrible with names // size difference // servant reader // mentions of gore/cuts/bruises/blood and deaths (and torture- I'm so sorry-) // reader gets hurt // mentions of vomiting

It's Dinner Already [Yandere!M!Dimitrescu x GN!Reader - Short Fanfiction]

It's dinner time already, unfortunately for you, of course.

It feels almost like a routine at this point- Which in a way, it is! You always take care of your tasks during the day, while dreading the inevitable time for dinner to arrive again.

Everyday, at this exact same hour, you and the other servants would prepare a meal for Lord Dimitrescu and his lovely… Sons…

As someone who has started "working" for their family only a month ago, you can positively say: Starving in the cold woods next to your village would have probably been a more merciful death than the ones you have witnessed at this place. You weren't as accustomed to such brutal executions at your village, actually you hardly even witnessed so much death, at least not so up close.

When you came here, you didn't expect to be instantly comforted and treated with respect- You were a commoner looking for an possibility to thrive in a noble's house, you were basically an easy target for any entitled selfish lord to easily belittle you and make you work for them until your hands would turn to dust. Yet nothing could have prepared you for such an odd situation.

Vampires. Monsters. Fiends if you were bold enough to insult them. You weren't exactly welcomed as much as you were snatched in and now forever trapped inside this castle. You can still hear their laughter… Their insane expressions of pure glee, the way they have bursted into maliciously laughing at your pain as you screamed for help trying to open up their door again and be free from that nightmare.

The chase didn't last even a second, they stabbed your legs with their scythes and brought you deeper inside this hellhole, as you cried your eyeballs out. The sons had brought you back inside so their father could take a look at the "intruder".

An absolute titan amongst the mortals. His height was only a sick reminder of how much power he had over the castle, over his sons, and now- Over you.

He may not have been as massive as he was threatening as you remind him to be, but at the time you were just in awe of his height considering you have never seen someone as tall and as mighty.

Then again- You have never seen vampires as well. Were they the same vampires as the books you've read as a kid? You weren't so sure of it…

You were hoping that if you begged for life and for forgiveness for having disturbed their peace, that they could spare you and let you go back to your village. Sadly enough, you commented on how you were only trying to look for a job as a servant.

You probably shouldn't have given them ideas, but it's too late to think about your mistakes now, however.

The sons begged to see your blood spilled, yet Lord Dimitrescu was merciful enough to grant you your "wish", as he said.

It has been a month ever since you were trapped inside and forced to work as a miserable little servant, and even if you didn't suffer the worst forms of punishments that they had in-store for you, you couldn't help but fantasize about just running away and never turning back.

You're so tired of this castle, of the smell of carnage, of the undeserved and over the top punishments, and especially of the people who would subjugate you to such things.

But at last, it's dinner time already, and you can't keep them waiting.

You feel your hands shaking as you walk out of the kitchen and into the dining room where the masters of the castle were so graciously waiting for you. You know what they're waiting for- But you can't let them distract you, for those that commit accidents are faced with fates worse than death.

Although you would rather do this process quickly, you can't afford mistakes to happen, so you take your time to set not only their meal in front of each one but to also pour "wine" into their glasses. You do all of this without looking directly into their eyes, only bowing down to each one and saying "excuse me"s in what they would call a "decent tone", as the smell of their disgusting beverage starts to irritate your nostrils. If you didn't know the main ingredient to Sanguis Virgins is, you probably wouldn't have this immense disgust over it, but right now just the thought of it makes you want to gag.

Only villains could so easily drink blood, and still make a living out of it.

Your internal thoughts of pure hatred against this whole situation almost completely blinded you to the fact that they were eerily, very quiet.

….

On most nights they would be talking with each other while occasionally making comments about you or your presence. Obviously they were all pretty nasty comments that they somehow expected you to back it up in some way or another, it's when they try to insert you into their conversation that makes you hate this occasion so badly, but it normally ends as quickly as it begins.

But as you are pouring wine to Lord's Dimitrescu, you notice that they haven't said a single thing while you were there. You stop what you're doing as you realize that they were silently observing you this whole time, and as you look into their expressions you come to think that maybe you have messed up-

Somehow, in some way or form, you may have messed up- And the fact this mistake could cost your head only agitates your already very worried mind.

….

A small moment of silence continues before the middle son, Cassandro, starts to chuckle in an almost innocent way- As if he was a kid who just said a bad word for the first time- And as he bursts into sudden laughter, Daniel leans towards Bello and loudly whispers:

"- I told you, they do this every time." To which Bello only replied with:

"- It's almost like hypnosis in a way."

The three sons were mesmerized by your ability to trap yourself in your own mind. They're probably aware that you do this as a defensive mechanism but they still find it comical in a weird way. You feel yourself get more tense as you look up at Lord Dimitrescu and see him staring back at you, with an unreadable expression across his face.

Before you could come up with an excuse to whatever you may have caused to disturb their dinner, the Lord himself spoke.

"- How inappropriate. As my sons, you three should know better than to laugh at our servant's airheaded mind-"

And as he said that, their smiles begin to disappear and be replaced with frowns and a bit of shame as they become stiff at their father's words.

"- And how inappropriate of you, too. To be so distracted in the presence of your masters, that's quite rude don't you think?"

But as he continued their bodies begin to relax once again as they realize he wasn't focusing on them- He was focusing on you.

Words have completely disappeared from your vocabulary as you start to think that maybe you won't be able to see another day after their meal is over. You try to mumble some possible responses before getting interrupted by him once again.

"- It's very rude, so very rude in fact that I think we deserve some answers. What were you so distracted about? What were you thinking that could have possibly taken over your small little head?"

Right now, he was sounding a bit condescending, thankfully not as angry as he would have been with the other servants right about now. Every little mistake was used as excuses for punishments- And if you were walking on thin ice before, right now you are one-step closer to breaking this entire lake and getting yourself killed by the freezing temperatures of the water below you.

Thanks to your luck (or maybe lack thereof, depending on how you see this) Daniel came to "your rescue" by coming up with an excuse for you.

"- Maybe they were hungry." He said without any indications of it being a joke or a lie- As the youngest yet craziest of the bunch, he always had that weird "naive yet dangerous" energy coming from him. He was naive enough to make that statement when it's very clear that you actually despise being near them, but he still was a son of Dimitrescu.

You know better than to underestimate any of these people.

The Lord didn't seem completely convinced as he side eyed Daniel who was blissfully eating his meal without acknowledging his dad's glance or his brother's looks of disapproval.

Without a warning you were pulled closer by your wrist and forced into sitting next to the Lord, who made a sign for another servant to bring you your food. This… Doesn't feel right at all, you're waiting for the worst to come yet you don't feel like you can ever prepare yourself enough for what they have in store.

"- M-My Lord- This isn't needed, I'm fine. I'll just continue my duties, if you can excuse me-" You plead, while trying to get up from your chair.

"- Oh but what host would I be if I didn't take better care of my guests? Poor thing, you must be starving if you can barely serve us wine-" And as his tone gets progressively more sarcastic and a bit louder, you can hear his sons snickering from the other side of the table, but you can't see them since you can't take your eyes away from him.

You're worried that if you look away for just one second, that you may not be able to see ever again.

"- It's so sad when one of our guests feels hungry- What's worse is when we are also very, very hungry."

"- Thirsty, even!"

"- Oh, I can feel my throat drying just at the thought of such misery!- Our dinner seems to be ruined."

You hear their whispers, you hear how they are clearly joking about this- How overly dramatic they're being over something so miniscule as you just- Ignoring them.

Let me remind you this is all because you refuse to look them in the eyes, that you refuse to give them any satisfaction for the heinous things they have done! You've seen so many people get hurt inside this castle only for their sick and twisted thirst and entertainment.

"- Indeed, my boys. My appetite is ruined, though dinner is not over yet-" Lord Dimitrescu spoke as he looked at his sons clearly enjoying your inevitable pain, but before he could continue he turns himself to you again, putting a hand on your arm and saying:

"- Wouldn't you agree?" Loud enough so that his sons could hear it, but soft enough to send the tiniest shivers down your spine.

"- …!"

"- No, no- Please, not again!-" He wouldn't dare do this, would he??

But before you could react he had already done it, you barely noticed how fast he had grabbed that knife to slice your wrist- His hand firmly gripping your arm as he made a deep enough cut so that your blood could be easier to access.

It somehow hurts just as badly as the first time his sons have stabbed your ankles and dragged you across the floor- At least you're not bumping into things like before, and even if it's a deep cut it's not as big as it could be if he used his claws to actually do this.

Oh, oh those claws- You almost thought he would use them on you… Those were something else. You can't remember exactly what happened, and why it happened, but you remember seeing him use those on another servant who may have crossed the line at some point.

Well "crossed the line"- More like "casually inconvenienced him". Lord Alcino may act like an incredibly high noble but he acts so childishly and in such an egotistical manner that you are surprised he can even have a castle like this in the first place! You don't remember what the servant has done to be so cruelly dismantled, but you don't doubt that it was for a stupid reason!

You miss that servant actually- Probably the only person who you actually talked with, and the first one to actually taught you how to do your job… You two could have been friends if he didn't intervene.

You briefly remember those moments before getting to experience the most weird sensation of all- Having your bloody cut be licked and sucked on. It hurts and it stings in a way that not only makes you want to cry but to also gag at the thought of you feeding this monster.

You refuse to look at him even in this scenario, you refuse to see him feeding off your blood… Sometimes you wish you were just as poisonous as some species of frogs, poisonous enough to make his mouth burn so he can experience a fraction of the pain he causes to others.

You tried fleeting away, you tried getting up and moving away but his grip on your arm only helped you in getting closer to him- You have your eyes closed as your only option is to cry and muffle your agony.

But as always, he is not satisfied with you just ignoring him. This was supposed to be a lesson, yet you're clearly avoiding your teacher as best as you can- But not today, little flower, you're not getting out of this so easily.

This is the first time he ever got to really taste your blood, as normally you would be behind the other servants while trying to learn how to please him, the only moments where he gets to see you is when it's dinner time, but oh- You're just so cruel!

Escaping inside your own little head while he has to content himself with just your image. Your presence is very much appreciated around this hour, little one-

He has noticed this before, of course, but it was only when he noticed his son's curiosity over the way you behave around them that made him organize this little trap. He didn't have everything planned actually, his plan only involved getting to this moment no matter what- And oh boy, has luck been on his side!

Your blood tastes better than expected of a commoner, your delicate and fearful whines of pain are just as delightful but what really gets him is this tough persona you try to convince everyone you have- You despise him, and it's clear to see why- But he knows his charms will probably work on you one way or the other.

He gripped your face trying to make sure you'll get to him in the eyes as he has a taste of you. Absolutely delicious, especially after you so gracefully "ruined" their dinner.

His sons were just watching as they continued to drink from their crimson glasses. They were just enjoying the show, as everything seems to easily amuse them- Their father was just showcasing how they were so much better than the common folk, and they have no other option but to take notes and to remember what they have to do if they ever feel ignored by the servants in the castle: Show who are the true masters of this place.

None of them were really interested in drinking from you, considering how all three seemed to recognize how their father has taken a liking towards you. No one would dare mess with their father's prey.

If you had enough strength in you, you would start vomiting as soon as this has started, but the more he takes from you the more you feel like you can barely stay conscious.

He wasn't supposed to take so much, at least not so soon- He wanted to just take a sip but he can't deny the fact he would rather drown himself in your blood than to let go.

He sighs, as he notices that you're slowly getting less and less aggressive, getting more and more tired as he drains you from this cut.

You're not unconscious yet, just barely stable enough to understand what's going on.

"- Sigh… Now that was a decent enough meal." He can't praise you for being tasty, can't have you being cocky around him.

"- Here, since I'm done here I'll take you to the servant's living quarters- And because I'm so kind I'll make sure that wound is safely secured and cleaned, so here- Come along now."

And as he stood up he offered you his hand so you could get up yourself, but you don't have enough energy to walk yourself to your room, thankfully you're already ready to go to bed and wish to never wake up again.

And as the nightmare never ends, he decides that if you are going to be difficult then you leave him no choice but to carry you there. How much has he taken from you?? Jesus, he should learn some self-control before doing this again- The absolute brute that he is.

Your vision may be a little screwed over because of the lack of red cells running through your body at the moment- But you have a weird feeling that you two aren't heading towards the servant's living quarters, as you feel like you two are quite literally going in the opposite direction.

Oh but it's fine- Right?

It'll be fine. Surely. After all, he already took what he wanted from you, and he doesn't seem to need more so- You probably won't have to worry about anything right now, dinner time is already over, you can finally relax now….

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

So I'm sick again- Sorry y'all, I just have a horrible immune system and I really don't understand what is wrong with me-

I'm sorry if you didn't like this boo :(

[dracowars]

sacrifice | anakin skywalker

pairing: anakin x jedi!reader

word count: 4,1k

summary: where y/n has to sacrifice everything in order to save anakin

a/n: i'm so proud of this, i hope you enjoy reading it <3 also i really want to write more for anakin (& other male sw characters), so feel free to send in requests!! ♡

warnings: angst, torture, violence, mentions of severe injuries

universe: star wars

Exhausted and plagued by a painful sting pulling through your whole body, you slowly flutter your eyes open which turns out to be difficult at first due to the bright light. Your limbs feel sore and incredibly weak, you can hardly feel your arms anymore and an uncomfortable tingling sensation runs through your legs. Your head is extremely heavy and the world around you rotates, getting faster in each second that passes and thus disenables your ability to think clearly.

Still blinded by the light, you narrow your eyes to at least be able to see something and as you do, your breath gets stuck in your lungs right away. Your gaze is directed at a black steel door with red and white switches and lights flashing on the right and on the left. A steel door which most likely allows no escape.

"Sir. The Jedi is conscious again", you hear the mechanical voice of a droid and you turn your head in its direction to your right. You see two Battle Droids next to you, one of them now aiming his weapon at you alarmed, the other standing at a control field.

Only now do you notice that you are much taller than these droids and you quickly discover why. Surround by a bluish light, you float in the air, your wrists and ankles chained in stuncuffs, making you unable to move even a tiny bit. You helplessly hang in the air, the tight handcuffs already painfully straining your skin.

"Do not let her out of your sight until I get there", you suddenly hear another voice through the comlink one of the droids is holding. A voice that unmistakably belongs to none other than the Supreme Commander of the Separatist Droid Army General Grievous himself.

However, there was something else in the background. Something that made your breath get stuck in your throat again.

Screams. Full of pain and suffer that can only be produced by incredible agony.

"Where should she even go?", one of the droids asks annoyed and gets hit on the back of his head by the other after his statement immediately.

"Don't ask, work."

Not saying a word, you try to shake your hands to maybe loosen the handcuffs a little, but to no avail.

"No chance, lady. You will not get out of here that easily", the Battle Droid laughs while the other joins in. Throwing them an angry look, they quickly stop and get back to their work, ignoring you.

Using the moment of silence to your advantage, you close your eyes and try to feel the Force that surrounds you so that it can guide you the way. Because of your severe headache you do not succeed, but you also do not give up instantly and at least try to concentrate enough to remember what exactly happened.

The terrifying image of a battlefield on Ryloth appears in your head, droids and clones brutally fighting each other. With your ignited lightsaber you run between them, giving the clones cover while taking down several Battle Droids and Droidekas with one slash of your elegant weapon.

"General Y/L/N! General Skywalker has just informed us that he has advanced further at the front and has almost reached Grievous", you hear Fives tell you in your blurred memories when you hide behind a tree to seek protection for the split of a second.

"Anakin", you softly breathe, not noticing that you said his name out loud, and your eyes shoot open when your memory cuts off all of a sudden.

All you remember is that you followed him after Fives' words, but you do not remember what happened after that and you do not know where Anakin is now or if he was even captured as well.

In any case, you are not allowed to think about it any further when the door in front of you opens and you are greeted with the shadow of a large robotic figure, two Magna Guards on either side of him.

"Grievous", you hiss disapprovingly when he comes up to you with slow, heavy steps, his face - if you can even call it that - at eye level with you. "I sould have guessed that only you would be able to carry out such primitive captures."

His smoky laugh sounds at your words, which is quickly interrupted by a subsequent cough. In the next second, however, he tightly grabs your neck with his mechanical hand all of a sudden and forces you to look into his fleshy eyes. The pressure on your throat causes tears to well up in your eyes.

"You have a very important piece of information that Count Dooku would love to have, General Y/L/N", he mentions and you try to hide that he is currently blocking your windpipe. "All methods are fine with me as long as I get what I want."

"And I suppose you will only let me go if I tell you this very important piece of information?", you state ironically and take a quick breath in as he releases his strong grip from you.

"That would make things much easier for both of us", Grievous agrees and looks at you intensely, almost expectantly. "Where do the Jedi keep the holocrons?"

"What do you want to do with it? Even if I told you, which I will definitely not do by the way, you could not open it anyway", you mockingly point out and raise an eyebrow.

A second later, you have to fight for air again.

"That is something you should not worry about", he aggressively snaps at you and squeezes his hand harder, making you gasp for air even more. "Tell me where they are kept."

"You could kill me and I would not tell you", you choke out and his creepy-looking eyes sparkle with anger.

"I will let it depend on that", Grievous states and lets go of you again, but with a subtle gesture he gives his Magna Guards a sign and they suddenly approach you, their dangerous electrostaffs now activated.

Shortly afterwards you already feel an incredibly terrible pain that makes you cry out loud. A painful electricity shoots through your entire body that would force you onto your knees if you were not currently chained to stuncuffs in the air. It only takes a few seconds, but it feels much longer until they stop their torture, staying in their position.

"Where. Are. The. Holocrons?", Grievous asks you again, this time more angry and somehow stressed, putting strong emphasis on each word.

"You would like to know, huh", you slightly grin and although you know that such a cheeky answer will cause you to suffer again, it rolls of your tongue anyway.

Again, several electric shocks run through you at the same time and an increasingly unbearable pain forms in your body, but your head remains unwavering when they stop again.

"Tell me where they are, Jedi scum! Now!", the merciless General shouts at you and you can sense how he is getting more and more impatient by each second. He will not stop torturing you until you tell him what he wants to know and until you stop holding it back, but you have sworn a vow to the Jedi Order that you can't and will not break, no matter how much pain you have to endure.

"I guess you have to kill me then, because I will never tell you, Grievous", you respond breathless and you can already smell how your skin, your flesh, has slightly charred because of the burns.

Giving his Magna Guards another command with a simple hand gesture, they continue to torture you, but this time they only shock you briefly with their bright purple electrostaffs before stopping abruptly. Your muscles still tremble from the impact and the unbearable ache persists.

"Uhm, Sir. I hate to interrupt you, but the other Jedi just managed to take down one of the droids", one of the droids next to you reports and you, although you only understood half of what he just said, too weak to focus, you immediately know who he must be talking about.

General Grievous must have already tried to squeeze something out of him, that is why you heard screams earlier.

"Anakin", you groan in pain as the Magna Guards go back to their task of torturing you out of nowhere and put you into a state of absolute pain.

"Interesting", you hear Grievous utter through your own screams as your body writhes in pain in the air, the handcuffs pressing deep into your skin. Until the pain suddenly fades and you fall to the hard ground in front of his feet the next moment when the droid freed you with the push of a button.

"Sir, is that not too risky?", one of the droids ask, but you can't even get up from the floor by yourself because you have been weakened so much by the electric shocks. You are not even sure anymore whether you might even have passed out at this point.

However, you quickly realize that you, in fact, are still conscious when you are roughly pulled to your feet, a firm grip on both your upper arms as the Magna Guards pull you up.

"She is so weak, she can hardly walk. And without her lightsaber she can't do much anyway. It was a fine addition to my collection", Grievous laughs in your ear devilishly, and a lateral push in your ribs makes you realize that you should move forward. Having no other choice, you obey and stumble forward on shaky legs, losing your balance with almost every step due to the fact that your hands are still tied together with stuncuffs.

Losing any sense of orientation, you get pushed forward right behind General Grievous, your vision blurred and your head continuing to spin until you finally come to a stop in a corridor that is no different from the previous one.

