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queenie-ofthe-void · 2 months

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Stuck

~1.5k words || rating: teen || cws: dissociation; unlabeled neurodivergencies and mental illnesses

He’s never quite sure how it happens, seeming to always sneak up on him. One minute he’s up and moving around, usually cleaning, organizing, or just meandering around the house. The next, he’s lying on the floor in the middle of the living room. He tries to move but can’t. Not because he’s physically restrained, like when the rope from the Russians cut into his wrists or how the vines constricted his neck.

No, Steve’s just lying here on the floor, trapped in his own mind. His eyes are raw, stinging with dryness. Painful tingles pop throughout his right arm from where his head rests heavy on his bicep. His hip and shoulder ache. He can’t move or talk or blink. Can barely think. He’s not in his body.

He’s lost. Stuck.

Getting stuck means losing time, chunks of days lost to a void. It means missing meals and unanswered phone calls. Growing up, it felt like an escape. A safe way to pass the time between eating and sleeping. He’d come back to himself, sometimes hours later, sore and hungry, mustering up energy he didn’t have. Once, his parents discovered him frozen on the ground. Mom’s yelling and Dad’s foot shoving his side brought him jolting back into his body. Like waking from a nightmare, rising from the dead chased by panic.

It happens less now, but still catches up to him when he’s exhausted. He thinks today it was the kids– they were particularly obnoxious. Yelling excitedly about Eddie’s new campaign ideas, trucking in snow from outside after building a demo-snowman. Cooking for them, cleaning after them, getting them home safe.

Yeah, he gets how he maybe overdid it a bit.

But with Eddie here, it’s easier. His sweetheart always knows how to help, usually checking up on him after stressful days. Hopefully he comes to check on him soon.

Because Steve can’t move. Or talk. Or even blink.

The sun is starting to set.

~~~

The Party were extra chaotic today, pushing him to the fringes of patience. He’s thrilled they’re excited about his newest campaign ideas, but god, did they have to be so unbearably loud about it? Dustin’s screeches are still rattling between his ears. Not to mention the soreness he feels from helping the kids build a snowman demo-thing and the ensuing snowball fight.

The idea of an occult campaign has been percolating in Eddie’s brain for weeks, and after the day he’s had, he’s lost to the research. Perched on a chair upstairs in their bedroom, books are scattered across the desk and onto their bed next to him. Typically, creative deep-dives restore his energy after a long day. But when he’s well and truly exhausted, he’ll lose hours at a time to the work. Getting stuck, according to Steve. And yeah, Eddie can see how that fits.

Growing up, Eddie would lose hours throwing himself into his latest and greatest project, whether it be drawing, playing guitar, writing campaigns, reading or even the time he tried juggling. Entranced by his newest obsession, his surroundings would fade into the background. He’d forget to do his homework, to eat or drink. Hell, sometimes he’d forget to pee. Wayne’d drop a gentle hand to his shoulder– pulling him back to reality– and he’d take off like a shot to the bathroom. Every sensation hitting all at once: bladder about to burst, stomach rumbling, dry mouth, headache, body stiff and achy.

As he gets older, it’s still a frequent occurrence. So Robin had given him the idea of setting alarms, saying it helps her remember to take breaks while studying. And he’s thankful, because it works like a charm when he actually remembers. But when he forgets, his Stevie takes care of him.

He’ll find Eddie crouched awkwardly by the desk, eyes manic, only seeing what’s in front of him. Eddie will eat or drink anything Steve gives him, barely tasting whatever it is, just as long as he can see it. And Steve lets him be for at least a few hours so he can burn energy into whatever project he's lost himself in. All Steve cares is that he’s fed and hydrated. Usually, Eddie comes to slowly, with Steve’s fingers gently carding through his hair, or soft strokes up and down his spine.

Now Eddie breaks his own musings, eyes strained, hungry, and needing to stretch. He can’t help but wonder why his sweetheart hasn’t checked on him.

Moonlight is shining through the window.

~~~

It’s eerily quiet as Eddie makes his way down the stairs. He half expects to find Steve stress-baking, but the kitchen is dark.

So he checks the garage– the car is still here. And the backyard– he never sits by the pool alone. Then the front porch– maybe he went out for a smoke.

Guilt eats at Eddie as he finds his beautiful boy on the living room floor, curled into himself.

Stuck.

He hates finding Steve like this– stuck and lost like Eddie’s engrossed fantasies. Yet so, so different.

The first time Eddie found him, unresponsive and immovable, he spiraled into a panic so strong Steve had broken free of his own melancholy, finding Eddie hyperventilating and sobbing in the midst of a flashback. Too much like Chrissy. Like Patrick and Nancy.

They'd talked about it. And Eddie had appreciated afterwards how Steve struggled to describe what being stuck feels like, why it happens, what to do about it. It'd helped.

So on grey days, long nights, the holidays, or when the kids are extra rowdy, Eddie looks for the signs. He's been good about getting Steve to slow down before it's too late.

But on rare occasions, there will be a day like today. When it’s too much for both of them.

Eddie doesn't know how long his baby’s been lying here. Doesn't know when he ate or drank or even blinked. Because he’d holed himself up, desperate for time alone to just think. To be with himself after spending all day surrounded by people. But he forgot to set an alarm, assuming Steve would be there.

He focuses on his sweetheart, slowly kneeling down next to him so as not to startle him. Remembers all of the tips and tricks Steve needs.

"Hey honey," Eddie whispers, close enough to be present but not overwhelming. "Don't worry baby we'll get you unstuck I promise. I'm going to reach out and grab your hand now ok?"

He continues to whisper gentle praises and reassurances as he holds Steve's hand. It's limp for a time, and Eddie is hungry, but he doesn't stop. Time is lost to them both again, until he feels a slight squeeze on his fingers. Steve finally blinks, slow and hard.

"Hey big boy, love to see those pretty, long eyelashes.” He smiles down at his baby, honeyed hazel eyes slowly refocusing. “Alright, once for no and two for yes: do you want me to help you onto the couch?"

A full minute passes before Eddie feels two gentle squeezes to his fingers.

"That's great sweetheart. I'm gonna tilt you to sit up and we'll get you settled. Then I'm going to ask if you want anything. Ready?" Two squeezes.

They finally get to the couch, and Eddie can already feel a strong sense of relief at just seeing his baby move off the floor. He hears Steve's back pop as they stand, decides he'll give him a massage later.

It goes on. And on and on. Eddie follows the process of squeezes until Steve is unstuck and back in his body.

"Water?" Two squeezes.

"Food?" One squeeze.

"Blanket?" Two squeezes.

