#every day I think: hm maybe I should contact that therapist again

[placeinthisworld]

yall ive had the most stressful week and I still have 2 days left of it I don’t think I’ll live that long lol

#personal #TW #tw/ self harm #tw/ suicide #every day I think: hm maybe I should contact that therapist again #but every day I do not #lol it’s fine I’m fine it’s fine

[dirtyoatmeall]

Good for you

A/N: Wow sorry I've been gone!! I suddenly got back into reading and suddenly found myself in the middle of multiple series! anywayz, I finally listened to Olivia Rodrigo's new album so here is a songfic for good for u. I ended up going in a completely different direction than I had in mind. It's also long as fuck. I proof scanned it, but it's like 18 pages, as always sorry for the incorrect grammar, I do what I want. Call me Maybe will be getting one soon as well :)

Pairing: ex!Kageyama x reader, foreshadowed Atsumu x reader

Genre: angst? hurt/comfort? Its sad for pretty much most of it.

Word Count: 10.3k (im so sorry)

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and drinking, implied adult themes, all characters are 21+ !!, detailed breakup. 16+ only por favor

Well, good for you, I guess you moved on really easily. You found a new girl and it only took a couple weeks.

Your phone chimed, alerting you of a new text, you reached for it on the side table, pausing the movie you were watching. It was a message from Shoyo and an image: ‘I’m sorry, I figured it’d be better if I told you instead of finding out on Twitter.’ Your brow pinched, what could that mean? You unlocked your phone to open the text.

The pinch deepens as you zoom in on the picture, eyes beginning to prickle with tears. It was a photo- most likely taken by a fan or paparazzi- of Tobio, your boy-, ex-boyfriend. He was with a woman, she seemed slightly familiar, probably a model or something along those lines. Your face heated and shame burned in your chest, the embrace they were in looked so intimate; private, that it seemed wrong to look. You deleted the image and left Shoyo on read for now; you’d reply when you’re in a better headspace.

It had only been a couple of weeks and he had already moved on, meanwhile, you were just starting to not cry at the little reminders of him scattered about your apartment. He hadn’t even come to get his stuff. You sniffle and walk over to the wall to your left; the picture wall- and gently take one of the photos off, smiling faintly at the memory it brings to the surface.

Remember when you said that you wanted to give me the world?

The sun filtered through the blinds, casting a soft glow around the room. Groaning, you squint at the brightness before rolling over. Your eyes find blue ones, startling you slightly. He chuckles softly, voice deep and gravelly with sleep; sending heat through your body. “you’re so jumpy in the morning.” he whispered in the otherwise empty apartment.

You roll your eyes and let him pull you into his chest, listening to his heartbeat and his fingers traced lazy shapes into your hip. “Shut up, you know it takes me a day or two to adjust after you’ve been gone.”

You meant for the words to be light; not expecting the emotion you heard behind them. He sighs, arm winding tighter around your waist as he kisses the top of your head. You bring your head up to meet his gaze and shift in his arms, frown tugging on your lips. “’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.”

He sighs again, shaking his head softly. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, I should, for never being home, missing holidays and-“ You put a hand against his lips silencing him, brows drawn tightly together.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for either. I knew what I was getting into when we got together, it didn’t bother me in school and it doesn’t bother me now. I’d much rather you live out your dream than being stuck here with me all the time.” You feel his mouth open to object, but your hand stays firm. “I’m serious Tobio, I mean every word.” He nods against your hand and you release him. You flush slightly at the open emotion in his gaze. He pulls you into a kiss, murmuring against your lips. “I don’t know how I got so lucky with you, I promise I’m gonna give you the world.”

And good for you, I guess that you've been workin' on yourself. I guess that therapist I found for you, she really helped

A few days later you meet Shoyo for lunch, a new onigiri place where he apparently knows the owner. He sighs as he sets down his menu, your eyes snapping back your own, pretending like you’ve been mulling it over this whole time. “Alright, go ahead and ask.”

You look up from your menu, feigning innocence. “Hm? Sorry I wasn’t paying attention.” He rolls his eyes and raises an eyebrow. You hold his gaze for a few moments before your shoulders sag in defeat. Your eyes fall to the table as you pick at the corner of the laminated menu. He gives you a minute to collect your thoughts before he places his hand atop yours, a sad smile gracing his features.

“(Y/N), it’s normal to want to know how he’s doing.” You chew your lip and mumble, “Well he’s obviously doing good since he already moved on.”

He continues as if you hadn’t spoken. “He started going to that therapist you recommended a day or so after,” he pauses, trying to gauge where your mind is. You’re meeting his gaze, and he can see you got what he was implying so he continued. “He’s been going consistently; says it’s really helped him.” You nod, blocking out his next words; too busy thinking about how you’re going to find a new therapist.

Now you can be a better man for your brand new girl

As you eat, you think over his words. You swallow and take a deep breath, trying to instil confidence in yourself. “Are they… good together?” Your voice comes out softer than intended and you inwardly cringe. He smiles faintly and nods. “They are.” You nod in understanding and turn your focus back to your meal.

Well, good for you. You look happy and healthy, not me-If you ever cared to ask

You knew it was inevitable, your apartments aren’t that far apart, you just wished it wasn’t so soon.

You were grocery shopping for the week, trying to figure out how many oranges to get before settling on 4 with a sigh, you toss them into your cart, turning around to see blue eyes at the other end.

You inhale sharply, your gazes met and he was too close for you to run away, leaving only one option. You were suddenly glad you met Shoyo for breakfast this morning, you were dressed up a bit, but you weren’t so glad when you became queasy. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped, letting it fall shut. You feel your face flush with heat and you duck your head, mumbling a soft “sorry!” and move to continue down the aisle, hoping he’d let you go.

Those hopes were crushed with the hand that gently captured your elbow, halting your escape as he turned you to face him. You were silent for a moment before he realized he was still gripping your elbow, dropping his hand to his side. You crossed your arms around your middle, trying to look- be smaller, small enough to get away. Though the rational side of you knew it wouldn’t happen, that you’ve known each other too long to simply stop. So you raised your gaze, uncurling your arms and bringing your shoulders back to at least look the part of an old friend caught by surprise, smiling as you spoke.

“Oh, Kageyama! I didn’t see you there, how are you?” He cringed ever so slightly at the use of his last name, filling you with a sick sense of pride that weighed uncomfortably in your chest. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a brunette coming up to him, not noticing you as she surveyed the list in her hand.

“Babe, did you find the oranges? Oh, remind me to pick up my birth control at the phar-“ Her eyes widened as she noticed you; cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment. Unfazed, Kageyama snorted softly, wrapping an arm around her waist before turning back to you. “This is Yumi, babe, this is (Y-) uh, (L/N).” You smiled and waved, which she mirrored, going to speak but instead was interrupted by you, who had decided to spare all of you of the awkwardness of prolonging the conversation. “It’s nice meeting you Yumi, and it was nice seeing you Kageyama, but I gotta run.”

They nodded and waved in farewell as you continued down the aisle, letting out a deep breath before heading into the next aisle. You needed more alcohol.

Good for you. You're doin' great out there without me, baby. God, I wish that I could do that.

You saw them a few more times during your shopping trip. You had wanted to leave right away, but you had been putting off groceries for too long, and leaving your cabinets and fridge almost barren. Thankfully they were always far enough where if you accidentally made eye contact a smile in passing was warranted enough.

As you contemplated between mini pizzas or a large pizza, you heard a loud giggle from further down the aisle. Your head turned towards the noise instinctively and you saw them at the end, near the ice cream, which you hoped they moved soon because that was next on your list. They were laughing, her arms around his waist as she looked up at him, he had an arm around her, resting on her hip as he met her gaze and you felt your chest tighten and an emotion you definitely did not want to name and wanted to shove down, down far enough to forget it. They looked the part of smitten lovers, and you decided you didn’t need ice cream all that bad and grabbed the mini pizzas before heading to checkout, continuing to ignore the emotion swelling, weighing down your chest and moving up to your throat.

I've lost my mind, I've spent the night cryin' on the floor of my bathroom

You took a deep, shuddering breath that broke halfway into a gasping sob. The emotion was suffocating, burning in the back of your throat and pulsing against your skull as you hugged your knees to your chest, the cold press of the tub against your back doing nothing. You tried to take a breath again but your chest was too tight, it was constricting your lungs, pushing hot tears down your cheeks and pulsing harder as with the ringing in your ears.

You could faintly comprehend the door to the bathroom opening, but didn’t look up as someone wrapped their arms around you, pulling you to them; the feel of fabric twisting in your grasp somewhat grounding as they smoothed down your hair, their words muffled under the ringing. You couldn’t think about the tears and who knows what else dampened their shirt, couldn’t think of anything except the emotion weighing so heavy in your chest you were positive it was going to break your ribs, break through you and continue down, down, deep underground.

You have no clue how long you were there with them, not even sure how long before they arrived. They shifted their arms to pick you up, and you let them, not even moving your hands from their place on the shirt, you were sure they were glued there, the tears acting as an adhesive. Sobs still racked your frame as you were set down, tucked under the covers of your bed before the person laid next to you, resuming their soothing touches as the weight in your chest slowly lightened, gradually releasing its grip on your lungs as the ringing quieted, allowing you to hear the slew of soothing words softly coming from the person next to you.

But as the emotion lessened its grip on you, tiredness swiftly replaced it, the pounding at your temples only encouraging the darkness to weigh you down, until it settled over you like a blanket, your fingers laxing enough for them to fall back to your side. Your breathing slowed, the occasional hiccup breaking the silence as you slept.

But you’re so unaffected, I really don’t get it, but I guess good for you

Shoyo let out a deep breath as he gently shut the door to your bedroom behind him, shoulders slumping with exhaustion when he heard the latch click. He dragged a hand down his face, combing his fingers through his hair as he went to your kitchen to finish putting away your groceries, throwing away what was defrosted before collapsing on your couch, pulling out his phone, debating whether or not to text the person likely responsible for your tears. Turns out he didn’t even have to, they had already called him and left a message about an hour ago, a little after Shoyo first got to your apartment. He brought the phone up to his ear as he pressed play.

“Hey, I ran into (Y/N) at the store today, you know I thought you might be right; that our friendship ended with the breakup, but it was like nothing had changed! She even met Yumi though Yumi didn’t notice at first and started talking about her birth control,” a laugh, “I don’t know why you were so worried, she seems perfectly fine. I was thinking about having a little get together in a few weeks, Yumi really wants to meet everyone from Karauno, you both should come! Oh one sec, what? Okay! Sorry, I gotta go, Bye.”

Shoyo slid down the couch slightly, groaning as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Really? He was glad you stocked up on alcohol at the store because after hearing that, he needed a drink.

Well, good for you, I guess you're gettin' everything you want. You bought a new car and your career's really takin' off.

Two weeks later you sat on your couch, eyes focused on the match televised. You tell yourself you’re watching the tournament to see who Shoyo will end up going against; if you can give them any pointers, though a part of you knows it’s a lie.

At the end of the match, the Adlers, no, To- Kageyama, had scored the winning point, securing a spot in the semi-finals. You lifted the remote to change the channel, but you froze as the camera zoomed in on the edge of the court, where you watched Yumi jump into his arms, he threw his head back laughing as he spun her around before kissing her. You could hear the commentators discussing the game after making a cheeky comment but you tuned it out. You watched them walk off the court, snapping out of the trace as soon as the camera cut to the other team. You quickly turned it off. Taking a deep breath in your silent apartment.