The door to another cell opens, at least you recognize the same sound as your cell door did before, and you are suddenly rudely pushed inside after Grievous has entered, meeting the hard and cold surface of the floor.

Trying your best to get up again, you notice that their dangerous weapons are no longer close to your body. Yet, you are prevented from doing anything at the sight in front of you after you managed to lift yourself up from the ground a little bit with your hands and looked up.

"Anakin!", you exhale in shock when you see your almost lifeless husband floating in front of you, the same handcuffs on him as on you, stunning him.

He immediately stirs when he hears your voice and lifts his head up, only to discover your trembling figure lying on the ground in front of him.

"What did you do to him?", you shout at Grievous with all your might and manage to fully get up due to the sudden adrenaline rush, but soon are shoved back onto the ground by Grievous and the Magna Guards pull you into a kneeling position by your arms.

"The same I did to you", General Grievous explains with a laugh and trudges back and forth between you and Anakin. "Verily, the will of a Jedi is strong, but I have already cracked the toughest will."

Admiring himself, his gaze slides on you and you immediately avoid the contact, looking at the ground.

"If you touch her even once, I swear you are already dead", Anakin angrily snaps at him, but Grievous does not even react to it, not even when Anakin manages to throw one of the Battle Droids against the wall in his anger with the tiniest movement. Grievous just stops in front of you and roughly lifts your chin up, indeed touching you.

"How many more electric shocks will she endure before her will breaks, what do you think?", Grievous asks into the room and you remove your chin from his grasp with all your leftover strength.

"J-Just leave her alone", Anakin mutters weakly and briefly looks at Grievous with a hateful expression before his muscles give up again and his head sinks down again in exhaustion.

"Tell me where the holocrons are and I will let her go", Grievous declares and turns to your husband, who is about to pass out.

"No! Don't listen to him, Anakin!", you interrupt him right away and try to, although you know that it will not be possible, to loosen your bonds, but the Magna Guards are quick to hold their electrostaffs threathingly close to your body again. "N-No matter what he does to me, you must not tell him- ouch!"

Feeling the burning imprint of the metal back of Grievous hand on your now throbbing cheek, the impact throws you to the ground and tears shoot into your eyes because of the sting, but you suppress them quickly.

"Well, if you do not want to talk, I know who will", Grievous threatens and you press your eyes shut in defeat to mentally prepare yourself for the torturing pain.

A pain that does not come.

At least not in the way you expected, because all of a sudden you hear something that is probably much worse for you than thousands of electrical particles shooting through your body.

They are shooting through Anakin right now.

Excruciating screams escape his throat and you have to watch how he is tortured, how his body winds in pain, how he slowly breaks apart.

You both expected that he would attack you.

"NO! Stop!", you yell at them and desperately shake at your bonds, tears flowing down your cheeks at the sight of the love of your life being hurt in front of your own eyes.

"Y/N-"

"Please stop! You will kill him!", you screech over his screams, but Grievous does not let his Magna Guards stop, rather he induces them to continue.

"Don't, Y/N. Do not tell- argh!", Anakin tries to tell you, but is interrupted by his pain and you can clearly feel how he is getting weaker by every second and how his strength and will are leaving him more and more.

With every further shock that electrifies his body and puts his muscles out of action, he groans in unbearable pain while thin billows of smoke are already emanating from his upper body. The skin on his neck and hands is reddish, a sign of an already severe burn. Yet the worst are still his inevitable screams that are fully soaked in suffer.

"The Jedi Archives!", you shout out loud while your tears keep streaming down your face, a feeling of guilt building up inside of you for just having betrayed the whole Jedi Order.

But you have no other choice.

"T-They are in the Jedi Archives!", you stutter out and General Grievous finally brings the torture to an end, but Anakin's body is now just lifelessly floating in the air.

"Well, that was not that hard, was it?", Grievous says, amused, and turns around to step out of the cell, his Magna Guards close behind him, leaving you alone. Before the door closes, however, one of the droids presses a button on the outside of the door, causing Anakin to fall to the ground with a loud thud.

"Anakin!", you cry out and quickly crawl over to him, his body still trembling as a result of the numerous shocks when you turn him on his back to get a better view of him and as soon as you touched him, you shortly get electrocuted as well.

"Do you hear me, Anakin? Please, please don't do this to me. Open your eyes!", you basically yell at him in his passed out condition and very carefully place your hands on each of his cheekbones, caressing them tenderly.

Lowering your head after he shows no reaction, your heavy sobs rock through your body and you whimper quietly, gasping for breath over and over again.

"I am so sorry", you sniff sadly and wipe your tears away with your hands, which are still tied together, before gently placing them back on his burning hot upper body.

"Y-You should not have- Should not have t-told him", Anakin utters all of a sudden and his eyes flutter open a tiny bit, weakness and pain covering his handsome face.

"W-What should I have done instead?", you desperately ask and can't help but feel a little bit relieved that he is able to talk to you despite his bad condition and despite the terrible torture method he just went through.

Seeking support and security, you grab his hands and he gently squeezes yours, trying to reassure you that he will be fine.

"That is- That is w-why it is forbidden- ugh forbidden for us to love and- and-", he groans as he tries to sit up, but he is too weak and even with your help, you do not manage to get him up so you gently lay him down again, his head in your lap.

"A-And to make us dependent on some- argh, damn! Someone", Anakin finishes his sentence anyway and if you did not know better, you could have sworn to see a small smirk scurry over his chapped lips.

"Ani, I betrayed the Council", you supress your crying and brush his brown locks out of his face while looking down at him with affection. "They are going to exclude me from the Jedi Order.."

"What are y-you even talking about? You s-saved me, babe. I will not let that happen", he hisses in pain, the last words nearly inaudible as his eyes slowly close again, his body becoming limp.

"We will not let that happen either", another voice suddenly speaks up and you look up startled, only to see Ahsoka standing in the hallway in front of your now opened cell.

"Ahsoka?", you mutter under your breath in disbelief and widen your eyes as she steps into the cell, not sure how much of your conversation she was able to hear. After all, nobody knows that you and Anakin are a thing, let alone married.

"Master!", Ahsoka breathes in shock and falls onto her knees next to you as she speechlessly takes in Anakin's fragile figure.

"I- They have-"

"It's okay, Y/N. Take it easy, slow breaths, in and out. We will get you out of here in no time", she affirms and gives you a gentle, encouraging smile before she quickly severes your and Anakin's cuffs with her green lightsaber. "Obi-Wan is chasing after Grievous and Captain Rex-"

"Master Tano, I found the lightsabers and am now on my way to the prison wing", Rex's voice interrupts Ahsoka through the comlink.

"Can you walk on your own?", she asks you concerned and helps you on your shaky legs, even though you nodded.

"I knew- I knew you would come, Snips", Anakin coughs out of nowhere, and you are not sure whether he is conscious or if the Force just allows him to feel what is happening around him right now.

"You always have to be bailed out, Skyguy", Ahsoka chuckles and at this moment Rex enters the cell with more clones, immediately handing you back your lightsaber, which you attach to your belt.

"Rex, please help me out over here", Ahsoka asks him and together they lift Anakin up from the ground and carry him out. Following them into the corridor in front of the cell, Fives quickly meets you and puts your arm around his shoulder to help you walk until you arrive in the hangar and get onto the Twilight.

They place Anakin in one of the small cabins and you let Fives guide you there as well. You sit down in front of your husband and do not let him out of your sight.

Holding back the sad and re-emerging tears that come up while looking at his distorted, unconsicous body, you bite down on your lower lip to prevent you from crying and take his rough flesh hand in your own. You gently stroke over the back of his hand with your thumb while the clone trooper medic puts an oxygen mask over his face.

It does not take long for Obi-Wan to join you in boarding the ship and as he does, he straightly goes to you when they start the Twilight and fly out of the hangar and into the vastness of space. When you feel his hand on your shoulder, you flinch.

"Sorry. How is he?", Obi-Wan asks you with great concern in his voice and face. After all, Anakin is like a son to him.

"The clone trooper medic said that he suffered severe burns and bruises, but apparently no permanent serious or consequential damage. Nevertheless, he urgently needs professional treatment when we arrive on the Negotiator", you sob and inconspicuously remove your hand from Anakin's to not let Obi-Wan see. "I have to- uhm I have to tell you something, Obi-Wan."

"I know. But better keep it to yourself a little bit longer for now until we report to the Council together, alright? Then you only have to tell it once", Obi-Wan calms you down and gives you warm smile.

"Thank you, master", you lower your head and turn your gaze back to Anakin, whose chest moves up and down regularly and whose breath is sounding through the room.

"Don't worry, Y/N. You did what everyone would have done and I am very grateful that you did so. We all have to make sacrifices at some point", he assures you before carefully patting your shoulder one more time and leaving the room, leaving you alone with Anakin again.

After you have finally arrived on the Negotiator, you do not leave Anakin's side when a few clones bring him to the medical bay, where the meddroids take professional care of him right away. While they are treating him, you wait outside, your body full of tension while nervously tapping the floor with your foot and playing with your fingers. They checked up on you as well, but because you were only briefly subjected to torture it only took them a few minutes to treat your wounds.

When the door finally opens automatically, you look up with hope in your eyes and stare at the medical droid expectantly.

"He is stable. You can see him now", the droid announces and guides you inside. At the sight that greets you, your heart stops beating for a moment.

There your husband lies, with cables connected to all the beeping machines, his eyes closed and his breathing light and regular. You unconsciously quicken your pace in order to get to his side faster. As soon as you stand next to him and neither say anything nor touch him, Anakin immediately opens his eyes as he senses you through the Force.

"Hi, beautiful", he weakly smiles at you and grabs your hand, causing you to directly surround his with your own, looking at him with worry, the load suddenly falling off your shoulders all at once.

"I was so worried about you. How are you?", you openly admit and gently run one of your hands through his messy but soft hair.

"You should not have done that, you know?", he clears his throat, ignoring your question as he feels the conflict within you, a serious expression while staring in your eyes. "I mean saving me. You have put yourself in danger. If something had happened to you.."

Tears well up in your eyes as you unintentionally review the recent events in your head, taking Anakin's words to heart, but you quickly catch yourself again.

"Anak-", you want to answer, but abruptly get interrupted when he pulls you into his strong arms out of nowhere, hugging you tightly like his life depends on it.

"Thank you for saving me, love", he softly whispers into your ear and you smile into the crook of his neck before he guides your face with his hand on your jaw right in front of his own. His blue eyes scan your face and then switch between your eyes and lips until he gently places his hand on the back of your head and leads you into a tender kiss.

Feeling his lips against yours suddenly feels so surreal to you. After everything that happened, you almost did not believe that it could still end, well, like this.

Leaning more into the kiss, he eventually breaks the kiss, just to place one gently between your eyebrows. His thumb softly runs over your cheek as he gives you a warm smile.

"I love you."

"I love you more. And I would always sacrifice everything for you", you return his smile and connect your lips again, feeling like nobody can harm you anymore.

[hxt1b]

Isn’t It Lovely All Alone

Masterlist 

If would like to send a request please take a look at my Prompt List, I have a list of ideas that you could use if you’d like whilst sending in the request. 

Yuta x Reader (Some Doyoung x Reader) 

Genre: Angst, CollegeAU (HockeyPlayer!Yuta) 

Warning: MATURE/DARK CONTENT. Mentions of drunk driving, death, swearing, cheating, (by NO means do I condone cheating, this is a story based around fictional events so please in the real world don’t do this.) Mental Health. SMUT. (Unprotected drunk sex, use a condom dudes seriously.) 

WC: 9.9k

Accompanying Story: As Long as I’m Here 

A/N: Please excuse the grammar, I read it over but still some things may have slipped through. The accompanying story is not something that you have to read, this can be read as a standalone. However, if you guys do want to read it, I’d recommend reading it first. Thank you for taking the time to read this, I hope you guys enjoyed it! P.S. If you do read this without reading As Long as I’m Here, Taeyong’s girlfriend is unnamed due to her being the main character of the other short story. P.P.S. As I wrote this, I realized it was getting very long and I still had a lot to get through, so I decided to split it into two parts. So please be patient I will have the second part up soon, and I really hope you guys enjoy this part. PLEASE let me know what you guys think feedback is much appreciated!

Part One. Part Two. 

Her breathing was laboured, her eyes closed shut as he moved his hips against hers, his cock throbbing as her walls clenched around him. His breathing mirrored hers. She was a sight to be seen underneath him, her hair fanned out on his pillow as she moaned his name. 

“Baby,” He moaned as his thrusts became more erratic. She opened her eyes and looked at him. 

“Look at me Yuta.” Her voice even, the pleasure gone from it, her moans faded, confused he opened his eyes and looked down at her. Her eyes were red, a huge cut on her forehead oozing blood into her eyes, more blood poured out her mouth onto his white sheets. He struggled to move out of her as she wrapped her cold arms around him and pulled him down to decaying skin, 

“Look at what you did to me.” 

Yuta sat up abruptly in his bed, quickly moving off of it as his breathing staggered, he moved his hand to his throat looking down at his bed only to see clean white sheets. His breathing only worsened as his brain reeled from the nightmare, it’s not your fault Taeyong’s voice said, but Yuta pushed it to the back of his head. You couldn’t have known that that was going to happen man. That was Johnny.  He pushed both voices out of his head his hands shaking as his eyes blurred. He was going to puke, charging out his room he slammed into the shared bathroom door before hunching over the toilet and letting out the contents of his stomach. 

That’s what they thought because Yuta didn’t have it in him to tell them the truth, he knew that the moment he told them the reassuring words would stop and they would see him for the monster that he was. They would see him as the guy that let the girl die. 

“Hey, Yuta, are you okay?” It was Taeyong’s girlfriend. Her concern blatantly showing on her face, but he didn’t deserve her concern or her kindness. She would hate him the most if she knew the truth seeing as she was Ara’s best friend. The same Ara that was dead. His stomach turned again, and he puked again. His throat burning, his mind suffocating from the pain that he was feeling. I deserve it. 

He couldn’t look at her, he didn’t want him to see her face, his face was wet from sweat and the tears that had flown down his face. Kicking the door closed towards her he didn’t say anything. The act was enough to let her know to leave him alone. He stayed on the floor pulling his knees up to his chest as he tried to calm down his breathing. Yuta ignored her as she knocked on the door again. 

“Just go away.” He finally said to her, his voice rough. “You’re the last person I want to see right now.” He didn’t have anything against her, he just couldn’t stand being around her she served as a constant reminder, in the beginning, he’d lied to himself and believed the boys when they told him that it wasn’t his fault but the more time she was around the more time he spent with her the more Ara came back to his head, the more that night haunted him. Now she was always around, and he couldn’t stand it. He felt like he was drowning in his head, he needed to get out. He needed to go to a place where she was not, but for now, the bathroom was enough. 

He listened as her footsteps retreated, minutes later heavier footsteps came towards the bathroom. Yuta moved to flush the toilet and stand up as Taeyong got to the door of the bathroom. 

“Yuta?” His voice was soft like he was talking to a toddler, “You good man?” He asked. Turning on the faucet Yuta stared at his red and splotchy face, he quickly closed his eyes and looked down plunging his hands under the cold water. He couldn’t stand to see his face. 

“Yeah man, I just drank too much last night.” Another lie flowing past his lips as he bent down to splash the water in his face. Before grabbing for his toothpaste. 

“Do you need anything?” Taeyong’s voice was full of the same concern that his girlfriend had. Yuta’s head spun they wouldn’t be this concerned if they knew why he was in this state. 

“No, I’ll be fine.” 

He didn’t sleep after that afraid of what he’d see if he closed his eyes. Four hours later the sun rose allowing Yuta to make his way to the rink for practice. Last night’s game hadn’t gone well for them, it was their third loss of the season and their coach was pissed. Yuta smiled at the fact that today’s practice would be gruelling, it would help him numb his brain from the thoughts that invaded his mind. He wouldn’t be able to see past the tiring pain of the training their coach would outline for them. 

He arrived at the rink just as Doyoung and Jaehyun did. The younger boys welcoming him as they walked into the arena. 

“You didn’t come with the captain and Johnny today?” Jaehyun asked, Yuta shook his head. 

“Nah the Captain was a little preoccupied with his girlfriend and Johnny wasn’t awake yet.” 

Both the boys nodded, and they walked into the arena silently, Doyoung letting out yawn after yawn as they got to the locker room. 

“Did you not get enough sleep?” Yuta asked him, and Jaehyun snickered. 

“His girlfriend doesn’t let him sleep.” Yuta chuckled at the younger boy as well as he let out another yawn following which his face turned a deep shade of red. 

Yuta got dressed in silence after that, as the younger two joked with each other. The practice would run two hours from five to seven leaving the boys that had an eight-thirty class just enough time to shower and head to their classes. 

The scent of the fresh ice helped Yuta to keep his mind centred as he got into his gear focusing very hard on every task he had before heading out to the ice. 

An hour into the practice Yuta’s head was spinning, he was slower than everyone else and though his brain felt calm on the rink his body wasn’t keeping up with him. He coughed harshly as he slammed into the side to grab his water from the bench. 

“You’re slacking today Nakamoto.” His coach barked at him. He didn’t respond as he swished the water around his mouth, just chucked the bottle back at the bench before going back skating back to where everyone else was in standing in a line. 

“You okay dude?” Johnny asked from his left. 

“Yeah.” 

“Apparently he’s just hungover,” Taeyong said from his right, Yuta could hear the sneer in Taeyong’s voice. Luckily the coach blew the whistle before Yuta could say anything and the line of Hockey players took off down the rink towards the first line before skating back to the start. Yuta kept up for the most part but his heart was pounding in his ears and he was feeling faint. The practice finished off with him skating off the rink behind everyone else. 

“Dude, are you actually drinking on a Thursday night?” Johnny asked him as they walked over to their cubbies to rid themselves of their gear before taking a shower. 

Yuta didn’t get a chance to reply before Taeyong scoffed from his side. 

“He was puking his guts out at two in the morning.” Yuta rolled his eyes and kept his mouth shut. 

“Where the fuck did you drink?” Johnny asked again, his voice low not wanted the others to hear him. 

“My room.” Yuta lied. 

“You’re drinking alone in your room?” His voice was full of judgement. Yuta shrugged and walked away from them heading towards the showers. It was easier to let them think he was just being an idiot that drank on weekdays then to let them know what was actually happening in his head. 

---

You fucked up; you left your entire bag in Doyoung’s car. Pulling on your jacket over one of Doyoung’s hoodies you forced yourself to run to campus. You had a meeting at eight with your group mates and needed your bag for it, seeing as all your work was in it. It was already seven you only had an hour to get your stuff and get ready in your dorm. You’d told Doyoung to wake you up and take to campus with him when he’d be going to practice, but you’d only been asleep for three hours before he was up again shaking you, and you just didn’t have it in yourself to get up. Now here you were suffering in the cold November air as you jogged your way to the arena. Lucky for you it wasn’t too far but it was still torturous. One, you didn’t run or partake in any physical activity at that, and two, it was cold as shit you could feel your nose start to run. Huffing out clouds of air you made it to the arena, slamming through the front doors and into the warmth of the heated entrance, you put your hands on your knees and took in large breaths to normalize your breathing. You needed his keys, checking the time on your phone you realized he was probably in the shower he had an eight-thirty as well, but you couldn’t wait for him to come out you needed your bag now so that you could get into your dorm and get ready and be at your meeting. 

Taking in a large breath you charged towards the direction of the men’s locker room. Bracing yourself before you became too embarrassed to do what you were about to you slammed your hand into the door as stumbled your way in. Looking around you came to face boys in different degrees of dress in their practice gear. 

“Y/N?” Jaehyun squeaked looking at you naked from the top half. 

“Where is Doyoung?” You asked as the boy rounded the corner. 

“Babe what are you doing here?” he asked crowding into your space towards the door. 

“I need your keys I need to grab my bag.” He nodded his head not asking any questions. He quickly made his way to his cubby and back to you shoving the keys into your palm. 

 “Keep them with you I’ll see you after my first class.” He pressed a kiss to your lips before pushing you out the door. You didn’t have time to react to what he said or what he did you just booked it to his car. 