Eddie's patience always pays off. He's got Steve set up on the couch, hydrated and relaxed, with his favorite movie playing softly. He’s managed to grab a bowl of cereal for himself. They're cuddled and warm with Steve’s head in his lap. Eddie glides his fingers up and down the sore side of Steve’s body, gently squeezing as he goes.

~~~

Steve comes back to himself surrounded by love.

His eyes sting and his mouth is dry. He doesn't know what time it is, but notices the sun has long set, moonlight shining through the curtains. The bones in his neck crack and his joints pop as he stretches.

But he's warm under the blankets, tucked into his boyfriend's chest as they watch the teddy bear Star Wars. Eddie's loosely twirling the hairs at the nape of his neck, lightly tugging and sending tingles down his spine. There's a glass of water and crackers on the table in front of him.

Getting stuck inside his head terrifies him, something he dreads as much as the night terrors.

But with Eddie, it's easier, happens less often. And when it does, he always wakes up to love.

This was a pure self-indulgence fic. An exact recreation of my relationship with my partner. It fits my headcanon for the boys perfectly (though I'm obviously biased haha)

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #steve harrington whump #hurt/comfort #steve harrington does not feel his feelings it's practically canon #steve harrington is my favorite self insert and i will continue to do so until i get so sick of writing myself i go back to canon #rinse and repeat #eddie munson #eddie munson is the personification of adhd #have you seen that man's bedroom? it's definitely canon #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things ficlet #QueenieWritesStories

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aleksa-sims · 2 months

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RL Story

CW: addiction, serious illness

Totally done and still sad because I saw Daniel and this stupid girl today I came home after work. Nico wasn’t home yet. I was kind of relieved about that. I wasn't sure, if I should tell him? I mean, nothing happened, but what I said to Daniel today was just not ok! It was totally unfair and selfish.

As soon as I got home, I went for a walk with N.’s dog. Back home I took a shower & I lay down on the bed. I wasn’t feeling so well. I got serv pain in my right knee and my hands also hurt. It bothered me so much, that I had to take a painkiller. After that it slowly got better while I fell asleep.

A little later N. came home. I heard him come up to the bedroom and watch me sleep. Nico has an extraordinary talent for disturbing me while sleeping. No, tbh it's really cute. Every morning before he leaves the house, he comes back to the bedroom to me, while I’m mostly still sleeping. He kisses me and tells me quietly that he loves me. In the beginning I found it hard to get used to. It's annoying to be woken up by him in the morning (5.00 am!) just because he has to kiss me. Yk? It wasn’t until he was gone (abroad), that I realized how much I missed being woken up by him in the morning.🩷 But back to that day, it was not in the morning, but in the evening.

N. saw the painkillers I had taken next to me on the bed, thinking I was sick or something.

Nico: Hey babe.... Are you ok?

Me: M-hm... Yea, I'm ok.... Where were you? I missed you.

Nico: I said good-bye to Damien and the others. They’re going back to Italy tomorrow.

Me: Yea, without you.... You stay here, with me. So happy about that. Right now I need you with me. I've had a really, really bad day N.... And you? How is your new team? Are they nice?

Nico: Agh...well, what can I say? Germans, yk?🤷‍♀️😉 But it was ok and it’s nice to be home, not somewhere alone abroad ..... Did you see Dilek today?

Me: No, she’s sick. She stayed home.

Nico: Are you sick too? I see you’ve taken painkillers.

Me: My knee hurt again. Somehow my whole body hurts, my hands and legs... But I'm fine. 🙂

Nico: You should tell your doc. You are pregnant. Maybe it has something to do with it?

Me: Yea, but don't worry. I know this pain. It's nothing. I’ve had this pain since I was a kid. It comes and goes, but it’s not serious. My muscles and bones are just very sensitive to pain. 🫤

Nico: It’s all right, babe. But if I see you get pain again, I’ll take you to your doc. I don’t want to scare you, you know that! But you don’t hurt for no reason. Sure, it's nothing, but it’s better to get it checked out before you need to take painkillers again.

Me: Chill Nico!! I know you’re afraid I might get addicted to painkillers . But c'mon, N.! It's just ibuprofen. 😄🤷‍♀️My pill addiction is past. I know I was difficult for you back then, but I promise, this won’t happen anymore. Love you.

Nico didn’t worry about my pill addiction, but actually about the pain I had. A few days ago, my knee hurt so badly that I could not walk. I even cried. But after I took a painkiller, it stopped again. That pain I had in my muscles and bones will get really bad after delivery. Not immediately after delivery, a few months later. But I do not want to draw too much attention to this issue now. Later, when the time comes, I will explain this in more detail. These were the first symptoms of a serious illness. Since CML is not so easy to diagnose, it will take a while for me to get the diagnosis.

And about Daniel I didn't tell Nico. I was happy with N. and we’re about to have a Baby, so I decided to somehow forget Daniel and let him go. But something happened that night!😞 Daniel texted me at 1:00 a.m. I’ll see him tomorrow again. 😢

Previous/Next

#ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #ts 4 story #myrlgameplay #rl story #cw addiction #cw pregnancy #cw leukemia #cw illness

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alewritesfics · 2 years

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Regrets

Happy Marriage part 2

Summary: a new start

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Word count: 4k (longest one yet!)

Warnings: unedited, a little bit of angst, Anthony coming to his senses, Y/n falling Ill,

Masterlist

Their marriage was unrepairable.

Everyone from both families knew it. There was nothing they could do anymore. Anthony hated Y/n, and Y/n was not willing to try anymore.

She finally realized that it was doomed from the start. Anthony was always, and will probably always be, in love with Sienna, and nothing could change that, unless he himself tried to forget her. Which is doubtful considering he keeps on seeing her, each and every night.

So Y/n, came up with another solution. Not to try anymore, Anthony was not worth the pain. They could still stay married, after all divorce was not normal, but she would leave him alone, let him be in peace with Sienna as much as he pleases, and Y/n would just live her life happily as if she was single.

She does not need a man, she had her family and the Bridgertons, both families who loved her wholeheartedly, what else could she ask for?

She would spend the mornings and evenings at her parents house. She would be with her mama in the drawing room reading a book, and playing with her nieces whenever her brother came to visit, anything to distract herself.

Although everyone could tell she was not the same happy y/n from before, and no one blamed her, they were just happy she did not shut them out, at least not completely, and they hoped she would go back to how she was before she gave up.

Whenever she was not doing something, you would find her in her bedchambers, staring out the window thoughtfully, or laying on her bed looking up at the ceiling. She would barely talk when she was spoken to, or eat. She became a shell of herself, seems like Anthony did after break her.

Anthony, on the other hand, was delighted. He would come home and there was no one there to start arguments with him about where he always was. He could go be with Sienna whenever he wants. Y/n would not even bother him in those rare moments he was home, nor urge him to do something with her.

In short words, he was finally happy.

That is not to say everything was going great in the Bridgerton household, oh no, not at all. They would give him the cold shoulder, even Hyacinth and Gregory, who do not really know the full details of what happened, they just know that he hurt Y/n, based on what they heard while eavesdropping on their older siblings.

How could their brother, who they thought was one of the most honest, loyal, caring people, hurt someone that much, someone who was the sweetest person ever, someone who was his wife, who he was supposed to love and care and cherish. That was certainly disheartening.

“Y/n, dear, please eat a little more” Y/n’s mother pleaded watching her daughter play with the food on her plate

“I am full already, mama” Y/n murmured taking a sip from her wine before she stood up “If I may be excused, I must get home before it gets much later, thank you for the dinner, I will see you tomorrow ”

She left without another word and stepped onto the carriage already waiting for her outside. She sighed as the carriage started its journey to the house.

When did she become this person? One who was so affected by a man that she no longer recognized herself. A man who did not even deserve the tears she cried over him. I mean, did she even know him that well after all.

Anthony, over their whole courting period, was so distant, she just never saw it, he always put her in arms length, never really told her anything about him nor made any indication that he wished to marry her.

She was so blinded by this picture perfect marriage she had in mind, she thought that he was the one that she did not see the truth so clearly in front of her.

He was handsome, came from a good family, not to mention his and her family were close friends, he seemed like a caring person and cared deeply for his family. She started to like him, and that only heightened by how he acted while courting her, he was respectful, and he seemed slightly remotely interested by what she said, or that is what she thought.

Now that she thought about it, of course he would be like that, his family was always behind them, how could Anthony act like anything else in front of them? She never thought that he would be the opposite with her behind closed doors.

She stepped out and walked up the stairs once the carriage stopped in front of the house. She closed the door quietly, not wanting to wake anyone up

“What a surprise, you finally show your face” She heard behind her

She turned around sighing “Good evening, Lord Bridgerton” She looked at Anthony who was leaning against the entrance of the drawing room “It is also a surprise that you are here, I would have thought you were out” Y/n then walked past him and up the stairs to go to her bedchambers

“That is it?” Anthony hummed “No arguments this time?”

“You are not worth me wasting my voice” She answered before she stopped and turned back around to face him “ actually, I do have something to say” Anthony raised an eyebrow intrigued

“You hate me because supposedly, I am the cause that you cannot be with Sienna freely, or that I am ‘taking the place that was meant to be hers’…” She sighed tiredly “But have you stopped to think, that maybe it was never actually possible. You are a viscount, you are in the upper class, while she is a opera singer, in the bottom, Sienna is considered a scandalous woman of ill repute based on her profession. She would have never been accepted as your wife” the Viscount stayed silent

“If you married her, your family would have been exiled from society, you would have ruined their reputations. Would you have done that to them? To your sisters? They would not be able to marry because of you. Would you still have married Sienna?” She questioned “And even if you had not married me, you would still have had to marry a noble lady at some point, you are a viscount after all, would you have treated your wife the same as you do to me? Loathed her as you do to me? Well, that is exactly what happened with us, just way earlier than what you would have liked”

“I think you have hated the wrong person the whole time. If you want to hate something, hate society and their rules” Y/n walked up the rest of the stairs, leaving him alone with his thoughts

Anthony stared after her, before he went to his study. He sat down on his chair, resting his chin on his palm as he stared at the fireplace in thought. He shook his head and started looking through his papers.

“Y/n, dear, do you want to join us?” Lady Bridgerton offered as she saw Y/n walk down the stairs

“Uh, I am actually headed to meet my mother” Y/n replied as she looked around the drawing room at everyone, her eyes caught Anthony’s figure seated on a chair, looking at her “ She is waiting for me so I must go, maybe next time, yes?” She left quickly

Violet sighed grabbing a newspaper and heading towards her eldest son, hitting him with it harshly.

“Hey!” Anthony complained looking at his mother in disbelief

“It is all your fault, I thought your father and I raised you better than how you have been acting, but now I am doubting myself” Violet pursed her lips

“Mother-“

“Not a single word, you know I am right. You should be lucky you found someone as wonderful as Y/n, she is everything a perfect viscountess should be and you do not even appreciate it” Anthony sighed, shaking his head, looking up at the door where Y/n exited from

That was only the start of it all.

Anthony really considered what Y/n said to him. Maybe she was right after all, it was not her fault he could not be with Sienna. Sienna and him unfortunately were born into two different social classes.

Society was the one preventing them from being together, not Y/n, but society. He was hating the wrong person all this time, someone who did not even deserve all his harsh words, she was after all only trying to fulfill her role as his wife.

He did not want to tarnish his family’s reputation. He has been trying to maintain their family’s respectable reputation ever since he became viscount. Was Sienna really worth letting down his family? The family he loves and would do anything for? No, she was not.

So he canceled their plans that day, and the day after, and the day after, and slowly, Anthony stopped seeing Sienna. He was finally letting her go.

And now, Y/n, he started to see her in a new light, although do not misunderstand , he still did not like her, far from it, but maybe, just maybe, he did not hate her and was willing to at least get to know her better.

But he knew it was going to be difficult, he did say harsh words and did horrible things, like cheat on her, he completely disregarded what he promised at the altar. He knew he messed up, and possibly shut out the one person he could have grown, to care for, and who may have cared for him.

And it certainly will be very difficult, not only because of that, but because Y/n does not want anything to do with him. She does not want to know about him, how he is, where he is, etc. Nothing.

And again, nobody blames her. Y/n’s family is the same. They could not believe the little boy they’ve known of since he was born, the respectable man they got to know when the Y/l/n family returned from France 2 years ago, was not what they thought. They still spoke to him, that is not to say they were not hostile, and the Bridgertons would only watch. They were sad, of course, they still loved Anthony, but they knew that is the consequences of his actions.

He would pace around his study , thinking of how to approach his wife. Which let me just say was hard as Y/n would always go the other way whenever she got back from her parents house, or in the mornings, she would make sure he was busy in his study before she left. She was never there when he searched for her.

It seems like she does not even live there.

“Y/n, are you sure you are fine” Her mother asks as Y/n coughs “You look very unwell” she looked at her daughter worriedly

“Mama, I am just feeling a little under the weather, I will be fine with just a little rest” Y/n sighed before coughing

“I think it is because you have not eaten well, or slept in so long” Her mother advised “See, I told you to eat and sleep more, and you did not listen to me and now you are ill”

“It is not that mama, I will be fine” Y/n murmured and coughed again before sniffling “ Just a little cold” Lady Y/l/n hummed before laying her hand on Y/n’s forehead

“Dear, you have a fever” Her mother frowned “We should call a doctor”

Y/n shook her head, before she started coughing severely, she covered her mouth with her hand, as her mother rubbed her back soothingly. Y/n uncovered her mouth as the coughing ceased, she paled once she saw blood on her palm.

“This is not normal, we are sending for the doctor” Her mama said pointedly

Her mother sent a maid for the doctor as she escorted Y/n to her bedchambers. She looked at her daughter worriedly as Y/n started coughing up more and more blood each time.

She feared for what is happening to her daughter. She rarely gets sick, even as a child, she never got sick, and when she did, it was something serious, like the scarlet fever when she was young.

She felt relieved when the doctor appeared in the room, she stood up, allowing him to check on Y/n, informing him of what she saw previously.

“Hmm, I see” the doctor said “I am afraid she has the whopping cough”

“The whooping cough?”

“Yes, it is a contagious disease that paralyzes parts of the respiratory cells, leading to inflammation in the respiratory tract, fortunately it is still in the early stages and it helps that she is an adult as her immune system is more developed” He informed “Unfortunately, there is still no known cure, so I am afraid there is no more I can do, although we have been told domestic remedies help. All we can do is pray that it will go away with time. She needs to rest, that is all she can do” The doctor left after packing up all his things.

“I will be fine mama, I just need to rest” Y/n’s hoarse voice muttered, she coughed again and covered her body with the blankets “ I am just going to sleep, I am tired.”

“My lady,” a maid came rushing into the drawing room, where all the Bridgertons were “Lady Y/l/n sent word” they all looked up at the maid intrigued

“Said something happened to Lady Bridgerton ” Anthony looked up from his newspaper as he heard the words coming out of the maid’s mouth

“What happened to her?” Violet Bridgerton questioned

“It seems Lady Bridgerton has the whooping cough and is severely ill”

“Alright, send word back, tell them we will be there in a few” Violet ordered, the maid nodded rushing back out, “Anthony, we will be back soo-“ She turned to her son

“I am coming” Anthony said

“Anthony, I am not sure they-“

“I am coming with” He cut her off

“Anthony” Violet sighed

“Mother, she is my wife” Anthony raised an eyebrow

“Yes, well, you have not really shown that, have you?” Anthony stayed silent “Alright, let us go now”

It has been 2 months and Y/n was still severely Ill, fortunately the coughing had lessened, she felt really weak and exhausted, she rarely slept, and always felt dehydrated. But slowly and slowly, the remedies were helping.

After the Bridgertons had been informed of Y/n’s condition, they had all come to visit her, including Anthony, although they did not stay long as she was still contagious.

They continued visiting, all except Anthony, as Y/n had expressed that she was not comfortable with his presence. Anthony respected her wishes and stopped visiting her, he did not like it but he was trying to get in her good graces , so whatever she desires.

Although that also did not stop Anthony from asking about her well being whenever his family came home from the Y/l/n Manor. The Bridgertons, also respecting Y/n’s wishes, did not tell him anything much to Anthony’s displeasure.

He would go out to the florist when he knew his family was getting ready to go out, he would return with purple hyacinths and give them to his mother to give to Y/n. Violet would reluctantly accept them, looking at her son knowingly.

Everyone could tell Anthony was trying to remedy his mistakes, although they knew he would not get anywhere, they admired the fact that he was willing to try. Maybe Anthony was not so bad after all. Maybe there was hope for him.

Y/n was still ill for one more month before she felt better, and could now walk around the house. She was in their drawing room, finishing some embroidery when Daphne, Benedict and Eloise, entered the room, already informed of her improved state.

“Hey, Y/n” Daphne greeted

Y/n turned to them and smiled “Hey, what are you doing here?”

“We heard you were better and decided to visit you” Benedict answered sitting down “How are you feeling?”

“Like you said, better, I still feel a little exhausted but nothing a little rest cannot fix” Y/n chuckled sitting next to Eloise

“We all miss you at home” Eloise said “You had been so distant before, we rarely saw you, and with your illness and it being contagious, the rare times turned into none”

“Yes, why do you not come back to the manor?” Benedict questioned

Y/n shook her head “I do not think it is such a good idea”

“Well, you cannot live here forever, the ton would soon start to question things. And we will all be there anyway, you do not have to worry about Anthony” Y/n pursed her lips “ Hyacinth and Gregory really wish to see you again” Daphne added

“Alright” You agreed “ I think I have been bothering my parents long enough” the three of them cheered, y/n shook her head in disbelief but chuckled after

And that is how Y/n returned back to the Bridgerton house.

Everyone was absolutely delighted, they missed having her around. Colin could finally have someone to tell about his travels, Benedict someone to paint who does not complain, Daphne someone who related to how she was feeling with her debut season, Eloise could tell someone about what she thought was not fair on women. All in all, they were happy.

Y/n was slowly healing by having wonderful people by her side. She never was truly alone, someone would always be by her side making her laugh, whether it was the youngest siblings or the eldest.

Oh, I forgot about Anthony. He respected her space, he would not intentionally seek her out but he certainly did not complain when he came across her.

He would sit in the drawing room when she was with one of his siblings, or his mother, and pretended to be paying attention to something else. He would watch her laugh and speak animatedly with them. He would pay attention whenever Y/n was discussing something she read or saw.

He liked how happy she got when she saw something wonderful, or the way she paid attention to Eloise when she was complaining about something. Or how she let Benedict paint her and not even move one second, not wanting him to make a mistake, or how interested she was about Colin’s travels.

Or how she helped Francesca with her pianoforte, and reassure Daphne when she was feeling nervous about the balls. How she played with Gregory, and braided Hyacinth’s hair after dinner. He was finally getting to know his wife, even if it was by watching from afar.

He would subconsciously smile when he heard Y/n laugh, or watch her figure walk further away when she left the room. He would turn back around, catching his mother’s eyes. He would furrow his eyebrows as Violet looked at him knowingly, a hint of a smile on her face.

“What?” He asked

“Maybe you do not hate her after all, do you Anthony?” Violet murmured turning back to her embroidery

“What are you talking about mother?” He huffed

“You do not fool me, Anthony, not one second” She shook her head “When she was ill, you would ask about her-“

“Is it a crime to ask about Y/n’s farewell? It is common courtesy”

“You sent her flowers”

“A nice gesture, I am pretty sure more people sent her flowers”

“Anthony” Violet huffed “You always walk into a room where you know she is in, you smile when she laughs, and your eyes follow her when she leaves, you stare at her with those eyes-”