You were going through your Instagram feed when you came across a post from Tobio. It was him and Yumi in front of a new car, kissing. You noticed it had multiple pictures, and swiped through, all of them of the couple. The last one was the most recent, earlier today, in fact, you recognized the jersey of the other team in the background. You part of the caption, deciding to scroll past before scrolling back up to read the long paragraph that was pretty much a love letter to Yumi. You bit your lip and liked it, cursing afterwards, you didn’t want him to know you still followed him. You debated unfollowing but decided against it, it’d only look weirder if you had liked a post and weren’t following him. You couldn’t get his expression out of your head, he looked so happy.

It's like we never even happened. Baby, what the fuck is up with that?

Over the next few days you received multiple texts from Kageyama, updates on his family; that they were asking about you, wanting you to visit, an invitation to a small gathering they were having next week, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi and Yachi were in town and he wanted to introduce Yumi to everyone. And several attempts to start a conversation.

You replied to all of them, thanking him for the update, politely declining the invitation; using work as an excuse, and you halfheartedly tried to keep up with the conversations until it got to be too much. It was like nothing happened, like he hadn’t suddenly broken up with you, after almost 7 years together. There were times you wanted to remind him, but decided against it. You didn’t want to be the bitter ex, you wanted to move on, like he had.

And good for you, it's like you never even met me

You think Shoyo had a talk with him.

After it all became too much, the media, the texts, the times he tried to call you, you told Shoyo. He was furious, ignoring your pleas to just leave it be as he left your apartment.

Later that night he came back, less angry and with takeout. When you had asked where he went he just smiled and told you not to worry about it. You watched movies the rest of the night. When you awoke the next morning there were no texts from Kageyama, and nothing on social media. Your nosiness got the best of you and you looked him up, only to furrow your brow as the results came up blank. You checked the other social media you had each other on and couldn’t find him anywhere. You didn’t dare text him, just in case, but it was obvious- he had blocked you, on everything.

There was an emotion curling in your chest, but you couldn’t quite name it. You didn’t know how to feel about it, so you stayed in bed for a few more hours before migrating to the couch. Shoyo didn’t come over that night, and you hated that you were slightly relieved.

Remember when you swore to God I was the only person who ever got you?

You sighed, still slightly out of breath and damp with sweat, snuggling into the body next to you regardless, smile stretching your lips. He tightened his arm around your waist, petting your hair as he shifted onto his side, bringing you closer and tangling your legs together. You wrapped your arms around his neck loosely, softly kissing his throat, right below his adam's apple before resting your face against his collarbone. He shuddered and drew you impossibly closer. “I know I don’t say it as often as I should, but I love you (Y/N), so much. I swear sometimes I feel like you’re the only person in the world who understands me. Ugh, that sounded so cliché.” You snorted as he slightly shook with laughter. “I love you too Tobio.” You brought your head up for a tender kiss before the two of you settled into a peaceful slumber.

Well, screw that, and screw you. You will never have to hurt the way you know that I do

You awoke the following morning with a hollow ache in your chest, your eyes burned but nothing came. You don’t know if it was good that the tears never came, but the hollowness settled heavily in you, it seemed to be all around you, weighing down the air equally. You were on autopilot the whole day, not fully there.

You blinked at the chime from your phone and raised your brows at the time, and your eyes widened at the name in your notifications. You quickly opened the text and looked at the image 2,3,5 times. It was a selfie, only the top part of Yumi’s face was visible, she must’ve been taking it, having to have it out enough to get Kageyama and all of his family in the frame, everyone smiling brightly. The typing bubble popped up for a few seconds before it disappeared and was replaced by a small message. You read it over and over before biting your lower lip. This is when the tears would normally come, when they’d be expected and yet they didn't. The burn was there, the lump in your throat but nothing else except the hollow pulsed in your chest. You didn’t think that was a good sign.

From Tobio:

We miss you! The kids keep asking when you’re going to come to play again. We love you, and you’re always welcome to visit. -Miwa~

Well, good for you. You look happy and healthy, not me if you ever cared to ask

You decided not to tell Shoyo about the picture, after all, it was his sister who sent it. He sent an apology the next day and you quickly dismissed it, asking him to tell her thanks and to tell everyone hello for you and that you hoped they had a great trip.

He unblocked you later that day. You assumed it was because of your text, he probably thought everything was fine now, that little bump in the road passed and things were back to normal again. And you tried, you tried so hard to go back to the person you were before. Fake it ‘till you make it was something you lived by, and you certainly were doing a great job faking it, but the ache in your chest told you that you hadn’t made it yet.

Good for you, You're doin' great out there without me, baby

You always kept up with the volleyball news and media, now for just Shoyo, but it was impossible to not see Adlers updates, and as MSBY’s rival you felt you needed to keep up. They were a force to be reckoned with, win after win; tournament after tournament they were at the top, MSBY one of the few to keep up. You sent him a congratulatory text after his last win, if he didn’t want to leave your friendship then you’ll try your hardest not to either, even if it hurts.

God, I wish that I could do that

Well, that lasted about 2 weeks. It’d been about 2 months since Kageyama broke up with you. You texted occasionally, most of them short conversations. They used to be longer, but you knew that to really get over him, you couldn’t be his best friend like before, you had to distance yourself. Shoyo wanted you to block him, even if just for a few more months, so you can move on quicker, but you disagreed. Your lives were so intertwined it wasn’t possible to not see him or hear about him at least once a week, usually in the form of sports journalism.

You laughed at Tsukishima’s joke, choking on the margarita you were in the middle of drinking, causing the others to laugh at you. Everyone was miraculously in town this week and demanded that you all hang out all week. Yachi stayed at Hinata's apartment since he had a roommate, and Tsukishima and Yamaguchi stayed at yours, though everyone decided to congregate at your apartment, the former two falling asleep on your couch and after the third night in a row, you convinced them to just stay. Hinata packed a bag and slept on your futon, Yachi slept in your bed with you, and the last two shared your guest bedroom.

While they all swore it was a mere coincidence everyone was in town, you had a strong theory that Hinata invited everyone down to stay with you, since in 3 days was what would’ve been your 7 year anniversary with Kageyama. They did their best to keep you distracted, going out to clubs, having movie marathons and game nights that lasted until dawn. You were filled with immense gratitude for that, and you made sure to let them know it. You were glad your little group was able to stick together, even if the shadow of the empty seat at the table grows with each passing day.

I've lost my mind, I've spent the night cryin' on the floor of my bathroom

You almost made it. Everyone stayed in today, keeping a careful eye on you all morning, until you got a call from your mother. Your parents lived in the countryside, they didn’t have great reception out there, even if they did they’d keep the single landline they have now. They called every so often, for holidays or updates on health and family members. The last time you talked to them was about 6 months ago. You head into your bedroom before you answer, a little worried about what might be going on, you knew your father’s health was declining, could something have happened? You took a deep breath and accepted the call, bringing your phone to your ear. “Hello? Mom?”

It takes a second before she replies, probably trying to get your father to stand next to her. “(Y/N) sweetie, sorry it’s been so long, it’s been busy down here and since your father can’t do a whole lot anymore, it’s been taking longer to keep the farm in shape.” You can hear your father grumble something in the background and you can imagine your mother rolling her eyes.

“Nevermind that! We were calling to congratulate you and Tobio on your anniversary, that’s today right? 7 years, I hope you know how lucky you are dear, these days relationships just aren’t lasting like they used to, but I’ve always known you two would stick through, I still do. Hopefully one of these days I’ll get a call about a ring? Or maybe some grandbabies?” She giggled on the other end, going on to talk about her and your father’s relationship, not paying attention to if you’ve replied or not, and you haven’t, you’re- you’re- you jolt out of whatever trance you were in to find yourself on your bathroom floor, back against the tub, your mother still chattering away in your ear, though you can’t hear her.

She’s right. Today is- would’ve, been 7 years. A flurry of emotions roars to life in your chest and you feel the familiar burning and grip start to take hold. You clear your throat, interrupting her story.

“Uh mom, me and Tobio aren’t together anymore. I’m sorry, I meant to call earlier, but there’s a lot going on. I actually have to go, I promise I’ll call later okay? I might be able to get away from work in a few weeks to visit. Love you.”

You ended the call, guilt joining the mix, you had completely forgotten to tell your mother, her words stirring the pot of emotions and memories in your gut as they rose into your chest, filling your lungs, spilling into your throat into your nasal cavity, behind your eyes and into your skull. You slackened your hold on your phone, and it tumbled onto the tile. You choked against the burning in your throat, pressing your palms into your eyes, trying- uselessly- to stop the slideshow of memories.

He had been your best friend, your longest crush, your first- well, everything. You truly thought you would be spending the rest of your life with him, travelling the world as he plays volleyball, eventually settling down and buying a house somewhere, anywhere. Marriage, a cat, maybe a dog, and kids. You never once thought the father of your future children would be anyone but Kageyama Tobio. Apparently, he thought differently. Against your will, the night he ended everything played back in your vision.

You heard the door close as you finished up dinner, a smile stretching wide on your face as you imagined his reaction. You spent the week learning how to make this dish, an old family recipe from his grandmother that he apparently adored and ate every time he visited home without fail. After years of watching her make it, you’d think you would have a good idea of how but you were naïve to think so. You finish plating the dishes and setting up the table, brows pinched in confusion, he hadn’t come to greet you yet, which he always does. You shrug it off, he might’ve had a tiring practice, hopefully the food makes up for it.

You pad down the hallway, thinking he jumped straight in the shower. You stop in the doorway of your shared bedroom; He was sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as his elbows dig into his knees. Worry and confusion rose; what was wrong? Was practice that bad? You don’t try to mask your steps towards him, though he flinches all the same when you lay a hand on his shoulder, quickly withdrawing it. You sink to your knees in front of him, gingerly holding his wrists as you speak softly.

“Hey babe, what’s wrong? Did you have a bad practice? Why don’t you tell me about it over dinner, I got everything at the table.” He sighed deeply, sagging further, like the weight of the world weighed down on him. Your concern grew and you squeezed his wrists in a silent question. He took a deep breath and sat up, you let your hands fall away but he caught them, cradling them in his grasp, pity and guilt swirling in his glassy gaze as it met yours.

You sat up on your knees, why in the world would he look at you like that? “Tobio? What’s wrong, baby you have to tell me so I can help, you gotta let me in.” You were pleading at this point. He so rarely showed this much sadness, you were sick with worry, mind going to the worst-case scenario. He squeezes your hands, bringing them up to his lips. He keeps them there for a moment, his eyes shut, brow drawn tight.

He brings them back down to his lap and lets out another sigh, meeting your gaze again. You can see the conflict on his features bright as day. “(Y/N), I’ve been so lucky to have you in my life, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to pay back what you’ve given me. I’m truly, truly grateful and you've been one of my longest friends, one of my best friends. Which is why- why-“

He lets out a shuddering breath gaze dropping, tightening his grip around your hands. Your brow is pinched deeply, eyes searching his features for any sign of what could be going on. He takes a breath, trying to calm himself before continuing, and when he meets your gaze you no longer see the guilt, you see a wall you worked so hard to bring down. You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off. “You are one of the most important people in my life, which is why I have to do this. I can’t keep doing this, prolonging the inevitable only makes it more painful and the last thing I want to do is hurt you. But, (Y/N) I can't keep this up any longer, I thought- I thought it might pass, if I kept going along, pretending like everything is fine, when it’s not.” Your heart drops, no, it can’t be, what does he mean?.