---

Yuta was stuck in his spot staring at the door Doyoung had just pushed you through, he was shocked, that was Doyoung’s girlfriend. Yuta shook his head, he didn’t mean anything rude by it, actually, he didn’t know what he meant by it he just knew that he was amused by what had just happened. 

He saw you again at lunch, you were in a black turtleneck that clung to your skin and was tucked into a pair of ripped jeans, you had subtle makeup on your face and your hair was curled. You looked amazing. Yuta was stuck staring until Johnny slammed his bottle onto the table dramatically turning everyone’s attention towards him as he slammed his ass into the chair next to Yuta’s. 

“I fucking hate History man, why the fuck do I need to know what some old fuck did in 1718.” He grumbled. 

Taeyong laughed at him, “Told you not to take History as your elective.” 

“I thought it would be easy.” The table laughed. 

“You thought remembering an insane amount of dates and the names of dead guys was going to be easy?” You asked from across the table as you stole food from Doyoung’s tray. Yuta’s eyes followed your hand as you put the French Fry into your mouth, your white teeth biting down on it. Yuta held his breath as you chewed. Doyoung chuckled at you as you took more fries from his plate. Yuta watched from his side of the table. 

“Dude you’re staring,” Jungwoo said shoving his elbow into Yuta’s side. Yuta roughly swallowed before turning his gaze to Jungwoo. He was staring he realized. His hands flew to his water quickly opening the cap before chugging half of it. Why was he staring at you? He had no clue who you were, today was the first time he’d seen you ever and he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off you. 

“Who is she?” Yuta asked Jungwoo. 

“Y/N. Doyoung’s girlfriend.” Jungwoo answered through a mouthful of food. Yuta scowled at the first year as food flew out of his mouth. 

“How long have then been dating, how come I haven’t seen her before?” Yuta asked. 

“They’ve been dating for about six months, she transferred here this semester.” Yuta nodded, it made sense why he’d never seen you before, the semester had only started three weeks ago and lately, he was so in his head that he missed everything. 

“So, you guys still throwing that party at your house today?” Johnny asked Jaehyun, the latter nodded his head shoving food into his mouth. 

Doyoung answered for him, “Yeah we are, come help set up please?” Yuta took the opportunity to watch you as you tapped away at your phone. 

“Sure, Yuta and I will come by at seven.” Yuta snapped his head to Johnny who was avoiding looking at him. 

“Yeah, we’ll be there.” He said, going along with what Johnny had said. 

Johnny dragged him out of his room at six-thirty throwing the keys at him as they got to his car. 

“Your gonna DD today my dude.” Yuta stared at the keys in his hand then up at Johnny’s car. 

“With your baby?” He asked shocked. Johnny didn’t let anyone else touch his car. 

Johnny sighed but nodded. 

“Yes, I trust you.” Excited Yuta rounded the car and got into the driver’s seat of the black Mustang, it could seat five uncomfortably and only had two doors and was ass to dd in but damn if Yuta passed up the offer to drive the magnificent beast that was Johnny’s car. Shifting the gear as Johnny fastened his seat belt Yuta ripped out of the drive, the engine letting out a roar as he bolted down the street towards the younger boy's rented house. 

Yuta knew why Johnny was letting him dd with his car. He didn’t want him to drink, turning left down the boy’s street Yuta laughed letting his foot push the accelerator as he went faster, but the thing was Yuta hadn’t drank for months now. Not since that night. Typically, he just grabbed a beer and lugged it around not taking a sip everyone around him was usually drunk enough to even notice that he wasn’t. 

Pulling into the driveway he placed the car in park, “That was fucking awesome.” He smiled over at Johnny who laughed back at him. 

“Have fun, today buddy, just don’t get pulled over,” Johnny replied as he got out of the car. Yuta sat in the car for a second longer talking in the smell of the mustang before he got out himself and followed Johnny into the house. 

Johnny didn’t knock he just barged in, so Yuta followed him. Yuta regretted it the moment he saw the scene in the living room, his eyes landing on your bare back as Doyoung trailed his hand up to your head. Doyoung kissing the life out of you on the living room couch. 

“Holy, you guys don’t have a room?” Johnny asked a loud laugh following his words. Doyoung abruptly pulled away from you as you dug your head into his neck. Doyoung scrambled to grab the blanket beside him to cover you. Yuta turned his eyes away, the laughter not coming to him. He forced a smile to his face and kept his face turned away from Doyoung and you. 

“You guys are early,” Doyoung stated pulling you into him. Johnny only laughed in turn. 

“We’ll wait in the kitchen then.” 

Yuta followed behind Johnny to the kitchen his head muddled. He was confused and irritated, why was he so affected by you hell he literally saw you for the first time this morning and he knew you were Doyoung’s girlfriend so why was he pissed. He hadn’t even spoken to you himself.

He felt crazy, crazier than usual. He didn’t need this as well, not on top of his daily dose of unstable. He didn’t need to be pining after his teammate’s girlfriend. Shaking his head Yuta ignored the fact that you were on the other side of the wall with no top on. 

He didn’t even look at you when you rounded into the kitchen fully clothed in Doyoung’s hoodie again. He didn’t look at you as everyone started setting up the party. Didn’t even glance at your face when you handed him a knife to cut open a huge box of beer. He didn’t look at you when you said bye so you could head to the dorm to change, but he had to look at you when you bound back in through a front door and took off your winter coat to reveal a black dress that fell to your midthigh it was a turtleneck dress; simple but it looked amazing on you. You wore a lot of turtlenecks Yuta noticed; a sneer adorned his face once he realized why. 

He didn’t comment just turned away from you as Doyoung slammed through the front door carrying a huge bag of ice. 

“Let’s get this shit started!” Jaehyun said as he bound down the stairs a huge smile on his face. He flashed Johnny a joint before moving towards the back door. Johnny followed out after him. Yuta’s phone went off in his pocket, he let out a large sigh as he read the text on his screen. 

Taeyong: Could you pick us up from our house? 

Sighing again as he typed back a ‘yup’ he dragged his face towards the front door. 

“Hey, where are you going?” His hand froze at the front door, your voice floating towards him. Slowly he turned back to face you, you were looking at him with your head tilted to the side. You’d put on a darker shade of lipstick and had rimmed our eyes with black winged eyeliner. All of it was making Yuta feel some type of way as he looked at you. 

He cleared his throat and pointed towards the driveway. 

“Got to pick up my roommate and his girlfriend, I’ll be back.” You smiled at him and nodded. 

“Okay see you later then.” Your smile was stuck in his head as he took the mustang back towards his house. His mind was reeling with you, and he was beyond confused. He pulled into the driveway and parked pulling out his phone and texting Taeyong to come out. 

As he waited, he realized that he was losing his shit. He hadn’t hooked up with a girl since the summer, not since her. He hadn’t even looked at a girl with remote interest since then actually, so he was beyond confused by his reaction to you. He couldn’t wrap his head around what was happening inside him, he just felt unhinged. Why were you in his head? 

Taeyong and came out of the house holding his girlfriend’s hand tightly, Yuta frowned your face leaving his mind quickly. He didn’t say anything as Taeyong pulled up the door and moved the seat forward getting into the back himself. Yuta didn’t look at the girl that slipped into the passenger seat, he just nodded at her when she greeted him.

His hands clenched the steering wheel tightly as he made his way back to the other house. His eyes were glued to the road. The car was filled with suffocating air, maybe he was the only one who felt it. He didn’t want to look at the others faces to see if they felt it too.

Pulling up to the house he quickly put the car in park and ran into the house, letting the two of them get out at their own pace. He could lock the car from inside. The boys in the house were getting loud as Johnny and Jaehyun came back inside with clouded eyes. Drinks were started to move around as games began to be played and more people filed into the house. Loud music poured from every corner of the house as Johnny began to play his party playlist. Yuta sighed, as realization dawned on him today, he couldn’t leave whenever he pleased. He was stuck here in this house until every last one of the people were out. 

Yuta moved around the house before the air became too stuffy for him and he decided that sitting outside on the porch would be the best bet. He only sat for a couple of minutes before you barrelled out the house, your face red and angry and you were drunk he could tell from the way you stumbled down the stairs, Yuta moved to get up and help you down but before he could even get up from his chosen spot on the railing Doyoung came flying out the door. His face was just as red and angry, just as drunk. 

“You’re gonna walk away from me?” He asked. You threw your hand up in the air waving him off as another drunk boy came out of the house behind the two of you. Nobody noticing Yuta as he sat and watched. 

“I’m done with this conversation Doyoung, I’m going to my dorm find me when you're done being a prick.” You were staggering down the driveway. The other boy less drunk than you two but still evidently struggling to walk properly pushed past Doyoung and followed you. 

“I’ll drive you back.” He exclaimed. You paused in your spot and turned around looking at him. 

“Didn’t you drink?” yes, he did. Yuta was standing up straight as he waited for the boy to answer. 

“No.” He lied. Yuta clenched his teeth and went to stand next to Doyoung. 

“I’ll drive her home.” He told Doyoung. Doyoung only rolled his eyes and shrugged at Yuta. 

“Let her do whatever she wants. I don’t care.” 

Yuta sighed and made his way to you quickly. He grabbed your wrist as you made your way towards a red Camry. 

“You’re not going with him.” You whipped around and faced him. The anger back on your face and it didn’t soften when you looked at him. 

“And you are?” You asked your head tilting to the side. Yuta laughed and pulled you towards him. 

“Go back in the party dude you’re not driving anywhere today. Give me your keys.” The boy scowled at Yuta. Yuta raised his eyebrow at him feeling like he was talking to a toddler. “Your drunk kid, give me your keys.” He held out his hand to the boy, the boy stumbled back slightly grumbling but gave the key over to Yuta before stomping back into the house. 

You stared after the boy as he disappeared back into the house. 

“He’s drunk? Men are scum.” You grumbled and turned away pulling your wrist out of Yuta’s hand. 

“I’ll drive you home,” Yuta repeated motioning to the car. You just nodded and made your way to the car pulling the door open as Yuta unlocked the door. 

“So, dorms, right?” Yuta asked once he was on the road. You nodded again staring at the stereo system. 

“You know Doyoung right?” You asked, Yuta laughed at how drunk you were. 

“Yes, I do, we play hockey together.” 

“Well, he’s stupid. Did you know that?” Yuta wasn’t able to reply before you started talking again. “He told me that I’m so forward. Like wanting to kiss him is a crime. He was so embarrassed by earlier today. Tried to kiss his cheek in the kitchen and he told me to calm down.” You hiccup once, finally taking a breath. Your face was red from the annoyance and anger you felt towards your boyfriend. 

“Would you let your girlfriend kiss you in public?” You asked turning your head to Yuta. 

Yuta’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. 

“Probably.” 

“So, my boyfriend is just a prude.” Yuta laughed. You leaned forward in your seat and turned the music louder, then turned to stare out the window. 

You were drunk, he told himself. You’d be over this fight with Doyoung by tomorrow. 

Yuta didn’t see you again until Monday when all the boys had piled into his house to watch movies. Yuta hadn’t slept again the previous night and he was hanging on by a thread, he decided to forgo the movies and tried to sleep. 

---

Loud pained grunts flowed out of his room. You didn’t know why your feet had taken you to this door. You didn’t even know whose door it was you’d just come upstairs to go to the bathroom. You flinched when a loud thud came from the other side of the door followed by a curse. Not knowing what came over you, just the words open the door repeating in your head you slightly pushed the door open. 

Yuta was on the ground by his nightstand hunched over a broken lamp. He was bleeding, his eyes frantic and his breathing erratic. 

“Yuta.” You said softly, but he didn’t hear you. 

“I didn’t know.” He muttered quietly; you didn’t know what he was talking about. Slowly you took a step into the room moving closer to him. “I didn’t know.” He repeated as he roughly ripped out the broken piece of glass from his hand making more blood gush out. 

“Oh my god, don’t do that!” You were on the floor beside him in a second taking his hurt hand into yours. He was shocked when you grabbed him. His eyes widening, his breathing became worse as he pulled his hand away from you. He wiped the blood onto his black sweats while he took in loud pained breaths. 

“I -I can’t breathe.” His face was flushed and sweaty. He was looking everywhere but at you.  

“O-okay okay, breathe with me.” You said, breathing in slowly and out slowly. After doing that a couple of times Yuta began to mirror your breathing, his eyes finally latching onto yours. You realized how tired he looked. Like he hadn’t slept properly in days. You helped him until he calmed down until his breathing was normal. 

“Y/N, Doyoung is looking for you. Plus, I need the bathroom.” Taeyong’s voice carried into the room from the hallway. Followed by a knock on the bathroom door. You looked up at Yuta his eyes glazed over again as he stared at the wall. 

“Yuta.” You said his name softly, “Look at me. We need to clean your hand.” 

“I got blood on you.” He said. His eyes glassing over with unshed tears. 

“It’s okay. Come on let me help you.” 

“Y/N?” Taeyong called for you again. 

“In here.” You replied loud enough for him to hear you. Seconds later Taeyong was in the room. 

“Fuck what happened?” He asked coming to your side quickly. 

“I found him like this.” You replied to him quietly. 

“I got blood on her,” Yuta said again. 

“Yuta?” Taeyong said putting his hand onto his shoulder moving past you so that he was directly in front of Yuta. “It's okay man, it's okay.” 

Yuta’s head slowly moved towards Taeyong’s and he nodded. 

For the rest of the week, you couldn’t get him out of your head. You didn’t see him at the table you all ate lunch at, or anywhere on campus. You asked Taeyong if he was okay, he’d only told you not to worry about him before moving past you and going to his class. But you couldn’t get his eyes out of your head, the tormented look on his face had your brain in a frenzy. 

You hadn’t told Doyoung about what you had seen, deeming it not your business to spread, but as you got into your bed sliding in next to Doyoung you couldn’t help but ask. 

“Have you seen Yuta lately?” 

“Yuta? Yeah, why?” 

“I just haven’t seen him for a while I was just wondering.” 

---

That Friday you were laying on Doyoung’s couch in a pair of tight jeans and a crop top, ready to drink and have fun at the small ‘gathering’ as the boy were calling it. You tapped away at your phone, your mind drifting off to Yuta again. You’d tried very hard to listen to Taeyong especially after Doyoung told you that Yuta was around just not around you. You understood that maybe he was embarrassed but for some reason, it bothered you. Especially since there was nothing to be embarrassed about if he was embarrassed. 

The door opened loudly snapping you away from your phone Johnny strolled in laughing with Jaehyun. Yuta trailed after them, your eyes narrowed in on his lowered head as he dragged his feet into the living room. When he looked up his eyes caught yours his skin wasn’t as pale as the last time you saw him, but the dark circles, the tired expression it was all still there. 

You sat up on the couch smiling at Jaehyun and Johnny as they passed you and went into the kitchen. Yuta remained having moved towards the wall he leaned his shoulder onto it, his hands shoved into his pockets. 

“Thank you for that day.” He said, his gaze had moved to the floor letting his hair fall over his eyes as he spoke to you. 

“You don’t need to thank me.” You got up and only hesitated for a second before walking over to him. “Are you feeling better today?”

He only shrugged in response. 

“Were you avoiding me this week?” Your voice was soft as you asked the question. He turned his head away from you. 

“Wouldn’t you?” he asked, “We barely know each other, and you saw me like that.” 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. I’m sure you would’ve done the same with me. Heck, you kind of did when you drove me home after last week’s party.” Yuta still wasn’t looking at you and you really wanted him to. You held your breath as he pushed off the wall and walked towards you. 

“Yeah, well don’t worry about it anymore.” He walked past you and into the kitchen, you watched his back as he rounded the corner. 

For some reason you felt dejected, you couldn’t explain why but that was not what you wanted to hear from him. Somehow Yuta was under your skin and you couldn't help but want to be around him. He looked so broken when you saw him on the floor, you couldn’t just not worry. You couldn’t not think about him. 

“Hey babe,” Doyoung said wrapping his arm around you before nuzzling his head into your neck. “What are you thinking about?” 

“Nothing. Just zoned out.” You said turning your face towards the boy. Your mind was in the kitchen though, following Yuta as he stood silently with the others listening to their laughter. 

As the night went on more people showed up, but it was small only close friends of the team, girlfriends, and obviously the team itself. You found yourself watching Yuta throughout the night. Your eyes constantly finding him, he was withdrawn from the group he’d laugh when appropriate, but you could tell he didn’t know why he was laughing. 

After a couple of hours, you watched him walk out the front door, you watched from inside as he sat on the porch alone staring out at the night sky. Looking around you, you got up. Doyoung was emersed in a game of beer pong with Jaehyun, Jungwoo and Kun. 

You pushed the front door open yourself and stepped out onto the porch. Yuta was sitting on the railing; you knew he saw you come out his head had tilted towards you but he’d quickly looked away. 

“The night sky is pretty.” You said coming up to lean onto the railing next to his. He didn’t reply, your gaze fell from the sky to his face. He was clenching his jaw; from your spot, you could see it flex as he ignored you. “You can’t just ignore me.” 

“Can’t I?” Yuta asked in turn, his words cold. “I don’t need your pity.” You froze at his words. You didn’t pity him, you were concerned. You didn’t feel bad that he was going through something, everyone did at some point. You just wanted to, for some reason, be there for him. 

“I don’t pity you.” You replied. Yuta jumped off the railing and in a second had you caged in between his arms as he leaned into you. Your back pressed against the wooden fence. 

“Don’t you?” He asked his breath fanning your face, “I see the way you look at me. I’m not something to be fixed.” You harshly swallowed, you’d never been this close to Yuta. Heck, this was your second real conversation with him, if it could even be called that. 

His eyes darkened as you leaned away from him. 

“Leave it alone, Y/N.” He pushed off the railing and began to walk away from you, but like it had a mind of its own your hand reached out and grabbed the back of his shirt. 

“I don’t want to fix you. I just want to…” You trailed off. Be there for you. But it felt weird to say because why did you want that, you two barely even knew each other. Yuta looked at you angling his body towards you again. His eyes softened as he saw the expression on your face, your face was open, your eyes telling him the words you couldn’t say. 

“Let’s go inside.” 

You followed him into the warm house, Ten and Kun were yelling at each other as they played a game on the PlayStation, you followed Yuta past them and into the kitchen where he grabbed a bottle of water. 

“You’re not drinking?” You asked. He shook his head in reply. 

“Nope, not today.” 

“You didn’t last week either.” He just shrugged and took the cap off the bottle before chugging it. 

You watched his adam's apple as he swallowed, his throat becoming more exposed as he tilted his head back and drank the water. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” He said turning his face away from you. You snapped out of your daze and narrowed your eyes at the side of his head. “You have a boyfriend.” You furrowed your eyebrows as he looked at you. His own eyes dark, you opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. 

You didn’t see him the next day and your brain tumbled into a spiral of questions, the biggest one; was he avoiding you again? The entire day he was on your brain and you didn’t know what to make of it, he confused you the way he made you feel. You made your way up the steps to Doyoung’s house, your boyfriend following behind you. 

“Y/N are you okay? What are you thinking about?” He asked stopping you before you went into the house. “You’ve been off all day.” 

You looked up at his concerned face and you didn’t know what to say. Your brain was riddled with Yuta, taking in Doyoung’s face a sense of guilt punched you in the chest. You couldn’t understand what was happening but as you stood on the porch in front of your boyfriend the only person you could think of was Yuta. You shook your head softly muttering nothing as you turned away from him and opened the door walking into his house. 

You stopped in your steps; Yuta was sitting on the couch laughing with Jaehyun. Both the boys turned to you as you stared at Yuta. 

“Hey,” He said, you nodded back to him and waved to Jaehyun before going to the kitchen. For some reason, your heart was beating in your chest erratically. Doyoung followed behind you as you pulled open the fridge and grabbed a water bottle. 

“Y/N.” His voice was soft. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about what’s bothering you?” 

You only nodded, you couldn’t talk to him about this, you didn’t understand this yourself. 

“I’m going to take a nap in your room is that okay?” you asked. He nodded and you left the kitchen and quickly passed through the living room not looking at the boys on the couch and bound up the stairs to your boyfriend’s room. 