“What eyes, mother? My eyes, well with who else’s eyes would I look?” Anthony answered sarcastically

“Do not try to be funny. I am speaking about the kind of eyes a man looks at a woman he is falling in love with” Violet said making him scoff

“Do not be ridiculous, I am not falling in love, least of all with her” Anthony grumbled and stood up to leave

“Say what you want Anthony, but you and I know the truth, I will just say that you will have to try hard if you want her to forgive you, and even harder if you want her to start to love you again ” Anthony ignored her and walked away

He almost entered his study when he stopped at the door, he huffed and turned around, climbing up the stairs. He stopped in front of her door doubtful before he sighed and knocked.

“Come in” he heard from inside

He entered the room, setting his eyes on Y/n seated at her bed. Y/n looked up before sighing

“I do not want to see you” She hummed

“Yes, yes, I know I am the last person you want to see, but I wanted to speak to you” Anthony said standing still on the entrance. He looked at Y/n who stayed quiet, looking at the opposite side of him

“I am sorry” Anthony murmured “You were right and I am so sorry” Y/n looked at him emotionlessly, Anthony sighed and went to sit down on a chair in front of her

“I cannot defend my actions, I was absolutely horrible to you and you did not deserve any of it and I am sincerely sorry. What you said did make me think everything over. Truth is, I always knew I could never marry Sienna, I just did not want to accept it.” He admitted “ I met her shortly after my father died, she , I guess you can say, comforted me, and I fell in love with her and thought I owed her something after she was there for me all those years, and that something could have been making her my viscountess ”

“And then you appeared, and you were the perfect viscountess, and everyone loved you, and then we married and I started ‘hating’ you because you were taking away the only thing I could have offered her. Which was never going to happen but I thought it could.” He looked down at his hands “I needed a wake up call, I was so blinded by my love for her that I did not really think things through. It was really a matter of time before things between Sienna and I ended, and it just happened earlier than I thought. Things were easy with her, she was someone that I was already used to, she was familiar. And you just appeared suddenly in my life, I was not prepared for it, you were someone new and i did not know what would come next, my perfectly organized life was not so organized. So I hated you instead.”

“Was?” Y/n spoke up, he looked at her confused “You said was, not is” she clarified

“I stopped seeing her months ago” Y/n hummed at his response

“I cannot just forgive you, Anthony, not even after what you just said” Y/n huffed “What you said those months ago, really hurt me. I never asked you to marry me, and neither did Violet or my mama, force you to do it. You asked on your own accord”

“I know, I am truly sorry Y/n, you do not know how truly sorry I am, I know simple words will not make you forgive me but I am willing to prove I am worth your forgiveness. We will after all, be spending the rest of our life’s together, I will spend it all making it up to you, so we can at least be friends, if you let me” He looked up at her hopefully

Anthony nodded, a small smile coming onto his face “However long it takes”

Y/n pursed her lips in thought “It will take a lot of time, I will not just forgive you in a fortnight”

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oh-katsuki · 11 months

Note

If Shoto was the son of Janus, people would wince in sympathy after the accident, thinking it’s some sick karmic joke, but it’s not. Sure, the split down the middle color scheme is reminiscent of his father and his duplicitous nature, but people forget that Janus isn’t just the god of two faces, but the god of beginnings, transition, and endings. As the youngest sibling, Shoto is the end of a long and painful quest for a strong heir. But in reality, he’s only the beginning of something better. At each crossroad in his life, he always makes the decision that will better himself, his friends, and his family. He’s the beginning of redemption.

GOD THIS IS SO..... you have such a way with words my GOODNESS!!!!

shoto who never understood what it meant to feel that he belonged somewhere. never welcome in his home. the middling ground between talent and training, between loving and hating, between bitterness and a happy ending. learning that he can be both, that he's meant to be both. shoto learning with time that he's best in those fledgling moments. the ones where a choice defines a century (or the next meal to be had). the ones where future begins to take shape and past begins to make sense. and in these moments, shoto gains clarity. the ability to see the beginning of the arc of the story. a line that draws from before this choice for years after.

shoto always believed that his lineage was a curse. that his divinity, however it manifested, was a toy for the Fates and nothing more. who doubted, even in his clearest moments, whether his divinity gave him any gifts at all besides this feeling of displacement. and he only realizes later, when that thin string of gold shows him the arc of the journey yet to be taken, that to be on the cusp—to stand in the doorway—is to see clearly what is yet to come and make the best choice for not only himself, but others. a guide of sorts for those he loves enough to protect.

ill sob.

#[ 🏩 – chatting ]#this was so ANFJREIAGVNREJKG REG #YOUR WORDS... YOUR WRITING... GOODBYE #SO INSPIRING!!!#demigod au #[ ☎️ – frequent callers ]

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mickeyhaldi · 1 year

Text

back on tumblr after many years.

this space was my gateway drug to the internet, to finding to community, seeing queer people like me, romanticizing adulthood, getting tattoos, falling in love for real this time, running away from home and never returning.

I got to see porn gifs, things I’d never imagined stretching open, my first time being bullied as a trans person, a place I would post my trauma not knowing I had any, incriminating evidence of the pain I carried with me without any recognition, to be on display.

there’s nothing wrong with being an exhibitionist, to long to be seen and known. that’s that motherfuckin bullshit they put in every movie, television, songs that make your skin say “one day, I’m gonna be somebody and they’ll see”. and then you’re lying on your bed with a tailbone broken by some dude who picked you out of a lineup knowing there’s an unrelenting love that is inseparable from the pain, the abandonment, years of abuse. you think you’re flying, not high, but with the rest of the birds, and he spots you. he feeds you a meal you haven’t had before. it tastes like other sweet things, but it’s better. it’s delicious. you return, you let him band you. he lets you fly so far, but it’s time to come home for supper. he eats his soup and he feeds you, less and less as time goes on. you are grateful for the opportunity for care and treatment, not realizing you’ve only got crumbs on your plate anymore. “eat up”, he says. your eyes are watering all the time. you are ill. your wings aren’t clipped, but you’ve become so frail, the breeze doesn’t brush your beak. the air is stale and your heart is empty, still beating. he pokes you in your sleep. he forgets you when he leaves. no longer a pet or even part of the environment. just a charging station that chirps in the background of his day-to-day.

he sets fire to the bird on the last day. he phones all of his friends and puts an obituary in the paper. “we are so sad to have seen them go”. tears of poison spill out the bulbs in his sunken skull called eyes, but pierce deeper. he believes you to be dead and leaves without burying your ashes. you return to the earth and draw from the power within its collection of networks and re-emerge. slowly, you rebuild and find yourself stronger in the earlier stages than you had ever been at the end before the last beginning.

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iwadori · 3 years

Note

Hiiii!!!! can you do like when you guys are supposed to meet up and they waited for about an hour or so and kept texting you you but you haven't replied so they thought you ditched them and got mad at you and stuff then they decided to go home and while on their way home not too far from their school they found you unconscious body with a large wound on you back and your head bleeding?.

can you pleaseease do tsukishima, yamaguchi, ushijima, bokuto (I'm sorry if that's a lot)

Haikyu Boys when you get hurt Pt 2 (Ushijima,Bokuto

Part One Part Two Part Three

Word count: 2.6K

Genre: angst, fluff

masterlist

Ushijima

You were having the worst week this week, from battling a cold and your boss making you do all sorts of extra jobs (that were definitely not under your job description.) As easter was swiftly approaching you and Ushijima had your annual plans of going to the local kids community center and helping them with an easter egg hunt. But you don’t think you can manage it this year.

Ushijima gets home from practice with 4 bags just filled with easter eggs ranging from all different sizes, “woah there Toshi, you’ve got enough there too feed all of england” you laugh

“I don’t think these eggs will be able to sustain England Y/N” he says seriously making you laugh even harder. As you were laughing, you felt another migraine come along making your cringe in pain. “Toshi, I don’t think I can do the easter egg hunt this year?”

He sits down next to you alarmed that something is wrong, “why what happened Y/N” he asks

“I’ve been feeling terrible all week, and I even have a migraine right now” you say to him thinking he would understand.

“That’s it?” he questions thinking what you said was a joke “I think you can handle a migraine, remember we’re doing this for the kids”

His words were making you feel slightly guilty since maybe you were being over dramatic. “Y/N if it’s really ‘that bad’, i’ll make you some tea so you can feel better,” he says going into the kitchen to start on your tea. You murmur a quiet “thank you” and you end up falling asleep, hoping that by the time you wake up your head stops pounding.

As you wake up, you realise you slept all the way through the night and over to the next day as when you look at your clock it says 12:32 pm. You look at your nightstand and saw that Ushijima wrote you a note saying:

Y/N I've left out early to set out the easter egg hunt, I’ve made you breakfast so eat up and get prepared for the event which starts at 4pm. Please don’t forget.

Sincerely – Ushijima Wakatoshi.

You chuckle at the fondness of the note, before realising your pain. Your brain felt like it was having a live concert inside that definitely was not going to end soon but you still got up prepared for the day. You didn’t want to let Ushijima or the kids down.

When you go to the kitchen , you see the cute breakfast that Ushijima made you consisting of all of your favourite foods and with another simple note of him saying ‘ I love you. ‘ Ushijima has always been a lovely boyfriend, treating you like the queen you are always making sure that you were okay. Of course, his bluntness and his lack of social cues was something to get used to but when you did get accustomed to it, it only made you fall in love with him more.

You got ready, feeling even more sick as the piping hot shower that you usual have, did not help as when you were showering you felt heavily faint. However, you persevered since you did not want to let Ushijima down.

You finally were prepared to leave the house, with the community center being on 15 minutes walk away you were leaving out at 3:50pm since you were planning to take your car anyways. When you leave your home, you realise that you forgot your car keys so you dash up the stairs (a bit too quickly) to go and find them. Scrambling through your draws, your head is pounding harder and harder and the more it pounds the quicker your moving making you even more faint. You eventually find your keys and you’re ready to zoom to the community center but your body gave out and you pass out tumbling down the stairs landing at your front door.

Ushijima was waiting outside of the community center waiting for you to arrive it was 4:05pm and he was wondering where you were (knowing that your place was only a 10 minute drive away) he sent you a few texts asking where you were but when you don’t respond Ushijima becomes slightly annoyed, plastering a fake smile on his face and entering the community center, starting the easter egg hunt.

The easter egg hunt came to a close at 8pm and Ushijima assumed that you would’ve showed up some time in the middle of the event, but you obviously didn’t show. After making sure that all the kids left safely Ushijima decided to call and text you more and when you continuously don’t respond and your calls go to voicemail he says ‘Y/N, im really disappointed with you right now. How could you do this to me? You said you would show up, the kids were really upset, how could you be so selfish?’

He walks to your house knocking on the door, but when you don’t immediately answer he knew something must be up now, since you haven’t responded to any of his texts and calls and didn’t show up he figured there was something deeper then you just ditching the event.

He used his key to open the door, surprised when the door hit something. He tried again hitting the ‘object’ that was laying at the door again. He carefully pushes the door to make enough room for him to fit through the gap. When he entered, he was startled at the sight of you, there you lay completely knocked out with a blood stain next to your head. He knelt down next to you and touched your cheek you were extremely cold, he had to get you to a hospital stat. He called an ambulance, panicked. Worrying about how long you’ve been out for since it would have to be atleast more than 4 hours he assumed.

You woke up in a foreign room, with your head slightly stinging. You place your hand on the back of your head and wince, then you remember you need to be at the easter egg hunt so you bolt up ready to move.

“I don’t think that’s wise for you to do that Y/N” Ushijima says to you

“Toshi, what happened?” you ask still in pain

“It seems you fell down the stairs and hit your head” after he said that all your memories come flooding back, and you remember rushing to the community centre, looking for your keys, and then falling down the stairs and everything going black.

“I’m sorry Ushi for missing the easter egg hunt, I really tried to get there,” you say with an apologetic look on your face

“It’s fine Y/N of course you wouldn’t of been able to get there after falling down the stairs” he says “Also, this is proof of why you shouldn’t run down the stairs”

You eventually get discharged with the doctor telling you all you need to do is rest and stay off your feet. Ushijima took the doctor's orders very seriously, becoming your loyal servant and waiting on you hand and foot, tending to your every need. He did also make you were eating healthy and taking all your medicine so you could have the best recovery possible.

Also, after realising that this could’ve all been avoided if Ushijima didn’t guilt trip you in the first place for having a migraine, he made sure to never ignore or dismiss when you say you are ill or have anything wrong with you even if it’s a migraine, a lost limb or a simple paper cut.

Bokuto

The Olympics were coming up and Bokuto couldn’t be any more excited than he already was. Everything he’s talked about for the past month he manages to find a way to relate to the Olympics, and as annoying as it got sometimes you were just as excited for it as much as Bokuto was.

Bokuto was heavily busy with extra practices so you were bored and lonely, since your boyfriend was at practice all the time so you chose to take up a new hobby. You decided to paint, although you weren’t an award-winning painter you still found joy in it. Being Bokuto’s girlfriend you had some slight unwanted attention on you: the usual fans of Bokuto that just followed you to have an extra aspect of him in their life's, or his fangirls that adored him.

You didn’t mind the fangirls for the most part since majority of them were pretty tamed and did fawn over your relationship. However, there was the minority of fans that did make it known to you that they DID NOT like you at all. When you started posting your paintings, it seems their hate for you amplified since they always found the need to leave an astray of mean comments on your post. But that didn’t mainly bother you since you thought that they only had that energy behind the screen.

The days went by getting closer to the Olympics, with Bokuto always asking you every day “Y/N you are coming to my games, right?” to which you always replied “Of course Kou, I’m coming” which always made him smile.

When the Olympics came, you’ve went to all the games cheering Bokuto and the team on as they were winning round after round. Whilst this was going on, the group of girls that were sending you horrible messages and making mean posts about you weren’t stopping. At first, you didn’t care for them but it seems their posts only gotten worse making comments about your artwork, your face, your body type ect.

You didn’t want to tell Bokuto as you felt that it would ruin his Olympic momentum and you thought you could handle it all on your own.

It was nearing to the final game of the Olympics, and Bokuto was ecstatic he made sure that you promised you’d be there claiming that you was his ‘good luck’ charm.’ You were excited to go too, the feeling of watching Bokuto play was exhilarating seeing him fully in his element was great for you to see.

On the last game day, Boktuo was already at the stadium since him and the team had to be there earlier to practice and you planned to meet him there just before the game started at 4:30. You went to a florist before the match getting Bokuto the biggest boquet that you could buy.

On your way to the stadium you here somebody whistle from behind you, you turn around and see a group of girls waiting behind you smirking. “Hi?” you say more like a question then a statement “do you want something from me?”

Some of them laugh, but the one standing at the front who you mentally lable the ‘main one’ steps closer to you and says “We want you to stay away from Bokuto” you realise that these were the girls sending you hate online for these past weeks.

Before you can even blink, the girls jump you, hitting, kicking and clawing at you. You are in pain, screaming and crying for them to stop and leave you alone. You lay there, letting them beat you up thinking that you’ll probably end up dead out of this. All you can think about is Bokuto, you didn’t get to wish him good luck, or give him your flowers (that you spent a fortune on) or even tell him that you loved him one last time.

You think the girls eventually stopped but you couldn’t tell because your body was throbbing and you hurt all over. You tried to get up still wanting to go to the match but you collapse going out cold.

Bokuto was scanning the crowd over and over for you, hoping to spot you there. But he couldn’t, he was wondering where you were getting sadder and sadder by the second since he really believed you were his good luck charm and he probably wouldn’t be able to win without at least seeing your face once.

They didn’t win. Bokuto knew he wasn’t playing at his best, since all his mind was on was thinking about where you were. You’ve never missed one of his games, so he was incredibly worried. After he accepted his second-place medal, he rushed out the stadium to go to your house but he was stopped by some fangirls ‘I guess signing autographs is the least I can do’ he thinks, the fans were being a bit odd today but he didn’t have time to focus on that as his mind was racing thinking about you and your whereabouts.

One of his fans did give him an alarmingly big boquet of roses which he appreciated ‘these must of cost a fortune’ he thinks. Although it was a probably a long shot, he decided to ask the fan if he saw someone who looked like *whatever you look like* to maybe see if someone else saw you. Which the fan replied “yeah I saw them with some guy at this restaurant whilst we were going to see you!” they exclaimed.

‘A guy’ he thought ‘that most likely wasn’t you.’ Seeing Bokuto’s confusion, the fan followed up with “I'm pretty sure it was her I mean we all know who Bokuto Koutaro’s girlfriend was.” Bokuto didn’t reply just walking away making sure to thank them for the flowers.

He was rushing towards your house on foot (since all the taxi’s and ubers were fully booked because of the Olympics) whilst running he stumbles across your passed out body all black and bruised with scratch marks and bleeding all over you. “what happened” he whispered, knowing you obviously weren’t going to respond.

He picked up your near-dead body, and cradled you in his arms taking you back to the stadium (since he knew that getting an ambulance to come here or running to the hospital would basically be impossible.) When he got back to the stadium, he did get odd looks from strangers but he didn’t care, his only agenda was making sure you were okay.

You woke up, and saw Bokuto pacing the room repeatedly you tried to get his attention by saying his name but your throat was damaged. He eventually notices you and runs to your side, stroking your face softly and giving you a gentle hug making sure not to hurt you.

“Who did this Y/N?” he asks with worry in his eyes

You ignore his question and look at the silver medal wrapped around his neck making you sad “I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the match, I tried I really did try” you said with your voice sounding even worse after you said every word.

“Don’t be silly, I’m just glad that you’re okay babe, I was really worried about you.” he said

The Medic came in and said that you had multiple broken ribs, but beside that you were fine you just needed to rest your throat and let your bruises heal. You eventually told Bokuto that it was some of his fans, he was upset that you hid this from him for so long but he was just glad that he got to you as soon as he did. He managed to play at the next Olympics and you were there fully present, with your even bigger boquet of flowers watching win gold.

Authors Note: I tried to make it as close to your request as possible, but I hope you enjoy as I really do think this is my favourite work so far.... :3 Comments and feedback appreciated.

#haikyuu x reader comfort #haikyu scenarios #haikyu #haikyu angst #haikyu fluff #haikyu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu-fluff #haikyu x reader #ushijima imagine #ushijima oneshot #ushijima angst #ushijima x reader #bokuto x reader #bokuto angst #koutarou x reader #bokuto scenarios #signedwithane😌

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spilledkauffie · 3 years

Text

Peter Parker x Chronically!illReader

again, these are based on some of my experiences, but everyone’s different || T/W: hospitals, pain, & med mention

for anon ❤︎

He figured it out pretty quick — while you don't want your chronic illness to define you, the people who know you will definitely know and Peter catches on pretty darn quick, maybe it's the "spider-sense." When you found out you were a little afraid he might not be as interested because sometimes situations and symptoms aren't always pretty or fun, and at times they're barely manageable. Yet, his response to you asking if he really wanted to get into it after figuring it out was shocking. "I love you," he stated, "and that's always going to be a part of you, right? So, I don't see it as anything more than a part of you, good days and bad days, I'll still love you. If you'll still love me, Spiderman and all." With a kiss to his cheek you smile, "it's always going to be a part of you, and I love you, so looks like we're stuck together."