“Everything is fine Tobio, what are you talking about? What are you saying, I-I don’t understand.” The emotion thickens your voice and his face falls as he sees the tears gather in your eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I loved you so, so much. I promise, I loved you more than anything, so much it hurt.” The tears are escaping both your eyes. You want to get out of his grasp but his hands only tighten around yours, like a lifeline. You suppress a sob bubbling up to speak, the world tumbling softly from your quivering lips. “Did?”

A hand touching your shoulder tears you from the memory. You’re aware of the hot tears streaming down your face, of the tight sobs wracking your frame, ripping from your throat against your will. You feel hollow, the ache grows and pulses until it’s all you feel, grief rising to meet it. You blink the tears away, to look around the room, you hadn’t recognized it right away, still disoriented from the memory. You see your friends, concern and in some cases, anger, in their gaze as they hover. You were surprised to find Tsukishima was the one at your side, the one who had pulled you from the memory turned nightmare. Your lip wobbles and he pulls you into his arms, embracing you as you cry into his sweatshirt, much like you had to Hinata weeks ago.

You’re vaguely aware of hushed voices around you, the rumble of Tsukishima’s voice oddly soothes you. You can hear Shoyo behind you, you think you hear him say your mother’s name, was she calling again? The thought slips from your mind as quickly as it came. You sat in your bathroom for who knows how long, crying in Tsukishima’s arms, surrounded by your friends.

But you're so unaffected, I really don't get it but I guess good for you

Later that night, when everyone has finally passed out, you slip through your apartment door, pulling your hood up as you head towards the street. You have your phone, keys and pepper spray. You just wanted- no, needed to get out of there, the slight chill in the air rousing you. You take in the surroundings, letting your feet take you wherever they please.

You sigh as you take in the park in front of you. You used to come here a lot, whenever you needed to clear your head. It was a space for you to be truly alone to work out your emotions. Which is exactly what you needed now. You smile faintly as you reminisce, not paying attention as you head to the swings, only to stop in your tracks, still hidden in the shade as you watch on. What the fuck.

The creak of the swings is drowned out by laughter, two people sit on the swings, legs pumping to go higher and higher. Her hair whips in the wind and she closes her eyes, leaning back for a moment. You watch him slow down, eventually stopping and getting up to approach her flying form. Right when she is about to pass him, he moves, grabbing her and the swing, halting them mid-swing. She squeals, which quickly melts into laughter as she lets go of the chains, wrapping her legs around his torso and her arms around his neck. Her smile is a sun in the night, love radiating from the couple as they kiss. You look away and spot an open picnic basket, a bottle of wine poking through on a blanket rumpled from use.

You leave as silently as you came.

Maybe I'm too emotional but your apathy's like a wound in salt

The hollow ache starts to burn as you walk back to your apartment. You didn’t expect him to be as affected tonight as you were but you thought he’d- what did you think he’d feel? Mourning? Grief? Sadness? Why would he? He was the one who broke it off, who ‘fell out of love’ or at least that’s what he said when he broke your heart. And to bring her there?

Maybe I'm too emotional Or maybe you never cared at all

You shared that spot with him a year after you moved in together, he knew its significance to you, to your relationship. How long had he been bringing her there? What did he tell her about it? Did he use the words you said to him all those years ago? You wondered if he even remembered what today was. He said he had loved you, but was he truthful? He promised quite a few things during your relationship that were broken when he admitted it, when he confessed ‘what had been eating him up inside.’

Maybe I'm too emotional but your apathy's like a wound in salt

The hollow was slowly filling, bitter, anger, loss, and more flooded the space as you recalled his words that night.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You had never felt more dread than in that moment.

“I loved you so, so much.” You had wished the past tense was a mistake, but you knew it wasn’t.

“I don’t know when it happened, if it was slowly or quickly.” You could tell it was a lie.

“I-I just realized I loved you in a different way than you loved me.” A cute way of saying he no longer loved you.

“I thought that if I just stuck with it, that it might change, that it was just a slump.” Another way to say ‘leading you on because I was too afraid to tell you the truth.’

“I tried, I tried so hard to love you the way you wanted me to.” For how long? How many years did he lead you on, how long did he let you think everything was ok?

“You deserve more than I can offer.” You knew that was true, you did deserve more. You deserved a lot more than this, than an offer.

Maybe I'm too emotional Or maybe you never cared at all

You were crying by the time you got to your apartment building, but it was different. You didn’t feel the aching hollow as strongly as before. You felt anger, bitterness about what he said, you had a million things you wanted to say to him, to make him know what he did. But didn’t he already know? He was there, he saw what his words did, he saw the aftermath, at the very least he heard about it. And yet the night after he was pictured entering a popular high-end club. It was on your Twitter feed that morning, effectively pouring salt and lemon into the hole in your heart. You had thought it then, and you’re thinking it now.

Well, good for you. You look happy and healthy, not me If you ever cared to ask

The next morning, no one brought up last night, and you were thankful for it. You think they could sense the shift, from the aching despair to the brittle anger. So you all lounged on the couch, playing Mario Kart to help you channel it.

You were on the fourth stage of Grief according to Yamaguchi, who brought it up the following day over breakfast. He explained: Denial- which was during the breakup and right after, Depression- which came to fruition after you ran into them at the store, Bargaining- When you tried to go back to how it was before, trying to keep the friendship alive so you’d still have him around, Anger- which was now, when you realize that you wasted years of your life for someone who didn’t even love you and now they want to go back to friends, after they immediately get into a new relationship. The next step would be the final- Acceptance, when you would finally accept he was gone, when you could finally move on.

Good for you

After that night the change became more obvious. You weren’t hiding anymore, you would hold your head high and snap others off if they trod down the wrong path. You felt the hot anger slowly cool over time, as you continued to go out, to clubs, bars, parties Shoyo always invites you to but you always decline. You met his teammates, finally after too long.

He had dinner for you and the team at his apartment that he shares with one of the said teammates. You dressed up a little, enough for Shoyo to whistle when you showed him over facetime as you finished getting ready. You weren’t planning on going anywhere except your apartment after; there was just something about knowing you look good that does wonders to the confidence. You grin widely as he complains about not wanting to deal with his teammates crushing on you. You end the call when you get into your car, you were going to stop by the store to get something and then head over, despite his assurances no one else was bringing anything.

You purse your lips in thought as you surveyed the wine selection in front of you, bending slightly to read the label of one on a lower shelf. You didn’t realize you were taking up the aisle until someone cleared their throat behind you. You paid the little mind, murmuring an apology as you stepped to the side. You felt their presence next to you, and after a minute of them burning a hole through you with their gaze you turned towards them, lips pursed in annoyance rather than thought.

You're doin' great out there without me, baby, like a damn sociopath

The wide eyes of Kageyama Tobio meet yours as you study him for a moment before smiling. “Kageyama! Sorry, I didn’t realize I was taking up the whole aisle, you know me; always so indecisive.”

Your joke seems to snap him out of whatever train of thought he was in. He smiles and chuckles, turning to look at the wine in front of you. “What kind of an occasion is it?” He asks after a beat. “Oh Shoyo is introducing me to his teammates today, wine’s something people bring to dinners right?”

He smiles and nods before pointing out several bottles. “These would be appropriate, and Shoyo likes this brand.'' He plucks one from the shelf before presenting it to you. You smile and thank him, before parroting his question back to him. He turns back to the wine. “Uh, Yumi got a promotion and I’m surprising her with dinner with her coworkers.” You hum in thought before grabbing a wine off the shelf for him. “I think this would be a good one. It's white, so the stain won't be as bad and won’t stain her lips like a red would. It’s a dessert wine so even her younger colleagues should enjoy it. Oh, and tell her congrats for me.” He smiles and thanks you before you part.

You arrive right on time at Shoyo’s, the wine was well received and his teammates were great. They were everything he told you and more, you all got along great, especially you and Atsumu, he was Shoyos roommate and it was great to have another person to make fun of his horrible habits with, much to Shoyo’s dismay.

The dinner flies by, and eventually, you’re the last to leave. You wave to Atsumu before hugging Shoyo. “Thank’s Sho, for everything you’ve done for me these past 6 months. I love you.” He squeezes you tight, kissing the crown of your head before pulling away.“You don’t need to thank me (Y/N), I know you’d do the same. I love you too, drive safe.” You wave as you leave back to your apartment.

I've lost my mind, I've spent the night. Cryin' on the floor of my bathroom

The next 6 months fly by, and you spend more and more time with Shoyo and his team. Bokuto dubs you an honorary Jackal and you celebrate drinking until dawn, as a true Jackal would. You spend time with them individually, the gym with Bokuto, reality TV with Sakusa, movie nights with Shoyo, and all of the above with Atsumu, in addition to annoying his brother Osamu at his restaurant.

It hits you out of the blue. You had felt a little off all day, but you had chalked it up to the takeout you had last night. You glance at the calendar as you walk past, only to backtrack and look again, with wide eyes. Today marked a year since the breakup. It had taken you a long time to move on, but you were finally starting to feel yourself again, so why did your heart ache all of a sudden? Why did the burning rise in your throat, prickling the back of your eyes as you began to breathe faster, feeling the despair rise out of the depths to rip a sob from you lips? You try to stop, taking deep breaths, count five things in the room, but none of it works. It’s not as bad as the other times, but you feel shame crawling up to join, you were finally turning things around, how could you let it all go to waste?

You curl into yourself on the couch, blindly calling Shoyo to ask for his company, maybe he’d know, he helped you get this far, maybe he can make sure you don’t fall too far. You listen to the rings until you hear the click of an answered call, not even letting him speak before crying into the phone, asking him to be with you, help you understand. Half your words are unintelligible as you ramble on, not really listening to the other end until you think you hear him say he’s on his way, but he sounded odd, different. Had you interrupted him? Was he too busy? No, he would’ve told you and sent someone else, probably Yachi since she was the closest.

You quickly tire of trying to hold everything back, and let it wash over you, all the feelings from this past year rise up, poised to drown you, and you allow it, letting it crash down and wash over you. You let the sobs free themselves, somehow knowing it was the right thing. You give yourself to the despair, the anger, the loneliness.

You don’t hear the knocking at the door, or the sound of the door opening, too absorbed untangling the knot of emotions in your heart; until you feel the cushion next to you you sink with the weight of another person, and a hand gently rubs your back soothingly.

You lean into him, letting him pull you to him like many times before. He pulls you into his lap, curling an arm around your waist while the other hand cradles the back of your head, letting you sob into his shirt. You take a deep breath, letting his familiar scent calm you- wait.

You freeze and your stomach drops. It’s not Shoyo. They're bigger, enough to cradle you against their chest. They’re whispering soothing words into your hair, and you hear a familiar accent, leaning back quickly enough to send a wave of dizziness through you and you sway for a moment.

“Woah, what’s wrong?” Atsumu asks, moving his hands to your hip and back to steady you. Your wide eyes meet his and he tilts his head slightly in confusion. “(Y/N), hey sweetheart, you okay? Gave me quite the scare there earlier ya know?” You continue to stare at him until he waves a hand in front of your face, breaking whatever spell you were under.