The room was dark when you threw open his door, and you left it that way as you moved towards his bed to lay down. The room smelled of him, you were surrounded by the scent that you use to crave when you needed comfort, but today it wasn’t comforting you. Your brain kept on flashing to the way Yuta had looked at you in the kitchen yesterday, the way his eyes were filled with an emotion you couldn’t handle. And emotion directed at you. Doyoung didn’t even look at you like that. Guilt radiated through your body; it wasn’t like you cheated on him so why did you feel like you did?

A small knock pulled you from your thoughts. 

“Yeah?” You answered, assuming it was Doyoung. The door slowly opened, and Yuta moved into the room. You abruptly sat up, moving back on the bed for some reason trying to create a distance between the two of you. He closed the door behind him and didn’t notice your abrupt reaction. 

“Are you okay?” He asked. You fiddled your fingers as he moved closer to the bed, his presence taking up the room, you swallowed as he sat down. Your body going into overdrive as he looked at you. This is insane, your brain screamed as your heart pounded in your chest. 

“I met you only a couple of weeks ago.” You said, Yuta’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you, confusion clouding his eyes. 

“Yeah, I kn-”

“And I’m dating Doyoung.” You clenched the sheets at your side, your hands fisting into them as you looked away from Yuta. 

“Yeah, you ar-”

“I also don’t know anything about you.” Your blood was rushing in your head as your thoughts scattered, he was so close to you, he was at the foot of the bed, but you felt like he was too close to you. “Why do I want to kiss you this bad.” 

---

Yuta froze, that was the last thing he expected you to say. He came after you because you looked awful, upset, and he felt like he owed it to you to check on you because yesterday you showed that you cared enough to check on him. He thought you were moving towards a form of friendship, he was hesitant at first but accepted it, he even reasoned out that whatever small puppy crush he had on you would dissipate if he could treat you as a friend. 

Your words were echoing around his head, and his hand itched to pull you to him, but he couldn’t. He got up from the bed and didn’t reply to you. He couldn’t, if he opened his mouth he would say the wrong thing. He couldn’t do that to Doyoung, he couldn’t do that to you. 

You looked so small on the bed, your knees were pulled up to your chest, and your eyes closed. Yuta’s breathing shallowed as Ara’s face flashed into his head, the bloody body that he never actually saw but somehow haunted his mind switched places with you as he backed up towards the door. 

He couldn’t do this. Quickly turning he stormed out the room, down the stairs and out the front door. He ignored the calling of his friends as he got into his car and drove home. His hands were trembling on the steering wheel as he drove the short distance back to his house. He felt like he was going to puke, his heart was beating loudly against his ribs his head was spinning. 

Too many emotions coursed through him as he pulled the car onto his driveway threw it into park, clambering out of his car he ran towards his house door. Wiping the sweat that was gathering onto his palms he opened the front door and came face to face with Taeyong’s girlfriend. 

“Yuta?” She asked her eyes showing him that concern that he didn’t want again. Is head only spun more from seeing her, Ara flashed in his head again, a smiling girl standing next to the woman in front of him, Ara laughing with her best friend. He felt like he couldn’t breathe again, his back hitting the wall next to his front door. She called his name again but he barely heard her and his hand flew to his throat. 

“I can’t,” He muttered letting himself fall to the ground, she followed him. 

“Breathe with me.” She said, Yuta shook his head, his mind unhinging as he pushed her hands away from him. 

“Stop. I killed her okay!” He was frantic as he pushed her away from him, “I don’t need your concern or your pity. I killed your best friend.” She was looking at him with wide eyes, she shook her head softly. 

“No you didn’t Yuta, that wasn’t any of our faults. That wasn’t your fault.” Her tone was soft, and he could tell that she wanted to move closer to him again as her hand heisted in the air. Yuta only chuckled as he pressed his back into the wall. His breathing still not in his control 

He was losing it. He needed her to understand. He needed her to go away from him. 

“You don’t know anything. I fucked her over, I killed.” 

“Yuta yo-”

“I knew she liked me. Do you think I didn’t know how much she liked me? I took advantage of it, I was good at doing that with other girls too. I fucked her, left her in my bed and went to make out with another chick. She found me like that, rightfully got mad and asked me to take her home, but I was drunk. So, I asked a friend of mine, he drove her and they both died. He told me he wasn’t drunk, but I should’ve known. I should’ve known!” 

Her face wasn’t shocked at the words that poured out of Yuta’s mouth, she was still looking at him softly. 

“You made bad decisions Yuta, but you didn’t kill her.” 

He shook his head, only realizing now that his cheeks were wet from tears, he didn’t realize he'd shed.  

“Why aren’t you mad? You should hate me.” She only sighed and carefully moved closer to him. 

“She was grown, she could’ve also checked if he was drunk. He could’ve said that he couldn’t drive because he was drunk. You didn’t kill her.” She was kneeling in front of him, her hands hesitated but he didn’t push away so she pulled him by his shoulder into her. She held him tightly until his breathing calmed down. 

---

He was ignoring you again, you understood why this time. You were embarrassed, the last words you said to him rattling around your brain as you sat across from Doyoung in the library. You couldn’t look at him, you’d been ignoring him for the past week as well. Feeding him lies and excuses about how busy you were. In reality, you’d buried yourself under your covers and sulked. Your brain was a mess.

You couldn’t ignore him anymore though, so here you were sitting across from him at a small table not meeting his eyes as you tried to work on neglected schoolwork. 

“Babe, are you coming over today? The boys are coming over again and we’re just gonna drink and hang out,” Doyoung asked putting his pen down and stretching as he asked. 

You said yes without thinking, your brain not having heard what he asked. When your brain processed you panicked, Yuta would be there. 

----

You were drunk out of your mind by the time Yuta and the others came to the house. Jaehyun was next to you cursing as he played Mario Kart, giggles leaving you as you watched. You were sticking to Jaehyun and Ten today, that way you didn’t need to worry about being alone with Doyoung or wandering off to Yuta. You were worried about what you would do if left to yourself, which made you feel like shit because Doyoung didn’t deserve that. 

So here you were drunk out of your mind, sitting next to your boyfriend’s teammates giggling mindlessly feeling like shit because you wanted to kiss a man that wasn’t your boyfriend, oh yeah and he ran away from you when you told him that. 

You laughed out loud. 

You managed to succeed with your ignoring them plan for most of the night until you had to go to the bathroom. Stumbling your way up the stairs you gripped the railing digging your fingers into the grooves to help your balance. 

You made it up the stairs without falling and took a break at the top your drunk body exhausted from the trip. 

“You're really drunk today.” Your head snapped to Yuta, he was leaning on the wall in front of you. You quickly looked away from him, your heart already doing fuck shit in your chest from being near him. 

“Don’t judge me, you sober saint.” You retorted. 

“I’m not sober, I was convinced into doing some shots.” Your eyes wandered back to his face, you cursed when you saw his smirk, his eyes laughing at you. 

You didn’t reply just straightened out and made to walk by him, but you stopped in front of him a random bought of anger slamming into you, who did he think he was? Why was he toying with you? Why did he make you feel this way? Why did you still want to kiss him?

“Don’t laugh at me!” You snapped at him, his eyes widened when you looked at him. “You ran away from me.” 

“You have a boyfriend.” He replied. Before you could think anything, your hands were on his shirt pulling him into you, your lips slamming into him. He only hesitated for a second before his hands were gripping at you, turning you both around and pushing you into the wall. Your drunk mind was swimming, you knew this was wrong, but you couldn’t stop, your hands moved into his hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against your lower lip you moaned softly and opened your mouth letting his tongue into your mouth, another moan leaving you as his tongue brushed against yours. 

“Wait fuck,” He abruptly pulled away from you. You looked up at him, eyes wide as you realized what you had just done. Yet you didn’t move away from him, he wasn’t looking at you, his eyes were pressed shut. 

“The last girl I hooked up with died. I’m fucked up in so many ways that I can’t count. I’m trying to the right thing here but fuck it’s so hard.” His hand on your shoulder tightened. He opened his eyes and looked down at you, his breath fanning your face, you stared at his swollen lips. Somewhere in your mind, you thought about how wrong what you were about to do was, but in the moment your brain couldn’t think properly. 

You didn’t reply to what he just said, and you didn’t move away from him you stood in his grasp until he lowered his mouth to yours again. 

“I’m not a good person.” He said quietly just before he pressed his lips against yours again. You stumbled as he pulled you with him, not taking his lips off of yours. Your hands fisted into the front of his shirt holding onto him tightly as he led you into a room. You only stumbled slightly as he pulled you onto the bed. Your lips leaving his as he let you fall. 

You stared up at him your breathing shallow as you mirrored his. His eyes were dark and filled with lust mirroring your own. You bit your lip as you waited for him, he closed his eyes taking in large breaths. You watched. When he opened them again any conflict in them was gone, you were beyond rational thought. 

Taking his shirt off he tossed it to the side before climbing onto the bed and hovering over you. His lips returned to yours in a fast kiss, one that stole your breath away again. From there everything moved fast, everything was done in a hot haze as your shirt joined his on the ground then your pants and underwear followed by the rest of his clothes his mouth leaving yours and kissing down your body. You were so wound up that you couldn’t take the teasing, fisting his hair you pulled him back up to your face. 

“Please, now.” You breathed before kissing him roughly. You were a moaning mess underneath him as he thrust into you, your walls clenching around him. He grunted as he moved, his hands gripping your hips, his fingers digging into your skin. Your hands were on his arms tightly holding on as he fucked into you. Taking one hand from your hip he rubbed fast circles on your clit as you came close to your climax. 

You came, his name flowing out of your mouth before he slammed his lips back onto yours keeping you from saying anything else, keeping you quiet. His hips continued to thrust into you, his lips never left yours, until he finished himself. 

---

You couldn’t look at Doyoung, you couldn’t speak to Doyoung, your heart would break every time he texted you. You were awful and you knew it yourself he didn’t deserve what you had done, but as guilty as you felt for knowing how much it would hurt Doyoung your mind couldn’t accept the fact that it was wrong. It was wrong, but the way it made you feel couldn’t be wrong. Your head was hurting from all the arguments you had in your mind. 

You were locked in your dorm, you had been for the past three days. Doyoung was calling and texting you non-stop, but you couldn’t reply. You heard nothing from Yuta, and you couldn’t help but let that fact hurt you. Your phone rang again, you knew who it was before you even looked at the screen. Sighing you grabbed it, you had to answer. 

“Hey,” His voice was cautious. 

“Hello.” You replied, your hands fisting into your blanket. 

“Are you okay? Why aren’t you answering me.” He didn’t sound angry, he sounded concerned. Your eyes filled with tears, you knew you didn’t deserve that, you deserved to be yelled at for ignoring him at the least. You couldn’t reply you knew that if you opened your mouth, you’d tell him what you did, but didn’t he deserve to know. 

“Y/-”

“I cheated on you.” And you hung up. 

You were a coward you couldn’t listen to whatever he had to say after that, you couldn’t take the yelling that you deserved, you didn’t even deserve to cry. Wiping angrily at the tears that streamed down your face you broke down, sobbing into your pillow. You felt like shit for what you did to him, you felt like shit because Yuta was ignoring you as much as you were ignoring him. 

You didn’t understand Yuta, the last thing he said before you slept with him. Telling you about his last hook-up didn’t even register until you woke up the next day in your dorm alone. The heavy words rattling around in your head. You could put enough together to know that he was fucked up about it, you felt worse when you realized that you added onto his self-image of being a bad person. 

Curling up into yourself you couldn’t stop crying. An hour passed and there was a loud banging on your door. 

“Open the door Y/N,” Doyoung said through the door, his voice loud and angry. You rolled onto your back in bed. You’d expected this from the moment you hung up, but you couldn’t get off the bed, you listened to the pounding on the door, you listened to his angry words turn to begging and you cried again. You cowered away from him, from the world, because how could you face it?

---

Everyone was in his house, every guy on his team was crawling around. When the hockey season was airing this was a normal occurrence for everyone to pile into a house and watch together, but this time Yuta dreaded the full house especially since he was ignoring so many people this time. 

Taeyong’s girlfriend, still, not because he felt awful when he looked at her which he still did but less so but now also out of embarrassment, he’d cried in front of her and that made it hard for him to look at her. 

He was also ignoring Johnny for the past three days because after he fucked up and fucked you, he ran to Johnny and told him what he did. Johnny was mad but then felt sympathy after Yuta explained that he liked you, but he couldn’t look at Johnny now either not after he’d sobered up and realized how pathetic he sounded trying to explain that he liked his teammates girlfriend a lot even though he’d known her all of five seconds and didn’t know jack shit about her it was just an inexplicable feeling. Johnny had tried to talk to him twice since then, but he’d ran away. 

Doyoung too, but that was obvious, he couldn’t face his friend and teammate, practice this morning had been awful, Doyoung was complaining about Y/N going M.I.A. on him. He looked so distressed Yuta felt shitty. 

He climbed down the stairs slowly, staring at his phone as he went down, he didn’t want to make any eye contact. He didn’t want anyone to speak to him, but he couldn’t hide in his room that would only draw everyone to him and then everyone would be looking at him. 

Yet he couldn’t stop his head from snapping up as the front door slammed into the wall and Doyoung stumbled in. His eyes were red, and he looked drunk. 

“Well,” he said loudly looking directly at Yuta, “I am a fucking loser. I’m pathetic and I’m a loser.” Yuta flinched with every word that spilled out of the younger boy’s mouth. Taeyong was instantly at the door as Doyoung struggled with his shoes. 

“What are you talking about?” Taeyong asked him as Johnny also filtered into the entryway, taking a spot on the last step on the stairs. 

“She cheated on me,” Doyoung replied and then shrugged, “she won’t even tell me who. She actually won’t even let me into her room.” Johnny glanced up at Yuta, but Yuta kept his eyes on Doyoung. He watched the younger boy hold on to Taeyong as his face twisted in anger. 

“I don’t understand,” he said his face going red. “I just want to know who it was.” 

Yuta’s hand moved to the railing as he bit his tongue, He could feel Johnny throwing glances at him as they all watched the boy break down. Yuta’s gut twisted with guilt as Doyoung stumbled over a pair of shoes and hit the wall. He watched as Doyoung began to cry and Taeyong tried to grab onto him. Yuta’s head was twisting into a tunnel of thoughts that he couldn’t control, all he knew was that he did that. 

“It was me.” The air in the room left as the words left this mouth, Taeyong’s head snapping up to him his large eyes widening before anger flashed in them. Yuta turned his gaze back to Doyoung he could barely breathe as under the three pairs of eyes on him. 

Doyoung was frozen staring at Yuta. Yuta could tell he was processing the words that had just left his mouth. Slowly Doyoung straightened up before he looked up and met Yuta’s gaze, Yuta could see the blatant hatred that had formed behind Doyoung eyes, but he didn’t look away. 

I deserve this. Yuta thought. 

Doyoung shook himself out of Taeyongs grasp and was up the stairs and in front of Yuta in a second. More boys had gathered into the small entryway. Yuta snapped his eyes shut as Doyoung grabbed him by the front of his shirt and slammed him into the wall. 

“You fucking douche bag!” His words were angry, his hand twitched at Yuta’s shirt but Yuta couldn’t look at him anymore. Doyoung was gonna hit him, Yuta could tell. He expected it. But it didn’t come. 

“Look at me!” Doyoung yelled shaking Yuta, slowly he opened his eyes. The boy's face was so red, his cheeks stained with tears, more tears flowed out of his eyes as his face broke. 

“Why?” Doyoung asked as he shook Yuta. 

Yuta’s heart ached; he didn’t know how to reply. What could he even say? I’m not a good person. Were the only words in his head. Doyoung repeated his question before completely breaking down, his head falling onto Yuta’s shoulders. 

“I looked up to you,” Doyoung muttered into Yuta’s shoulder. 

Yuta froze, his mind going numb. He couldn’t move as Doyoung cried onto him. The words on repeat in Yuta’s head only got louder, until they were screaming at him. Until he couldn’t see anything but the fucked up person he was in his head. He could never do anything right. 

“I have to leave,” Doyoung said lifting his head off Yuta, shoving him as he did so. 

“Why?” Taeyong asked, his voice cold. “Why should you leave? Yuta should.” 

Yuta couldn’t look at Taeyong, he knew what the expression on his face would be because he was looking at himself like that as well with pure hatred.

 I deserve it. 

Yuta didn’t disagree he would be the one to leave, but for a second he couldn’t move. No one did. 

“You’re right.” he finally said. He moved past Doyoung in a rush feeling the heated eyes of everyone on him as he bound down the stairs and shoved his feet into shoes before leaving out the door. He had to leave, he deserved to be alone, to be the one kicked out. He couldn’t do anything right. He was fucked up, he wasn’t a decent guy to girls, and he wasn’t a good friend. With each step that Yuta took away from the house, he realized that he was indeed a bad person. Because good people didn’t hurt the people they loved. 

And they definitely didn’t deserve to be loved themselves. 

A/N: Please look forward to part two, I will have it up as soon as I can. PLEASE let me know what you think! 

[tryingmybestpls]

Not A Team-Part 1: The Start

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: The Reader tries to live a normal life, but her memories won’t leave her alone. Rhodey comes to visit the reader with a proposition.

Rating: T

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Talks of death, talks of mental illness, mentions of feeling alone

Four Months Ago

"Y/N, do you think you can tell me why you're here?" The female therapist asks, clicking her one before setting it down on her notepad. The ex-hero shifts on the charcoal grey couch, wanting to be anywhere but here. While she knows that the room should be sort of calming, but it has the directly opposite affect on Y/N. Her stomach is twisting in knots and she feels like her breakfast is going to come up.

"I was told I had to come here." Y/N replies, looking down at her chipping burgundy nail polish. There was hardly any color left on her nails, but what was left was stubbornly holding on, a constant reminder of what she had painted them for.

"Yes, but why were you told to come here?" The doctor-whose name was escaping Y/N at the moment-pushes, shifting in her own seat. Y/N continues to stay silent, which makes the therapist sigh, "Look Y/N, you have to be here. The only way you are able to get out of this is when I am able to determine that you aren't a danger to yourself or others. The government needs to know that you are okay. It's apart of the Acco-"

"I-I messed up. I messed up bad." Y/N cuts her off, wanting to get this all over as quickly as possible.

It's the understatement of the century.  I messed up bad. That's what you say when you crash your car or get too drunk and text your ex. "Messing up bad" doesn't land you in court mandated therapy. No, Y/N hadn't "messed up bad", but she couldn't say what she had actually done. Even if she couldn't get the words out of her mouth, she was well aware if she had done. The smell of burning flesh used to be something she would wear like a perfume. Now it threatens to invade her nose, forcing her to go back to that night. Y/N tries her best to ignore it, but it's so hard to forget a smell like that.

"And when you say mess up-"

"I used my powers and people got hurt." Y/N answers, her hands getting hot. She glances down, trying to will away the heat and the fire that will surely follow. The therapist writes down a few more notes. Y/N finds herself hating the way the pen scratches at the paper, the sound almost deafening.

"Is it hard to control your powers?" The doctor asks, to which Y/N immediately shakes her head. She looks back up at the therapist, clasping her hands tightly together. Y/N is trying to look as normal and okay as possible, hoping that the therapist believes her little act.

"No. It-They're just slightly influenced by my emotions and I was just really emotional that day." Y/N replies as she feels the heat move away from her hands. She shifts on the couch, hating the attention she's getting right now, hating the way the therapist's eyes seem to notice every little movement and thought. The therapist writes that down, nodding.

"Why were you so emotional, Y/N?" The woman questions. The ex-Avenger looks back down at her hands, her wedding ring shimmers in the light that's streaming through the windows. Just seeing it makes her stomach sink, her throat tightening with that same emotion.

-

Now

Y/N has always hated silence.

It's the reason why she loved being in the city so much. It was constantly awake. There was never a moment of silence, no the city was always screaming and shouting. Y/N had welcomed the sound with open arms. Even when the Avengers moved out of the city and went upstate, it was still loud. Everyone kept different hours, everyone had different tasks so the base was never completely quiet. Life on the run with Steve, Sam, Wanda, and Nat wasn't quiet either. The five of them were a family, always constantly talking and bickering.

But now, she lived alone.