Pick-ups — Peter is great at picking stuff up for you. If there’s anything you need that would help ease the pain / symptoms, the moment you mention it Peter is on it. // When you’re hanging out in his room, the moment you comment “I should have brought that with me-“ Peter’s jumping up and suiting up. “Why not just walk to the store?” You ask curiously, “I’ll be faster this way!” he says with a smile. “But you really think it’ll look very superhero of you if you get-“ / “I don’t care what other people think about what I’m getting, if it’ll help you, it’s always worth it.”

Staying home after a flare — Peter’s really cool about staying home. Since he’s not “mr popular” at school he’s a-okay with not being a part of every single activity at school, in fact he’s a bit of a homebody himself. You two spend time playing old Atari video games while Aunt May makes some snacks for the two of you while you attempt to beat him in asteroids. He also shows you all the cool tech for his suit and how he’s adjusting it / making upgrades. Sometimes Ned also comes over and you all work on a Lego collection together.

↳ Peter 100% lets you try out his spider-man gear when you’re having a down day. Sometimes he brings stuff to your room, like the mask and he lets you talk to Karen or he even brings the IronSpider and lets you se all the cool stuff inside, the different settings, modes etc. You've tried out the web-shooters a few times, but found it was incredibly hard to get off the walls and it just became a nightmare when you accidentally hit the ceiling fan.

Carry you — if you’re feeling fatigue Peter aways offers to carry you, no matter where you are or the situation. This includes swinging through downtown to get somewhere faster, or simply carrying you up the apartment stairs because a symptom hit you out of nowhere. Sometimes when you don't want to draw as much attention to the fact that you need some help, he'll just hook an arm through yours and let you support yourself against him; in other settings, like of trips and walks, he'll give you a piggy-back ride.

Medication reminders — you're pretty sure Peter has your medications down better than you do. He knows where you keep them at your place, where you keep them when you come over, and where he keeps an extra few in case you forget to bring it. He's also like clock-work if you have a pill-taking schedule. No matter what you're doing he gently reminds you that you should take your medicine, something that always shocks you is he doesn't say it in a condescending tone, he makes it sound totally normal, which helps you feel more comfortable with having to take a break and take something when need be.

He’s very sympathetic — while he doesn't know how the exact pain or symptoms feel, he knows what it's like to have different and unique things going on that no one else understands. That's a reason he always wants to be there for you, even if you just want to vent about the fact that you feel like no one sees your pain half the time, unless it's a major emergency, which then of course, when you don't want people to know, everyone seems to know and ask about it. Peter wants you to know that it’s a safe space to vent and talk about your feelings and how your feeling, even if it’s the same as you felt yesterday.

Doctor's appointments — Peter gets really nervous when you go to the doctor, he wants to be there, but knows he can’t always be there. However, he loves texting you while you’re in the waiting room, anything to keep your mind a little distracted while waiting. He’s a big fan of Snapchat, which results in some retry hilarious distractions for yourself. // You almost always call or FaceTime him with the results or just how the appointment went when you’re done.

Hospital visits — Aunt May and Peter visit you a lot when you're in the hospital. Aunt May brings you your favourite snacks and always makes sure to bring blankets, pillows, and anything else to make the room feel a little more like home. Peter also brings some familiar stuff, but most of all he just wants to spend time with you. He hates the idea of you being alone just waiting around for someone to come keep you company.

↳ in fact he hates the idea of you being alone so much that he's asked if he can stay overnight with you. The hospital says no, because he's not of age or relation status to do so. However, that doesn't stop him. After nightfall, Peter will scale the side of the hospital, find your room, and come in through the window. Naturally he brought his backpack with him, containing an extra blanket and pillow. Those nights are the best, because you wind up falling asleep in his arms. And even though the doctor give supi a weird look and asks if you had that hoodie on last night, it’s total worth it.

Lots and lots of affection — Peter loves doting on you physically, he wants you to know that you are loved and that you’re beautiful, no matter what your pain, flares, and bad days look like, you are loveable! He always greets you with a hug and loves holding your hand. He loves cuddling you or being cuddled by you, he’s a-okay with you being more dominant in the cuddle department, he just likes being close to you and feeling you near him. Other times when you want to be held he is absolutely going to comfort and cuddle the heck out of you—

↳ Peter’s dedicated to you, he’s in it for the long haul, so if that means cradling you because your shaking on the bathroom floor unsure of how your flare is going to behave to sitting with you (or outside and just beside you) while you take a bath, or staying with you in bed because you’re too tired, or hanging out on the sofa where you’ve made camp for the weekend, etc. He just wants to be with you.

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legoshi-plz · 3 years

Note

So I was wondering if I could get some period cramps comfort hcs with Legoshi and Louis please? (Also whatever animal u want is fine)

I had a couple of ideas for this but the indication of a period kinda means the reader would more than likely be coded as fem and I wanted everyone to feel included so I also did a version of them taking care of their significant other when they’re sick in general (like a cold or something).

Warning: NSFW-ish Elements

//////

Louis:

Period Discomfort:

- Growing up with only Oguma and himself, he’s never experienced seeing someone go through a period ever so he has no clue how to deal with it.

- If you want any empathy from him you’re going to have to explain it to him and how painful it is for you. He might think you’re exaggerating at first but once he actually sees you in pain, he’ll start to believe it.

- Thinks money solves everything and just buys whatever he thinks you’ll need and has it delivered to you. Thoughtful yes, however you end up with a lot of menstrual products you dont use and chocolate you won’t eat because Louis just went ahead and bought everything he saw instead of actually asking you what you about brands, sizes, etc.

- Not the type to comfort you physically. He actually really hates the smell of blood and his super sensitive nose always can pick up on it. He won’t go out of his way to avoid you because it’s you and you could never repulse him but he’s not the “let’s cuddle up on the couch and watch sappy movies” type either.

- Overall avoids the situation. Not the best in this subject but is doing the best he can in his comfort zone.

Sick S/O:

- Not very good at reading preemptive symptoms. Won’t realize that you’re sick until you’re nearly hacking up a lung or fainting from fatigue.

- But once he does realize you’re not well, he insists that you get some rest and don’t push yourself. Won’t take no for an answer.

- Again thinks the best way is to throw money at a situation so buys you the best medicine, heating pad, etc. Will also take you to the doctor and if you’re too weak or unwilling, will have his personal doctor make a house call.

- Stays with you while you’re sleeping. When you wake up and try to stop him, he insists your germs won’t affect him and he can’t get sick (they totally do and he totally does).

- Overall more equipped in this subject but can be pretty strict/ annoying in your recovery (he’s lost a lot of people okay? He refuses to lose you too, especially to something like this if he can prevent it)

Legoshi:

Period Discomfort:

- His Canine senses always let him know when you’re on your period (plus he can like.... smell the blood but he’s too polite to point that out + blood is the farthest thing from unpleasant to Carnivores).

- By far the best in these type of situations. Does a ton of research and also outright asks you what he can do for you. Really attentive to you and your needs.

- Wanna listen to sad music under LED lights and just vibe out? He’s right there with your fave playlist. Wanna cuddle up on the couch and watch sad movies? He’s already got it started along with a pint of your favorite ice cream.

- Just overall Boyfriend of the year when it comes to this.

Sick S/O:

- Yep, he’s also an expert on his significant other being sick too (Go figure, right?)

- Makes homemade Soup/ Broth to soothe your throat. Runs you a warm bath to try and break the fever. Makes you take some medicines but also uses a lot of home remedies and practices he’s learned from Gosha growing up.

- Also claims he won’t get sick but unlike Louis, he actually doesn’t because he has a pretty strong immune system as a Grey Wolf. Able to stay by your side the whole time and will unless you asks for some space, which he’ll give but he’ll worry about you the whole time he’s gone.

- Overall has a tendency to hover but means well and is very knowledgeable about your recovery. Will have you feeling better the fastest.

Juno:

Period Discomfort:

- Certified expert in this subject. Knows exactly what you’re going through and knows exactly how to deal with it. Will know what you want/ need before you even know yourself.

- Always has Pads and Tampons handy. Always knows the exact size and kind to get.

- Offers advice to ease the pain you’d never even thought of before such as stretching and doing Yoga (and of course you two do Yoga together/ she helps you stretch. The close contact can be pretty intimate which you’ll love if you crave touch during your period.)

- However, if you and Juno’s periods ever sync up, she’s not going to be the most pleasant to be around, it’s best the two of you just avoid each other.

Sick S/O:

- Loves to play nurse but not actually all that great in making you feel better. Definitely has a sexy nurse’s costume that she likes to put on while caring for you.

- A lot of head pats and hand holding with a few “We’re gonna get through this,” sprinkled on there so yeah basically not helpful at all.

- Will go get you medicine or anything else you need but you have to tell her EXACTLY what to get, she’s not great at following directions okay

- Like Legoshi, being a Grey Wolf means she’s hardly ever sick... like EVER. She has hardly any experience in this field.

Riz:

Period Discomfort:

- By far the most touchy-feely when you’re on your period. He loves the smell of blood and he thinks you smell delicious. Usually a very chill, easygoing guy but becomes uncharacteristically clingy during this time.

- Never gets tampons or pads because he’s too busy eating you out or shoving his fat cock inside you.

- Thinks his dick is the cure to all of your needs and in this case he’s kinda right because period sex actually does help relieve like 80% of your symptoms.

- Fucks softer than he normally would but he’s nearly insatiable, especially when he’s high off your blood so you’re nearly on the verge of passing out from exhaustion.

- Once you’re too tired to continue, he’s still right there by your side, his arms permanently latched around you. He seriously can’t get enough of you when you’re like this, your period hormones have him even more lovestruck than he already is.

- Will draw you a bath after sex, carry you to the tub, and personally wash every inch of you. Anything to touch you at this point. Doesn’t join though because he doesn’t wanna reveal how such a seemingly innocent act gets him so hard.

- Overall has a pretty unconventional approach to period care but it makes you feel better all the same and you know it’s coming from a true place of love (and a little lust).

Sick S/O:

- Much more tame when it comes to caring for a sick S/O because the hormones you secrete during your period aren’t fogging his judgement.

- Still very touchy-feely but in a non-sexual way. Likes to lay you on top of him and hold you to help get rid of your chills. Also gives the BEST massages to relieve the ache in your joints.

- Believes honey is an end all be all cure to any illness and puts it in/on literally everything. Though it does help soothe your throat, you still end up sending him to the store to pick up some more potent remedies.

- Next to honey, he thinks sleep/rest is the answer to near everything (because he’s a bear and hibernating is their go to for any ailment) so he also adds sleep inducers to your tea, food, etc. to get you to sleep off the cold. You don’t mind because it actually does help (also he always tells you ahead of time that it’s in there)

- Overall a good caretaker in this department even if some of his actions can seem a little antiquated or stereotypical for Bears.

Gouhin:

Period Discomfort:

- He’s surprisingly a lot like Riz in this department (which actually isn’t all that surprising since they’re both bears). He’s got a sensitive nose and your hormones really mess with his head and kick him into overdrive.

- This isn’t his first rodeo with his partners’ periods so he does have some experience in this field to help keep him under control.

- Will indulge in period sex but only if his partner asks for it/ brings it up first. He knows that’s a slippery slope, especially with his kind and with his self-control so he doesn’t seek it out first. (Can’t deny that he loves when you do ask for it though)

- Knows all the tricks of the trade in helping you feel better non-sexually and indulges you when he has time but since he’s pretty busy with clients and stuff, he hardly ever has time for the aspects that require him physically being there (such as cuddling, massages, etc.)

- Pretty average in this department because he’s older so he doesn’t have time to really baby you through this the way you might want him to.

Sick S/O:

- Deals with his S/O being sick very similar to how he deals with period discomfort.

- He’s a medical professional so he tends to just get you some medicine that actually works instead of incorporating home remedies that end up taking longer, in his opinion.

- Can be a little irritating when he walks around in the morning time with his shirt off looking like the embodiment of health and toned abs, sipping on his bamboo smoothie while you feel like you’re on your deathbed.

- Tells you to get plenty rest, drink plenty fluids, take the medicine he leaves for you but he’s not there to really enforce it because he leaves in the morning for work and doesn’t get back until super late at night. You usually fall asleep and forget to wake up to do anything he told you to. He’s not upset and not really the punishment type in the first place so there are no real repercussions, he just reminds you again the next day to do it if you want to feel better faster.

- Overall, has a pretty neutral/indifferent approach to this because he’s seeing the situation through the lens of professionalism, so some aspects you really crave such as physical contact or general affection, he falls short in.

Bill:

Period Discomfort:

- Don’t call him.

- Thinks periods are gross and does NOT want to be around you if you’re on yours.

- The only way he’d reach out to you during this time is if he was horny and wanted you to use your mouth to get him off.

- A terrible guy who you should block tbh :/

Sick S/O:

- Says things like “Hang in there champ,” and that’s pretty much it.

- If you sneeze around him or cough near him, he’ll think it’s gross and proceed to avoid you.

- Why do you even bother with him again?

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vs-redemption · 3 years

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From Cindy: This bad boy got away from me and ended up being 3,674 words. I’m really happy with it though and I hope you think so too. It was written for a writing collaboration on Discord ( @konoblog-simps )

Gray - Soulmate AU (Levi Ackerman x GN!Reader)

Read a similar soulmate AU for Levi here

You hated winter.

You supposed people found something magical about the view of fluffy white flakes catching the light as they drifted down from the sky and created a thick white blanket across the ground and trees. However, the fairy tale description was only true when observed from the other side of a window where the protection of four walls and a fireplace could block out the harsh reality.

“Don’t forget the shopping on your way back.” Your grandmother’s raspy voice cuts through the morning silence as you go through the tedious process of bundling up against the frigid weather you knew you’d be facing as soon as you stepped outside. The elderly woman was sitting in her favorite spot on the sofa, lap covered by one of the many blankets she’d made over the years. You grandfather shuffled into the room as if on cue with two piping hot mugs of tea. He hands one to his wife before settling happily into the place next to her.

“I never do.” Your words come out harsher than you’d intended, but your grandparents pay you no mind. They were either used to your attitude or too wrapped up in their own happily ever after. You finish off your ridiculously bulky outfit by shoving a knit cap over your head and then heading out into the cold.

You hated your job

You knew you should be grateful that you had the luxury of owning an apothecary. It was the type of establishment that would never want for business. There was also a certain pride in being able to provide people with medicines to relieve them of their aches and pains, allergies, and illnesses. The difficulty was in being surrounded by the memories of your parents and the perfect life they’d lived, as well as the constant reminder that you’d been robbed of the chance to experience that type of fantasy.

Trudging through the deep wet snow had made you a few minutes late, and there were already a few customers waiting outside the tiny shop you’d inherited by the time you arrived. You apologize politely as you unlock the door and let them inside, shedding the layers of your winter clothes as quickly as you can so that you can get to work. It was always a little busier in the winter months, but finding the right remedy for each person was something you’d gotten good at over time. Most customers came and went without much trouble, but assisting the regulars who’d known you since childhood was always a bit awkward. You did your best not to notice the pity and judgement on their faces as you prepared their orders with the same forced pleasantness as you did for everyone else.

You hated shopping

Having a job that earned enough wages to properly provide for yourself and your family was a blessing most people in your city could not enjoy. Your parents had always made sure to remind you of that fact whenever they came home with baskets full of fresh fruits and vegetables, cheese, bread, and sometimes even meat. As an adult, you still appreciated the fact that you did not have to know hunger, but it was always such a hassle to deal with the crowded market after getting off work.

When your parents had been alive, they had loved going out to run these types of errands together. It had always surprised you how they would choose to spend more time together even after living and working with each other every single day. They never seemed to get tired of each other, and you could remember vividly the way they’d smiled at each other with pure happiness and love in their gaze. It was hard to forget when you saw the same blissful look on every couple you happened to encounter as you went about your day. It made you feel so incredibly alone sometimes, but you did your best to bury those emotions deep down out of fear that they would consume you completely.

“How much is the bread today?” You ask the baker once you make it to the counter through the throngs of people. He tells you the price and begins to wrap up your order when you agree to it.

“You’re lucky,” he tells you conversationally. “This is the last loaf of the day.”

“Tch!” A frustrated sound comes from behind you and you turn around instinctively to make sure nothing was wrong. Standing next to you was a grouchy looking man with silky black hair, styled in an undercut. The long, soft looking strands on the top of his head came down to frame his face, drawing attention to the most important feature; his eyes. You notice right away they are both the identical shade of gray, which told you a lot about him already.

“Were you waiting in line?” You ask curiously even though meeting his sharp gaze directly was a bit intimidating. He regards you critically for a moment before sighing and looking away, probably forming his own judgments based on the incorrect story told by your own eyes.

“It’s fine,” his tone of voice is flat and a little dismissive. “I should’ve gotten here earlier.” He turns to walk away but something makes you call out to stop him.

“Wait,” you give him the friendliest smile you can muster before looking to the baker. “Please, wrap this up for him instead. I insist.” The baker shrugs, not really bothered by the change as long as he got his payment. The scowl on the man’s face gave way to surprise, and you thought the softer look suited him much better. You could see that he was preparing to reject your kindness, so you mutter a quick goodbye before turning away and blending in with the crowd.

You hated your eyes

In the world you lived in, everything revolved around a person’s eyes. They were more than just a mere window into the soul, they were also a glimpse into the future. As a child, you could recall the excitement of your friends as they studied the mismatched colors of each other’s irises, speculating wildly about which shade truly belonged to them and which was borrowed from a stranger that they were destined to meet sometime in the future. Their enthusiasm had been contagious in the beginning, and you’d enjoyed listening to people discuss their predictions about the background, appearance, and personality of their future partner.

“Did you get everything on the list?” Your grandfather asks as he takes the basket of food from you once you finally return home. The walk back from the market had been miserable. Your feet were cold and wet from sloshing through the snow, but the rest of you was warm and sweaty from the exertion of hauling the purchases all the way back while wearing so many thick layers.

“They were out of bread,” You inform him while shrugging out of your coat. A look of displeasure passed over his face but vanished just as quickly when your grandmother called to him from the kitchen. You were relieved that she was volunteering to make dinner this time, because the exhaustion from your day was starting to catch up with you.

You head into the bathroom, ready to warm up with a hot shower and put on a fresh pair of clothes while the meal was prepared. As you wait for the water from the tap to heat up, you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. Usually you avoided looking at your face for too long, but every now and then you decided to stare back at yourself for a moment. You frown as you meet the gaze of the two identical eyes that you’d be born with. They looked mockingly back at you from the glass, their dull gray hue like a running joke that you’d never found remotely funny.