You blink a few times, shaking your head slightly as the corner of his mouth quirked up. You look back at him, brows furrowed, cringing when you hear your voice, hoarse after however long of crying. “’Tsumu? What’re you doing here? Where’s Sho?” He raises an eyebrow at your question, lifting his hand to wipe a tear from your cheek.

“Whaddya mean? You called me cryin’ an’ askin’ me to come here to keep ya company. Speakin’ of, what in the world is wrong? What’s got you so sad sweetcheeks?” Your face heats at the nickname.

“Oh, ‘m sorry, I meant to call Sho, he knows; it’s- today is-” He embraces you as a fresh wave of tears springs from your eyes. You can hear the rumble of his chest as he speaks, breath fanning your ear. “It’s all ok, ya don’t haveta cry, I can call chibi if you want him instead of me, it's no prob-“ You shake your head, cutting him off.

“No, s’kay. Thanks for being here ‘Tsumu, sorry I pretty much threw myself into your lap when you sat down.” You rub an eye, feeling awfully close to a toddler. He chuckles and combs your hair back, tilting your chin up so you’re looking him in the eye. “No needta thank me doll, and I won’t object to a pretty thing like you throwing themselves into my lap, though I’d enjoy it more if you weren’t crying. Now, d’ya wanna tell me what made you cry a river in here. Or at least what I can do to help.”

You curl inward slightly, not sure how to explain your wants at this moment, the emotions tangling in your chest too raw to name. You use actions to express your needs as words continue to fail you. You shift in his lap, straddling him instead of the awkward side hug you were doing before. You break eye contact, looking anywhere but him, feeling awkward and exposed. He snorts softly and his hands run up your knees, palm flat against your thighs, up and over your hips to splay against your back, bringing you back to his chest. Your pals lay flat against his sides, sliding along his ribcage and then south, fisting the fabric against his lower back as you rested your cheek on his shoulder. You waited and waited but the tears didn’t come, you could feel the tear tracts cool on your cheeks, trying to put your feelings into words.

A shudder than through his body as he felt you sigh into his neck, arms wrapping tighter around you, pulling you closer, until you were flush against him. The minutes passed by as the two of you stayed wrapped around each other, you breathing the only sound in the apartment. You sighed again, pulling away from him slightly to lean back to look at him. He searched your face, taking in the emotions clouding your eyes, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips soothingly. You gave him a weary smile and took a deep breath, looking down at your hands as you spoke.

“I don’t know if Sho told you about this, but about 6 months before I met you guys I got out of a pretty serious relationship, I mean it was my first relationship and the breakup hit me really hard. The day of the dinner was one of the first times I had truly felt myself again.

“We got together in our first year of high school. We had been friends years before that. God, I had a crush on him for so long, I can’t remember anyone before that.” Your voice is whispy, reminiscing on a better time. “I wasn't a manager that first year, though I was around often enough that I helped where I could. I was at almost every practice, which is how I got acquainted with the other first years. He was still guarded and grumpy then, so I was friends with everyone first, and we all slowly warmed up to each other.

“When he asked me out at the end of the year, after saying goodbye to the third years, it just- it felt so right, like this is supposed to happen. I was a manager our last two years and by graduation the six of us were close. We managed to stay in touch and visit each other whenever possible. Sho had gone to travel, Kei to Sendai for school, Hitoka and Tadashi stayed for school before she went to Tokyo and he stayed in Miyagi. Tobio was picked up by the national team immediately after graduation, to play in Rio. I was accepted into a university in Osaka, and he moved in with me when he got back.” You ignored the way Atsumu’s hands tightened their grip when you said his name.

“It was perfect, we- we were doing fine, or at least I thought we were.” Your voice cracked and you took a shuddering breath before continuing. “He traveled between Tokyo and Osaka a lot and of course for games but it never bothered me, I knew what I was getting into. Eventually, Sho came back, and joined your team, moving into an apartment not far from ours. I was so happy.” You whispered the last sentence, afraid if you said it too loud it’d sound like a lie.

“I hadn’t noticed any changes, he didn’t seem withdrawn or unaffectionate, he was like he always was, until he wasn’t. He came home one night and said he didn’t love me like that anymore, that he couldn’t love me the way I loved him. He- he said he tried to, he said he tried for a long time, in case it was a slump but it wasn’t. And all-all I could think about was the way he said it, like he had been thinking about this for a long time, he looked so tired like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders as he told me the last who knows how long was a lie.

“He left and stayed at a teammate's house until he could get an apartment. He moved close by, I still don’t know why he didn’t move to Tokyo. Sho came and stayed with me for a few days, until I kicked him out so he could focus on the tournament that was coming up. He kept in touch with Tobio, and would update me when I asked.

“That was a year ago, and I know I should be over him, and I am, or I thought I was until I realized what today was and- and everything, all the emotions I had pushed down came back up, no longer letting me ignore them. All the grief and anger and insecurity kept rising and rising until I thought I was gonna drown. Which is when I called Sho, or at least I thought I did.” The corner of your mouth twitched into a small smile as you met his gaze.

But you're so unaffected, I really don't get it

“I- I think it would’ve been easier if he hurt too, if I saw that it affected him even half as much, because that would mean he had felt something, he had loved me at one point. And I don’t know, maybe he came to terms with it before he ended it, but seeing him with someone else, not even 3 weeks later just rubbed salt too deep into the wound that just seeing them happy together sent me into tears. When I ran into them days after I found out, when I saw with my own eyes how good he was, how happy he was without me; I don’t know how long I cried, but it was suffocating, it had such a tight grip on me I couldn’t breathe, I didn’t even realize Sho was there until he was hugging me.” You watched your tears fall onto your hands, leaving droplets on his pants. You took in a shuddering breath, suddenly meeting his gaze.

“I just- I don’t know what wrong with me, why can’t I let myself be happy?” Your voice cracked, and you brought a hand to your face, embarrassment simmering low in your gut. Atsumu gently pried your hand away from your face, replacing it with his own as he cupped your cheek. He wiped the tears that fell from your lashes with his thumb. He brought you forward to kiss the crown of your head before returning his gaze to you.

“Doll, look at me. There is nothing wrong with you, ya hear? Your heart was broken, it ain’t gonna fix itself in a day. You will be happy, I promise. Whenever we lose someone we love, a piece of us goes with them. He was sucha huge part of your life, I’d be more worried if you weren’t sad. I can’t say when, but one day you’ll notice it hurts less and less until you barely notice it. Until then you have me and everyone else to help you, so don’t hesitate to lean on us when you need to, got it?”

Your bottom lip wobbled and your eyes were glassy with tears yet again, though this time for a different reason. You threw your arms around his neck and crushed him into you as you cried his name. “I didn’t know you were such a softie! I bet no ones gonna believe me when I tell ‘em.” He wrapped his arms around you again, you were so close you could feel his laughter in his chest. “Yeah, and I didn’t know ya were such a cry baby.” You snorted and pulled away, “That’s on you, I am a well-known cry baby.”

You matched his grin, feeling lighter. You pulled yourself off his lap, but he didn’t let you get very far, pulling you into his side, your legs thrown over his thighs as you turned on the TV. You ended up falling asleep on your couch together, your neck cramped and you found out you drool, but it was worth it.

But I guess good for you

The next few months went by relatively quickly. There were a few hiccups, mostly on holidays, but you listened to what Atsumu had told you and you leaned on your friends during those times. Speaking of Atsumu, while you two were close before, after that night you felt even closer. You found yourself at the apartment he shared with Shoyo more and more. You came to every MSBY game you could, usually helping Osamu run his booth.

When you weren’t with him, Atsumu would often find you helping his brother run orders at the restaurant; under the guise of an apology for annoying him so often, but both twins saw how happy you were when you were working. Eventually, Osamu just gave you a position there, because he didn’t want to get caught exploiting free labor, not because he liked you or anything, you were just as annoying as his brother- or so he says.

The blonde hadn’t noticed just how much time the two of you spent together until you went to visit Yachi in Tokyo for a week, and had odd chunks of time with nothing to do. It was confusing, and frankly off-putting how different it was when you weren’t around. Everyone noticed of course, and teased him for it, more the team than Osamu, because he couldn’t deny he missed you too.

Despite your protests that it was just a 2-hour train ride from Tokyo, and maybe another 10-minute ride to the stop near your apartment, Atsumu insisted on picking you up from the station during your call earlier. “ ‘M not taking no for an answer doll, I’m picking ya up.” You rolled your eyes at his stubbornness and sighed. “Fine, but I’m venoming you for the gas, no ifs ands or buts about it.” You smiled at the sound of his groan from the other line, good thing you were just as stubborn.

Well, good for you, I guess you moved on really easily

You were idly scrolling through your Instagram feed, about 10 minutes away from Osaka when you saw a glimpse of a ring, you scrolled back up and read the caption. ‘I’m the luckiest man in the world’ followed by a picture of what must’ve been Yumi’s hand, and adorned on her left ring finger was a large, and no doubt expensive, engagement ring. 6 months ago it would’ve summoned tears, but now you smile faintly, commenting your congratulations before scrolling past. Atsumu was right, eventually, it started to hurt less and less and now it was barely there.

You stood up when the announcement of your arrival in Osaka rang overhead, tucking your phone away and grabbing your bags to exit the train car. You immediately spotted your chauffeur, thanks mostly to the gaggle of young girls surrounding him as he laughed and signed autographs. You walked slowly, trying to buy time until they left but (un?)fortunately he spotted you. A wide grin stretched his features and you couldn’t help but reciprocate, lifting your hand in a small wave. He turned back to the girls and said something before breaking through, jogging towards you as you met him halfway.

You had an amused look on your face from his theatrics and the wide gazes of the girls he left behind. “Hey.” He said when he stopped in front of you. You snorted, “Hey.” He pouted at your tease, which only made it more funny, before rolling his eyes and taking some of your bags, giving you a pointed look when you tried to object. You huffed and walked next to him towards the exit.

You startled slightly when his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you by your hip into his side. You looked up at him but he kept his gaze ahead, though you could see the slight flush to his cheeks and the slight twitch of a grin. You reciprocated, hooking your thumb through the belt loop by his hip as you kept your gaze ahead, his stare bringing a slight heat to your face.

He laughed lightly and you two continued out to his car where he tried to make you sit in the back seat because “ it’s not professional for a chauffeur to let their passenger sit up front.” You laughed before letting your face fall into a mock-serious stare and said “no.” in the best deadpan tone you could conjure up before climbing in.

You raised an eyebrow as you looked at him when he didn’t start the car. His hands were on the steering wheel and he was looking ahead in thought. “Atsumu?” He looked at you, smiling softly, still not saying anything. “Uhh you okay? Do I really need to sit in the back for you to be able to drive because-“ He laughed, waving your concerns off. “No, no, I’ll allow it this once. Sorry for spacin’ out, I’m happy yer home.” You looked at him incredulously, “ I was 2 hours away ‘tsumu.” You see a faint flush creep up his neck and he clears his throat, turning back to the wheel and turning on the car. ‘I know, I just missed ya ‘s all.”