It was raining out today. The incessant pounding of the water droplets against the roof and the ground outside provided a much needed melody as Y/N moved around the house. Boxes still littered the rooms, precariously stacked on top of each other. She's been leaving here for a while, but some boxes she can't bring herself to unpack. For example, the large one in the middle of the living room that was labeled "WEDDING DRESS + BOUQUET" was now being used as an impromptu side table. Another one that was shoved into the second bedroom had "PICTURES FROM COMPOUND" scrawled on the side in sharpie. She doesn't think she'll ever open that one, not knowing how she handle all of those memories.

Y/N forces herself to pick up one of the boxes in the kitchen, this one labeled "WINTER CLOTHES". Usually, she would be outside tending to the garden (her therapist had told her that she needed a hobby to keep herself busy) or doing small tasks that needed to be done. However, because of the rain she was stuck inside with all the boxes that she had yet to unpack. The box is heavy, most of the weight most likely coming from her bulky winter coats.

Y/N had left the city she had loved so much, packing up her life to move to a small little house upstate. The city didn't feel like home anymore. Living in Steve's apartment without him felt wrong. It had never felt like home, didn't feel like she belonged there. They never lived at the apartment together, they didn't share any memories here. No, this place was all Steve. She was constantly surrounded by Steve-his things, his memory, his smell. It was suffocating, being surrounded by a man that had abandoned you.

Five years she was gone. Five years he had grieved and mourned over her and then-almost immediately when Y/N came back, Steve decided he didn't want to stay with her. He didn't tell her what he was going to do. Maybe he knew that if he had, she would've tried to talk him out of it. Y/N knows that she would've begged for him to stay with her. She was a. proud woman, but she wasn't proud enough to beg.

She had expected him to come back to her. Y/N thought he was going to return the stones and come back. She had thought they were going to be able to continue where they had left off, they were going to able to be together after all this time. They were finally going to be able to settle down and start that family that Steve had always hinted at. Get a house with a white picket fence and get a cute little dog. The fucking American Dream.

And then he had came back as an old man, with a gold wedding band that she hadn't given him on his finger. Steve gave Sam his shield and his legacy, no longer able to carry the mantle of Captain America. And Y/N-well Y/N's world just crumbled around her, her dreams shattering because Steve decided that he was going to move on.

She still loved him, she even still loves him now. It was impossible not to love him, even though he had left her behind. Y/N tried her best to hate him-told herself that Steve had betrayed her and that he didn't want her. She tried to tell herself that Steve didn't even love her, because if he had loved her why would he be so willing to abandon her, especially after he had just got her back? It didn't matter how much he hurt her or what he did to her, Y/N's heart would always belong to Steve whether she liked it or not.

Feeling incredibly conflicted, Y/N had forced herself to stay her by husband's side as he got sick. She didn't ask for an apology, even as Steve told her over and over that he was incredibly sorry for what he did. Y/N knew that he wasn't actually sorry because if he was actually sorry, he wouldn't have lived an entire life with Peggy. She wouldn't tell him how hurt she was or how looking at her wedding ring made her feel sick now. No, Y/N had played the role of the dutiful wife. She held his hand as his condition worsened and made sure his affairs were in order. Her feelings didn't matter as she tried to make his last days more comfortable.

And then he died.

Steve died, leaving her behind. She didn't dare talk about what had happened, what he had put her through. Y/N, even with all of the bullshit he had put her through, didn't want to tarnish his legacy. Steve Rogers was a hero and she wasn't going to be the one that ruined that for everyone. Even Sam tried to ask her if she was okay and she had just brushed it off, telling him that she was glad that Steve had picked him to carry on the legacy attached to the shield he had received.

Y/N had tried to carry on after Steve was buried, but it was hard. She was dropped into a world where all of her friends were gone, a world that had moved on without her. It was a world that she didn't belong in and she knew it. Y/N tried her best to return to normal, but she quickly learned that there was no such thing as the normal she was used to. Everything felt wrong, felt off in some minuscule way that made her unable to adapt to regular life again.

Y/N just kept bottling up her emotions, the pressure continuing to build up as the days went on. She was drowning it and there was no life preserver in sight. Everyone else went back to normal, going back to school or getting a job or finding ways to get busy. Y/N knows that she should've gotten help, that she should've tried talking to someone, but she didn't. Maybe a part of her didn't want to admit there actually was a problem, that Steve hadn't been the perfect husband and she felt abandoned by the man she married.

And that had led to her completely losing it.

Y/N would later be told that it was a nervous breakdown. A nervous breakdown. She felt-and still feels-like that name wasn’t what she experienced. It was so much more than just a nervous breakdown.

It had led to innocent people getting hurt, people that hadn't cause her pain, people that were most likely suffering just as much as she was. Her emotions were just too high and her powers-her powers decided to act on her impulses and her feelings. She had just been so God damn angry at Steve-

Y/N has to drop the box she was holding, her hands growing hot. She mutters curse words as she hears what sounds like glass shattering inside the box as she forces herself to calm down. She does the breathing exercise that the therapist had told her to do, attempting to rein in her emotions. Her eyes shut, breathing in through her nose, and out through her mouth. Y/N tries to pull the heat back inside of her, but it just won't go back in.

Her heart is beating fast in her chest as she quickly moves back into the living room, her feet carrying her to the front door. Her bright red hand grabs ahold of the doorknob, throwing the door open.

The rain is much louder now, making it almost hard to see with how much is coming down. It hits the ground violently, a cold wind trying its best to cool Y/N off, to no avail.

She quickly walked down the steps of the porch as the heat crawled up her arms, her temperature rising. Y/N knows she won't have the time to take off her clothes and she also knows that she's gone past the point of attempting to rein her powers in. Her hands catch first, bright yellow and orange flames quickly covering her skin, coating them until no skin remained.

The flame crawls over her body, burning away  her clothes before the flames take over her entire body. The rain turns into steam as soon as it hits her fire covered body, a cloud surrounding her. Y/N feels more relaxed as the flame licks at her skin, covering her from head to toe. It's easier to calm down after she does this, getting some of those stronger feelings released in order to return back to normal.

-

Hours later while she is in the middle of cooking, someone knocks on her door. Y/N sighs softly, putting her slotted spoon back down on the counter, quickly wiping her hands on a dishcloth. She makes her way to the front door, not bothering to look through the peephole before she opens the door.

Rhodey stands before her, dressed in far more causal clothing that he usually is in. Y/N's eyes are immediately drawn to the thick manila folder in clutched tightly in his hands. He gives her a small smile. Y/N knows that he isn't just here to visit. No one ever comes to visit.

"Hey." Rhodey says gently, almost as if he's testing the waters. They haven't seen each other in a few months, not since the events that had led her to moving all the way out of here, not since she got out of the psych ward she had voluntarily gone to after her accident. Voluntarily is the wrong word here. The US Government had all but strong armed her into going.

"Hi. Uh-Here, come in. It's cold out." Y/N responds, opening the door a little wider. Rhodey's smile grows as he steps inside. He stops for a moment, looking around at her home. It's small, almost more of a cottage than an actual home. He takes note of the lack of any personal items, no pictures out on display, no tchotchkes. Boxes still litter the living room even though she's lived here for a few months.

"It looks good. Real cozy." Rhodey comments as Y/N shuts the door. She nods, giving him a polite smile as she moves past him to go back into the kitchen.

"Why'd you come by? I know it isn't for dinner." Y/N cuts straight to the point. She doesn't even bother looking at him as she checks to see if her pasta is ready. Rhodey's smile falters for a moment while she strains the pasta. He clears his throat, quickly regaining his composure.

"I-Well I stopped by because I wanted to talk to you about something." Rhodey walks into her kitchen, leaning against the counter as she pours the pasta back into the now empty pot. Y/N holds out her hand for the folder, which he immediately hands over. She flicks through it, seeing the plans for an exhibit honoring her husband. Rhodey shifts slightly as he sees her eyebrows knit together. As she goes through the pictures, she can see that it wasn't in the preplanning phase. They had their exhibit ready, all done up with a fresh paint job.

She's seen the exhibit before. Y/N had teased Steve constantly over it, thinking it was the funniest thing that he had a whole exhibit dedicated to him, a man who couldn't even use a cell phone. Steve told her once that he didn't mind the teasing, told her that it was one of his favorite things about her.

But that was then and this is now.

"The Smithsonian wants to expand their exhibit on Steve. I don't exactly see why this has anything to do with me." Y/N's eyes catch on a picture of her and Steve at their wedding, big stupid smiles stretched across their faces. The page notes possibly names for this part of the exhibit, all of them making that emotion crawl up into her throat.

"They want you to speak at the opening. You and Sam." Rhodey answers, watching as her face drops. Y/N closes the folder, still looking down at it. The papers suddenly feels like they're a million pounds, weighed down so many memories. For a second, Rhodey gets his hopes up, thinking that she is actually considering it.

"Get someone else to do it." Y/N tells him, handing the folder back over to the man. Her voice is a lot colder than it was before and her friend could practically see Y/N building her walls back up. Rhodey sighs, holding it for a moment before setting it down on the counter.

"They want people who knew him, Y/N."

"Then get someone else because I sure as hell didn't." She snaps, the fire on the stove growing. Y/N quickly shuts off the burners, shaking her head, "Ask Barnes, ask literally anyone else."

Rhodey opens his mouth before shutting it. He didn't know how to respond. He knew that his friend was upset, but as soon as Steve did what he did, she had shut herself off. Rhodey had tried and tried to get through to her and after what she had did...Rhodey knew she was going through a lot and that Y/N wouldn't tell him or anyone else how she was feeling. She just wasn't that type of person, never has been.

Y/N swallows the lump in her throat that threaten to swell up, serving Rhodey a plate full of food without him asking if he wants one. She ignores all the memories that flash in her mind, trying to keep it together. She hands the plate to Rhodey without saying a single word before serving herself . Y/N grabs them both drinks and napkins, moving around the kitchen in complete silence. They both sit down at her little table, the only sounds being the two of them breathing and their forks hitting their plates.

"How are you doing?" Rhodey breaks the silence, looking across at her. Y/N pushes her food around her plate, shrugging her shoulders.

"Doing better. I go to therapy once a week like I'm supposed to. It's-It's a lot easier to breathe out here." She replies, setting her fork down. Rhodey gives her a small smile.

"I'm glad you're doing better. I'm sorry I haven't been checking in on you. I know you wanted space and some time." He says softly, to which Y/N shakes her head, taking a sip of her drink. She knew that Rhodey felt guilty over her situation, but the man has enough on his plate. He doesn't need to adding 'taking care of Y/N' to his long list of tasks.

"You've been busy. There's a lot of rebuilding that needs to be done and you shouldn't have to be checking in on me." She looks up at him attempting to give him some peace of mind, "I'm doing better, I promise."

It wasn't the biggest lie she's ever told. She was doing better, but she still wasn't herself. Although, Y/N didn't know if she could ever return to being herself pre-Blip. Before all of this shit, she had Steve to lean on. Now...well now she didn't have anyone, and she didn't want to burden any of her friends with her issues. They had their own shit they were going through. They didn't need to deal with hers.

Later on, long after dinner had finished and the rain decided that it was done working for the day, Rhodey stood up from his spot on the couch. Y/N smiled warmly at him, walking with him to the front door. When they step outside onto the porch, the night air is cool and calm, the lovely smell of rain surrounding them.

"Y/N, I just wanted to say that I didn't want to ask you. I know-I know you're still healing. They told me I had to ask, but I didn't want to. I just want you to know that." Rhodey suddenly announces, turning towards her. Both of them were barely illuminated by the porch lights and the light spilling out from her front door. Y/N nodded, that lump in her throat returning.

"I know. I know, Rhodey." She replies, her voice cracking slightly. Y/N stands there for a moment, both of them looking at each other before she decides to throw her arms round him. Her friend is a little surprised by the action, but hugs her back happily. Y/N shuts her eyes for moment, resting her chin on his shoulder. He rubs her back soothingly, wondering if this is the first hug she's had since Steve's funeral. They pull part, once again looking at each other.

"You take care of yourself okay? I'm going to try to come and visit more, but I need to take care of yourself." Rhodey tells her, giving her a kind smile, "And don't be afraid to text, okay? You can tell me about anything, it doesn't even have to be important."

"I'll be sure to text you all about the growth of my sunflowers and whether or not I am capable of fixing a sink." She teases, which makes the man laugh.

"That's all I ask. It was nice seeing you Y/N." Rhodey tells her, making his way down the steps of his porch. Y/N leans against one of the posts, wrapping her arms around herself.

"It was nice seeing you too." Y/N responds as she watches him walk over to his car. He gives her a small wave before climbing inside. She stays on the porch until he drives away, not moving until she can no longer see his tail lights.

Y/N relaxes her shoulders, sighing softly as she turns on her heel and walks back inside. The ex-hero shuts and locks her door. She walks back into the kitchen, gathering the discarded and used plates. As she is putting them in the sink, her eyes land on the manila folder resting on the counter.

Y/N knows that Rhodey most likely deliberately left it behind. She reaches out and picks it up again, a picture slipping out and falling into the floor. Y/N bends over to grab it, holding it gently between her thumb and forefinger. She flips it over, being greeted with the sight of her husband smiling back at her. Y/N knows the picture well-it's one she took.

She finds herself smiling back at him, her finger tracing over the image. She took it after a mission. Steve's hair is a mess from his helmet, his face dirty and he has a split lip. The shield is propped up in the seat beside him and he's just smiling at her. He looks incredibly tired, but he's still smiling at her. This is the Steve she fell in love with, the Steve that had promised to give the world. The one she had seen herself raising a family with.

Y/N leans against the counter, resting the photograph beside the open folder. She flicks through it again, her eyes studying the exhibit dedicated to her and her relationship with Steve Rogers. 'Two Heroes United' was the name they ended up on. It makes tears brim in her eyes as she looks over all of the pictures that make up this part of the exhibit. While normally she didn't like sharing her personal relationships with the world, this felt okay somehow, it felt almost cathartic.

She shuts the folder, taking another glance at it. Her finger traces the embossed Smithsonian logo on the cover of it. If she did it, she wouldn't be doing it alone. If Sam could do it, it couldn't be that bad.

Right?

[mrsgiovanna]

Crimson (Dhampir! Don Giorno x Wife! Reader)

Those of you who have been here for a while would have suffered through my intermittent constant ramblings about scenarios in which Giorno's vampiric tendencies start to awaken. To the nonnies who requested this, here you go my loves.

TW: Blood mentions

Word Count: 2.4k

The sunshine felt glorious on your skin as you lounged next to the pool while Giorno completed a few more laps in the water before he was set to join you. Something felt amiss as you watched him aggressively swim in the huge body of water like a caged shark, but you attributed it to him needing to work off some of the stress of leading Passione. Finally satisfied with his efforts, he emerged from the pool, water clinging to his body and dripping from his hair, he would have looked like Neptune incarnate if it wasn’t for the angry red sunburn marring his otherwise flawless form.

“Gio, your skin looks so inflamed, let me help you,” he walked right past you, prompting you to follow him into the house. “My love, are you alright? Let me at least put something on you to…”

“Stop faffing, I’ll be fine, I think I just need some rest, you can go back to what you were doing,” snapped Giorno, in a harsher tone than he intended, in fact, he didn’t mean to be as short with you at all, and grimaced at his words, but he needed to get away from there as soon as he possibly could to not alarm you as this isn’t the first time he has experienced this, although, it is the first time it has happened in front of you.

You tried to hide your dejection at his behavior, you pulled on an oversized shirt, went inside and decided to work on some of your reports in the sunroom instead. Upstairs, in the bathroom of the master bedroom, stood Giorno in front of the golden-framed mirror. Before his ruby-tainted eyes, his burns had healed without him consciously summoning his stand… was it done subconsciously? His question remained unanswered, looking himself in the eyes, he realized that they still bore a crimson tinge to them. Dismissing it to simple chemical irritation, he took a cool shower and mulled over his exchange with you, growing ever more remorseful of how he dismissed your concern. Getting rid of the last bit remnants of water from his hair, he set out to find you to and apologize for his behavior.

Finding you bundled in the corner of the sunroom, musing over a few documents, Giorno just stood at the entrance admiring your beauty. You looked so cute wearing his shirt, the concentration furrowing your delicate brows and placing a pout on your lips.

“Tesoro? May I speak to you?” his voice was gentle, a far cry from the way he sounded before. You looked up from the documents you were working on and offered him a strained smile.

“Gio, I thought you wanted to rest for a bit…”

“I did bella, but that’s not important right now… I’m sorry… for the way I acted before, you were just showing your concern and I behaved like an idiot. Please forgive me…” walking towards you, he seated himself next to you.

“Well, you were very mean to me, but I’ll forgive you just this once… only because you asked so nicely, next time it won’t be so easy for you Don Giovanna,” you said with a smirk, breaking into a small giggle when he grimaced at the epithet.

“Come here bella- nice shirt by the way, it looks very familiar…”

“Oh, it’s just something I found lying around… you know what they say, finders’ keepers,” with a gentle smile at your remark, he peppered your face with soft kisses and made sure you got comfortable on his lap, so he could hold you while you worked, his mind though, was preoccupied with the events that occurred of late.

In the next few days both you and Giorno were busy with your respective tasks, and as much as you wanted to dismiss his distant demeanor on how busy you both were, you knew that he was uncharacteristically withdrawn from you. Giving him the space he needed, you met his aloofness with your usual calm kindness. Needing to discuss a few work-related issues with Giorno, you decided to go see him rather than wait for him to come home.

“(y/n)- bella, this is a nice surprise. To what do I owe this pleasure?” he still had that charming velvety quality to his voice that made you feel, for a split second, like things were back to normal, but the strained way in which he kissed your cheek told you otherwise. He considered you for a moment, staring at you with his slightly reddened eyes.

“Are you wearing a new perfume?” inhaling the air around you sharply, he posed his question to you.

“No my love, it’s the same scent you like, the one I wear most often”

“Oh? You just smell so sweet, it’s wonderful,” Giorno’s words are muffled as he buries his nose into your neck and places a small kiss there, rigidly pulling away almost instantly, the red sheen becoming more pronounced in his eyes. Guarded, he stepped away from you and with a tense smile he completed what you needed from him.

“I’ll see you at home then,”

“Of course tesoro…” distracted, Giorno kissed your forehead and you left, determined to get to the bottom of what was plaguing him. You knew that his origins were obscure. He didn’t have much of a relationship with his mother and you both learned the truth about his father after meeting with Dr. Kujo to resolve a few matters which required Giorno’s assistance. Recalling the conversation, you remembered the sordid business with Dio and the stone mask. Your blood ran cold when you considered the idea that Giorno could be going through a transition of sorts… it wasn’t a pleasant thought to entertain, however, you couldn’t think of another reason for his odd behavior and changes in his features.

You knew it was a risky idea… you knew that if he overheard your conversations he’d be furious… but you had to seek help from the one man who had encountered the type of being that Giorno shared his DNA with. Hating having to hide this from the man you had previously shared every mundane detail of your day with, you pressed on, and within the week that had passed you had learned all there was to know about his condition without actually having an expert examine him. You had unfortunately hit a wall, all the while, despite your best efforts, the rift between you and Giorno had continued to widen.

You sat up in bed engaging in a long distance call with a tired-sounding Jotaro, at that ungodly hour-alone- confident that you would be falling asleep beside a cold pillow, just as you had for the past 3 nights. “Is there anything that can be done from where I am? Dr. Kujo, please… I know you may be apprehensive given the history, I can assure you that, if by some stroke of misfortune, anything were to go awry I have enough faith in my abilities to contain him, I…”

“It’s not that, I trust that he isn’t a threat, despite what he’s experiencing. The thing is, we have already shared every bit of information we have in our possession with you. Anything else will require you to come here, the foundation has experts and the technology available to at least assess Giorno to determine a way forward from there,”

“I’ll try to get…”

“Who are you talking to?” the temperature in the room suddenly dropped when you heard the cold manner in which your husband addressed you.

“Oh! Giorno… I can explain… Dr. Kujo, please forgive my rudeness, but may we continue this later, at a suitable time for you?”

“Of course,”

“Thank you, I’ll be in touch…” moving from one impossibly difficult conversation to another, you turned your attention to Giorno who was seething at the doorway across from you.