Washing away the grime of the day helped clear your head of negative thoughts, and soon your mind drifted back to the man you’d helped at the market. The memory of his eyes reminded you that you had made the right decision. He was the one who had someone important waiting for him back at home, possibly even children that needed to be fed and taken care of. You and your grandparents would be just fine as you always had, even if there was a spark of jealousy in you that the man got to have the type of wholesome future that you could never enjoy.

You hated soulmates

The idea of having the comfort of knowing there was someone out there born specifically to fill your life with joy, support, and love was an overwhelming one. It was hard for you to really imagine what it must be like for people to be filled with that nervous anticipation every time they got the opportunity to meet someone new. You’d had secondhand experiences as you watched friends and acquaintances around you find their destinies in one another, but while those meetings spelled out the beginning of something wonderful for them, it only served to make you feel the bleakness of your situation more profoundly.

It was extremely rare for someone to be born without a soulmate, and although your parents tried to have a positive outlook, you had still felt the stigma associated with your condition every single day of your life. It had been impossible to escape the stares and gasps of astonishment from both adults and children alike during you school-age years. Most of them had never seen a child your age with two of the same colored eyes, so it was inevitable that you’d garnered quite a bit of unwanted attention. The people you met were merely curious at first, but as you got older the intrigue turned to pity.

As hard as it was to deal with the people around you who knew the truth, meeting strangers was almost worse. Those who still walked around with duel colored eyes held little interest in someone who had seemingly already found their partner, and everyone else was too preoccupied with their own established lives to pay attention to you at all. In the world you lived in, everything revolved around a person’s eyes. Unfortunately, your eyes had landed you into one of the loneliest roles imaginable.

You hated your luck

It should not have surprised you as much as it did when the man from the market walked into your apothecary a few days later, but considering the fact he’d been popping up in your thoughts sporadically ever since the first meeting, it certainly caught you off guard to see his face again. By the way his familiar gray eyes widened upon seeing you standing behind counter, you guessed he hadn’t been expecting to see you again either.

“Hello again,” you smile awkwardly to try and clear the air. You weren’t sure if it would be weird to mention the bread incident or not.

“Hello,” the man nods, his facial features relaxing into a neutral expression. You were glad he didn’t seem to be as agitated as he’d been in the market. “I’m looking for something that might help my mother. She’s recently fallen ill and nothing I do seems to be helping.”

“What are her symptoms?” The question falls naturally from your lips. As the man describes his mother’s condition, you find yourself taking in his appearance in more detail. His black hair looked as soft as you remembered, but now you were noticing other things like the shape of his nose and sharp angle of his jawline. The clothes he wore were on the nicer side, and it made you wonder what he did for a living. His stature was a bit on the shorter side, and although his build was lean, you got the impression that he was healthy and strong.

“Well, it seems like she may have caught a flu,” you explain once the man finishes speaking. You turn to grab a few items from the shelf behind you and place them on the counter. “These should work to control the symptoms and reduce her fever until her body is able to fight off the infection.”

“Thank you,” he sounds genuine as he pulls out some money to pay for the medicine. You accept the payment, taking note of his long, elegant hands and fingers.

“Not at all,” you assure him with an easy smile. “I hope your mother recovers quickly.”

The man nods in gratitude while scooping up the goods he’d purchased in his hands. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before looking back up to catch your gray eyes with his own.

“My name’s Levi, by the way.” The confidence in his voice did not match the anxious set of his features. “We didn’t get to have a proper introduction the other day.”

“O-oh,” there was no way to conceal the shock you felt in that moment. It was out of the ordinary for anyone to give you their name, especially a man who had obviously had his encounter with fate already. You manage to stutter out your own name, wondering if you were having some sort of intensely realistic dream as you watch the man’s lips twitch into the smallest, briefest of smiles.

“A pleasure to meet you,” he repeats your name to himself thoughtfully. “Have a nice day.” With all his business with you completed, he nods his head and exits your shop, leaving you to try and tame the wild racing of your thoughts and heart.

You hated false hope

It was embarrassing how often you had to remind yourself over the next few days that a person simply introducing themselves to you should not be taken as anything more than polite kindness. You had seemingly lost all control of your mind and feelings though, since scarcely a moment went by now without thoughts of Levi sending butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. It didn’t seem fair that you knew so little about him, but you understood that you’d have to be content with the memory of his ghost of a smile and the echo of the way your name had sounded as it escaped his lips. Part of you hoped you’d never see the man again so that you could get over your delusions as quickly and easily as possible, but another part of you longed to bump into him again.

“What are you doing in here?” Your grandmother walked into the bathroom to find you leaning over the sink, eyes wide open and focused so intensely on your reflection in the mirror that you hadn’t even heard her approach.

“Huh?” you whirl around to face her, finally blinking once you realized how tired your eyes were from the thorough examination you’d just given them. “What did it feel like after you met Grandpa?”

Your stomach sank immediately at the pitying look that grew on the old woman’s face. She reaches out to rub your arm sympathetically with a sad smile. “I’m so sorry sweetie,” is all she tells you before changing the subject completely. “Excuse me now, I need to use the restroom.”

“Right, sorry.” You offer a dry laugh as you move out of her way, reality rushing back like a harsh slap to the face. You’d known all along that you’d never really have a soulmate, but it was hard not to have grasped on to the small shred of a possibility. It hadn’t slipped your attention that Levi also had gray eyes, but plenty of people had the same or similar shade. Besides, the likeliness of soulmates having the same exact eye color was even rarer than someone being born without a soulmate at all. You vowed to keep these cold hard truths at the forefront of your mind from now on, and resigned yourself completely to the fate you’d been dealt.

You loved Levi

It had been a whole week since you’d given up the last loaf of bread that had sent your life into a strange whirlwind of new, unexplored emotions. The days between then and the present had been interesting indeed, but now you were determined to go back to life as normal. The weather wasn’t so terrible today, but you still bundled up to prepare yourself for the cold morning walk to the Apothecary. You arrived at the shop with plenty of time to remove the layers of winter clothes and do a quick inventory of items you’d soon need to restock.

It was around lunchtime when you really started to relax back into your routine. The steady flow of customers had helped to keep your mind occupied, and once things slowed down around midday, you picked up a rag and began to wipe down the counters and windows absentmindedly. The sound of the bell above the door alerted you to someone’s arrival and you quickly tossed down the rag and turned to greet them. Once again, you find yourself startled to be standing in the presence of the man from the market.

“Levi,” you mutter his name before shaking out of your daze. “Excuse me,” you look down and apologize in embarrassment. “Um, can I help you with something? Is your mother feeling better?”

“She’s much better, yes. Thank you.” Levi clears his throat awkwardly and you can’t help but think his posture is stiffer than you remember. You wonder again what he did for a living because he seemed to be a bit overdressed for a simple trip to the apothecary. He looked incredibly handsome in any case, and it was doing nothing to help quiet your wandering imagination.

“I’m glad to hear that,” you weren’t sure what else to say. You walk over to the small faucet behind the counter to wash your hands since you’d just been cleaning. The silence between you both grew more and more uncomfortable until Levi’s face suddenly contorts with frustration. You open your mouth to apologize for whatever you’d done but he cuts you off by coming forward suddenly and placing both hands on the counter.

“Your eyes,” he forces out the words before averting his own gaze. Any hope of keeping yourself grounded in reality seemed to go up in smoke as your heart rate kicked into overdrive.

“Yes?” you say breathlessly and the fact that you weren’t kicking him out for being incredibly inappropriate was enough to spur him on with whatever point he was trying to get to.

“How long?” he swallows thickly and takes a deep breath, “How long since they’ve changed?”

“They’ve always been this way,” it should’ve been harder to admit, but the way Levi was acting was distracting you from the shame you’d normally be feeling. A soft sound, like an intrigued sigh, escapes his lips and he covers his mouth with those beautiful long fingers you’d been trying not to think about. All you can do is stare at him as he comes to terms with the information you’d just revealed. You wondered why he’d even want to know and what he would do now that the truth was out in the open. Finally, after an unbearable stretch of time, Levi lowers his hand back onto the counter, revealing a faint but amused looking smile.

“Well,” his confidence began to return. “They look much better on you than they do on me.”

“What?” Every cell in your body seemed to be buzzing with anticipation. You wanted to believe that this was all leading up to something good, but a nagging fear in the back of your mind warned you against giving in to the false hope that you’d vowed to ignore.

“I was born with these eyes as well,” Levi confesses calmly while gesturing to his face. “Both of them.”

It was your turn to cover your mouth, wondering desperately if it was all right yet to dare to dream that there was meaning behind what was happening after all.

“I have no idea if this is all a coincidence or not,” Levi shrugs as his mouth pulls into a frown. “To be honest, I gave up on the idea of soulmates a long time ago, but I cannot ignore the fact that you’ve consumed my thoughts from the moment I saw you in the market.”

Tears unwittingly begin to blur your vision as all the tension inside you finally reaches a tipping point.

“I…” You aren’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Levi’s hand appears in front of your face, offering a handkerchief. You accept it gratefully and wipe the wetness from your eyes and cheeks. “I didn’t think it was possible, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you either.”

Levi folds his arms over his chest as if contemplating the matter seriously, but the pause only lasts a few seconds this time. Before you have time to worry about what he’ll say, he’s offering you his hand.

“Would you like to be my soulmate then?” he asks, a hint of teasing in his voice despite the nervous energy surrounding you both. You don’t hesitate to place your hand into his. You weren’t sure if your matching eyes was a sign that you were meant to be together, but it wouldn’t be fair to either of you to throw away the shot of having the kind of life you’d watched other people enjoy your entire lives. If you were able to bring each other happiness, you could care less if it was what fate had planned.

“Yes,” Your voice shook with the overwhelming emotions coursing through you, “I think I’d like that.”

“As would I,” Levi replies as a real smile takes over his face at last. The hope you see in the depths of his beautiful gray eyes makes you appreciate the matching color of your own for the very first time, and the idea of a happy future finally seems within your grasp.

#Levi Ackerman x Reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #Levi Ackerman #snk #aot #soulmate au #Cindy's Writing

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uwingdispatch · 2 years

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Relief in Winter

Notes: Bodhi Rook/Reader, hurt/comfort, disabled reader, domestic fluff TW: chronic pain, chronic anxiety/PTSD/panic attacks Ao3 Link

When you curled up on your office sofa with your datapad to read, you had no intention of falling asleep. But when the front door closes you snap awake, startled. In a daze, you realize the sun is still bright as it comes through the curtains. He shouldn’t be home until after dark today, but he’s here, and in such a hurry to get to you that he nearly trips over the ball droid rolling in with him.

“You’re home early,” you say, still trying to find your way out of sleep.

The tooka cat dozing at the end of the sofa chirps and stretches before leaping to greet Bodhi and the droid, Red. Normally, Bodhi would stop to scratch the tooka between his ears before making his way into the kitchen and draping his bag and his jacket over a chair. Today, he seems frazzled, bypassing the tooka and kitchen, dropping his bag on the floor, and coming straight to you.

“I was worried when you didn’t answer your com,” he says. “I should have left Red home with you today. Are you all right?”

The droid beeps, alerting you to the datapad and com that at some point had drifted from your lap to the office floor.

There were people in your past who would have come through that door angry, assuming you’d ignored their calls. Or who would not have even noticed that your panic attacks had been worse lately, the dizziness and nausea overwhelming your body. Wouldn’t have noticed how the rainy weather exacerbated the stiffness in your joints. Now you feel a little guilty, knowing that, with Pao out of town this week, Bodhi would have had to close the shop early to come home and check on you.

The tooka gives up on garnering Bodhi’s affections and makes his way to the window where wind-struck tree branches have been tapping the transparisteel. You shift your body upright, ignoring the ache in your back, making space for Bodhi as he sits next to you on the plush sofa. He cups your cheek in his hand, his palms rough and calloused not just from the war, but from years of tinkering, learning to fix things. Sometimes you think, with a smile, that the only thing he’d never try to fix is you.

“Are you okay, love?”

Still drowsy, you hadn’t realized you hadn’t answered him yet. “Yes. I’m sorry. I must have been asleep.”

Red picks up your com and chirps. It’s completely drained of power. “That’s not like you,” Bodhi says, drawing your body toward his. “Usually I’m the one who forgets to charge everything. Did something happen? I was so frightened yesterday. I just—I want to make sure you’re safe.”

Yesterday you nearly passed out, your anxiety triggered by something you still can’t put your finger on. And that trigger set your body down a path you could no longer control. You were frightened, too. But so grateful that you weren’t alone, that when you lost your balance you had someone to help you to your bed where you could ride this wave out safely. He held you the whole time.

You lean into his chest, lay your head on Bodhi’s shoulder, consider the months after Life Day and the dark of winter. The losses you’ve both experienced seem to echo in your chest a little louder right now. And of course, all this rain.

“No, I don’t think so,” you say. “This is just a difficult time of year.”

“I know.”

Bodhi presses a kiss to your forehead, his hair—having come loose from where he’s braided it back—brushing your cheek.

He takes it hard when you’re not well. Despite his own scars from the war—so many of them invisible—he tends to shoulder the scars of his loved ones as well. Together you’ve both learned that sometimes bodies just fall apart, that illness just is. And while he has reminded you so many times that you’re not broken, sometimes he needs reminding that your pain is not his personal failure.

He likes to say he fell in love with you the day he tripped over your boots and nearly landed in your lap. You were at your desk, working on a stack of jackets for new Rebel Alliance recruits, and you liked to sew with your shoes off, to better feel the pedal of the machine in your stocking feet. Bodhi didn’t know this about you yet, nor that you had a reputation for a messy work area. He tried to stabilize himself on a pile of finished garments at the end of the desk, but it was you who caught him, one arm reaching for him, and the other deftly relocating your cup of caf.

When everything finally stopped moving, you looked up and laughed. “You’re early,” you said. “But that’s okay. I just finished yours.”

You joke that met his jacket before you met him. And that day, as you put the finished jacket in Bodhi’s hands, when your fingers touched, you knew you had to know more than this man’s jacket measurements. It was slower for you, but he swears that’s when he fell in love.

Since then you’ve learned better than to doubt him when he tells you this sort of thing. The moments that made him fall for you, the little compliments, the gestures of kindness. You’ve learned that when he says he’s worried, it actually means he’s worried. It’s not a platitude. And you’ve learned that when you bought this little house together on Chandrila after the war it was because you were as much his home as he was yours. “Today is a better day than yesterday,” you tell him. “There’s no rain. And I’m glad you’re home.”

Bodhi shrugs out of his jacket—the very same jacket that precipitated your meeting—and wraps a strong arm around you. It’s like a tether back into the present moment, your mind and body finding each other after hours spent drifting away.

He doesn’t fly as much now, not the big ships. There’s the occasional relief mission he’ll pilot for the New Republic, and he’ll take your small transport out recreationally. But he says he’d rather be here on the ground, connected to the planet, getting his hands dirty. So when his Drabatan comrade Pao proposed the idea of a droid repair shop to help with all the work that would be needed as displaced veterans and their families settled there after the war, Bodhi ran with it.

The little shop isn’t far from the house, and he often comes home with grease under his fingernails, occasionally a streak on his face that in his exhaustion he hasn’t noticed. When they opened that shop you made him promise that he wasn’t giving up a career as a pilot to stay closer to you. He promised. It took a while, but eventually you believed him.

“An old astromech came in last month,” he says. “Pao said the guy was just selling her to us for scrap, and I didn’t want to say anything right away because she was so badly damaged and Pao had to track down some seriously rare parts. But…I’d like to bring her home tomorrow. For you. If that’s okay.”

“Are you serious?”

“She’s C1-series. I can’t remember the last time I saw a C1—” he pauses and takes a deep breath. “The important thing is that we found some basic first aid programming. And she’s sweet.”

“Where are you going with this?” you ask.

“I think it might be nice, to have some help here. Or wherever. So you’ll always be safe.”

“A sweet C1-unit?”

“I know. It surprised me, too.”

“I don’t know what to say,” you tell him.

“That’s okay, love,” he says. “Just tell me what you decide.”

Bodhi takes your hand and gives it a squeeze before he gets up from the sofa. Soon you hear him checking on the stew he started in the slow cooker this morning before he left for work. There are tears forming in your eyes.

Easing yourself out of your cozy spot on the couch you make your way to your sewing cabinet and retrieve a box. Inside that box is a hooded cardigan, something you spent months working on, little by little. First the patterning, then finding the perfect, most soft and warm fabric, and then the sewing, the putting it together, the making it perfect for him.

He’d seen something similar at an artisan market on Naboo the last time you were able to take a vacation, but decided it was too pricey. When he changed his mind and went back for it the next day, they’d been sold out.

You bring the box back out to the living room, where he’s re-seated himself with a cup of tea and a knitted blanket.

“I was saving this for a special occasion,” you tell him. “But I don’t think I can hold onto it for another minute.” He takes it out of the box and puts it on immediately, like you knew he would.

“This is so nice,” he says, rubbing the edge of the fabric between his fingers. “When did you make this?”

“A while ago. I’m glad you like it.”

“So is this a yes on the droid?”

“Yeah,” you say. “It is.”

Bodhi pulls you down onto the couch and when you lean into his warm kiss it’s with a lightness you haven’t felt in years, a feeling of security and relief you once thought you’d never feel again. You throw your arms around his neck and run a finger over the small ring on your left hand. This is real, you remind yourself. You and your partner and the little droid rolling down the hall to his charging station. The tooka cat now suddenly at your feet. The fragrant stew simmering in the kitchen. A part of you always felt this sort of peace was impossible. But here you are, and it is real.

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krizaland · 3 years

Note

Yandere Zim X Male Reader? There isn't many out there, and I sort of had a song in mind if you would like to listen: Rory by Foxing.

You got it, friend!

Be warned: There are themes of unrequited love, wasps and a graphic depiction of wasp stings ahead!

Here's the song that was used btw

From the moment he met you, Zim found himself captivated by you.

From your gentle eyes to your kind soul, Zim found you utterly fascinating.

You were nothing like any of the other humans! You weren’t ugly, and you didn’t even stink!

You may have been friends with Dib but that didn’t stop you from sticking up for him whenever Dib tried to expose him!

At first, Zim decided to use you as a good source of information as well as a way to keep up appearances without drawing too much attention to himself.

However, the more time he spent with you, Zim started to feel…strange to say the least.

His PAK would spark around you and his squeedilyspooch felt like it was tied up in knots!

“Computer! What are these HORRIBLE feelings inside of me?! What has that Y/N-human done to Zim?!” Zim demanded as he pointed to the ceiling.

“WELL….UM…”

“C’mon spit it out already!”

“WELL IT SEEMS THAT YOU HAVE FALLEN IN LOVE…”

Zim’s jaw hit the ground.

“WHAT?! ME?! IN LOVE?! WITH A HUMAN?! IMPOSSIBLE! Preform a full body bioscan!”

Zim’s computer sighed as a few mechanical tentacles wrapped around Zim.

“SCANNING…SCANNING….”

After a few minutes, the tentacles retracted,

“BIOSCAN COMPLETE. NO ILLNESSES DETECTED.”

“N-No! No! This can’t be! No invader can even experience love! Especially not for the enemy! What am I going to do?! ARGH! Computer! Create an antidote for my love illness!” Zim commanded as he tugged on his antennas.

“UM THERE REALLY ISN’T A CURE…”

“LIES!! Surely there has to be some way to get rid of these HORRIBLE FEELINGS!” Zim wailed dramatically.

“WELL…THERE IS ONE WAY TO GET RID OF THEM..”

“What are you waiting for! Tell me! Tell me the solution!!” Zim demanded as his voice quivered a bit.