You were just able to make out his dejected mumble, quietly huffing in amusement as you glanced down briefly before turning to look forward, biting back the smile at his flinch when you grabbed his hand, bringing it to your lap as you intertwined your fingers. “I missed you too, ya big softie.” Smiling, he squeezes your palm before focusing on the road, and you feel something stir, a bud sprouting from the once hollow place in your chest. It hasn’t bloomed yet, but you have a feeling it will soon.

#my writing #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyu #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x you #atsumu x reader #atsumu x y/n #atsumu x you #haikyuu atsumu

[hermannsthumb]

Lo and behold, HERMANN is the one with a long list of hunky ex-boyfriends (and it drives Newt a little nuts)

a req sent in by @k-sci-janitor and filled TIMELY ENOUGH on their BIRTHDAYYYYY 🎉🎉🎉🎉 s/out to them for discussing this fic concept w me months ago and also today 👀

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

It’s a relief to find out Hermann is gay. It’s not even because of Newt’s weird, repressed feelings for the guy—though he admits it’s equally a relief to know that he’s not barking up the wrong tree entirely. The thing is that Newt’s really not sure what he would do if Hermann wasn’t. Hermann has the distinct honor (displeasure?) of being Newt’s only friend in the Shatterdome, after all; this means aside from usual friendship duties (sitting with Newt at lunch, listening to him complain about his day, allowing himself to be dragged along to bars and movie theaters when they finally have a second to breathe), he’s also the person Newt goes to with tales of his romantic conquests (not that he has any), requests for dating advice (not that Hermann has any), and reassurances that whoever Newt has his eyes on that week is hot enough for him (could they ever be?). It’s just, like, easier to do that kinda shit with someone who would also be (hypothetically) eyeing up and dating dudes, if Hermann ever managed to take the stick out his ass and relax long enough to do stuff like that.

Hell, Newt would be first in line if he ever did. As it is, he just has to settle on knocking knees with Hermann under the mess tables and—for lack of a better phrase—checking the latest batch of ranger hopefuls out. Newt doesn’t normally go for the tall, built, and athletic type, but Shatterdome transfers are usually the only way he can score a date, because all the seasoned personnel know to avoid the weirdo biologist in the basement by this point. There’s a war on; desperate times call for desperate measures. Newt hopes at least a handful of them are desperate.

“He’s kinda hot, don’t you think?” Newt says under his breath to Hermann. He jerks his thumb over his shoulder at one of the new ranger trainees in line for soup behind them. He has dark hair and a nice smile, and—more importantly—Newt’s sure he’s been making eyes at their table for the better part of five minutes. He’s one of the latest batch that has only just arrived two weeks prior, and the smallest batch by far. Not many people are enlisting in the PPDC these days. Bad for the state of the world and Newt’s libido.

“Hm?” Hermann says.

“The guy behind us,” Newt says. “No, don’t be obvious about it—”

But Hermann turns, conspicuously, so (deciding it can’t get any more awkward than it already is) Newt sighs and turns with him. The dark-haired ranger notices: his smile hitches up an extra centimeter, and he winks.

At once Newt feels his ego swell. He winks back. “Still got it, dude,” he crows to Hermann, and is just rising from his chair to swoop into action when he realizes something; the ranger was not making eye contact with Newt. He was—and is—making eye contact with Hermann.

Hermann scoffs. “Oh, please,” he mutters to Newt. “If he thinks that’ll get him invited over again—”

But the ranger is abandoning his spot in line and jogging towards them, smoothing down his hair as he goes. He’s brimming with a palpable mixture of excitement and anxiety. “Hey, Dr. Gottlieb,” he says. “So, uh, last week was pretty fun?” It’s an invitation for approval, one which Hermann ignores in favor of jerking his shoulders noncommittally. The ranger presses on anyway. “It’s cool to see you. Haha. I, uh, just wanted to make sure you have my email, in case you want to get together again.”

“I have it,” Hermann says.

An awkward tension settles between them. Newt clears his throat in hopes of diffusing it, and the ranger’s eyes dart over to him. “I’m Newt,” Newt says. “Hermann and I work together.”

“Cool,” the ranger says. Disinterested. “Anyway, Dr. Gottlieb, I’m free whenever, so?”

“Yes, I’ll certainly email you,” Hermann says. He picks up his dinner roll and begins to spread butter over it, not bothering to look up when he adds “Lovely to see you again.”

The guy nods, and hurries back over to his friends, who begin debating something with him in hushed voices. Twice the group glances back at Hermann. Hermann’s—uh—friend seems to be blushing. Hermann begins to butter the other half of his dinner roll. “What the hell was that about?” Newt says.

Hermann sets down his roll and furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“That,” Newt says. “Who was that guy?”

“Oh,” Hermann says. “Him.” He rolls his eyes, and to Newt’s alarm goes pink in the cheeks. “We had a, ah, a date, I suppose you could call it, last week. He turned out to be a bit rude, actually, not the very, er, courteous sort. Attentive. Or at least not as courteous as I like. You know.”

“I don’t,” Newt says.

“You know,” Hermann repeats, with more force on the know. His pink blush spreads down his neck. “In the—coupling—sense.”

“You hooked up with him?” Newt says, too loud. A few heads swivel in their direction, including Hermann’s quote-unquote date and his friends; Hermann whacks Newt in the shin with his cane, clearly mortified.

“Keep your voice down! I don’t want the whole bloody Shatterdome to know, do I?” Hermann hisses. “Yes, I had sex with him. I do occasionally take time to enjoy myself.”

Newt stares at Hermann in amazement. Hermann hooks up? Hermann hooks up with hunky guys? Hermann hooks up with hunky guys and then ghosts them? “I didn’t know,” Newt says. “That you…did that.” Months and months of talking about his shitty love life to Hermann and Hermann has never once bothered to volunteer information of his own. Newt always just assumed Hermann had put his emotional (and physical) needs on hold for the sake of the war. Apparently not.

“You never asked,” Hermann says. “Is it important?”

Yes, it is. Newt shakes his head. The rest of their dinner is quiet and without any further interruptions. It’s also without their usual bickering, though, which makes it feel oddly lonely, and when Newt gets back to his bunk that night, he can’t help but wonder what else he hasn’t discovered about Hermann yet. Or, really—what about Hermann’s love life he hasn’t discovered yet.

A bouquet of flowers arrives for Hermann at the lab a week later. Newt is the one to take the delivery, Hermann being too absorbed in his calculations and boring graphs, and also because Newt is harboring a secret hope they’re for himself from a secret admirer. No such luck. To Dr. Gottlieb, the heart-shaped label proclaims in pink cursive, and a few sentences of the sappiest attempt at poetry Newt’s ever seen follows. Love, Pedro. Newt smirks through a suffocating wave of jealousy, whether to be the one giving or getting the flowers he’s not sure. “Hey, Hermann,” he calls across the lab. “Your boyfriend getting persistent. Want me to stick these in water for you?”

Hermann grumbles something, then says “Boyfriend?”

“From the mess the other night,” Newt says. “The uncourteous one.” Newt double-checks the note. “Pedro. His heart is yearning for you, Hermann. Listen to this—”

But Hermann scoffs loudly before Newt can even start on the poem. “Don’t be daft,” he says. “That wasn’t Pedro. That was Jason.” He scribbles over something on his chalkboard and starts again on the line below it. “And Pedro is hardly my boyfriend—it was only dinner.”

“Dinner?” Newt squeaks.

“And drinks,” Hermann says.

“You’re seeing another guy?” Newt says.

Hermann finally turns around. “Does it matter if I am?” he says.

“Yes,” Newt says. “No? I don’t know?”

“I’m a grown man, Newton,” Hermann says. “I date. You ought to try it yourself—it does wonders for the nerves.” When Newt is clearly still unsatisfied, Hermann sighs. “I met Pedro on an errand to LOCCENT last month, and I found him charming. You’d recognize him—you actually, er, caught us in a bit of a compromising position the other night. Remember?”

Newt frowns. He hasn’t caught Hermann with anyway in any compromising situations recently—the only thing he can think of that could be considered remotely embarrassing is when he stepped out into the hallway the same time Hermann’s physical therapist did, and they ended up bumping into each other. But that was—oh, God, Newt’s an idiot.  “That was him?” Newt says. He just assumed anyone stopping by Hermann’s room after work hours would be there for physical therapy, okay? And there had been a lot of…noise. Well, he’s not going to think about that now. “But he was so hot! Do you only date, like, hunks or something?”

“Really, Newton,” Hermann says. “You’re making yourself upset over nothing.” The corner of his mouth twitches up. “Though one of my old ex-boyfriends did become an underwear model…”

“Dude,” Newt says, and before he can help himself, blurts out “Shit, maybe I should start going to the gym.”

Hermann gives him a strange, searching look, and Newt immediately clamps his mouth shut in horror. He’s really gotta start working on his brain-to-mouth filter. Or at least work on not sticking his fucking foot in it every five minutes. “As I said,” Hermann says, cryptically, and turns away (apparently satisfied with whatever he saw in Newt), “you’re making yourself upset over nothing. I hardly find the need to limit myself to ‘hunks’.”

“Uh,” Newt says. “Right.”

Whatever that means.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

[biletdoux]

waiting: physical therapy | d.sc

Rating: G (in this part)

Genre + Tropes: non-idol!au, romance (angst, slice of life)

Warnings: mentions of a car accident

Length: 1.2k+

Summary: Sicheng is a creature of habit.

Note: it’s a little late, but i’m back!! i swear i’m working on my other works as well, i’ve just been a little caught up with school and work ;; this one is for @odentist​ and @adamfoolcry​ bc ilysm!! i know i’ve been absent, but you guys are in my thoughts always. thank you for putting up with me!!! it means a lot and i’ll work on being better at keeping in contact<3 also, i know not many people read my works, but i’m always super grateful toward the people who do <333

Masterlist // [Previous | Next]

part iv: physical therapy

Sicheng has physical therapy every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning from 09:00 to 11:00. He arrives at each session exactly 15 minutes early every time and although the receptionist who registers him varies depending on the day, Minho is always there to greet him with a bright smile. Sicheng would then set his stuff aside in a designated locker for the day and he’d start off the morning with some light stretches before the actual session started. This has been his routine for the past few months now.

Today is no different. 

“Sicheng,” Minho grins with a tap of his electronic watch. “Eight forty-five on the dot as usual.”

Sicheng shoots a small smile with an acknowledging nod of the head in reply as he rolls his wrists and starts loosening his ankles. His joints ache and creak in ways that bother him more than it should and his stiff muscles hiss in protest. Sicheng understands he should be grateful that he could at least walk and stretch on his own, but he can’t help but become bitter when he remembers his old lithe self. Minho is oblivious to Sicheng’s inner machinations as he mirrors him and does his own set of stretches. 

Sicheng is a dancer. Was. Is. Sicheng will be a dancer again. One day. Yes, one day. Definitely. Hopefully.

While at heart, Sicheng will always be a dancer, his body is broken and won’t move in ways that it once did. Minho helps build him back up two hours at a time, three days a week, but Sicheng knows his body will never go back to the way it used to be prior to the accident. 

Sicheng remembers waking up with a hazy mind and heavy limbs. The bleak whiteness of his room and bed sheets blinded him as he struggled to register his surroundings. The plastic nasal cannula delivered heated high flow oxygen through his body and the wires attached to his body alerted the nearby nurses of his rousing. They came in and took a set of vitals before talking to him sweetly, as to not alarm him too much, but his head ached and Sicheng still can’t recall much of what happened the first few days he came to. 