“Care to explain?” the expression on your husband’s face was so cold it forced you to silently avert your gaze to gather your composure.

“(y/n), I’m waiting…” his footsteps resounded with a sharp clatter as he walked into the room.

“Gio… I’m worried about you. You think I haven’t noticed but I can see that you’ve changed. I see you agonizing over this… transition… you’re going through. Please don’t shut me out,” weeks of unexpressed feelings pooled in the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill out.

“(y/n) … this is something I have to do on my own, I… I don’t want to hurt you,” it was clear that Giorno did not want to have this conversation with you from his shaky disposition and the manner in which he spoke.

“What you’re doing right now is more hurtful than anything else! Watching you struggle like this, being so close to you, yet so far removed from each other,” emotions swirling uncontrolled, you choked out the words despite wanting to protect Giorno’s feelings.

“You don’t understand cara”

“Then make me understand, damn it Giorno!”

“Ahh! you think I don’t know what’s happening to me? I’ve been doing my own research as well. I know what my father was… I knowwhat I’m turning into! We both know… and you… the scent of you drives me insane. Rather than hurting you, I chose to stay away from you!” For a moment after his outburst, all you heard was silence save for the sound of Giorno’s breathing and your own heart pounding in your ears.

“You’re not him Gio, you never will be like him. and if your bloodlust is doing this to you, then please just let me help you… I’m your wife, if I can’t do this for you, who will?!”

“No! I won’t allow it. Will I even be human if I did? No… I can’t, and if I hurt you I’ll never forgive myself,”

“Gio, caro, I trust you entirely, I know you wouldn’t go too far, and if by some stroke of bad luck, you do, you can always use your stand ability to replace what was lost. I can’t stand seeing you like this… I love you so much… so please, if you need to… then do it, I’ll be okay,”

You saw the doubt flicker in his glossy eyes as he considered your argument. Inching closer towards him, you extend your hand to cup his cheek, cherishing the feeling of his faintly stubbled skin against your soft hand. He puts his hand over yours, leaning into your touch, he places a soft kiss into your palm. After craving your touch for so long, this felt heavenly to him, and he wasn’t sure if he would be able to let you go again after this. You picked up on his yearning, as it matched your own, and gently coaxed his face towards yours, kissing him gently at first, and then surrendering to your urges as Giorno hungrily deepened the kiss, burying his fingers into your hair. When he broke away, his gaze was intense, but marred by doubt. He flicked your hair over your shoulder and gingerly traced the vein on your neck, his thumb gently caressing your silken skin.

Sensing his trepidation, you try to allay his fears, “It’s alright my love, I’m ready… I’ll be okay.” Your hands wrap around his back while his lips find your neck, small kisses were placed in the prime spot, turning into little licks and laps, until finally you felt the sharp sting of Giorno’s teeth sinking into the supple flesh with a low hum from him. After the initial pain, the sensation was unlike anything you have ever experienced before, a newfound intimacy that came from knowing you were helping him through something so intense.

After a few moments, his hunger was satiated- at last, the feral intensity disappearing from his eyes, his teeth retracting to the same level as the others, Giorno cradled you in his arms.

“Tesoro, are you alright?” his voice was tender, and it seemed that he had finally returned to his old self.

“I’m alright my love,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Giorno was overcome by a new wave of affection for you, watching you carefully, he lifted you up, despite your protests and carried you to bed.

“This will only hurt for second amore, but you will feel much better afterwards,” he explained as a familiar golden glow enveloped both you and him, slightly smarting the area that it healed until all evidence of the encounter had vanished. Clear eyes peered curiously into your own and were met with a relieved gaze- finally the crimson haze had cleared.

“How are you feeling my love? You look… different… calmer?” pushing yourself up on one arm, you sat up to face Giorno.

“I do feel calm, I feel like a spell has been lifted and I’m finally myself again…” anguish contorted the young don’s features as he thought back on the events that built up to that moment. “I’m so sorry, tesoro… I’ve treated you horribly over the past few weeks, there are no excuses, regardless of what was happening, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you… please forgive me,” unable to hold your gaze he just looked away dejectedly.

“Giorno… look at me…” you extended your arms towards him, gripping the sides of his face, gently turning him towards you. “We’re a team, we’ve fought against unimaginable things together, built an entire empire together, even changed the course of fate together… my point is that regardless of what you’re going through, it will never best us if handle it together,” offering you a tired smile, he grasped your hands in his and kissed them gently.

“You always know what to say… You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”

“Well, of course I’m amazing! Doesn’t hurt to hear it every once in a while though…” your laughter lightened the mood and tugged at the corners of Giorno’s full lips. Wordlessly, he climbed onto his side of the bed and motioned for you to take your place in his arms. It was the embrace that you both craved after the painful period of time you were estranged from each other. Hair still adorned with his triad of curls and still in his suit, Giorno fell asleep almost instantly after wrapping his arms around you and tucking your head under his chin.

Feeling as safe as you did, your exhaustion also weighed down your eyelids. You knew that the road would be a long one, but for now, the only thing that mattered was the fact that he was safe and happy, and you were in his embrace where you belonged. Relishing the warmth he radiated, you allowed yourself to drift into a peaceful slumber.

[morganaspendragonss]

so so many thanks to everyone who read even one of these stories. i am forever grateful for all the support i've received; every comment, every kudos, every reblog, every like - they all mean so much. i'm overwhelmed, honestly, but in the very best way. ily all 🥰

day one: against all odds (we're still here) for @trkstrnd

Carlos will hate himself for it later, but he’s so focused on his task that the screech of tires coming around the corner barely registers as a blip on his radar. He doesn’t notice anything until TK suddenly barrels into him, throwing Carlos to the side just before something else, something heavy, crashes into them with a blinding flash of pain, and then—

Nothing.

*

a simple trip to the grocery store quickly turns to disaster for tk and carlos

day two: out, damned spot for anon

TK wakes up gasping, choking on air. The sheets are suffocating him and, when he tries to free himself, they only seem to get tighter. The hands reaching out for him, trying to calm him, are the final straw; TK throws himself from bed and sprints to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him as he collapses against the sink.

On some level, he is aware that the hands were Carlos’s, that the sheets were theirs, that his hands are clean, and that the dream was just a dream.

But they weren't always that way.

day three: the meetings for those in my wake for @freddieholic

For years after the divorce, Gwyn came to learn that any call from Owen was almost certainly bad news, and almost always about their son. Things have been better in the three years since her time in Texas, which is why she thinks nothing of it when he calls just after she’s put Isaac to bed for the night.

“Owen, hey,” she greets. “What’s up?”

The silence she’s answered with is the first sign that something’s wrong.

The sob that follows is the second.

“Gwyn, it’s TK. He's... They think we should say goodbye."

day four: a friend in me for 📍 anon

Carlos has come to see Nancy as a force of nature, a woman who will let nothing and no-one stand in her way, whether that’s out on the field or during a game of Monopoly. But, right now, as she sits hunched over in one of the interrogation rooms, shock blanket around her shoulders, he's never seen her look so small.

or

the story of how nancy and carlos become the new champions of 126 games nights

day five: truth is heavier than fiction for anon

Carlos pauses with his hand on the doorknob, taking a moment to prepare himself before going inside. TK’s shift finished an hour ago and he’d texted to let Carlos know he was home, which means Carlos is going to be walking right into a conversation he’d rather avoid.

Not that he’d have much choice either way; he might be able to cover his cracked and bruised ribs for a little while, but the arm in a sling will tell on him as soon as the door opens. Carlos doesn’t want to hide his injuries—they’ve had enough conversations in reverse on that theme to make him a hypocrite if he did—but he may have made some choices that he doesn’t particularly want to go into right now. Not while he’s tired and aching and just wants to cuddle with his boyfriend.

He blows out a breath, then opens the door, bracing himself for TK’s reaction.

“Hey— Shit!”

day six: slowly, and then all at once for @pragmaticoptimist34

The realisation that he loves Carlos hits him like a bolt out of the blue.

And at the worst possible moment.

We are getting updates on the active shooter situation at the Four Seasons Hotel. Austin Police Department have closed off the area and officers are currently preparing to enter the building to detain the suspect. It is as yet unknown if there have been any civilian casualties, but—

“Paul, turn the damn TV back on.”

“No.”

*

five times tk can't admit his feelings about carlos, and one time he finally does

day seven: the promise of tomorrow for anon

Up until five minutes ago, Carlos had been terrified of never having TK in his arms again. Now, the thought of letting him go scares him just as much, and TK seems to feel the same, if the way he’s clutching at Carlos’s jacket and pulling it tight across his back is any indication.

Carlos hugs him close, sinking down to his knees as TK falls into the chair behind him, letting the rest of the room fade away to nothing as he realises that they weren’t too late—that TK is here, with him, alive and mostly whole.

day eight: we'll hold each other soon for @221bsunsettowers

“Be careful, please,” TK said, smoothing down the lapels of Carlos’s shirt. “Whatever happens out there, whatever you have to do, just promise me one thing. Promise you’ll come back to me.”

Carlos knew better than to promise something like that, and TK knew better than to ask it. But because it was him, and because it was TK, Carlos just nodded and leaned in to press a kiss to TK’s temple.

“I promise,” he whispered, pulling away.

It's the last good memory Carlos has, and he's going to hold onto it for as long as he has left. If he's going to die, then the last thing he wants to see is TK's smile.

day nine: now i am just but the wayward man for anon

Ben is glaring at him again.

Klaus is very familiar with this specific glare—it’s the one Ben breaks out when Klaus is being ‘stubborn’ and ‘stupid’ and ‘a fucking asshole junkie with no self-respect who only cares about the next high and, really, it’s a fucking miracle you haven’t gotten yourself killed yet, Klaus’.

He has to hand it to him. Ben really does have him down to a tee.

*

winter is approaching and klaus has nowhere to go. his siblings are his only option—meaning he effectively has no options.

day ten: i can't imagine my life without you for 📍 anon

It had come completely out of left field—one minute everything was fine, the next Carlos had turned to him with guarded eyes and a clenched jaw, and said six words that sent TK’s whole world crashing down.

“I think we need a break.”

*

nobody likes to be asked 'trouble in paradise?', particularly when the answer is yes.

day eleven: start again from the beginning for anon

Owen trusts his son. He’s watched TK fight his addiction and stay sober for the last six years, and he has faith that he can handle himself.

But when TK doesn’t show up for work the night after proposing to Alex, Owen knows that something is wrong. After all, they've been here before.

day twelve: let me love you when your heart is tired for anon

TK knows it’s going to be a bad day from the moment he opens his eyes. Slowly, slowly, each twitch like he’s moving mountains, he inches his hand blindly across the bed to reach out for Carlos. If he can just feel his boyfriend, if he can just see him—

But, of course. Carlos has a shift today. TK has a vague recollection of him getting out of bed at five this morning, rousing him with a shift to the mattress and a gentle kiss on the forehead.

If this were a normal day, he might smile at the memory.

day thirteen: couldn't utter my love when it counted for 📍 anon

TK takes his time in the bathroom, stopping to stare at his reflection in the mirror for several minutes and trying to talk himself down from any more-than-friendly feelings towards Carlos.

Later, they’ll tell him that this saved his life.

But that won’t be for a long time, until after the smoke has cleared and the dead have been counted and the statements have been taken. For now, TK steels his resolve and nods at himself, then turns to the door, a hand reaching out for the handle.

That’s when the explosion rips through the building.

*

after the boba date, tk lets carlos go. they're friends, which is working just fine, until a horrific accident threatens to take even that away from them.

day fourteen: if i walk out the door (a thousand eyes) for anon

TK gets this feeling sometimes, a sort of prickling at his back, like someone’s behind him, breathing down his neck. At first, it was only a once-in-a-while situation, so he thinks nothing of it; when it becomes an everyday occurrence, he starts to wonder, but he’s probably just being paranoid. The shooting, kidnapping, firehouse explosion, and the fire at his and Carlos’s house had all taken their toll, and TK’s just generally more on edge these days.

He doesn’t tell anyone about the feeling, not even Carlos. There’s no reason to fuck up everyone else’s peace with something so stupid. It’ll go away eventually; TK’s sure of it.

That is, until one of the lots just down from the firehouse gets occupied.

day fifteen: find you here inside the dark for @fanfic-corner

Yaz has walked this room too many times to count now; she’s traced her fingertips over the walls, searching for any cracks or crevices to indicate where there might be a door.

If the Doctor were here, she’d have her sonic out by now, spitting out words, only half of which Yaz could understand. She’d find a way out in no time. Or, if not, at least she’d be here. Talking a mile a minute, probably annoying the hell out of their captors. Yaz can almost hear her now—

Wait.

She can hear her now.

day sixteen: accidents happen for @ilovemosss

So, Jason reflects, it may not have been the best idea to take Pythagoras out training while they’re all suffering from a severe lack of sleep. Being the more logical of them, Pythagoras, to his credit, had attempted to talk him out of it, but Jason ignored him.

He very much regrets that decision now.

day seventeen: you and me (moving through this world as a two-man team) for @laelipoo

TK does not have a crush on the 126's latest hire.

Carlos Reyes: an Austin local, an incredible firefighter, and—objectively speaking—the most beautiful man TK has ever laid eyes on. Which is, in fact, the entire point; TK has eyes and, yes, he will use them to sneak a look or two when he’s suddenly sharing space with a man who looks like a Greek god.

That does not mean he has a crush, Paul.

(and, sure, maybe he does sometimes dream about how soft Carlos’s lips look and the little blush he gets when he laughs and those little flecks of gold in his eyes, but he’s only human)

(how TK knows about the gold in Carlos’s eyes is none of anybody’s business)

day eighteen: in perfect harmony for @anyotherheartwilldo

Here’s the thing—Carlos doesn’t believe in signs. He used to when he was younger, raised on his abuela’s stories, but as he’d gotten older his father had taught him that what mattered was the choices he made. He’s the only one who has a say in the way his life turns out, and if he wants something, he has to put in the work to get it.

But there comes a point—namely, after his fifth thwarted attempt to propose to TK—when he begins to wonder if the universe really does have something against him.

*

proposing to tk proves far more complicated than carlos had first thought.

day nineteen: whatever here that's left of me (is yours) for anon

“Are you…” TK leans closer, peering at the hoodie Carlos is wearing, and—yep. “Why are you wearing my hoodie? Was there nothing in your size from the crew? You should have said something. We can fix this, you don’t need to be uncomfortable.”

There’s a beat, and then Carlos, studiously avoiding TK’s gaze, clears his throat. “It smells like you.”

*

post-2.12, carlos finds comfort in tk's hoodies.

day twenty: can't smile without you for anon

Carlos would be lying to himself if the possibility hadn’t occurred to him before. He has always worried for TK’s safety, and the knowledge that a serial killer is on the loose in Austin has sent that worry skyrocketing. Especially because he’s the lead detective on the case; he’s spent hours poring over horrific crime scenes, examining all the facts until they’re burned into his brain.

Admittedly, the killers seem to be mostly indiscriminate in who they take, meaning the chances of it being TK are slim.

But there’s still a chance.

*

a before, during, and after of tk's kidnapping in a hole where your memory goes

day twenty-one: lately you've been searching for a darker place to hide for @freddieholic

“Can I ask you something else?”

TK stiffens at the sound of Mateo’s voice, a nervous note to it that wasn’t there last time. Something tells him he knows exactly what Mateo wants to ask; still, he turns to lean against the counter, crossing his arms as casually as he can manage. “Sure.”

“Are you…” Mateo trails off, biting his lip and avoiding TK’s gaze. “I mean, do you… I mean—”

“You can say it, you know,” he interrupts, not unkindly. “If you want to know if I’m thinking about heading out and getting high, then just ask.”

*

five times tk turns to unhealthy coping mechanisms when he wants to use + one time he finally asks for help

day twenty-two: know me crazy, soothe me daily for anon

It had freaked Carlos out the first time it happened.

“It was a seizure,” TK explained, after Carlos had finished telling him about it. TK had been disoriented and confused for about ten minutes after, and couldn’t even remember half of their earlier conversation. “I… It’s because of the drugs. They fucked something up in my brain, especially after my first overdose, and now I get seizures occasionally."

*

in which carlos gets a little over-protective and tk is mildly exasperated

day twenty-three: lover, be good to me for anon

Carlos holds his arms out, and TK comes willingly, setting what Carlos now recognises as a tray of food carefully on the bed. “What’s this?”

TK stares as if it’s obvious. “Date night.”

“What?”

TK pauses, then gasps. “You’re right.” He pats himself down frantically, then pulls an object out of his pocket with a dramatic flourish. It’s a little electric tea light—real candles long since banned from the bedroom—and Carlos watches in bemusement as TK flicks it on and sets it down on the tray. “Now it’s date night.”

*

his fiancé being bed-bound isn't going to keep tk from date night

day twenty-four: bring you in from the cold for anon

As a cop, Carlos has always been uncomfortably aware of his own mortality. He’s considered his own death more than is probably healthy, but when you’re facing down the barrel of a gun almost every single day, it’s kind of forced on you.

He’s imagined himself being shot, stabbed, strangled, and everything in between.

But he’s not sure he ever pictured dying in a walk-in freezer after getting trapped there by mistake.

day twenty-five: heaving through corrupted lungs for anon

TK is itching to go home and check on Carlos, to make sure he’s still breathing and actually resting like he’s supposed to be. On the other hand, Carlos would probably kill him if he left work, illness be damned. It’s just… Carlos had looked so ill that morning, skin ashen and voice all but gone, and it had taken a lot of convincing for TK to still go to his own shift. He’d insisted on making sure Carlos had all the blankets and water and snacks and anything else he could possibly want, but even so, he’s still uneasy.

His gut is telling him that something’s wrong, and TK doesn’t think he can ignore it for much longer.

*

when carlos falls ill, they think it's just a bad cold. but when tk goes to check on him, he's in for a nasty shock.

day twenty-six: slowly becoming lovers for @pragmaticoptimist34

Things don’t get fixed overnight. They agree to give them a shot, but that doesn’t change the fact that TK is still reeling from his break-up and overdose, nor that Carlos is still hesitant and afraid of pushing too hard at once.

But, slowly, they get to know each other. And, slowly, they start to fall in love.

*

tk and carlos, getting to know each other and falling in love

day twenty-seven: and curse the gods for @girlwhowasntthere

Jason knows what it is to be cursed.

day twenty-eight: ignoring every warning for @moviegeek03

TK is fine.

He is absolutely, 100% fine.

And, sure, maybe he’s not supposed to be at work right now, and maybe his hand hasn’t fully healed yet, but it’s nothing. His doctor cleared him to go back to work, which means it’s healed enough, and TK is certainly not going to admit defeat no matter how much he's hurting.

day twenty-nine: can you beat back the night? for @girlwhowasntthere

He misses the bard. Geralt won’t admit it, not even to Roach, but he misses him. After months—years—of Jaskier’s constant chatter and the sound of his lute, the silence, once valued above all else, is too much.

It’s been months since the dragon, since Geralt lost both Yennefer and Jaskier in one fell swoop. He’s cursed himself many times over for the words he said—to both of them—and cursed himself more for the mistakes he made to get in this position in the first place.

*

this is the lot of witchers, to be alone.

day thirty: ease my mind for @silvarafael

Briefly, Carlos considers calling TK and telling him about the accident. But… He only broke two of his fingers and it barely even classifies as a minor injury in his book, so there’s really no reason to bother his fiancé while he’s still on shift himself. He pockets his phone then looks around to figure out where the exit is.

Only, an all-too familiar laugh distracts him from his task, drawing his attention to the nurses station.

Where TK is standing, smiling as a nurse swats at him for stealing one of their lollipops.

Carlos is, beyond doubt, fucked.

day thirty-one: scars turn to memories for anon

Their front door is open. It’s wide open, and the wood of the door frame is broken, splinters littering the driveway and the floor of the front room. TK’s heart stops in his chest as he surveys the scene, his brain going blank, struggling to comprehend what he’s seeing.

Everything is quiet in the front room, not even a table setting out of place. TK creeps further into their home, his every nerve on edge as he barely breathes for fear of alerting whoever’s here of his presence.

And then, he remembers.