“THE ONLY WAY YO GET RID OF YOUR FEELINGS IS TO ASK Y/N OUT..” The computer lied

“WHAT?! YOU WANT ZIM TO DATE THE ENEMY?! ARE YOU INSANE?!”

“Nyeh!”

Zim’s tirade was interrupted by Minimoose.

“Stay out of this, Minimoose! This doesn’t concern you!”

“Nyeh!”

“Aww! It’s sweet that you care about your master but don’t worry, Zim will be fine!”

“Nyeh!”

“Eh?! Ask Y/N out on a date to keep up appearances?! Never! didn’t I already make it clear that was a bad idea?! There’s no way I’d possibly show that kind of weakness to the enemy. But what if…”

Zim hummed for a moment as he stroked his chin.

“I’ve got it! I’ll ask Y/N out on a date to keep up appearances! Yes…I’ll simply use these feelings as a way to appear more normal so I can continue my mission!”

Minimoose was a bit annoyed but happily encouraged his master

“Nyeh!”

“I think you’re cool too, Minimoose! Now then, how to woo Y/N…Maybe one of those love note thingys.” Zim muttered to himself as he begin typing away at his keyboard.

After a few minutes of typing, Zim cracked a wicked smile.

“Excellent! With this loove note there’s no way Y/N could possibly resist my proposal!”

Zim burst into maniacal laughter as he printed the note.

“Now all thats left to do is deliver it!”

“OOOH!! OHHH!!! CAN I BRING THE NOTE TO RACECAR?!!” GIR squealed as he reached for the note.

“No GIR! I’m not going to risk this note getting damaged because of you!” Zim snapped as he snatched away the note.

GIR did like that answer.

He let out a loud shriek and threw himself to the ground.

He begun to kick and cry as loud as his voice chip would let him.

“ENOUGH! You may deliver the note to Y/N!” Zim grumbled as he held out the note.

“YAY!!!!!!!”

And with that, GIR grabbed the note with his mouth and flew off with it.

“Ugh, I better make sure GIR doesn’t ruin all of my hard work.” Zim huffed as he threw on his disguise and followed after GIR.

It wasn’t long before GIR managed to find you.

You were sitting on a bench in the park next to Dib, who seemed nervous about something.

“Dib? Are you ok? You’re acting kinda…twitchy”

“Twitchy? I’m not twitchy! Heh! It’s just um…the air! Yeah the air is really cold today!” Dib lied as he rubbed the back of his head.

“Dib it’s almost June. It’s like 88 degrees out here. What’s really going on?” You pressed as you gave Dib a sympathetic look.

Dib looked down at his feet and took in a deep breath.

“Ok, I’ll tell you but you have to promise you won’t be grossed out by me.”

“Dib, you’re my best friend! Not even hunting the most disgusting cryptid can make me grossed out by you!” You reassured with a chuckle.

Dib took in another deep breath as he turned to face you

“Y/N, I know we’ve been friends for like a really long time now and….well….”

“Well what?”

Dib swallowed thickly as he tugged at his shirt collar

“I think I might want to be more than friends!”

Dib’s words flew out a mile a minute before he clamped a hand over his mouth.

“Wait?! Are you serious?!” Your eyes lit up a bit.

“Gah! I knew this was a bad idea! Just forget I said anything!” Dib whimpered as he buried his face in his hands.

“No no! I’m actually really happy you told me that, Dib! Because…I want to be more than friends too!” You reassured as you put a hand on his shoulder.

Dib looked up at you and blinked in shock.

“Wait? Really?”

“Yes really! I’ve actually been wanting to ask you out for a while but I wasn’t sure if you felt the same.” You admitted sheepishly as you rubbed the back of your head.

“What?! You had feelings for me this whole time?! And you didn’t even- You know what? Who cares? All that matters is that we both feel the same about each other! Right?” Dib still seemed a bit skeptical.

“Exactly! That’s the spirit!” You cheered as you threw your arms in the air, smacking poor GIR out of the sky.

THUMP!

SPLOOSH!

GIR fell face first into a puddle, soaking Zim’s love note.

However it wouldn’t have mattered whether or not the love note was in tact. For Zim had witness the entire exchange between you and Dib and was devastated.

He let out a pained chuckle as he grabbed the soggy note from GIR’s mouth.

Zim was about to confront Dib when-

BONK!

THUMP!

Zim had walked right into s tree, causing a wasp nest to fall right on his head.

Zim let out a blood curdling scream as the wasps begun to attack him from all directions!

Soon he began to run amok, with more wasps trailing behind him!

It wasn’t long before Zim managed to make it back to his base.

Two robotic arms came down from the ceiling,

POP!

They pulled the wasp nest off of Zim’s head and chucked it out into the front yard.

Zim let out a pained groan as his grotesquely swollen face throbbed with wasp venom and glowing green pus.

The robotic arms carefully peeled off Zim’s disguise and another arm carried him down to his lab.

After a refreshing chemical shower, Zim’s face had returned to normal!

However, while his face had healed, his feelings were still in shambles.

He picked up the note and went back up to the kitchen.

Zim sunk to his knees as he shakily held the soggy note in his hands.

“I wrote you a letter, asked my robot to send it but it took to the sea before you could’ve read it…”

Zim’s grip tightened on the note as a few tears trickled down his cheeks.

“Retreated to snow capped waters of the unknown. Extracted my soul straight from my body! but glowing and red…And I swear that sweat would envelop your arms if you broke down and held it!”

“I swear I’m a good man-“ -Zim took in a heavy breath- “-I swear I’m a good man…”

Zim sniffled a bit,

“So why don’t you love me back?”

He looked down at the note in his hands.

“So why don’t you love me back?”

Zim let out a deep growl as he chucked the soggy note into the window.

“Instead of twisting up words you just say there in silence! In wind burnt homes sighing rays from a sunset!”

Zim rose to his feet and stormed towards the window.

As he peeled the soggy note off the window, he couldn’t help but notice that the wasp nest was still in the front yard.

“And all I could hear was the sound of the wasp nest, my head made a home for the hum of the insects!”

Zim took another glance down at the soggy note he had peeled off the window.

“But my hands shake and shudder at the mention of half written reasons we’ll only be friends!”

Zim’s fist curled around the note and punched the window.

“I swear I’m a good man…. I swear I’m a good man…”

Zim squeezed his eyes shut and let out a sob

“So why don’t you love me back?”

His hand slid down the window.

“So why don’t you love me back?!”

Zim threw the soggy note to the ground and stomped on it

“So why don’t you love me back?!”

He threw his head to the ceiling and shrieked

“So why don’t you love me back?!”

He clutched the sides of his head and wailed his plea once again,

“So why don’t you love me back?!”

Zim melted back down to his knees.

“So why don’t you love me back….”

A louder sob racked his body as Zim felt his world crash down around him.

How humiliating.

He was Irk’s finest invader! How could he be so wounded by one pitiful human?!

No, pitiful wasn’t the right word to describe you. In truth, Zim felt that handsome was a better fit.

Despite how devastated he was, Zim still couldn’t stop wanting you.

The need for your love sparked a fire deep within him.

The fire burned violently throughout Zim’s body! Pulling him out of his depression and making him more confident than ever!

Zim wanted you for some much more than appearances!

He wanted you to be his and his alone!

By taking you away from him, Dib had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

Zim let out a thunderous maniacal laugh as he raised his hands to the ceiling!

He put his disguise back on, grabbed a blaster, and hopped into his Voot.

“Prepare yourself, foolish Dib-monkey! I am coming to reclaim what’s rightfully mine! You shall rue the day you took Y/N away from Zim!”

#invader zim #invader zim x male!reader #invader zim x reader #dib x reader

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picwew · 3 years

Photo

SQUAD UP! It’s time for Yuna and his crew of miscreant demons!

(Picrews are here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here!)

The characters are, top to bottom, left to right--

Nakajima, Yuna: A human with unusually high magical potential. His specialty is the binding of demons into servitude, which he utilizes to stop particularly troublesome demons from threatening human populations across the globe. Most of the demons under his care were seduced by him, as he has quite a knack for making men want him. As such, several of his servants are vying for his favor, but, in his own words, “I don’t play favorites~”

Obviously, Yuna is a bit of a flirt. His tastes extend well beyond demons, into just about any non-human he can get his hands on. He has a ravenous appetite for handsome men, but no plans to settle down any time soon. It isn’t that romance doesn’t appeal to him, more that he’s still young and a little too free-spirited for anything permanent. The way he dotes on his servants, though, you’d certainly think he was in love with them, Nihil in particular.

Mourning Dove: Affectionately referred to by his coworkers as “Dovey”, this little fellow was the first of Yuna’s servants, and is therefore his most staunch defender. The details of his past are hazy, even in his own mind, but he was born into the slave trade, nameless, nothing, the psychological toll of which would not become apparent until his eventual escape. He was full of hatred for the humans who had callously treated him as property, and claimed many lives before Yuna was able to soothe his aching heart. “You’re pretty as a mourning dove,” Yuna told him. From that moment on, he decided that this would be his name.

Dovey is, above all, an empath. Much of his time recovering from a life of slavery was spent learning to feel again. Once he got the hang of it, however, he found that he felt a little too much, so much so that he’s become somewhat of a crybaby. When others are in pain, he is often the one to comfort them. His sweet disposition and cute appearance have earned him his coworkers’ love, although they still get a bit miffed with him whenever he tries to hog Yuna’s attention.

Dr. Callaway: An interesting case, and a tough nut to crack. Only Yuna knows his full name; no one knows his story. All he’s shared is that he was fingered for human experimentation, and that, no, he has neither learned his lesson nor wishes to. Still, he behaves himself well enough, perhaps because he is entirely obsessed with Yuna in the most unhealthy way. While most of his coworkers consider one another family, Dr. Callaway is detached and often mocking of their sentimentality.

As expected, Dr. Callaway is a terrible sadist. He takes great pleasure in hurting others in any way he can. Nowadays, this is limited almost entirely to insults and threats, but he has been known to get physical with others when Yuna isn’t looking. It doesn’t help that nothing seems to bother him in return. You could beat the man senseless, and he’d come out of it grinning like a jackal.

Corvo: This one was a misunderstanding--or, rather, a case of cultures clashing in a very gruesome manner. Corvo is a hybrid of demon and crowkin. Beastkin are not true demons, but are often lumped in with them, so mixed-race families are not uncommon. Unfortunately, this can lead to some problematic offspring, particularly when one or both of the parents are detached from human society. Corvo, like many crowkin, was taught that food is food, and that human meat is the most delicious of all. He bore no ill will toward humans, but his view of them as, essentially, cattle culminated in a visit from Yuna.

Following his binding, Corvo began the lengthy process of finding something he liked more than human flesh. This, as it turned out, was sweets--all sweets, from pastries, to ice cream, to candy. He had never had sweets before, and everyone agreed that they suited his bubbly, affectionate personality more than human flesh anyway. He is certainly the gentlest of all of Yuna’s servants, dedicated to his family and to protecting those in need. He’s especially fond of cats.

Erebus: Known by those who worship him as the Master of Crows, Erebus is an ill-understood being. He is ancient, but has had little to do with his own kind since time out of mind. Instead, he appears to have become so entwined with his worshipers that he can no longer live without their faith to sustain him. During the Northern Crusades, a great many of them were persecuted for their faith, and Erebus fell into a centuries-long slumber. Only when his followers began to grow in number again did he wake--and command those loyal to him to seek vengeance for their fallen brethren. Naturally, Yuna had a thing or two to say about that.

Erebus is highly asocial, but does not dislike his coworkers. It would be a stretch to say he views them as family; even so, he gets along well with them on the rare occasion Yuna can talk him out of his comfortable pocket of darkness. As the oldest of his colleagues, he is respected and even admired, but he cares little for the love of his own kind. He desires mortal love, which he receives through his worshipers. Due to their number still being relatively low, you’ll rarely catch him awake. Only Yuna seems able to rouse him, and only because Yuna is his “most cherished one”.

Mage: A troublemaker with a bark worse than his bite--but he can and will bite, so mind your fingers. Like Dr. Callaway, his true name is known only to Yuna. His coworkers know him as Mage, taken from Magenta, the name of the rather nasty chemical he produces to draw in his prey. He doesn’t harm them, but he has seduced many a married man away from his wife. Causing strife among couples is what he does best. As an incubus, he finds the taste of a married man’s energy too sweet to resist. So, of course, when he found himself seduced by Yuna, he was completely baffled--and absolutely obsessed. He still toys with married men now and then, when he gets the chance, but spends most of his time trying to talk Yuna back into bed.

Though rare, Mage can be persuaded to bust heads, and does so with the best of ‘em. He’s highly territorial, meaning that although he rather likes his colleagues, he often tangles up with them over Yuna’s affection. He is particularly hostile toward Nihil, who rather delights in teasing Mage with his closeness to their master. Outside of his romantic conflicts with his housemates, he tends to be rather lackadaisical, spending much of his free time lounging on every comfortable surface available. People find his presence enjoyable due to his easygoing disposition and passion for mischief.

Nihil: Of all the demons under Yuna’s employ, Nihil is the one who has come closest to winning his heart. Theirs is a strangely intimate relationship, one which Yuna insists is platonic--and yet, Nihil is at his side always, his obedient shadow. Of course, they weren’t always so close. Nihil is an inherently violent, cruel man whose sole purpose in life is to cause as much pain and grief as he possibly can. He is absolutely, positively insane, for no other reason than this is how he believes a demon should be. This is his aesthetic, and a demon’s aesthetic is absolute. He minds his P’s and Q’s now that he’s bound to Yuna, but never lets his “family” forget what he is, Yuna least of all.

Nihil loves no being, except, by his own admission, Yuna. He teases his master constantly, always pushing his limits, always pushing his buttons. “I am your loyal dog,” is a favorite line of his, spoken, with a pointed smile, whenever Yuna asks something of him. For some reason, it never fails to fluster Yuna, which allows Nihil to worm himself further into his darling’s heart. Unlike his colleagues, he is not afraid to get physical with Yuna, and many of their more heated arguments have ended in the bedroom. Whether Nihil actually enjoys servitude remains to be seen, but for Yuna, he would pull the moon from the sky.

Pox: The general consensus on Pox is “unfriendly, but not unbearable”. A life of self-isolation has made him difficult to approach, even more difficult to befriend, especially given that everyone he’s ever loved, he has killed. He is a demon of sickness, of plague and of rot, of suffering so old as to be carved into the bones of the earth. When he was young, he could not control the disease that spread from him. Though his mortal mother tried desperately to guide him, eventually, she was overcome, and Pox left the village he had once called home, now populated only by the dead and dying. He learned then that he could not live among his mother’s people, but he knew nothing of his father’s. Rather than seek them out and put them at risk as well, he exiled himself to the outskirts of human society, interacting with it only when necessary. With time, he came to understand his power, and was able to control it--but his peaceful life came to an end when one of the few humans he had allowed himself to love was killed in a botched robbery. Pox designated himself judge, jury, and executioner, and it wasn’t long before Yuna showed up on his doorstep.

Pox hides his self-loathing under a cold, hard outer shell. His mask is flawless, perfected through a lifetime of guilt, and he allows no one near enough to break it. His coworkers believe that they are despised by him, but in truth, he loves each of them with every inch of himself. Saying so is difficult, though, and such an admission would only encourage them to endanger themselves. He may be in complete control of his magic most days, but there are times even now when he catches himself slipping. He is desperate to protect Yuna and the strange family they have all built together, so much so that he would rather suffer in silence than risk their lives asking for help.

Seta Sericum: The peculiarity of his name has led to his coworkers calling him Silky, a moniker which he has accepted only begrudgingly. Silky is a Nephalem, the product of a love between angel and demon. Typically, his fathers’ love for one another would have ended in tragedy, but the two stayed together even after their angelic half was cast from divinity. Silky was raised in a happy home, albeit a mobile one; his fathers couldn’t risk staying in one place for too long, lest the Church track them down. Ultimately, it was the Church, their greatest fear, that was their end. They were cut down while protecting Silky, who was forced to flee in the vain hope that his absence might somehow save his fathers. The Church searched for him, but he had hidden himself well. Now an orphan, he swore vengeance on his parents’ murderers--and he got it too, once he was old enough to control his immense magical power. He despises the Church, but killed only those among its ranks who had directly harmed him. Regardless, Yuna came for him, and he submitted to servitude as recompense.

Silky’s demonic father was a real fop of a man, and his son is no different now that he’s had a chance to adjust to a normal life. He insists that everyone pull their own weight, that everything be in its place at all times, and has a fondness for indulgences such as expensive wine and imported chocolates. Without these little luxuries, he would surely have gone mad, for both his mischievous master and his trouble-making housemates frustrate him to no end. He has tried, with mixed success, to serve as a role model for them, but, oh, they are all such children. Dovey is far too naive, Dr. Callaway is far too sadistic, Corvo is far too oblivious, Mage is far too flirtatious, Nihil is far too violent, Pox is far too cold, and Vincent is far too reclusive. Erebus, at least, is well-behaved, though Silky thinks he could stand to mingle more with the group.

Vincent Blythe: On the forefront of medical progress during the Victorian Era, Dr. Vincent Blythe has become little more than a shell of his former self. When his prostitute mother was murdered by one of her stags, something snapped in him. He began targeting, torturing, and finally killing any man who frequented brothels or whom he had seen with street-walkers, believing himself to be the protector of his mother’s people. It was only then when he realized he was something more than human. His father, it turned out, had been a demon who had fallen terribly in love with his mother, but whose feelings had been spurned by her. After receiving a near-fatal wound in a skirmish with a prominent vampire hunter of the day, Vincent tucked himself away in a dark corner of London to heal. He slept for over a century, and when he woke, attempted to pick up where he’d left off. Confused, his trauma still fresh in his mind, he killed all who drew near. Phone calls were made, flights were booked, and Yuna arrived on scene to bring him back to his senses.

Vincent is terribly withdrawn. On the one hand, he is distrustful of all humans, and men in particular frighten him. On the other hand, he has had little to no experience with his own kind, and so struggles to fit in among them. He finds himself at an impasse, unable to shake the trauma of his mother’s murder, and equally unable to bond with his father’s kin. Because of this, he is prone to bouts of violent madness when he feels that he is being threatened, or when he wakes from particularly vivid nightmares, in which he witnesses his mother’s murder and can do nothing to stop it. Dr. Callaway has oft remarked that Vincent is a genius, a true medical prodigy, and that it is too bad he’s so “broken”.

#picrew #male ocs #demon ocs

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sidespart · 3 years

Text

The Fall of King Romulus Part 6

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him...

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

EXTRA WARNINGS - this chapter is pretty much unrelenting whump and the violence and consent issues (past) tags strongly apply. I have put more detailed (spoiler heavy) warnings at the bottom so if you’re particularly sensitive to that stuff and want to scroll down to check before you read you can do so.

Feedback appreciated.

NOW ON AO3 :D

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

In a tavern just outside of Leovan the crowd roars another! And Roman laughs and gamely starts to play another jig. He’s been playing for hours and he drinks in the attention happily, even as the cheers of the crowd become a ringing in his ears. The night is long and his throat is raw and his stomach empty and it’s harder and harder to keep his eyes focused, but his hands are steady on the strings. He sways in place, sweat dripping into his eyes, but it doesn’t matter- the crowd adore him. They sing and dance and laugh along, and after each set they call another, another, another until the room is spinning and his throat is bleeding and the audience’s laughter had turned cruel and high and lilting and-

Roman woke with a gasp and immediately regretted it.

The underground room was still pitch black, the humidity still cloying. At some point during his fitful sleep he had slumped to the floor, Lucius’ ill-attempt at binding having come loose enough to allow him to slide his arms down the length of the pipe. He was awkwardly sprawled at the base with his wrists still pinned above his head and his legs twisted underneath him. He tugged experimentally at his binding and got a sharp spike of pain down his shoulders and spine for his trouble. Whilst he had wasted time sleeping, the silk had become sodden from the moisture of the room and shrunk tight against his wrists, making even Lucius’ knotwork impossible to pull apart.

Not that it would have made much difference if he could get it loose.

Stay here until I come back with your transport.

Grunting with pain, he managed to untangle his legs out from under him and sit up. He pushed himself up on his knees as best he could, trying to relieve some of the pressure on his wrists, but gave it up quickly as the pain lacing down his shoulders intensified.

This was bad.