The doctors said a lot of things, but Sicheng extracted that he was lucky. 

Among other things, the impact left him with two broken ribs and a punctured lung. They told him he was transported to a nearby hospital just in time before his left lung completely collapsed, but his spleen had ruptured, requiring emergency surgery to prevent further internal bleeding. There was moderate trauma to his head, resulting in cerebral contusions and swelling, but they determined his central nervous system came out unscathed. Sicheng’s mind and recollection was still foggy and tattered, but they assured him that it would return. Perhaps in pieces, but one by one it should come back.

Sicheng was bedridden for over a month and required an additional month of intensive in-patient hospital rehabilitation from his injuries and deconditioning before he was even cleared for discharge and out-patient rehabilitation. The doctors were surprised by his progress and had a positive outlook on his prospect, but Sicheng knows. 

Things will never be the same.

Sicheng enrolled in the best out-patient rehabilitation his insurance provided for him and that was how he met Minho, a ray of sunshine and the epitome of positivity. Minho’s relentless encouragement lapped at Sicheng’s bitterness and eventually wore him down. Now Sicheng finds himself looking forward to their sessions together, despite having to face he’s no longer who he was.

“Are you ready?” Minho asks. “We’re going to work on strengthening today.” 

During his first session with Minho, Sicheng still wobbled on his feet. The hospital sent him home with a walker and pair of crutches, but Sicheng found it insulting when pirouettes and grand jetés used to come as second nature. Minho introduced himself with a fervor that had Sicheng wincing. He didn’t want to be here, especially when it meant entrusting his recovery with some happy-go-lucky sap. 

Sicheng gave Minho the cold shoulder the entire session and completely ignored any suggestions or advice. This went on for a few more times until Sicheng almost collapsed one day from pushing himself too hard despite Minho’s warnings. His legs were cramping and his lungs felt like they were going to burst. Sicheng nearly toppled over had it not been for Minho there ready to steady him at a moment's notice. Minho said nothing as Sicheng heaved in long and heavy breaths as his skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat. 

Minho was quiet and didn’t say much. Sicheng appreciated him for not rubbing too much salt in his wounds.

During the last twenty minutes of that session where Minho was helping Sicheng with stretches, he broke their strained silence.

“Sicheng, you have to be kind to yourself and allow yourself time and patience. I know it’s tough, but things will come back. The mind may forget, but the body always remembers.”

Sicheng didn’t say anything back, but he couldn’t find it in himself to scoff back like he would at any other tacky saying and ever since then, he grew to have a quiet respect and even tentative friendship with his physical therapist. 

Sicheng looks forward to Friday sessions the most. Usually they do strengthening most of the time and today is no different. It’s harder on his body than other sessions, but he enjoys the steady ache of his muscles afterward. He views it as a sign of progress and Sicheng takes in greedy gulps. 

Sicheng finishes today’s sessions on autopilot, barely noticing the minutes that flew by until it was time to stretch. Minho helps push and hold positions when Sicheng can’t and he’s grateful.

“Hey what’s up with you today?”

“Hm?” Sicheng is flat on his back and Minho is supporting his right knee to Sicheng’s chest. “What are you talking about?”

“Dunno,” Minho hums thoughtfully as he switches to stretch Sicheng’s left leg. “You just seem tired.”

“Oh. I’ve been having trouble sleeping I guess.”

“Will talking about it help?”

Sicheng ponders his offer for a minute before a soft grunt escapes his lips. His left leg is always stiffer than his right and Minho is pushing it today. “No, I don’t think so, but I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

“Okay, I’ll take your word for it. Try to get good rest though, it’s crucial for recovery.”

Minho understands Sicheng enough to know exactly when and where to push, physically and personally. A comfortable quiet settles between them until the session is over. 

Sicheng cools down in the locker room before heading out and waving goodbye to Minho and the receptionist of the day. 

By 11:20, the sun is out and the streets are busy. Sicheng has to block out rays of light from his eyes as he looks up to see the buildings to decide what the next move for the day will be. Maybe some lunch? 

He ponders quietly to himself before noticing a tap on his shoulder and turns to see a girl.

“Sicheng, is that you?”

Note: oooof, this one isn’t as whimsical and fluffy as the other cause it has lots of exposition, but finally mores stuff is revealed about sicheng!! 

#nctcreations #cznnet #neowritingsnet #NCTmentary.net #winwin scenario #winwin fanfic #winwin angst #nct scenario #nct fanfic #nct angst #wayv scenario #wayv fanfic #wayv angst

[dancing-the-hellfire-rumba]

I See You Clearly Now

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 0, babeyy. Complicated human relationships, maybe.

Word Count: 5.5k, once again, what the absolute fuck, who am I

Summary: An impromptu all nighter and a very domestic day with Sam who is- he’s a crush, right? Right?

A/N: This was basically me working through my emotions for a person in my life. I don’t-

Also, this was half because of an anonymous request I got the other day that wrote “please some sam winchester x reader but maybe an au with no creepy scary things” Here you go, hon. I’d argue complicated feelings are scarier than monsters, but whatever lights your candle :)

It’s four in the morning and she doesn’t particularly know when the decision was made to ignore the black night sky or the time, or how both Madison and her mutually agreed to it, but sleep is not close in the horizon. College life is exhausting, but this week was uneventful and slow, unmoving to the point of boredom. The beers in her fridge were staring angrily back at her, and her contacts seemed to anticipate her texts. Madison was the first choice, she hadn’t seen her in a while.

And where I go / Singing song of your affection / With rhymes to your perfection / Of you

I see you clearly now / I hold you dearly now / The sun is in my eyes (x)

Meeting arranged, hugs in hello and rosy cheeks, because her apartment is always warm, beers cracked open and drunk, and now Madison is on one of her white, comfortable lounge chairs, angrily ranting about Steve Rogers and Marvel. It’s that hour of the early morning when everything feels a bit gooey and intangible, stretched and fabricated, and there’s nowhere she’d rather be, content in defending a character she loves, warm, belly full of light alcohol and midnight-made crepes. Her cat moves loosely in the room, pointedly ignoring both humans, and Y/n’s cozy and happy to see the wild motions of her friend’s hands as she yells- the mild worry in the back of her head that she’ll find a note with a noise complaint taped on her door the next morning.

For all she cares, nothing could make this any better.

The night continues, laughter over Youtube videos and reality competition failures, repeated funny clips and belly-holding, more hurting of the cheeks from the laughter, more snacks, and she’s forgotten what that feels like in her never ending, break-neck-paced everyday life.

Time passes full of smiles and even more green cans of beer. Pyjamas are worn, sleeping bags are stretched on the floor over the fluffy grey rug, her cat seemingly having found a new enemy in the whipping of the sheets in the air. They laugh at her playing with them, until she settles on her little spot over her soft blanket. The girls stretch in their makeshift beds and they talk, texts are shot to other friends, also awake, selfies full of grins and-

“Sam says hello,” is all Madison has to say for Y/n to suddenly feel his absence in the room.

Sam. Of course.

“Gimme your phone.” Tipsy voice message with off-key singing sent. More happy smiles. A reply, a voice message of his own- “I’m glad you two are having fun. Where are you guys?”.

Y/n’s place, the reply is sent.

“Should I tell him to come by?” And Y/n has to hold her heart in steel hands to force it not to jump out of her chest and straight into her throat. Somehow, Sam always shows up when Madison calls, she thinks, a bitter taste in her mouth. Jealousy. Bottom lip bitten.

“Of course, if he wants to.” She hates to admit she’s excited to see him. Hates it, because she hasn’t talked to him in five months- not properly anyways- and the idea that Madison somehow is always in contact with him makes the familiar knife twist. The two had dated, sure, they’re friends now, a chemistry shared between them that’s inexplicable. It makes her wonder how two people can be so familiar with each other, how they can always be so fucking happy, bouncing off of each other, the sparks fly, people wonder why they broke up (Madison fell in love with someone else. Y/n doesn’t know how Sam reacted.)

Madison and her are friends, sure, but it seems everyone from that side of her friendships is close, but not enough to touch, so Madison never talked about it to her. Sam didn’t either. In fact Sam never even mentioned they’re dating. Sam never ever talks about his relationships. Not to her. He once told her, in that one phone call that lasted four hours until 6 in the morning, the one she can’t seem to forget, that he thinks his love life is nobody’s business. He’s vulnerable with it. Doesn’t share it ever with pretty much anyone (he’d share it with Madison, she thinks bitterly.) Sam, additionally, rarely answers her texts.

They’re in this weird limbo situation. She’d confessed her affection about a year ago, New Year’s eve and festive spirits, influenced by champagne and encouraging friends, and she’d received an “I wondered about us too, but I’m honestly in a weird place, unsure. I really enjoy your company, though, I think you’re really cool and I am very happy with how we are now. Friends.” No dice. She took it in stride. She’s fine with it. No really, she is. Over it.

Then Madison hooked up with him. That one hurt.

They’d talked about it- with Madison that is- because they’re friends, Madison had also been jealous -before Y/n’s confession, when Sam seemed sorta into her and things were going well- and had urged her to go for it. Y/n had shared the sentiment (“If you two end up doing anything, I’m fine with it, it’s really none of my business. You’ve been his friend for longer than I have.”) and she had really meant it. But then Sam didn’t want her, and he ran off in the sunset with Madison for a grand total of three months, and rotten feelings were there in every other step Y/n took.

Now though, she’s fine. Sam has a different pace than her, she knows it now, has come to terms with it. He’s such a gentle, loving creature, so caring and passionate and smart and kind, with those wonderful eyes and his soft hair and the scent that makes her weak in the knees. She’ll have him in her life if that means a single four hour phone call every six months and loose texts here and there- sent by her of course, because he rarely ever texts first for some infuriating reason, and she panics he’s gonna forget her. Other than that, she’s come to terms with the fact that they’ll always be distant friends, that she’ll admire him from afar and he’ll maybe think about her once a month.

He always seems so happy to see her, though. He’s so fucking difficult to decipher.

“He’s on his way.” Brought back to the present by Madison’s statement, Y/n sulks back in her seat, a small, excited smile crossing her features. She’s happy to see him. She missed him.

He’s making his way through the other side of town, though. He’ll be here in two hours just to see them, and her heart flutters.

Till then, Madison lays in her sleeping bag turns out the lights, Y/n’s cat stretches sleepily, and Y/n doesn’t fall asleep, anxious she won’t hear him ring her bell, won’t hear her phone or Madison’s at his call. She’s only slightly desperate.

Time has slipped to six in the morning. Y/n’s eyes are wide open, her head woozy from the fatigue and the alcohol, but, when the rug vibrates with the ring of Madison’s phone, she jumps. She jumps, and so does her heart, skips a beat, because he’s here and she hasn’t seen him since the summer and she just wants to hug him hello.

“Pst! Madison.” With a slap of her hand over her phone, Madison, in a lump on the floor, pulls the phone and balances it on the cut of her cheekbone, speaker over her ear, while her hand slumps back under the sleeping bag. Nelly- Y/n’s cat- blinks lazily, spooked by the sound of the phone call, but ultimately, not giving it much attention.