Carlos was off shift tonight. He was here. Alone.

[bokettochild]

Hi! I really like the fics you write, and for the requests I was thinking some Wild and Legend bonding? I’m a big angst fan, but fluff always makes me happy :)

Okay, so, this was partially inspired by this, but also this.

I'm not really sorry, this has been brewing since the last update and I finally wrote it. That and I broke my writers bloc and figured out how to write Legend again!

Suffer 🙂

Sunset Comforts

Twilight was dead.

That was the thought flashing through his mind as he called the younger heroes to order. The worry that stung in his heart as Hyrule and Four charged towards the enemy that had downed their friend with ease.

A gleaming axe had struck the wolf form of their brother mid spring, and the pained and breathless whimper of the canine mixing with the wet squelch of the blade pulling free echoed in his mind.

Legend’s stomach rolled, the need to turn to the side and be sick growing as the battle continued on around him.

He didn’t know how he took command, simply let his emotions fall to the back burner, pressing down the need to vomit along with memories of a dark sewer, a gleaming blade, a wizard's cackle and wet and wheezing breaths. He focused his gaze on the enemy and called out orders, forcing the hero’s spirit to take the reins while a young hero fell to the background, eyes wide and full of tears as sobs built up in a throat that words had not poured from in years.

Blades sang a death dirge as monsters had fallen; enemies laid low by the weapons of the heroes still standing. There were no words to the song as an eerie silence hung over the field, only the sounds of battle and the occasional cry filling air that felt thick and muddled as they fought. And when at last the final monster had fallen from Wild’s blade, and the shadow had long since faded back away from where it had come, leaving the heroes bloody and breathless, Time and Wild had sprung to the rancher’s side.

Legend stood to the side, hands gripping his blade, ignoring the blood that trailed over his clothes and skin, eyes wide as they’d watched Time firmly press Warriors’ scarf to the gaping wound in -the now hylian- Twilight’s chest.

White and red clashed beneath blackening green, and Legend’s stomach revolted again at the sight, one hand pressing to his lips as he’d been forced to turn away, the sight to much for him. Bloods stench was heavy on the air, death and destruction smelling of gaping wounds and foul flesh, and it made his stomach roll. There was no task he could complete as he stood to the side and allowed the others to fuss and heal, and the mere smell of the blood on his hands made him wince back nausea.

He was covered in the stuff, it coated his body and overwhelmed his senses, and as the other’s fussed over far more pressing matters than blood; a wound, gaping and black with shining bones exposed to the air and torn flesh and-

Legend keeled over, heaving and wheezing for breath as the contents of his stomach found a new home in the carcass of a slain bokoblin.

The camp that night was plagued by the eerie heaviness in the air that had lain over the battle-field.

Warriors leaned back against Sky’s side, hands shaking from having laid the final stitches, eyes bleary as the Skyloftian gently pressed a potion to the captain’s lips. Not far from the two, Hyrule’s glimmering hands worked over Twilight’s chest weakly, shoulders drooping and hands shaking until Four had gently pulled him away with his one good hand, the other wrapped and hung in a sling from his neck as he gently ushered the traveler towards his bed roll to sleep.

Time, to no one’s surprise, sat at Twilight’s side, the ranchers hand clasped tightly in his own as worry creased already heavy brows, a single eye dark in the fading light as a song, bitter and almost tearful rings through the air. There are no words, but Warriors’ voice, heavy and weary, joins in, and though Twilight’s body lies still and the rancher hasn’t opened his eyes, there’s a flicker of his lids as his breath evens slightly, the faintest of hums sounding wet and broken from blood-stained lips.

Legend turns his gaze away.

None of the others had seen his shameful reaction earlier, and as much as he wants to be of aid, he knows that the blood that coats the bandages wrapped around Twilight’s chest and spatters over his clothing will only made him ill again, which will be in no ways helpful.

Violet eyes drift over leaves and stone before coming to rest on the form of the Champion, curled around himself at the furthest edges of the camp, fingers digging into his arms as his eyes remain fixed on his mentor. The vet blinks in surprise as his gaze trails from Twilight’s broken form to the huddled form of the man’s protégé, hiding on the edges of the camp and making no moves to approach him.

Does Wild have trouble with the blood too?

A closer look reveals that the champion’s face is red, eyes puffy and tear tracks rolling down his face, but the gaze on the champion’s face is hard, and Legend finds himself shaking off shivers from the intensity of cornflower hues as they stare across the camp, resolute and dark.

He’s useless to the healers, and the sight of Twilight’s blood streaked across all the surfaces around camp, red and wet and warm and full of life that should be staying inside him and not bleeding out because he needs to live, he needs to live, he needs to stay alive! Link can’t live without him he can’t it’s just not possible please-

The vet forces himself to breathe, shaking his head and blinking back his own tears as he moved towards his fallen friend’s protégé. He can’t offer any help to the others, but at the very least he can knock Wild out of his own head.

Twilight would want that.

As feet pick across the camp, bare because he can’t stand the ooze that coats his boots, he wonders when he began to wonder what the rancher would want or do.

Wild’s fingers are digging into his arms, blood springing up beneath his nails as they grip tighter, and Legend has to fight the urge to flinch away at the sight. It’s shameful, his aversion. He’s a hero and he’s killed more enemies than he’s seen seasons. Yet, he still flinches back at pooling red, and the droplets that roll down the champion’s arms to drip onto the ground are enough to make his stomach lurch again.

“Quit it.” He scolds, positioning himself in the way of the kid’s line of sight, blocking off the sight of the rancher as cornflower blue flicks up towards him.

His stomach rolls again at the ethereal glare that’s cast his way, eyes too old and a soul too shattered for the young body they’re set in. Still, he’s fought a corrupted goddess, he can meet the gaze of the champion, but it’s hard, and he hates it, but he forces himself regardless. Violet and blue clash, trails of gold set in each as both boys glare at each other, both disapproving in their own way before Legend shakes his head, reaches down and pulls the champion’s hands free of his arms. “None of that now. You don’t need more scars, kid.”

Wild’s eyes blink slowly, but there’s no recognition in them, and Legend finds panic flooding through hm as he realizes that Wild may or may not even be fully aware at the moment.

Great Seven, what would Twilight do?

Wild is stiff as a board and silent as death itself as Legend kneels before him, the kid’s gaze unmoving as he glares over Legend’s head, right between his ears, to where Twilight lays in his mentor’s hold. Pain leeches into the silent cold of ethereal blue, and something inside the vet shatters, his chest burning lightly at the pain and hopelessness that crosses over the kids face for a brief second before it returns to stony coldness.

Ah.

“It’s not your fault.” He breathes, crossing his legs underneath himself as he gazes up at eyes that won’t meet his own. “Wild! You can’t blame yourself; you hear me?” His own gaze hardens as he focused on the kid. “Twilight chose to chase the Shadow. It was his choice-” Glowing blue turns to him with a ferocity that nearly steals his breath, but Legend presses forwards, golden tinging at his own irises as his voice rumbles low and firm, blessedly free of its usual squeaks and breaks. “Twilight chose to fight. I’m not saying this is his fault, but it isn’t yours either.”

The champion’s gaze is stony and silent.

“You had no way of stopping this.” Legend repeats, hand clasping the kid’s arms just below the shoulders and gaze heavy as it meets the flickering blue before him. “You were on the other side of the battlefield, your arrows would have only made things worse and you had no way, on Din’s green earth, to reach him before the shadow struck.”

Wild’s eyes flicker up to Twilight’s broken form again, but the vet catches the kids face in his hands, eyes firm and glimmering slightly in faded light of the sunset. “Do you understand?”

“I failed.” The kid croaks out, broken and stiff and every word labored as if it is a weight that holds down the kid’s tongue. Each weight falls hard and heavy on Legend’s shoulders, pain dancing through his chest at the broken soul that cracks through the stone gaze. “I couldn’t save him.”

“No one could.” Legend presses, voice catching in his throat.

“I should have.”

The words are simple, but they bear a weight that nearly fells the veteran hero right then and there, and he watches in horror as tears pool behind Wild’s eyes as they turn to gaze at the dirt at his feet.

“I’m supposed to be the Hylia forsaken Hero.” The kid curses softly. “And I can’t even save my best friend.”

“You can’t save everyone.” He murmurs in reply, his own gaze struggling to stay on the kid before him and to not follow it to the ground.

Red hair and a bubbling laugh ring in his memory alongside a booming laugh that is weakened by blood that trails from an open wound, hidden in the sewers below the castle. Hands that held his own, laughter that rang with his and voices that carried joy and wonder on tehri lips as they filled his heart and breathed life into his soul.

Both of them are gone. He couldn’t save them. He’ll never have another chance to try.

“But Twilight is still alive. He’s still breathing and...” A wet laugh stutters up in his chest, broken and wrong, but impossible to hold back. “He’s still trying to sing on key.”

Wild’s eyes freeze the breath in his throat, hard and shattered and angry as they bore into him. “Twilight is still alive because Warriors and Time saved him.” The kid hisses. “He’s alive because everyone else banded together and staved off the monsters. He’s alive because you all are heroes enough, that while I was pulling my sorry ass off the top of a wall, you were all down there protecting him!”

The kid’s voice rises and those behind them turn to stare, but Legend isn’t cowed. He’s heard many a worse speech from his own shattered soul ringing in his mind again and again over the years. The kid’s broken voice and aching soul aren’t enough to bring him to tears and reassurance.

Twilight might treat the kid with care and grace that one would a wounded child, which Wild needs. But the kid also needs the sense slapped into him, and Legend’s very good at that.

“You all protect everyone!” Tears spill down the kid’s cheeks as he glares at Legend. “All I ever can do is sit by while everyone else struggles, and I can’t even offer help!”

“Wild-”

“My whole world died while I was sleeping!” Wild’s voice breaks, blue eyes sparking with lights that aren’t natural or Hylian.

“And I killed mine!” Legend shoots back, gaze and voice both dark as he meets the kid’s stare. “You’re not the only one of us to have ever failed!”

The champion blinks at him in shock, and Legend takes the moment to catch his breath, eyes blinking open again to meet the kid’s. “I destroyed a whole world. People, places, families and homes. Just blotted them out of existence.” His voice is firm but tears prick at his eyes as he glares down the taller hero. “You aren’t the only one who messed up.

“What matters though, is that when you were given a second chance, you took it. You stood to your feet, after being killed in battle you came back. And you walked right up to Ganon and drop-kicked his ass back into whatever hell it came from.” Violet and gold swirl in the vet’s gaze as it bores into Wild’s, the kid’s expression fading just left of wonder as he stares back. “You are still living your second chance. You are going to make new mistakes. You are going to get hurt. Other people are going to get hurt. What matters is that you don’t spend all your time crying over what you aren’t, and instead use it to become what you can be.”

The vet’s gaze softens. “You’re a good kid, Wild. And a great hero. Don’t ruin that by worrying about the past. You don’t live there, so you don’t belong there. Get your ass in gear and start worrying about the now.”

Wild opens his mouth to protest but is cut off by Legend. “And I don’t mean fussing about a battle that’s already lost. I mean by getting over there and hugging the stuffing out of your grand-mentor or whatever the shit Time is to you, because the guy is on the verge of tears and none of the rest of us can help.” The vet cracks a weak and strained smile. “Twilight’s strong. He’ll pull through. Don’t make me have to explain that you’re depressed because you can’t accept what he sees in you.”

He’s not fast enough to pull away before Wild’s arms are wrapping around him in a tearful hug, sniffles and sobs escaping the kid as he whispers thanks into Legend’s blood matted hair, and Legend can’t even bring himself to pull away. Instead, he gently rubs the kids back, grumbling back fondly until Wild pulls away, rubbing at his eyes and nose he offers Legend a wobbly smile, before standing and making his way back into the center of the camp.

Time’s face when Wild comes over and wraps his arms around the man is priceless, the tune on his lips fading out as the man folds Wild into his arms with a quiet sob, and Legend fights back a twitch of his lips as the two hold tight to each other.

Night falls as the others fade off into sleep.

Legend had finally pulled himself back into the camp once the lights had dimmed enough that the blood across their faces and clothes could be mistaken for dirt and shadow, and while the others cling to each other in their sleep, his eyes are fixed on the rancher.

Twilight’s breaths are sharp and strained, chest stuttering and stopping agonizingly often as the night continues on. Each time it stutters, Legend has to hold his hand above the rancher’s mouth and nose, waiting for warm air to caress his palm. Each time it comes late, panic blossoms inside of him, and Legend has to hold his own breath as he waits for it to eventually puff out again.

Time sleeps not far off, Wild’s curled in his arms where the two had dozed off after their nerve-wracking evening, and Sky is settled not far from them, Hyrule pressed to one side and Wind to the other, and Four lying across the lot of them while they sleep.

Warriors sits at the edge of the camp, hands working over the blades of his brothers, cleaning away blood and dirt and sweat with practiced movements as his gaze flickers from the forest to the fallen hero, concern in the royal blue gaze as it turns every so often to Legend.

He knows the captain wants to tell him to sleep, wants to tell him to rest, but seeing as the man himself doesn’t seem able to do it either, neither presses the other to sleep. Grim understanding flashes across the camp when their eyes chance to meet, and Warrior’s turns his attention back to Legend’s sword where it lays across his lap, hands working over it while its owner sits beside Twilight.

He doesn’t know when he’s taken Twilight’s hand in his own. Doesn’t know when his fingers start trailing over worn scars and calluses, taking comfort in the warmth that they find there as he holds it close to his chest, breaths deep and stuttering as his eyes flicker over Twilight’s pale face.

“You better be okay.” He whispers, voice breaking slightly as tear prick at his eyes. “I told the kid you will be, but it you make that a lie I’ll-” A sob breaks the silence, one that Warrior’s politely ignores as Legend drops his gaze, clinging to the still hand. “You’ve got to make it through this, Twi. Please! Please!”

Scarred and calloused fingers twitch softly, clasping Legend’s own weakly as another sob shatters the silence.

[jaskiersvalley]

Weight of Feelings

Witchers had no emotions, that was a common fact in a world where everyone sagged under the weight of their feelings. Spines curved under the pressure of emotions, the more someone felt the harder they crumpled. Positive emotions helped ease the pressure but, given the state of the Continent, nobody could hide their misery. In a world of curved spines only Witchers walked fully upright, void of all emotions, untainted by the weight of feelings. The straightness of their spines was a privilege that set them apart, made them hated. Thankfully they were unable to feel anything in the face of hatred that was thrown in their direction, even being spat on and abused didn't curve their backs.

Jaskier was one of the fortunate, he had a small hump on his back but, by and large, he was unaffected by his emotions, happy and sheltered enough to be one of the less afflicted. He trailed after Geralt, feeling his victories and success for him, buoyed by his glory. All through it Geralt never changed. Even when they were chased from a village without pay, his back remained ramrod straight while Jaskier's hunched a little.

"Why don't I come with you for the winter?" Jaskier asked and Geralt stared flatly at him. It wasn't an outright refusal but silence wasn't explicit agreement. Undeterred, Jaskier pressed on. "I want to see the might of Kaer Morhen so I can better write about you. Give me the source of my inspirations."

"You'll be bored."

"Not when you're around. And your family. I bet they have some great stories."

"We're not some spectacle." If Jaskier hadn't known better, he would have accused Geralt of feeling annoyed. But his shoulders didn't come forward with the new weight of frustration so Jaskier would have been wrong.

He wheedled and pestered until Geralt grunted. When he turned to head to Kaer Morhen for winter, he didn't chase Jaskier away.

"We won't do anything different just because you are there," Geralt warned as they headed up the path. As odd as it sounded, Jaskier didn't expect them to be any different. He'd travelled with Geralt for years, knew what to expect. He wasn't going to be intimidated by Witchers and their perfect posture.

The first sign of something not being right was when they arrived and a stooped old man leaning heavily on two canes greeted them.

"Vesemir," Geralt said giving the man a squeeze to the shoulder. "Are the others back yet?"

"Eskel's a day behind you, Lambert three."

Merrily standing in front of Vesemir, Jaskier introduced himself. Maybe the old Witcher had suffered an injury while fighting and that was why he was so stooped. There had been a fair few fights Geralt had come out of that left Jaskier marvelling about his ability to heal.

"I will wait for Eskel," Geralt declared which made no sense.

Jaskier was given his own room and he made good use of it. Over the years he had come to terms with the fact Geralt couldn't feel, would never look at Jaskier with love, affection or anything of the like. It didn't stop him fantasising about running hands down a perfectly straight back, adoring the strong lines of it. Jaskier had enough love to give, he didn't need Geralt to return it.

Just as Vesemir predicted, Eskel arrived the next day, just as perfect as Geralt despite the scars. He looked to Geralt, eyes flashing wider but Jaskier assumed it was a learnt motion to try and seem more human. The small shake of head from Geralt suggested that they were doing some kind of strange Witcher communication and Jaskier shrugged. He didn't need to understand everything.

That night Jaskier was in his room, getting ready for bed when he heard voices from Geralt's room next door. The words were muffled and he had to press against the wall to hear better, curiosity winning out over respect of privacy.

"I'll do you first, I had a shit year."

Which was an interesting thing to hear, Jaskier didn't think Witchers had shit years, at least not in the traditional sense. Thinking about that, Jaskier almost missed Geralt's reply, "Since Jaskier I've had it better. Not that he knows."

"Well, Wolf, he's about to find out the truth."

There was a lit of rustling that Jaskier could barely hear before an audible gasp of pain was accompanied by a rattle of something being dropped.

"Breathe through it."

Cheeks heating, Jaskier didn't want to imagine what the two were doing. But if he was correct then he was going to have to give a very subtle talk about the many merits of lubricants and polite practices.

"Your turn," Geralt rumbled, voice strained.

Jaskier jumped away from the wall at the pained cry from Eskel and the sound of a body hitting the floor. Without thought he was rushing round, barely having the moment to grab the bottle of lube from the floor next to the bed. Brandishing it, he knocked and opened the door without thought.

"Oh." He was frozen in the doorway, jaw lax with shock. Eskel was on the floor, spine horrifically curved while Geralt was hunched as he stood over him. They were both shirtless, two similar corset-like contraptions on the floor next to them.

Familiar eyes stared at him and Jaskier knew that all the sadness and anger he had imagined over the years hadn't been made up after all. Geralt's back curved even more the longer Jaskier stared, forcing him to crane his neck to keep looking at him.

"The fuck?" Jaskier managed to grit out, lube all but forgotten in his hand. "What's going on?"

The short answer was that Witchers weren't as emotionless as everyone believed them to be. Instead, they had perfected the art of corsets that kept them straight for most of the year. In the winter, they could finally shed the contraptions and spent the months trying their best to uncurl enough that, come spring, they could cram themselves back into their corsets for another year on the Path.

Two days later Lambert arrived. He took one look at Jaskier and snarled a vicious "no" even as Geralt and Vesemir greeted him. Eskel was still in bed, unable to get up just yet, his spine too twisted to walk even with the support of a frame or crutches.

"It's okay," Vesemir tried to reassure but Lambert wasn't having any of it.

He stepped back, shaking his head. "I will not humiliate myself in front of a human."

"You can't spend all winter in your corset."

No matter how much they argued, Lambert refused, staying far from the others to make sure nobody could surprise him and take the frame holding him upright from him.

At least Jaskier didn't mind. He was far too busy trying to prove to Geralt that he didn't care for such a heavily curved spine. His lot in life was shit, the emotions he carried weighed a lot. Slowly, under his gentle care, Geralt's spine began to straighten. Jaskier was allowed in Eskel's room too, his songs and chatter helping him.

Lambert lasted two weeks before he sought Geralt out, glaring and Jaskier. With Geralt dragged away, Jaskier spent the night alone. But the next morning Lambert was at the table, as twisted as the rest of his family, eyes haunted.

Jaskier liked to think he helped the others with his presence. He kisser the twists of Geralt's spine, whispering soft sweetness in his ears, revelling in the way weight lifted off tired bones under his touch. Come spring, Jaskier bore witness to the agonising task of the Witchers wrestling themselves back into their corsets.

"After Deidre I had to sew extra supports into Eskel's one," Geralt had whispered one night. "You can still see the scars from where the bones snapped as he dropped, piercing his stomach and lungs."