He chewed on his bottom lip, trying to think, but the heat was making it almost impossible. The black of the room kept swirling back in to crowded tavern, the rush of water into the jeers of a crowd…he could feel the raw burn on his throat and his mind scrambled desperately for another song-

Except it hadn’t happened like that. He shook his head furiously, his hair flicking sweat into the room, trying to banish the tavern from his mind. He had already started traveling with the others by the time he sang in Leovan and if he’d tried to perform so late into the night Virgil would have come stomping down the stairs to tell him he was being ridiculous and to go and get some sleep.

Or Patton would have sat up listening, playing bodyguard, until he couldn’t keep his own eyes open and sweetly suggested that the crowd might want to be getting home to their own families.

Or Logan would appear, pocket watch in hand, demanding he finish within a set time frame in order to allow for optimal sleeping hours.

Roman could almost hear the lecture, relief at a chance to escape the crowd mingling with exasperation at the scholars ridged scheduling.

In the dark Roman glanced over to where he thought the door should be.

The only sound was the gentle hiss of water.

He tried pulling at the rope again.

***

“Hey! It’s you!”

The man blocking Roman’s path back to the ballroom was clearly drunk. He stumbled towards Roman, half leaning on the hallway wall for support, a big dopy smile on his face. “I saw you- I saw you back there – wow!”

“Thank you friend.” Roman smiled brightly and took a step backwards, but not quickly enough to prevent the guy from grasping onto his sash.

“You’re so pretty.” The guy breathed, his eyes unfocused but his grip firm, “I saw you lookin’ at me when you were singin’.”

Roman squirmed. He was almost certainly better trained than his admirer, and he had had a lot less ale, but he was also shorter and skinnier. With the man pressed so close in the narrow hallway it was almost impossible to find the leverage he needed to push him off.

And. This was a nice place. And by the quality of the man’s clothing he was an honoured guest not a servant. Roman had been the one to convince his new companions to accompany him to the local lord’s house for the ball, he had wanted to give them to a chance to relax whilst he performed. He didn’t want to get himself, and them, kicked out by causing a scene- not when he was half hoping they would allow him to continue to travel with them even though the job he’d been hired for was done.

“I look at everyone-” he said, smile fixed and polite ”– engaging the audience is actually very important for-“

“Shush.” The man whispered.

Roman shushed. Grinding his teeth in frustration.

His assailant brought one hand up to paw at his face in a clumsy attempt at seduction, thick rings knocking against Romans jaw. His other hand released the bard’s sash to grip his wrist instead.

“Kiss me,” the man breathed, the stink of ale on his breath making Roman gag.

Face burning with mounting frustration and embarrassment, Roman attempted to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, but the man twisted his head at the last moment to meet his lips with his own. Pressing Roman back against the wall with a slobbering assault as he attempted to pry Roman’s lips open with his tongue.

Panic flickered in Roman’s belly and then just as quickly dulled. It was generally easier to let these things run their course.

And then, suddenly, the pressure on his mouth – and wrist and chest - was gone.

Roman blinked open eyes he didn’t remember squeezing shut to see Patton with an expression so furious Roman had to fight the instinct to cower.

“What.” Patton snarled “Do you think you’re doing?”

“I di-didn’t mean to-“ Roman started.

“Well?!” Patton roared and Roman realised he wasn’t speaking to him – but rather the rich man who appeared to be rapidly sobering up in Patton’s grip. The warrior held him by the scuff of his neck, his toes just scraping the floor. When Patton shook him, the plethora of chains around his neck clinked together musically.

“Roman,” Patton asked, his voice still shaking with an anger that made Roman draw his shoulders up instinctively “do you…know this man?”

“Well…no.” Roman glanced at the chains again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as his heart rate started to return to normal “I think he might be the mayor though Pat, put him down!”

“I don’t care if he’s the King of the elves! Did you want to kiss him?”

“Well no, but – but its fine! These things happen!”

“You call yourself a Prince and this is how you carry on?”

Wait. What?

Roman blinked, feeling strangely hot in the cool hallway.

Patton wasn’t supposed to say that. Patton was supposed to ask what he meant. And Roman would backtrack and feed him some lines about people often feeling entitled to performers time off stage – which was not untrue – and Patton would look at him wide eyed and tell him that would never happen again –

“You’ve been told over and over, to keep yourself to yourself.”

- that Patton would stand guard at every performance from now on if that’s what it took.-

“If you insist on putting yourself into these situations, don’t come crying to me when the inevitable happens.”

-And Roman would be so elated at the implication that they were to keep travelling together that he would almost forget to feel embarrassed at the situation.-

Patton’s lips narrowed into a thin disapproving line, “Don’t be naive. You are far better off alone, Romulus.”

“Dad?” Roman whispered.

“He doesn’t look much like the Prince.”

“Oh, like you’ve seen him.”

“Well he’s meant to be handsome right? This guy’s not winning any contests.”

Roman opened his eyes, squinting against the light. Three men stood around him, illuminated by the glow of an oil lamp. For one wild moment elation flooded through him - his friends had found him after all!

And then their conversation registered and he scowled. Disappointment robbing him of a witty comeback to their insults.

Still. Let them travel almost non-stop for three weeks, spend a night standing out in the middle of a field whilst an old woman sang at herbs, march for five days through a forest - including a detour through he thickets brambles known to man- and then follow that up with an entire day wandering around the city, have two panic attacks and be left to sleep tied up in caller. And then see if they looked their best.

With the gag still in his mouth, Roman’s attempt to covey this sentiment were mercifully muffled.

“I don’t know.” The biggest of the three stepped forward, grabbing a handful of Roman’s hair and yanking his head back painfully, abruptly cutting off his complaints. “I can kinda see it.”

“Be careful Niki,” the one who had first spoken whispered, he was holding the lantern and keeping well back from Roman. “His nibs thinks he’s got devils with him.”

“In here?” Niki cast a glance around at the iron cage of pipework that covered the room. “If he does they’re not coming out.”

“Still.” Lantern-boy whined.

“Well let’s test it.” Niki grinned down and Roman spitefully and released his grip on his hair. In one quick movement he had produced an iron dagger, not unlike Roman’s own, and pressed the flat of it to Roman’s cheek.

Roman stared at him.

“There you see? If was possessed he’d be screaming.” Niki said smugly and pulled his knife back, twisting it slightly as he did so, leaving a shallow cut along Roman’s cheek, making him wince.

“Careful,” lantern-boy said meaningfully “he’s still the Prince’s brother.”

“Oops.” Niki smiled cheerfully down at Roman. “My bad.”

“He needs to drink.” The third man stood far enough back from the lantern that Roman couldn’t see his face, but he saw the way the other two responded to his soft voice, their posture automatically stiffening.

“Here,” lantern-boy stepped forward after a moment, holding out a water skin to Niki who rolled his eyes but reached down to rip the gag from Roman’s mouth.

Roman coughed, swallowing air greedily. His throat was painfully dry, all moisture sucked out by the silk, but he still hesitated when Niki held the skin up to his mouth.

“Listen to me.” He croaked “you-“

“Just drink it.” Niki snapped and Roman surged forward despite himself, swallowing a few precious mouthfuls before the skin was yanked away again.

“You’re from Notaleveale.” he whispered. “Right?”

“Obviously.” Lantern-boy muttered, taking the water skin back from his companion.

“Well then,” he drew himself up as much as he could, ignoring the pain the movement caused “ – as true men of The North I must implore you to assist me. The Marquis has been embroiled in some- some conspiracy of untruths, is perhaps plotting against the very crown itself and-“

“The Marquis de Orenlla couldn’t plot his way out of a paper bag.” Niki snorted contemptuously.

Roman opened and closed his mouth a few times.

“Isn’t he your Lord?” he asked eventually feeling bizarrely offended on the Marquis’ behalf. Niki and lantern-boy were both wearing chest plates embossed with the three peaked mountain range that signified allegiance to Orenlla, the royal kraken of Notaleveale floating above. They were clearly guardsmen brought with Lucius on his journey south.

The third man, who hadn’t spoken since he mentioned Roman needing to drink, wore no identifying uniform.

“It’s not an insult.” Niki shrugged, “personally I prefer an employer too daft to organise a coupe.”

Lantern-boy nodded in agreement, “It’s a, whatcha call it - a positive working environment, innt?”

“…alright.” Roman decided to change tactics. “I’ll double what he’s paying you.” This time both men laughed.

“With what?”

“Well, I. I’m still a Prince I’ll have you know - I have many rich and influential friends who would gladly-“

“Oh really. Where are they then?”

There was an unpleasant pause whilst Roman desperately tried to get his brain to think. He was supposed to be more creative than this!

“You’re no Prince of ours anyhow.” Lantern-boy stepped a bit closer to glare into Roman’s eyes. “Traitor.”

Roman flinched back at the pure look of venom on the young man’s face.

Little fae touched traitor.

“Listen to me. Whatever you’ve heard – it’s not true. My father-“

“Don’t you dare speak his name!” Niki surged froward, pulling Roman up by the neck of his tunic. Their faces were close enough that Roman could feel the spittle from the man’s mouth land on his cheek as he shouted: “After your despicable actions you would dare to-“

“Nicolas. Don’t upset yourself.”

The third man was barely visible to Roman over Niki- Nicholas’- shoulder, but as soon as he spoke the large man stilled, lowering Roman slowly back to the ground.

“Marcus. Some more light if you will.”

Lantern-boy -presumably Marcus– quickly produced a box of long matchsticks, almost tripping over himself in his haste to light more lanterns around the room. By the time he was done the room was brightly lit, the glow from each lamp bouncing off the metal pipes until it filled every corner.

The third man did not look especially Notalevealean, with skin almost as white as Virgil’s and pale white blond hair. He was dressed plainly, with pale grey robes and soft shoes, and carried only a thin walking stick. If he hadn’t spoken, he could have quite easily faded into the background - camouflaged against the dull back drop of pipes.

“Nicholas. Marcus. Go and guard the passages.”

“But we already have a dozen men out there-“

“And I’m sure they’re in need of leadership. Go now.”

The two men glanced at each other. Roman thought for a moment that they would stand their ground, but then Marcus snatched up his original lantern and headed for the door, Niki following after one last reluctant glance back.

“W-wait.” Roman called. “Is my Father alive?”

They disappeared into the gloom of the next room.

Left alone with only the quiet grey man, Roman found himself wishing they’d stayed.

The grey man smiled at him as he shuffled towards the kneeling prince. His smile was an awful thing that did not touch his eyes.

“The young Marquis de Orenlla is a rather silly boy.” He told Roman in his soft papery voice. “Much like yourself.”

Despite himself Roman let out an offended squeak, but the grey man continued unhindered. “He has very little idea how to survive alone, can barely function without his servants.”

Roman caught himself staring at the floor and snapped his gaze back to the grey man’s face. He didn’t want to miss any information he might let slip but looking at him was-

It was difficult.

When he tried to look at the details of his face they seemed to slip away. Was he young or old? What colour were his eyes?

The whole time he had been talking, had his mouth actually moved?

“What are you?” Roman whispered.

The grey man smiled again, Roman shuddered.

“But also like you, he is not wholly stupid. He has started asking some inconvenient questions.”

Within the blink of an eye, the grey man was next to him a knife in his hand. Before Roman had a chance to do more than flinch, he had cut the ties biding his hands, and was back across the room.

Dazed, Roman rubbed his wrists, trying not to wretch.

Up close, the grey man smelt of death.

“Now. Sit there, and listen to me until I finish.”

Romulus whimpered.

“Your father is dead.” The grey man told him bluntly. “You killed him.”

“No.” Romulus- Roman shook his head. Used his newly freed hands to cover his ears. “He was sick.”

“You poisoned him over many weeks.” the grey man whispered. “Disguised it as a common sickness. You tried the same on your brother but he was too strong to succumb.”

Roman lowered his hands. They were pointless anyway- the grey man’s voice seemed to be inside his head.

“That’s not how his strength works!”

“And so instead, you allied yourself with a traitor to the fae court and placed a curse of madness on the crown prince, rendering him unable to rule. You hoped to take over in his place, but luckily your father’s advisors found you out. You were forced to flea with your fae companion.”

Roman stared at him, eyes wide. “That’s insane!”

“That’s the truth.” The grey man insisted. “When The Marquis asks you for the truth, that’s what you’ll say.”

“No.” Roman shook his head. “No, no, no.”

The grey man reached forward, resting his hand gently against Roman’s cheek. Romulus stared up into his eyes.

“Julius?” he whispered.

“In a way.” The grey man’s face seemed to twist. For a single moment, it was Julius’ face that looked disdainful down at him, rendering Romulus mute with terror. And then with another twist to reality it was gone, back to the grey man’s blank visage.

“I’ve had eyes all over looking for you Romulus. I was so sure you must have died in the mountains and yet –“ His fingers tightened on Roman’s face, nails digging cruelly into his skin. “Here you are. Like a little cockroach.”

With a shove he released Roman’s face and walked swiftly to the centre of the room, where the largest pipes rose out of the floor. “Stay on your knees and come here.” he ordered. Face burning, Roman shuffled after him, knees bruising on the stone floor.

“Put your hands here.” He gestured to one of the larger pipes. Even before his hands touched the surface, Roman could feel the heat radiating from it. It was far hotter than the one he had been tied to and although he braced himself he couldn’t hold back a yelp of pain when his hands made contact.

He snatched them back quickly, his palms an alarming shade of red. And without pausing, sprang to his feet, aiming a punch directly at the grey man’s immobile face.

“Stop moving.”

Roman felt his muscles lock, momentum sending him crashing to the ground as the grey man easily sidestepped his swing.

“Don’t move until I tell you too.” The grey man added, leaving Roman frozen on the ground where he landed.

Slowey the grey man stepped around him, crouching down by his head. “Look at me, Romulus.” Roman did so, only moving his eyes to stare at the flickering mirage of the grey man’s face.

Up close, the smell was so bad Roman felt the remains of his pastry threatening to make a reappearance.

“I am going to ask you some questions. You are going to tell me the truth. Nod if you understand.”

Slowly, Roman nodded. The grey man – Julius – whatever it was, had already told him what it wanted him to consider the truth. But even so, ‘tell the truth’ was an easy enough order to get around. Truth being in the eye of the beholder and all.

“And if you don’t, I am going to tell you to hold onto that pipe again, and I am going to tell you to keep holding it until I am satisfied with your answers. Do you understand?”

Roman swallowed. He nodded again.

“Did you kill your father? Tell the truth now.”

“No.” he said quickly and then bit his tongue, cursing. Franticly he looked up at the grey man “You, you said that was a truth for The Marquis, not for everyone I can’t just –“

“Raise your left hand.” the grey man said mildly. “Bring it here.”

Romulus felt tears of frustration and fear spring to his eyes. He was stupid for thinking he had a chance at this. Julius’ tests were never designed for him to pass.

***

Roman wasn’t sure how many hours passed before the grey man seemed satisfied.

Fortunately, he had methods of persuasion beyond just the pipe. When Romans’ left palm had become completely coated in blisters the grey man had handed him walking stick and instructed him to bring it down hard on his own back instead. And then his shoulders. The side of his face. His left palm.

The grey man never touched him himself.

He didn’t have any need to.

Whenever there was a pause between punishments he ordered Roman to stillness. Time which Roman happily spent fantasising, first of smashing the stick down across the grey man’s head, then of pressing his own eyes to the hot pipe.

Even if they took him home – he could not allow himself to lay eyes on Remus. That was the one thing he could not fail on.

“Did you kill your father?” asked the grey man.

“Yes.”

The stress of raising Romulus, of hiding the curse; there was no doubt he’d contributed to his fathers early death. It was true, at least to him.

“Did you curse your brother?”

“Yes.”

When he was a little boy there had been a phase where he tried to put a curse on Remus daily, and Remus him. The kind of curses they dreamed up were for itchy feet and stinky farts, and none of them had worked, but it was still technically true.

“Why?”

“I was jealous of my brother.”

If Roman had only been born a half hour earlier he could have avoided a lifetime of being second best. He could have avoided his curse. Grown up with his Father instead of Julius. Not that he would wish any of that on Remus but. It was natural, surely, to be a little jealous of his brothers freedom.

“Good.”

Julius’ face smiled down at him. He reached out with the grey mans hands to stroke Romulus’ hair, like he sometimes did when he was a child. “You see Romulus, there is always a way to work within the confines of your curse, so long as you are willing to look for it. I taught you that.”

“Where are you?” Romulus whispered.

“I am waiting for you.” he smiled. “I have no sons Romulus, no one to pass the Stewardship to. And we must think about the future of our kingdom. When you are back, we can write a new story.”

“You…you’re ruler?”

Romulus frowned. There was a missing piece here but he couldn’t find it. The heat and pain were making his brain slosh against the inside of his skull. He found himself leaning in to the hand in his hair, even as revulsion rippled through him. “If you’re ruler then where’s –“

“Where’s the serpent?”

Roman blinked. Looking up, he found that Julius was gone again, the grey mans expressionless face staring back at him.

“What?”

“The serpent. Where is he?”

“I don’t – I don’t know what you mean.” Romulus held his injured arm close to his chest, curling over it protectively.

He heard the disappointed sigh and flinched even before the grey man brought his other hand to Romans’ bruised shoulder, squeezing hard.

“Look at me.”

Romulus did, eyes bright.

“I know he has left his prison. I know he was with you at that inn. I sent that stupid boy to get him and he found you.”

“I don’t know what you mean!” Romulus wailed, hating the childish wobble in his voice. “There wasn’t anyone else at the inn.”

“No?”

Julius eyes were peering out of the grey man again, a cruel glint to them. ”You were alone?”

“Yes.” Roman told him. Voice steady.

He’d entered the inn alone. He’d sat in the room alone. Climbed out of the window alone. Anything else was none of Julius’ business.

Before the grey man could speak again, a clatter from the next room made them both jump.

“Hmph. He’s early.” the grey man murmured. “Get back to your place.” He gestured to the pipe Roman had originally been tied to and, haltingly, Roman crawled towards it, sprawling at the base.

“If The Marquis asks, tell him nothing about your injuries.” the grey man added lazily, taking up his position in the centre of the room, fading back into the background.

Roman grunted. It wasn’t a bad plan: his most visible injuries – the burns on his hand which he couldn’t stand to look at – could be explained away as being caused by the very pipe Lucius had tied him to. As usual, nothing could ever be pinned on Julius.

They waited. But neither the Marquis or his men appeared.

The grey man stood across from him, gazing out into the darkness of the next room. Roman wasn’t even worth looking at.

He slumped further against the pipe and tried to focus on breathing. There wasn’t a single place on his body that didn’t hurt, though the worst by far was his hand. He shivered from cold, which, given the heat of the room, couldn’t be a good sign. He let his eyes slip closed. Exhaustion threatening to take him again.

And then he felt a soft pressure on his lap.

“Mrrp.”

Roman opened his eyes. Then he closed them again.

He opened one eye. It was still there.

“Mister Mittens?” he asked, slightly hysterically.

Romulus and Remus had grown up with dogs. He wasn’t sure if cats were supposed to be able to feel smugness, but this once clearly did. It butted it’s head against Roman’s chin with another self-satisfied “Mrrp.”

“What?“ The grey man was staring at the pair of them, looking as confused as his expressionless face could manage. “Where did that thing come from?”

Roman was saved from having to answer by a crossbow bolt. One that came through the open door, burying itself in the grey man’s skull.

Chapter 7

Extra warnings

Consent stuff – Roman relives a memory of being sexually assaulted (he doesn’t necessarily think of it in those terms). A drunk man kisses him and pushes him against a wall. The man tells Roman to ‘kiss me’ without knowing anything about Romans curse. They are interrupted before it goes beyond kissing. (whether anything else would have happened, or whether the man would have stopped if he had known about the curse, is not shown in the text). It is implied that this sort of situation has happened to Roman before, and that it has gone further, but this is not explicit.

Violence stuff – Roman is tortured in this chapter. This includes cutting, burning and beating with a stick. The majority of this is not described in explicit detail but it’s certainly going on. Due to the nature of his curse, most of this takes place due to another character ordering him to hurt himself. Roman briefly contemplates burning his own eyes (for ‘trying to get around my curse’ reasons rather than ‘self harm’ reasons) . Someone also gets shot in the head with a crossbow. Roman also spends most of this chapter dehydrated and suffering from heat stroke .

I’m not totally sure what this falls under but its grim stuff – a character from romans past spends a lot of this chapter tyring to gas light him/ manipulate him into believing a set of false memories. Roman retains his correct memories but gets hurt a lot in the process. Meeting said character causes Roman to dissociate (I think this is the correct term but please correct me if I’m wrong), he continuously switches between his name and his childhood name during the chapter and at some points reacts as if he was a child.

#ts roman #roman sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #creativitwins #sidespart writes