“Hm? Yeah. Mkay,” sleepy, mumbled words muttered into the phone. At least someone caught some shut-eye between them. “Bring some beers.” A small chuckle, a shake of her shoulders. “Oh yah.” Another laugh. “Hmph, buzzkill.”

Y/n is turning on a small light, just until the sun rises properly up the sky, because everything is currently a little dark still.

“Atta boy. We’re waiting for you.” Another short laugh. Madison hangs up  turns on her back, and her phone falls off her face as she stretches, smiles, arms slumping over her chest. She doesn’t offer much information about the phone call. Not ten minutes later, the doorbell rings.

Y/n stumbles, sheets tangling on her legs, nearly tripping, to buzz him in.

He walks up the stairs, and she sees his head rise over the edge of the top step, a crooked smile on his pretty lips and she smiles back brightly. Arms raised over his head, he shows a plastic bag, clinking glass inside, and he whoops slightly. Y/n grins, throwing a victorious fist in the air.

“The feast continues!” And Sam laughs, toothy and bright as the sun. Y/n attacks him with a hug.

Warm arms stretch around her, hold her close, warm and tight, and he still smells heavenly, like he showered before he left his house. He smells like freshly cleaned clothes and vanilla scented body wash, like the seat of his car, deodorant and a deep, musky smell she can’t quite place.

My God, she’s missed him.

Madison is still on the floor of Y/n’s bedroom, mumbling her hello and burrowing a little in her sheets. Sam kneels down and hugs her, and she hugs back. “Nice to see you, dick”

“Runt,” he replies with a nod, as if he tips off his hat to her. Carefully, Sam also kneels next to Nelly, scritches under her little chin and whispers his soft greeting, to which the cat responds with a low purr and the bending of her head to give him a little more room. Sam smiles, and Y/n can feel her eyes being shaped into comically large hearts.

“M’God,” Madison groans. “I wanna stay awake but ugh.” Y/n smiles gently.

“Go back to bed. I have an appointment with my therapist in four hours though.” Madison nods numbly.

“Wake me up in three and a half, I’ll leave.” Y/n and Sam share a look and the former shrugs.

“Okay.”

Madison shifts, puts her headphones on and shuts her heavy eyelids, pretty much instantly falling asleep. Y/n is running on battery saver mode, enhanced by the incredible amount of adrenaline Sam’s presence seems to bring.

She nods for him to follow her and grabs her laptop, dumping herself on her living room couch, Sam closing the bedroom door behind himself and following her lead. He deposits most of the beers in the fridge and keeps two, which he opens. Y/n watches his ease in her kitchen, even though he’s never been here before and her heart wiggles in content.

He sits next to her on the couch, keeping a barely there distance between them, as she pushes the screen open. Despite all the feelings that have manifested in her chest over the relatively short time she’s known him, Sam and her really hit it off since day one. She met him during a surprise party thrown for Madison. Sam brought the cake, Y/n the candles and the lighter, and other friends brought alcohol, plastic plates that were never opened and cutlery.

The whole group had waited under Madison’s building, singing a very cheerful happy birthday, loudly enough for their voices to grow hoarse, and for Madison’s eyes to roll back into her skull with a sheepish smile. They had walked to a park, sat down and feasted on the cake straight from the pastry box, yet Sam was talking with Y/n on the swings a little ways to the right, away from the cheerful company, talking about fond childhood memories, about his brother, about their favourite movies. Y/n felt it, felt her heart drooping low, the familiar feeling of wanting to impress someone, to be liked by them. Even then, under whatever stars could be seen in their city, she knew he was gonna be trouble.

Beer bottle passed, and she clinks hers on his cheekily, receiving a tip of his head and a half-smile in response. Decided sips. Bottles held against bent knees as they both fold them like pretzels. Small talk about college, about recent misadventures and drunken phone calls, and soon she gets the urge to fill their time with something.

“Movie?” she asks, and Sam just seems on board.

“What do you have?”

And he ducks close to her and checks out the titles. “Do you wanna watch Hamilton? I’ve heard it’s really good.”

“YES, Sam,” enthusiastic and loud. Sam grins. They settle back on the couch.

Fifteen minutes into the play, Y/n doesn’t even hesitate, doesn’t ask and doesn’t preface by saying anything. With all the naturalism that their relationship has, all the affection she knows Sam has to give, she scooches closer to him and leans her head on his shoulder, hugs his arm to her chest, and he leans into her comfortably. “This okay?” The answer she looks for comes in the form of him leaning his head down on top of hers gently.

They watch two thirds of the play before they both get increasingly tired, since it’s a three hour performance. Their brains are kinda mushed, especially because of the lack of sleep, but they happily gush about how well made it is and Sam spews facts left and right about the price of the tickets, the actors and how the British royal family has gone to see it in-person.

“God, I wish I had the money to go up to NYC and watch it myself. I’ve never been to Broadway.” She sighs under his arm, which is now placed around her shoulders. Sam nods in agreement.

“Yeah, that must be so amazing to see in person.”

Bedroom door creaking open, Sam and Y/n separate from each other slowly as they watch Madison trudge to the living room like a phantom, a hand on her lower back.

“My God, Y/n, your floor is not hospitable at all.”

“Awh, I’m sorry.” Sam laughs next to her. “I don’t know why you didn’t move to the bed, though.” Madison glares, facepalms with a wince -the movement seems to rattle the spot that’s sore somehow- and shakes her head. “I didn’t- it- it didn’t cross my mind.”

Deep chuckles in amusement all around. Madison picks her stuff up. Y/n makes all of them some coffee, which they all quietly sip in the diminishing silence of the city waking up just outside their window.

The time for Y/n’s appointment approaches rapidly, and Madison waves goodbye, kisses both people on their cheeks and drives herself home. Y/n isn’t sure if Sam will stick around, so she checks the time awkwardly. She’d feel terrible to let him make his way back to other side of town just for these wimpy three hours wasted on tiredly catching up and watching a movie.

“Listen,” she says, and Sam’s attention is drawn from his coffee cup. “I’m gonna go to my bedroom, have my appointment, because we do it over Zoom anyway. You hang around, chill, and I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Alright,” Sam agrees gently. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

*

A painful, soul-straining hour later, wiping dry tear stains off her cheeks, Y/n makes her way to the living room, half forgetting Sam is even there. And boy if he’s there.

He’s stretched on her couch, legs barely fitting as he leans on the arm rest, ankles crossed, and a book he’s picked up from her bookshelf in his hands, while Nelly sleeps peacefully in his lap, finding comfort in his warmth. He hasn’t made an intense amount of progress, probably 50 or 60 pages in, but he seems invested, and for the seconds it takes him to notice her, Y/n admires him a little. Under the morning light through her thin, sheer curtains, rays are angled perfectly to make his cheekbones all the sharper, he, comfortable enough to relax in her worn-in couch. He looks so at home, and after such an emotionally draining hour, it’s so good to see someone who’s gentle, someone so familiar, waiting for her in her personal space, with her cat, as if he belongs there. It makes her heart do all sorts of stunts.

It seems he notices her from the corner of his eye though, and he puts the book down.

“Hey,” he tells her softly. “Are you good?”

“Uh,” she thinks for a second, pinches the bridge of her nose. “Yeah. I’m okay.” An offered smile, small and soft.

“Alright,” as if saying I’m choosing to believe you. “Have you read this yet?” He holds up a bright orange book, a small thing titled the Alchemist by Paolo Coelho. An offered change of subject. She smiles.

“Yeah, I have.” He folds his legs with a soft apology to Nelly who jumps off disgruntled, and Y/n takes it as a sign to sit on the couch next to him. His feet rest against her thighs, knees bent still.

“It’s so…” He sighs, struggles to find the words. “I mean, it’s not something I’d usually go for. It kind of feels childish and simple, but it’s so beautiful.” He seems slightly confused, surprised to find something he thought may be silly to be actually really good.

“I know right? It feels really simplistic, but some of the stuff it says is so eye-opening.”

“Listen to this,” he says and sits a little straighter, fixing the pillow on his back a little. “We are travelers on a cosmic journey, stardust, swirling and dancing in the eddies and whirlpools of infinity. Life is eternal. We have stopped for a moment to encounter each other, to meet, to love, to share. This is a precious moment. It is a little parenthesis in eternity.”

It’s like he chose the quote specifically for her, for this particular moment. A look is thrown his way, and he smiles crookedly. “I, uhm…” he rubs the back of his neck. “I just heard you crying, is all.” A nervous shrug. Y/n feels exhausted, drained, but in that little smile, that warmth, she feels like tearing up all over again at how fucking sweet he is. She pushes at his legs and reaches out to him for a hug, which he welcomes. She sighs.

“Thank you, Sam.”

                                                          ****

Eventually, they get up. They move to the kitchen and make grilled cheese sandwiches and tea, and Sam leans against her counter as he watches her take out plates from her cupboards, Nelly prancing around with distant meows for attention. Y/n picks large mugs, puts honey in hers and serves their half breakfast on the kitchen island. They eat under light conversation about dogs in social media and pets, and Sam sorta looks like he’s always been there, like this is the life they’ve always lived.

Hot mugs cupped in thick sleeve-covered hands. Bodies curling up on different ends of a couch. Comfortable conversation continues. Topic shifted to something more serious, and Sam tells her things, talks about how he’s grown mentally, how he understands himself a little better and how he wants to try therapy. She’s happy to see him like this, being -if only slightly- more open about himself, about how he is, not closing himself up, not fooling himself into believing he can shoulder the world alone. Y/n gives him her therapist’s phone number, tells him she’s proud of him and shares her own stories. She ruffles his hair and smiles affectionately, and Sam thanks her. Their mugs empty. Her heart grows fuller.

While moving back to the bedroom, Sam kneels next to Nelly. He offers her his hand, lets her sniff it, scritches the top of her soft little forehead, and Nelly pulls away, sniffing, wagging her tail in short annoyance. “Is that not okay? Alright, I’m sorry, honey,” he whispers to her gently, watches her lick his fingers for a second before settling back in her cat bed and watching him wearily. Sam gets the message and he pulls away, and Y/n’s never, ever seen anyone interact with her cat this way. Respectful and kind (and if that ain’t Sam, alright) and her heart lurches a bit. Of course Sam, practically the perfect guy, would test her cat’s boundaries as if she’s a human, and then never push them again. She sighs.

They end up on her bed. Sat next to each other. Laptop in front of her, heavy conversation discarded, set down for now, and she searches for her favourite stand-up comedians to show him, because she knows his sense of humour and he’s gonna love them, she’s sure. Yet, as she’s scrolling, Sam does the unspeakable, and slides behind her, one leg either side of her, arms going around her.

“ ‘M sorry, I needed a hug,” he tells her, and she curls her own arms over his, leaning back against him.

“Anytime,” she promises and means every syllable. “You can stay like that if you want,” she tells him as well, and feels his chin on her shoulder as he nods, a huffed out breath softly knocking on the bare skin of her neck. She sighs into him. Gets comfortable, pulls the laptop on her lap -can you see well?- and lets herself be entertained, relishing Sam’s laughter against her back. She smiles, because  this finally feels good. She doesn’t yearn, doesn’t look for anything more. She’s ultimately incredibly happy with where they are, with all of this warm affection. There’s no butterflies, just comfort, just love and care and tired laughter that fills her mouth with honey. The sun is in her eyes.