Each Witcher needed the help of the three others to get into their garb. There were curses, yelps and lips bitten raw but once again there were three upright Witchers ready to head out on the Path. Emotionless, backs perfectly straight and faces void of anything other than blankness.

Returning to the world, Jaskier didn't say anything. He still kissed Geralt when he could, standing on his tiptoes to reach familiar warm lips. They made their way up another mountain, hoping to beat the others to the dragon. It all went so horribly tits up, Jaskier didn't even know what had happened. One minute he was trying to entice Geralt to a break on the coast, a little time to themselves. The next Geralt was hurling rage filled words at him, crushing his hopes. Somehow the worst was when Geralt turned away. Something pressed harshly on Jaskier's back, his shoulders hunched and he staggered under the weight as his spine twisted. It hurt, he cried out but Geralt didn't turn around.

Alone, twisted and in agony, Jaskier had no other option. He crawled down the mountain.

[meenah-chan]

Safe haven

a Diavolo x GN! MC fanfic

2.36k words

Genre: Angst

Trigger warning: Insane deadly stunt but not suicide, please don't read if you have this triggers. And please don't try this at home... or anywhere

Part 2 (Safe Haven ~Another Story~) | Part 3 (Safe Haven ~Epilogue~)

Masterlist

It is their sanctuary. A place that has everything they could wish for...

if only, fate isn't fickle...

"If I jump, will you save me again?"

"What a wretched soul I have..."

It’s been an hour since they were staring far in the horizon. Dusk is on its way, with the lake gulping the sun whole to bring forth darkness in the grassy land they’re on. That place is secluded, surrounded with trees serving as its walls. As if it were cradling them away from everything.

It's not their first-time watching day turn to night on where they are. They’ve known that spot enough to vividly paint the place on a whim.

It was neither a simple place as it seems. That place is a part of the human realm, untouched by anyone but two persons— them and Diavolo. A place which witnessed how the said Prince dropped on his knees and confessed he likes them. The place they admit they felt the same.

The place where they held hands in their secret rendezvous; times where the Future king would go to whenever he ran away from his endless responsibilities for a day and spend it with them, with words of affections and adorations for each other. It is their safe haven.

The Forget-me-not flowers they planted are blooming around them. As the two sat beneath the shade of the tree, appreciating the presence of the flowers and each other.

Diavolo has a habit of caressing their cheeks, brushing strands of their locks past their ears, as he embraces them as if they were the most precious treasure, he has ever held. Those smiles he would beam; brighter than the sol they always see. "You're the most beautiful being I have ever seen." And they would smile back, with their feelings overflowing so much they would always pour it back to him with a kiss.

But being always in that place doesn't mean they never left it. There are times they would give him a heart attack by literally jumping off the edge of the cliff. The demon prince then would follow them in a snap, before transforming right before their eyes and seizing them.

They knew it was a foolish thing to do. No sane person would ever carry out such dumb, dangerous stunt. They do have a magic or two under their sleeves should Diavolo fail the task. Spells they would feverishly study and tirelessly practice for the sake of the success of the Exchange Student program; for the sake of making Diavolo proud of them. So, they studied hard, yet fools only around their beloved.

So, they kept on flying off to the danger at every given chance. For the feeling during the times they would fall, they had the best view they could ever see in their lifetime. How the demon they ever loved could be so... breathtaking. Turning into his demon form—metamorphosing like a dazzling butterfly, his red locks fluttering in the wind, with such golden ornaments, such golden eyes reflecting the radiance of the sun. And most of all, such playful, thrilled smiles they would willingly lay their life just to see. He seems like the mesmerizing golden red dusk. He may be a demon, but Diavolo is much more divine than the angels in their eyes.

And to think that such an ambrosial prince would hold them in his firm arms, and bury them in his well-toned chest before gliding up in the air. They really love the feeling. Akin to the flowers they cultivate symbolizes, he is their true love.

"Should we land back on the top of the land?"

"Just a little bit longer." Humming, they would place a peck onto the tip of his horn or temple whenever they would request something so badly, which then would receive a chuckle from the Demon. "Hahaha, what a pampered human... Alright, just a little bit longer." And who knows how long they stay in the air. Then they would share small talks back on the cliff, and soon be bombarded with tons of messages and missed calls from the butler and the right-hand man. They would head back home after that, before the said aides decide to search for them and find their secret haven.

It was all they could ever wish for. An everlasting love to carry inside their mortal heart.

They have everything they could ask for, until that day comes. A moonless, rainy night during the celebration of Diavolo's birth.

"I'm glad to finally meet you, the Future King of Devildom." …the day she came. Rosa, a rather respected princess, and the daughter of Queen Rose.

"...N-No, the pleasure is mine." Whether he was flustered by her sudden appearance or not, something was rather amiss. His gaze towards her was different than anything they've ever seen him make. So different yet... familiar. Like the way his eyes sparked of reverie the day they first met, except it was more profound.

Diavolo sighed, "I'm telling you, you don't have to worry. You know you're the one I love." It was nothing, he said. It was only in their imagination, he said. Even so, the connection between the two they perceived every time the two met on business, felt so real.

They were so anxious, so angry they wanted to explode. They want to blame it all on that demon princess who appeared out of nowhere, and brought everything to a big mess! They wanted to lash at her, right from the deepest pit of their stomach!

...Yet, they didn't.

They simply can't. Not when she was like an angel who descended in the land of darkness.

So pure yet so wise, so diligent and well-versed. She is strong-willed and rather capable in every aspect. She doesn't deserve to be blamed for something she didn't mean to do. It was merely a work of two hearts naturally falling for each other. It was inevitable.

Instead of brooding without doing anything, they will fight. They will fight for what's theirs. For what's right. For the specks of affection left inside Diavolo. For their love, they won't give up.

Or so they thought...

"Y/N, would you mind having tea with me later?" Barbatos asked for their attendance.

But unlike the usual afternoon tea they always share with the butler, "Where's Diavolo?" ... the prince is not around.

"The Young master has prior engagement and brought Lucifer in my stead. My apologies if it was not to your liking."

"Ahh, no. I didn't mean it like that. It's just that... having snacks with only you are unusual." It's not unusual. Rather, it never occurred even once. Diavolo tends to postpone the teatime for another time whenever he can't go, as Barbatos always join his absence.

"Actually, I asked you today about an important matter to discuss."

"...Is it related to Diavolo and me, isn't it?" They shouldn't have asked him. They hated themself for asking Diavolo's attendant.

"Yes. To be precise, it is about your relationship and the lady you met during Young master's birthday. I believe you have the right to know this." They held their breath. "I hate to break it to you but the lady you met back then, is the Young Master's... fiancée and his soulmate." The words that came off Barbatos' lips felt like cold water dumped on them.

They just want to end the conversation right there and leave the garden as fast as they can, but they forcefully pull themself together and learn the whole truth, as painful as it is for them. "...Fiancee, you said? And what do you mean by soulmate?"

"For every heir of the throne, there is a prophecy foretelling the righteous betrothed one fated for them. This Oracle has never once failed in predicting who..." Barbatos paused, evaluating whether they could take any more. "...would help the Ruler in bringing prosperity in the Devildom."

After a minute of silence, they spoke. "Does Diavolo know all about this? About her?"

"Yes... but I swear in my name, he has always wanted to be free of the prophecy and achieve prosperity through his own power."

"Where is he headed to at the moment?"

"..." Barbatos' silence tells them everything. He is with her. That's all that they needed to know.

"I... see... Thank you for telling me this."

"I— no, I don't deserve such words from you." They shook their head, "You still disclosed this even when Diavolo wanted to keep it a secret from me. I'm sorry I brought trouble to you."

"It was my own choice. I'm just doing what I think is right."

"Thank you, really..."

They left the castle, thinking a lot of things but also finally enlightened.

They never had Diavolo's heart from the start.

He is the future of the Devildom, the future of all the demons who could easily outlive them. And for that he needs an Empress who can fully support him and bear another long-lived heir. His soulmate, his forever, his other half. Everything that they could never be.

Their life is short. His' is not. He could never fathom the extent of his life like they could. That is also the reason why they could love him until the day they cease to exist, a mere blink to him.

As obvious as the glaring sun that blinds them atop that cliff, his love... is gone.

They could see it in his eyes. Every day he spends with them, his mind is somewhere else.

Even in their favorite place, his embraces were still as cold as the mountain's peak. His smile is too forced, like a one man playing before their eyes. His kisses were prickling and painful. And his gaze... He is suffering.

Like they were.

"Forgive me." It was for the Devildom, he said. His head hangs low, wearing that distressed expression.

"Hey, lift your head? The future king shouldn't bow to anyone." They smiled, cupping his cheeks to raise his face.

"Look, I understand." It was a surprise they didn't shed a drop of tear, as they pat his head gently. "Follow your heart. You'll become a great king."

He made a wise decision, to choose his bond that suddenly came that day. Someone who really owns Diavolo's heart per destiny's decree. The heart they thought he offered back then, with the trees, and the cool breeze, and the swaying leaves, and the sunset as their witnesses. The heart they thought were already theirs. The heart that slipped from their fingers as he let go of their hand when Diavolo locked eyes with his fated one.

Diavolo's love is fleeting. Or maybe it was never love from the start, but a mere curiosity on his end. A misconception, but it doesn't matter anymore. They already knew the answer.

He already achieved his true love, holding his Empress in white. He wears that smile, much, much brighter than anything they have ever seen.

The bells sing with the crowd in jubilation. It is a merry occasion, with the official new rulers of the Devildom. All were so elated.

Except for one. "What a wretched soul I have..." they uttered under their breath. They couldn't take the sight. With the man they so love to be happy in someone's arms. Rage was boiling inside them. Staying there for a second longer and they would definitely ravage everything. So, they fled the scene, escaping to their secret place surrounded by the lake and the sea of trees.

They wanted to let it all out. Pain, sorrow, rage, envy. They were overflowing with emotion more than they could take. It should be them, placing a ring on his finger! the one smiling and crying of happiness as he makes a vow! The one who should be kissing him in front of thousands of witnesses!

"WHY?! What did I do to deserve this?!" The swaying blue and white Forget-me-nots they took with utmost care came to view. "What useless plants!!" They cried out, yanking and tearing everything off the soil. "True love?! It was only me from the very start!!"

All they could do was cry. Scream until their throat goes dry, until their voice disappears.

When all energy left their body, they slumped in the grassy land they’re on. In that secluded place, surrounded with trees serving as its walls. As if it were cradling them away from everything. Hiding their wretched self from everyone.

Dazed, they stared at the sky for an hour. As its hue turns from light blue to red, their mind gets clearer. That's when they heard a familiar sound. They followed it on the tip of the cliff.

It was the roaring waves beneath the land mass. It seems like it's continuing the cries they couldn't do anymore. Roaring like it was spilling the emotions inside them.

"If I jump, will you save me again?" They spoke to the man who is no longer in that secret place. It will never be a safe haven for them anymore.

"I want to be saved by you one more time." I want to be embraced by you one last time.

They faced their back to the rim of the cliff, and took a step backward. A foot standing on a void. And so, their body tipped, losing the other foot from the ground. As their balance disappears, they see nothing but the golden rays of the sunset and the redness of the dusk. So red like Diavolo's locks, golden like his eyes. There's nothing but only traces of him; of the man who doesn't really love them as he promised.

This is foolish... They thought. They're all alone. No Diavolo will fly down and save them anymore.

"I should go home..." Dying here would only hurt him... They whispered as the firm breeze swirls beneath, ready to catch them. After all, no one will save me but I... thinking of that, another pang spiked their heart.

But the wind spell they casted couldn't catch them. When they should have been falling, a hand appeared and pulled them in an embrace.

"Please don't do this..." it was not the warmth they were expecting. Yet, streams began flowing down their cheeks, in comfort of another’s arms. With their hoarse voice they sob the sorrow of losing their safe haven.

Part 2 (Safe Haven ~Another Story~) | Part 3 (Safe Haven ~Epilogue~)

Masterlist

[doeeyeseddie]

coda/missing scene to 4x05 because i, once again, had too many feelings. read on ao3

Eddie Diaz is good at compartmentalizing. He’s great at it, at putting his emotions in a box and locking it to focus on the task at hand. Needs to be good at it to be able to do his job, be it in the army or now, as a firefighter. He doesn’t get to panic when one of his coworkers is in danger.

He still nearly loses it when he and Bobby hear that Buck’s still in the factory.

It’s not a surprise, not really - of course Buck disobeyed a direct order to make sure every last person gets out alive, and of course he doesn’t think about himself. It’s one of the things Eddie loves him for. But the sheer terror of hearing Buck explain over the radio that there’s no way out almost overrides his training. Almost.

For a second, he’s ready to run right back in, on his own if he has to, to find Buck and get him out, somehow, he has to-

Then Buck is on the radio, alive, still okay, and the incident commander tells him that a rescue team is coming in to find them, and Eddie forces himself to stay calm and focused, to be of help where he can be the most useful. And then the factory blows behind them.

Chimney, Hen, Cap, him, they all spin around in shock and Eddie can just stare at the balls of fire and the smoke billowing, feeling paralyzed. The rational part of his brain is already clocking that it wasn’t the whole factory, probably just one of the tanks full of flammable gas, and probably not anywhere near where Buck is, even though he didn’t seem sure about where that was over the radio. His heart, hammering against his ribs, takes a little longer to catch up and Eddie has to press his shaking hands against his thighs for a second.

He’s got himself under control by the time they’re being sent in.

Outside of the factory, he can’t bring himself to look at Buck for too long. He’s over by an ambulance with Bobby, having been checked over quickly, and the look on his face is something Eddie doesn’t quite know how to deal with. But he’s got Bobby there, and Hen, so Eddie has to trust he’ll be fine.

He and Chim checked the victim over, giving him oxygen and getting him ready to be transported to the hospital. He’ll probably be fine in a few weeks, the smoke inhalation shouldn’t have caused lasting damage, and his leg is clearly broken but not crushed. Buck saved his life.

“Tell your friend,” Saleh says on a cough, gripping Eddie’s arm after they’ve moved him onto the ambulance, “thank you. Thank you.”

“I’ll tell him,” Eddie promises, fixing the oxygen mask over his face again. “Breathe.”

They ride in the back of the ambulance mostly in silence, checking Saleh’s vitals and focusing all of their energy on him.

It’s only on the way back to the station that Chimney says, “So that was a bit too close for comfort, huh?”

Eddie lets out a humourless laugh. “You could say that.”

“You think he should’ve been working today?”

“I think,” Eddie says slowly, “that he needed to not be alone with his thoughts today. And I don’t think he could’ve done his job any better today.”

“Yeah, no, he did everything right,” Chimney says hurriedly, “that’s not what I meant. I just...worry about him.”

Eddie looks at his drawn eyebrows and hunched shoulders and thinks about the way Chimney has been acting around Buck for the past few days, like he’s walking on eggshells, careful but ready to jump to his defence at any time, and knows he’s being honest. “Yeah, me too.”

The way Buck called himself spare parts, defective parts this morning is still echoing in his head. He didn’t know what to say or do to make Buck feel better, still doesn’t. Whenever he’s tried to talk about any of it for the past few days, Buck has been quick about brushing him off, with humor or sometimes anger, though that was always directed at his parents and never at Eddie.

He gets it, is the thing, knows all too well what it’s like to keep things to himself, to not want to talk to anyone about them. He just didn’t know what it’s like on the other side of things. All he wants is for Buck to know that none of this is on him, that his parents are the one who fucked up and didn’t do their job. A job that should be the easiest in the world. Eddie knows how easy it is to love your child unconditionally. He also knows how easy it is to love Buck.

One day soon, he’s gonna find a way to prove to Buck how loved he is. If that means coming clean to him about his feelings, then so be it - he’s been thinking about it for so long now that he’s pretty sure Buck wouldn’t ever leave him and Chris, even if he can’t reciprocate Eddie’s feelings. Buck deserves to hear that someone loves him for him.

Back at the station, Eddie showers and changes into a clean uniform, and when he’s walking up the stairs, Buck’s parents are there. He knows it’s them immediately and catches Hen’s eyes across the room, her eyebrows raised.

“Is Buck back yet?” he asks her, voice low as he sits down on the couch next to her.

She shakes her head. “Bobby went to the hospital with him, just to make sure he’s really fine. I don’t think he knows they’re here.”

Eddie looks over at them, and has to press his hands to his thighs again at the sudden rush of hatred that he feels for these people. He doesn’t want to imagine what it must feel like to lose a child, but it gives them no excuse to treat their living, breathing children the way they did. The way Buck has been acting these past few days is their fault, it’s their fault he’s been feeling like he wasn’t enough his whole life, and Eddie hates them for it.

“Has anyone talked to them?”

“Chim did, when they came in,” Hen says, “and I kind of wanna give them a piece of my mind. You look like you do, too.”

Eddie gives her a wry smile. “That obvious?”

Hen scrunches her nose and gives him a kind smile. “Yeah. I can’t imagine ever treating my children like that. And I think they should know what they’re missing out on with Buck.”

Eddie couldn’t agree more, and before he knows it, he’s pushing himself up from the couch and walking over to them.

They both look up with matching expressions of polite confusion, and Eddie grits his teeth and sits down without asking.

“Mr and Mrs Buckley?” he asks. “I’m Eddie Diaz, I work with your son.”

“Do you know where he is?” Mrs Buckley asks. “Howard said he didn’t know.”

Depending on when Chimney talked to them, that’s probably even true, but Eddie wouldn’t hold it against him if he was just trying to get away from his parents-in-law as quickly as possible. “He’s at the hospital.”

“Oh, what did he do now?” Mr Buckley’s voice sounds long-suffering, as if his son being in the hospital is a nuisance more than anything else.

“His job,” Eddie bites out. “He did his job and saved someone’s life tonight. Do you even know the kind of man your son is? He goes above and beyond for everyone. He risks his life to save others - did you know he saved dozens of people during the tsunami, including my son, while he wasn’t even a firefighter? Of course you didn’t. He shows up for his friends time and time again and he puts everyone else before himself. He’s a good man, a great man, something he certainly didn’t learn from you-”

There’s a hand on his shoulder and he cuts off, the sudden silence making him aware of how loud his voice has gotten, and he looks up at Hen, almost expecting her to tell him to shut up, but she’s looking at Buck’s parents with narrowed eyes.

“With all due respect,” she says, and Eddie has never heard her voice like this, this hard and cold, “but Buck deserves better than what he got from you. He’s not just a valued member of this station, he’s family. I’m happy to tell you some stories about him, if you’re interested in hearing them, because I agree with Eddie that you should at least know what kind of person he has become in spite of you.”

Mr and Mrs Buckley look almost chastised, speechless, and Hen drops into the chair next to Eddie. His hands are shaking again and Eddie doesn’t think he can sit here with them any longer, certainly doesn’t have any nice things to say to them, so he decides to let Hen handle it from here on. She’s clearly got it under control.

Wordlessly, he stands up and goes downstairs to wait for Buck instead.

When Bobby parks the car, Eddie spreads his arms expectantly, relief flooding his veins when he announces that Buck got a clean bill of health from the doctor.

“Glad to hear it,” he says, but can’t help giving Buck a once-over just to make sure for himself. He’s also showered and wearing a clean uniform, looking miles better than earlier, but there’s still that sadness around his eyes and mouth that Eddie hates.

“Show off,” he teases him as Bobby rushes off, and Buck smiles at him.

“I had to do it.”

All Eddie wants is to go up to him and pull him into his arms to keep him safe from the world, but this is neither the time or the place. Instead, he just puts as much of that feeling as he can in his smile and tells Buck, “I know you did.” Then, a little reluctantly, he nods his head towards the stairs. “You’ve got some visitors.”

Buck leaves with one last look, a frown on his face, and Eddie watches him go. No matter how this conversation is going to go, Buck has a lot of shit to work through.

First and foremost, he needs to talk to Maddie because Eddie knows how much they love each other and how miserable this situation is making them both. And then he’ll need to start believing that they love him - Maddie, the whole crew, Christopher. Eddie. That he’s worth that love. And Eddie will do everything in his power to make him believe that.