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 3 years

Text

Home (Four Times Crowley was Lovesick - and Aziraphale Took Care of Him)

Written for @do-it-with-style-events "Who Needs A Great Plan" event, Day 1, prompt "Four"

Crawly stood beneath the white wing, watching the rain fall, watching the humans walk away, watching anything but the angel beside him, his smile, the way he furrowed his brow and pouted.

His heart kept doing a funny skipping thing every time he looked that way, which was odd, and made him think he’d gotten some sort of defective body, or possibly that he’d messed something up in the transition from the serpent form.

“You know, I do think this rain might not be as pleasant as I’d hoped,” the angel said, tipping his head back so sopping white curls dangled, dripping onto his robe. “I’m starting to feel a bit cold, are you?”

“Nah. M’adem’n,” Crawly muttered, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.

“Well. I suppose we all have our aptitudes.” He reached down to squeeze the rainwater from his sleeve. “I suppose you carry the fires of Hell within you, or something?”

“S’nice.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the angel turn to smile at him and now his heart was doing some sort of backflip, and his stomach attempting to dance. “G-g-gotta keep’m somewhere.”

“I see. I do find myself missing my sword, but I think…” his lips pursed. “I think it’s in the right hands.”

How could he forget the angel had given away his sword.Fucking brilliant.

Crawly sniffed, and the cold seemed to creep into his nose. “M-must’a b’n-n-nice t’have a-a-achoo!”

His body must be worse than he’d thought. His entire face seemed to have exploded.

“Good lord, what was that?” The angel shuffled closer, peering at him, reaching up to poke at Crawly’s nose. “Is this supposed to make that sort of noise?”

The demon braced himself, expecting pain, expecting a reprimand, expecting anything but a soft finger gently massaging the bridge of his nose, pressing lightly as if he might break.

“S’only a-achoo!” Not again. “Achoo! A-CHOO!”

“This sounds serious!” The angel now stood so close that his arm pressed against Crawly’s. “Oh! And your hand!” He snatched it up, gently tracing his fingers across the demon’s palm. “It’s cold! Have your fires gone out?”

“Nnnnnnnnnh. S’th’cold,” he confessed. “S’getting in m’nose.”

“Well, that will not do.” Being careful to keep his wing in place, the angel looped his arms around Crawly’s waist, drawing him into an unexpected softness, a steady warmth. “There. Is this better?”

“Mrgl.” Crawly didn’t look over, even as the angel leaned against him. He shifted his am, putting it around the angel’s shoulders, rubbed his forearm as he rubbed Crawly’s side, but the demon did not look.

It was safer that way.

“Then you hold the oyster like this, and—” Aziraphale slurped it out of the shell.

“Ngk.” Crowley swirled his wine, glaring into the cup. “I…maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.”

“Nonsense! Trying new foods is one of the delights of the world.”

“Yeah, but…I prefer foods that don’t smell so bad.”

That made Aziraphale laugh, which made things harder. It seemed to echo in Crowley’s chest, send his heart into answering flutters. He shifted on the couch, but there was only so far he could roll before it was impossible to drink. Which meant he had to keep looking across the table, at Aziraphale’s couch, where he reclined in a rolling curve of soft white toga and ate his oysters and wouldn’t stop smiling.

“Crowley? Are you feeling quite well?”

“Nrgh. Yeah. Why?”

“Because I asked four times how your wine is and you never responded.”

“Oh.” He couldn’t remember, so he drank a mouthful, then immediately spat it out. Salt water and vinegar, same as any Roman wine. “Lousy.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” And all at once, the angel rolled off his couch and now he was crossing the room and oh Satan, he was on Crowley’s.

This was a disaster.

Aziraphale leaned down and rested a hand on Crowley’s forehead. “You do feel extremely warm. Are you ill? I’m not sure a demon can get ill but—”

“Yes! Yes. That.” He tried to sit up. “Very, very ill. I should go. I should go now—”

“But—”

Crowley managed to get his feet under him, and his robe under his feet, and he collapsed again, falling onto something softer than the couch Oh Satan it was Aziraphale’s lap.

“Crowley!” His head turned instinctively and shit, those eyes were so close.

His heart was going to explode, but it was worth it.

“I should…take you home…”

“Ahhhhhhhh,” Crowley managed. Yes. Please. Please, wherever you call home, that’s where I want to be.

“Yes. Right. Immediately. Tell me where you’re staying, and I will escort you back.”

“My…my…oh.” His stomach was doing something new, twisting around itself. Like when he saw the Hellhounds getting ready for a walk, but worse. “M’a’th’p’liss.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m! At! Th—thepalace.” Great. Now he was either shouting or mumbling. Why couldn’t he think?

“Good. Right. Palace.” He slid his arm behind Crowley, supporting him. “Do you think you can walk?”

The demon’s legs had never shaken like this before. “Definitely not.”

“That’s alright.” And Aziraphale scooped him up into his arms, as easily as if Crowley were a child. “I’ll help you.”

Crowley hadn’t slept in over a month.

He shouldn’t have needed to. Demons didn’t sleep. But he’d gotten used to it, most nights, and now his task consumed him day and night, driving him to ever more complex plans, ever more desperate measures.

But finally…finally…he’d gotten a bloody crowd to see that gloomy talk-y play.

And just in time. Aziraphale had sent word that he was returning tonight, and he was supposed to meet Crowley here, outside the inn. The demon had rooms above, which had been used for scheming and planning and plotting and not, for a long time, sleeping.

He was fine, though. Running on pure adrenaline, yeah, but that just made life good. He couldn’t wait to swagger into that theater, spread his arms and show the angel—

“Ah, Crowley! There you are, my good fellow.”

He turned his head and fuck, there went his knees. Aziraphale was smiling at him like he was actually glad to see Crowley, and his entire body just stopped obeying any commands or even regular rules of biology. He staggered, legs feeling watery, his head spun, lights brighter than stars flashing before his eyes, and his heart just ached to reach out.

“Crowley? Is something the matter?”

“Mnothang.” Brilliant. He slumped against the wall of the inn, trying to get some sense of reality back. “M’a little tired’s’all.”

“Tired? Are you sure?” Aziraphale rushed forward, cupping Crowley’s face in his hand. “You feel…clammy. I need—can you take your glasses off? I need to see your eyes.”

“Szfiiiine.” But he pulled them off, and found himself again pierced by eyes glowing just a bit too blue to be allowed.

“No, no your eyes are glassy. And—and look, your pulse is racing.”Now came the concerned look, oh Satan, no one else ever looked at Crowley like that. “This…this looks a great deal like the latest plague, I saw several villages struck by it coming back.”

“Angelllll. M’ademon. We don’ get th’plague.” Why could he not just speak normally?

“Nonsense, you know perfectly well you’ve always had a strange constitution, getting sick far too often. You still have rooms here, yes? Upstairs. To bed.”

Will you come with me? The angel’s hand hadn’t moved from Crowley’s cheek, and he never wanted to be away from that touch again. “But…”

“No buts.” The hand did fall away, but only to grip his shoulder, spin Crowley around and propel him forward, through the door, and up the stairs.

Aziraphale walked past the mess in his room, the papers, notes, maps, disguises, and everything else needed to convince a city it actually liked that blasted play. He steered Crowley directly to the bed, and pushed him down onto it. “There. Stay put, please.”

“Nnnnh.” It wasn’t the most comfortable place he’d ever lain, but the rough straw mattress seemed luxurious just now. Something tugged at his foot, and he looked up to find Aziraphale, carefully pulling his shoes off. “Still here?”

“What are you talking about? Where else would I be?” He sounded cross.

“The play.”

“Play? Play? Oh, yes, Hamlet.” He tossed the shoes aside and settled Crowley’s leg back onto the bed. “I’m sure I’ll have plenty of opportunities. I hear they’re planning to run it twice as long as they’d expected.”

Of course they were, Crowley was good at his job. But there was no point if Aziraphale didn’t see the crowd. “Gotta go,” he insisted, though his body was already curling up on itself, preparing for a long sleep.

“Absolutely not.” A rustle, and when Crowley’s eye cracked open again, Aziraphale was seated on the edge of the bed, taking Crowley’s hand in his. “I need to make sure you’re alright.”

“Hnnngh.” But he was far too exhausted to argue. “Why’r’ya’lways…fussing…like y’r worried…”

He didn’t hear Aziraphale’s answer, but in his dream the angel said, “Of course I worry. Whatever would I do without you?”

“All them angels,” Crowley shouted, bottle in hand, “an’specially Gabriel, can go! To! Helllllllll!”

“Really? And what about the demons already there?”

“Thas’th brilliant part.” He staggered a little, grinning at Aziraphale. Their celebration at the Ritz had gotten a little out of hand, but in a good way. A way they bloody well deserved. “Th’demons. They go to Heaven. But. But. Buuuuuuut.” He took a long drink, then offered the bottle to the angel, who shook his head. “Wha’was I…ri’ri’righ’—go to Heaven. But. Don’ tell’em th’passwords. For anyfing.”

“Won’t they just figure them out?”

“Nnnnnnnnope! Cuz allll the brains in Hell are right here!” He shouted in the general direction of the office building. “Have fun puttin’…Hastur’n charg’a…stuff…” He tried for another drink, but the wine had all gone. “Awwww.”

“Don’t worry, my dear, we’re nearly home.”

“Ya. S’good.” Home was good. Plants. Television. More wine. The bed. Hadn’t slept all week.

Why was Aziraphale coming with him? Hadn’t the shop un-burned down? Had he left something at Crowley’s flat? A…spare bowtie?

Also: why did Mayfair look suspiciously like Soho?

The penny dropped at about the time Aziraphale got the shop door unlocked. “Thizzisn’ home,” he pointed out.

“Well-spotted. Come on, then.”

Shrugging, Crowley followed. There’d be more wine here, at least, and a sofa to sleep on. Not the most comfortable, but he was tired enough.

Something was different. Crowley squinted at a pile of books, but they remained stubbornly bookish. Ah, well. Sofa.

He slumped on it, waiting for Aziraphale to head to the back room for some wine, or settle into his armchair. Maybe pick up a book to read while Crowley rambled.

Instead, the angel sat beside him.

“Annngiraphel…”

“Crowley. Are you sure you’re feeling well?”

“Course. I’m cebretory. Cerebrorrry. Celebatory. ‘M partying.”

“Yes, I know. But…I just…” Oh, Someone. The concerned, furrowed brow. The pouting lips. The eyes. So much worse than the smile. Good thing Crowley was already sitting, because the room was starting to spin, even before Aziraphale picked up his hand. “I wish you would take care of yourself.”

“Wha? I do. Allllays do. No one else’z gonna do’t. Not’n Hell. Wily demon, righ’?” He tried to smile, even as his heart and stomach started switching places.

“Then why are you always unwell? I’ve lost count of…of how many times I’ve seen you falling over, unable to speak, too hot or too cold.”

“Ssssss’not like that.”

“Yes it is! And…and it was bad enough before. Crowley, we…we’re all we have left. Each other. And…and whatever it is that…that gets you into this condition…alcohol, or illness, or…whatever else. I wish you would avoid it.”

“Can’t.”

“Crowley—” Aziraphale pulled his hand closer, eyes pleading, and for a moment the demon thought he’d just discorporate on the spot. Probably would have if he’d been sober.

“Can’t. S’only one thing tha’makes me…fall orer mysel’. Makes me…can’t speak. S’only evrrr been one.”

Aziraphale’s face was so soft. Crowley couldn’t figure out how his hand had gotten there, pressed to his cheek, but it was good.

Or not. Angel’s eyes went wide. Probably did something wrong. Crowley pulled his hand back, wondering if he’d be kicked out.

“Can you…sober up, dear?”

“Nnnnnnnnnnnnidonwanna.” He wrinkled his nose. Shoulda stopped three bottles ago.

“Yes, I know. But you’ll likely have a hangover either way, and you might as well have it now. And…I want to finish this conversation sober.” Oh, the sad eyes, the serious face.

“Awwwwwtha’s no’fair. S’not like I c’n say no.”

“I…yes, you can. It is your choice.”

“Nnnh. Can’t say no’ta’you.” He looked around for something, maybe a garbage bin or…oh, yes, a planter. Lucky tree was about to get some very expensive alcohol.

He concentrated, pulling all the alcohol out of his body, filling one planter, then another, then another. As the light-headedness faded, the headache came in, pounding and pulsing.

“Glarghl.” Crowley pressed a hand to his eye. “See? Sober. Happy?”

“Not yet. Can you walk?” A light tug on his hand, and Crowley staggered to his feet, trailing after Aziraphale. Up the stairs? They never went up there. Private bookshelves and sculptures and junk.

At the top, Aziraphale opened a door that he’d thoughtwas a closet but actually led to Crowley’s bedroom.

Wait.

Crowley turned around, bleary eyes searching the shop. Plants. His plants. His sculptures. Junk. Also his.

Back to the bedroom. His bed, his furniture. Not his room. Wooden walls covered in bookshelves, good sized window looking out at the back alley. He could just see the Bentley parked out there.

“Th’fuuuuck…”

“I’m…I’m sorry. I should have asked.” Aziraphale gently pushed him towards the bed. “If you don’t like it, I’ll put everything back tomorrow. I just.” A gentle nudge, and Crowley sat on the bed. “I want you close. Where I can take care of you.”

“Don’need it.” He wriggled his toes, making his boots vanish. It was easier than meeting Aziraphale’s eyes.

“Yes, you do.” A hand on his shoulder pushed Crowley down into the bed, his head onto the pillow

It felt so much more comfortable here, in Aziraphale’s shop, with Aziraphale beside him.

“No. Don’t need you to take care of me.” He stared resolutely up at the ceiling, searching his aching head for the words he needed. Swallowing, trying to push aside the pain, the soreness in his throat. “I need…I just need…”

He couldn’t say it. But he reached out, hand groping along the edge of the bed until it found Aziraphale’s, resting lightly on the mattress. Cautiously, Crowley slid his hand on top of it.

“Crowley…please look at me.” His eyes wandered down, following the shelves until they landed on Aziraphale’s face. On his brilliant, angelic smile.

The demon tried to smile back, though his head was pounding. He managed something like a grimace. “Nnnnnnnnh. C’n we finish this in’th’morning.”

“Do you think you’ll be better able to talk?”

“Mrrrf. Will you be there?”

“Of course,” the angel said, nearly indignant.

“Nope. Not a chance.” His thumb traced the back of Aziraphale’s hand. “I can never say what I want. S’not even that many words. But…” Crowley shrugged.

“Can you move over?” Aziraphale asked, sliding his hand out from under Crowley’s.

The demon blinked, confused, and wriggled further along the mattress.

The bed dipped under the new weight as Aziraphale climbed into the vacated space, laying beside him. “I…I could never say it, either. Always something stopping me, some…uncertainty. Even now. But I shall keep trying.” His fingers gently brushed Crowley’s cheekbone. “My dear…would you like to…to make this place…your home?”

“Nh. Shop’s not home.” The fingers jerked away, and Aziraphale’s brow furrowed, not in concern this time, in pain. Fuck. Why was it so hard?

He caught Aziraphale’s hand before it could get far, bringing it back, gently resting it against his heart. “This, Angel. This’s home. You.”

“Oh.” Blue eyes blinked, a look of wonder in them Crowley had felt many times, wonder at this being who cared for him, who stayed by him. Always. “I…I see.”

The mattress shifted again, and suddenly the angel was closer. Which of them had moved? Did it matter? Did anything matter, apart from Aziraphale’s arm across him, all the warmth and softness he could ever ask for, pulling him in, pulling him close, enveloping him as it had that first day.

“Yes. Welcome home, dear.”

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i8jisoo · 4 years

Text

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 ⇉ skz with pregnant!reader

felix x reader | part six of dad!skz

↬ genre; fluff

↬ warnings; pregnancy, slight relation to sex, birth

↬ notes; this took so long lmfao i just had it sitting but i’m finishing up seungmin rnnn 🤓 i’ve been doing requests whew i just have EVERYTHING coming at once

u guys r really surprised

u two had been in a relationship for four years now so this was inevitable as u two were putting off the pressure of marriage for awhile now

“woah, i’m gonna be a dad!! does this mean u have to call me daddy now?”

0_0

u r s e n s i t i v e

felix first notices this when he gives u a kiss in the morning n ur crying like two seconds after

:((

“why are you crying??!”

“you just leave so early and i miss you!!”

felix skips the day, not rly caring he just wants to cuddle u 🥺

speaking of cuddling u two r so cuddly together now

u guys just cant get enough of each other

ur at practice less often just bc of media and he thinks the house is safer for u

so the boys come over a ton more to the dorm just bc they wanna see u and spend time with u

he is so cute, whenever he sees you he’ll instantly be on his knees to kiss your baby bump and leave u with a light kiss on ur lips

u guys go to ur scan at the beginning of the second trimester

its hush hush and ofc felix has u with the best doctor hes heard of

his hands are clammy asf, hes smiling and so dazed while he stares at the ultrasound

“look at that!! baby a and baby b!!”

felix is like,

“oh im gonna pass out”

now he gets these corny ass JOKES like

“wow lix has really GOOD swimmers!!!”

“felix knows his way around the bedroom!!!!!!!!”

poor baby jeongin :( they are POLLUTING HIS MIND

he doesnt but this boy is scared shitless now, two babies?? thats a lot to handle

he likes to shop, a lot.

for some reason everything is dog themed, puppies on everything and he’ll come home with bags of baby stuff everyday

lix is just so in love with your body

sweaters, t-shirts, hoodies, anything he owns, he 100% wants you to wear it

he might be a little excited at the thought of u in his clothes, it was usual but now u pregnant, he was a little MORE excited

abnormally this guy worships your body 100%

he loves how easily you can just unravel, to the point of tears and have u begging for him to stop

ok lemme not ill start writing shit type smut anyways chile yes lix loves u A LOT in and out of the bedroom

mmm he’ll always be brainstorming names

aeygo for the babies 🥺

tons of kisses he has plenty to go around

he acquires a new skill called cooking 😣

ur his new favorite taste tester

he’ll read books for them both

tons of research on expecting twins and what to do

“hey, okay.. so i bought a pregnancy pillow, and like, i wanna use it?”

felix has this smirk, holding the huge pillow that is supposed to be a maternity one, but he much prefers himself using it as a regular pillow

he actually goes public with this, knowing that the fans adored u after being his girlfriend for so long nd u soon became a favorite for them

some shit like ‘stays meet your new members’ 😣

this guy has a knack for painting, his newest canvas is your large baby bump, doodling little flowers n hearts or animals on it, sometimes painting characters on it or whatever it may be

u two have this rly cute vlive together which consists of him painting ur baby bump, plenty of fun while he asked stays to tell him what to draw on ur bump :v

“ooh!! a ladybug!!”

he posts the finished project in nice high quality on their official instagram, showing off the many things he had painted

the dreaded bed rest comes into play

u are now nearing seven months, which meant that u should be experiencing labor or maybe labor pains soon

he takes his paternal leave, now indulging in ice-cream and gummy bears with u, rather than working out and drinking nasty smoothies

guess who has that sympathy weight

(jk he just uses it as an excuse so he can just give up on his diet)

sleep all day

sleep all night

u two are honestly so tired for WHATEVER reason

lix is there to be a cuddle bug, pulling ur back close to his body, ur legs entwined and his hand on top of ur own that was on ur bump

its rly cute just try and picture it for a moment

u guys r trying everything to hurry and get to the end of this seemingly forever pregnancy

he’ll def buy two yoga balls instead of just one for u and he’ll bounce on them with u

who cares ab trying to hurry up y’all are having so much fun regardless of the fact u have to pee every ten minutes

u both forget the thought of it and just go with the flow

making a deal to go with the names for whomever u claimed aka baby a or baby b

i see ur guys timing to be during the summer so its miserable in ur house

its hot n stuffy

u two r just lounging n u both have popsicles, then ur just like

“oh! oh.”

it was a steady gush of fluid between ur legs and that was when the nervousness set in

u two just look at each-other in shock

“oh! we’re having a baby- um.. wow!”

he is abnormally good at keeping calm, helping u keep ur breathing steady and getting everything together

felix is a pro.

u guys r kinda chilling in the parking lot just quiet and sort of nervous that the next time ur walking out of there you both will have not one, but two babies

“i don’t know if i’m ready yet.”

felix groans, grabbing ur hand

“ur right, ur more than ready. look at us!! parents of two in at least the next twenty-four hours!!”

his hands r around u in a second to help u up and there to help u walk in

u two honestly decide to play games on ur phone to kill time

felix crawls into ur bed, seeing as how u looked extremely lonely, letting his arms and legs wrap around u n he’s just playing with ur hair

its honestly adorable

u two are really tired for whatever reason, falling asleep like this before u would be consumed in the late nights of being parents

these nurses wake u both up and are just like

“let’s see if we’re ready to meet ur babies!!”

felix is kinda scared but nonetheless he’ll grab ur hand and hold onto it with a smile

10cm woo!

if he wasn’t hyping u up before he is hyping u up right now

ur somewhat laughing and crying while in pain

yall r so weird

felix is there to wipe ur face with the wet cloth, or to give u a sip of water, rly whatever u need he is on it

poor baby just wants to be of help

“here’s baby a! it’s a girl!”

u two have at least a moment with her, taking in her small appearance, felix holding her out for u to see

abruptly cut off by baby b needing to make an appearance

“i don’t wanna do this again.”

“it’s alright, shh. we’re going to have two babies, two perfect ones. we have one little girl, let’s get ready for the next one, yeah? our two babies, you’re doing so good.”

they take away ur little girl while felix does what he already did beforehand

“here’s your second one!! we have a pair of sisters!”

u and felix are so overjoyed at this news, literally sobbing, u two r a mess

both r brought over to u, felix taking in the fact he’s a father of two girls, such small girls

ur both smiley while u kiss them n cuddle them, getting the nurse to take a picture of u two

ur obviously tired, felix emotionally worn out but having the brightest smiles on ur faces while u hold onto ur pair of newborn girls

he’s so proud, he’s the definition of a proud father

lix is holding onto one and he comes over to you, the other one cooing

“that’s it, my three girls.”

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