Not ten minutes later he shifts, stretches his legs and pulls her more comfortably against him. With gentle fingers, he pushes two strands of hair behind her ear, to the side, touch so soft she barely feels it, repositions his chin on her shoulder and breathes out calmly and Y/n shivers. He holds her securely and she, well, she dares dream, dares feel what this would be like in a different context, and while there’s a little yearning this time, to remember what it’s like to want someone and to be wanted, to know what it’s like to be Sam’s, what it’s like to be held with utter security, knowledge that you’ll never be let go of, it’s not overpowering. She feels its presence, but it feels more like an old friend than a menace. She’s content. Finally. The opposing feelings seem to tame each other.

Something close to an hour passes. They make food, some creamy pasta just to hold them over until dinner. He stirs the pot while she shows him a funny video on her phone. They eat in comfortable silence, and Y/n feels the urge to tangle her legs with his under the table, but she doesn’t, terrified she’ll push him away, ruin this bubble of comfort and naturalism by taking things a step too far. What is too far, she wonders. She’ll let him take the lead, if that means he’ll continue being this physically close to her.

Sam washes the dishes. Y/n pecks his cheek in thanks. His smile is radiant.

They stretch next to each other on her bed, scroll through their texts, send silly pictures to mutual friends. The mistake she makes is when she grabs his phone and takes a really, and she means really, ugly picture. A zillion chins, pinched eyebrows, curved lips and tongue out, hands his phone back and contemplates the consequences.

“Gimme that back, you shouldn’t have that,” decided and regretful. Sam and his noodle, twelve feet long limbs hold the phone as far from her as possible and Y/n growls and laughs, stretches, tries to grab it off him. “Sam!”

“You really think I’m gonna pass this up?” he scoffs with a grin, and she yells his name, accusatory and playful.

“Give it BACK, my face is in there! Privacy infringement!” She yells. “You should know, you’re a lawyer!”

“But you willingly saved the picture in a phone that’s not yours!” Arms stretched high, laughter booming and loud, and she scrambles.

“Your word against mine!”

“You can be seen holding the phone yourself!” She growls again, tries to pull his arm down, tickles his side and he jerks and laughs. Y/n tries to throw a leg over his to hold him down, but Sam’s too quick, too strong. They fumble, thrash, tangled limbs, throat aching full of laughter, struggling and yelling useless threats.

Sam throws the phone on the rug and huffs, visibly almost done with her, like she’s an annoying but entertaining bug. He grips her hands, her left and right in his respectively, throws his leg over her waist, twists and straddles her, hands now over her head.

Heavy breaths. They pant, stare at each other, Sam shakes his head like a dog to get his hair out of his face.

“You can’t win,” he tells her with a confident smile. She narrows her eyes.

“Have you learned nothing from this friendship?” She blows a hair away from her face and looks at him smiling. “I don’t give up that easy,” coy smile, a promise, wink sent his way, and suddenly she’s thrusting up her pelvis, trying desperately to scooch up the bed with the rest of her body, but the grip on her wrists tightens, Sam barely budging. She struggles, drags her body up, fueled by pure determination and spite, wiggles fiercely and just barely manages to get on her belly, which seems like a mistake in hindsight.

Because now her hands are crossed, he’s basically got her on a choke hold with her own forearms, and she’s eagerly trying to get her knees under her, while Sam laughs loudly at grumbled comments like “What the fuck kinda core strength do you have, fucking behemoth.” The sheets get wrinkled and pulled off the edges of her mattress, her pillows get pushed to the side, to the floor, the struggle continues and her stomach and throat hurt from all the laughter, but she really can’t seem to get the upper hand, which would be obvious if someone so much as threw a look at both of them. Sam’s six feet and two full of young, sinewy muscle, a boy- a man, really- with biceps that may not be particularly thick, but the iron grip on her wrists says something else. His hands are the size of her face. Strength is not the way she should be going about this.

She twists again, barely able to get back on her back, and she pants. The asshole looks barely winded and her eyes narrow, him raising an eyebrow challengingly. What to do, what to do?

Y/n relaxes, but Sam doesn’t. She takes a breath, grins briefly up at his momentarily confused face, then yanks her hands up the bed, making him jerk down so he can keep her under his grip and-

And she kisses him.

Nothing long or particularly sexy, just a rough push of her mouth on his, and an ‘umph’ escapes him in surprise.

Sam startles, his grip loosens, and her hands are pulled free of his hold, kicking away from him and managing a small distance apart from his warm body, knees pulled up to her chest and panting fast and loud.

Okay, it seemed smart in that moment. It really did. But for a grand total of five eternally long seconds later, her heart shrinks, diminishes to ash and dust and regret. Sam’s kaleidoscopic eyes are wide, pupils blown, and he, too, is panting.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, is all she can think, so much for not pushing his boundaries, not rushing his pace. How will you ever look in his eyes again?

“Too much?” And he blinks at her, clearly still processing. “I’m sorry, Sam, I- I didn’t mean-”

But then a hand cups her jaw, warm and big and gentle, pulls her face close to his, and his lips are there, pressed on hers. Y/n’s motionless for just a second- she’s dreamt of this for so long, over a year and a half, and it’s happening in the cheesiest way possible- and Sam is on his knees, weight rested on his other hand, reaching for her, he’s kissing her, and move, dammit, do something! A hand grips his wrist, and she pushes herself closer to him, a huff pushed out of Sam’s nose, and her stomach flips in so many stunning, wonderful ways.

Her legs fall to the side, she meets him half-way and kisses him and Sam follows just as fiercely, falls back on his haunches. His hands push under her shoulders, lift her up onto his lap, grab the back of her knees and pull them around his hips and Y/n goes willingly. She holds the sides of his face carefully and parts her lips, and Sam licks into them with caution, curls his strong arms around her waist and sighs into her mouth.

Y/n pulls away. So much for boundaries.

She blinks down at him. Sam’s eyes stay closed for a second longer, peering up at her then. He waits for her to say something. Fingers push his hair back gently, she nudges her nose with his and smiles.

“I win.” Earning a long, dramatic eye roll.

“I had you in a choke hold with your own arms, Y/n.” and her name rolls off his tongue so sweetly. She clicks her tongue.

“Yet here we are,” she whispers, looks down at him and he shakes his head with a sigh. His eyes fall  on her lips once more and he gently chews the inside of his cheek. One large paw cups the side of her head and he kisses her slowly once more before pulling away, thumbing at her cheek.

They smile.

                                                           ****

The sun has descended beneath the horizon, so early it’s kind of comical, but it doesn’t feel like it’s 6 pm anyway, because neither of them has slept at all. Time has lost meaning and form the past two days, everything feels surreal and fake because of the lack of sleep, and now here they are, under warm fairy lights, laying in her bed. There’s been kisses here and there, gently roaming hands, not moving further than that, and again, Y/n doesn’t need anything more. She’s content where she is, surprised she even made it this far. The affection they’ve shared is scarcely fierce and feral, simply quiet, tender, innate. Nothing particularly passionate or aggressive, just warmth and comfort, shielded vulnerability hidden behind brief liplocks. Y/n’s more than okay with it.

She’s laying on his chest, arm around his waist and ear over his heart and they doze together under dim lighting, limbs heavy, hearts feathery light. Sam’s arm falls around her back, pulls her close. She nuzzles his chest.

It’s just so easy to be with him. Around him.

Y/n wonders where they stand after this. If he’ll text her more. If it’ll go back to the occasional long phone call, the random outings because Madison texts him while she’s with Y/n. Will they ever be like this again? How much does she care?

Because, although somewhat pivotal for her view on affection, and tenderness and friendship, ambit stretched now, definitions altered in her mind, she feels that no real barrier has broken, shifted even. They’re still friends. They’re not partners, he’s not her boyfriend and it’s honestly fine. No, really, it is. She’s genuinely okay.

Would she like to see what it’s like to date him? Of course she would. Of course she wants to know what it feels like to know he wants her and only her, wants to know she can hold his hand, can kiss him no matter where they are or with whom, without crossing invisible boundaries tentatively like she did today. Planning dates and late night movie nights and early morning beers with shared drunken kisses.

She just wishes she knew what it’s like to have free access to this sort of affection with someone, and maybe that’s the thing. Sam feels like a good someone to have that with, but at the same time, maybe it’s what he told her on New Year’s and the way he likes to be, maybe it’s the understanding that they’re really not particularly meant to be together, cosmically in love, soulmates, whatever-the-hell, but there’s no dipping of the stomach, no heart rate accelerating, no feeling of being high or drunk. Maybe Y/n just wants someone, anyone to be with, to know she can fall for, and while Sam is warm and funny and familiar and oh so wonderful, while he looks like a great candidate to be in a relationship with, while her heart flips at the possibility of having any semblance of romance in her life, of him in her house, her couch, with her books and his warm hugs, maybe he’d been right. Maybe he knew something too painful to tell her back then, when she confessed her attraction, back when things were raw and bruised and painful to the touch. Sam and her, well… they seem good in theory. They are fun, and safe, they care for one another. They share alcohol bottles easily, common interests, kindness and heeps of love to give. They make sense in a way. But- it’s just not clicking, is it?

This is just… this. Affection for the sake of affection, not romance. And that’s okay to have, more than okay, even. It’s great. It’s comforting. It’s safe, and it’s simple. They can kiss. They can hug. They can cuddle together, and brush each other’s hair away from their faces. Y/n can admire his eyes while he cleans the dishes they ate lunch in. And it can all amount to nothing, without it feeling like band-aids being ripped off bleeding wounds without a warning.

In the words of her mother, why are human relationships so god damn complicated? Why does this one have to be too?

Y/n is content to be in his arms, to philosophically discuss, and open up and talk freely. She’s content with them giggling and wrestling and kissing in between, and they can share their music and their book quotes and their love for one another. It’s just surface level affection. If not surface level, then friendship level. Why is that not enough? Maybe not all relationships have to be tipped in the romantic pink light, and maybe, just maybe that’s okay.

She gazes up at him, rests her chin on his chest, and Sam blinks his lazy, drowsy eyelids open to look down at her sweetly, offers a small and a caress of his hand on her back. And for once, Y/n is completely satisfied with just this, and nothing more.

*****

A/N 2: I reread this and it felt like I reached a conclusion to something gigantic and cosmic, but this seems so simple.  I should know all this by now. *huff*

please tell me what you thought of this!

Forevers:

@deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester​ @deanssweetheart23​ @nostalgic-uncertainty​ @mogaruke​ @superseejay721517​ @lady-hawkguy​ @thosefeelsarereal​ @superwholockmarauder​  @justiceiswater​ @petra-arkanian-1497​ @heyitscam99​ @danijimenezv​ @aj-reuth  @unicornblood4ever @mystriee​ @sadist-fangirl23 @asguardiansoftheavengers​ @superrandomnatural​ @altosaxplayer098 @winter-moons @hunterswearingplaid​ @novaddictx​ @choosemyname​  @live-like-a-girl​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @bowtomytenderaddiction​  @elara98azalea​ @lemondropirwin​ @emmagolden4118​ @glitchcypher @calaofnoldor​ @paradoxical-sleep​ @narynechan @canwenotdothis​ @suicidepanda07​ @blueaura​

Sam Stuff:

@kymberlytorres​ @theboykingsamwinchester​ @depressed-moose-78 @andi-mendes-barnes​ @captainmarvelcorps​ @nerd-in-a-galaxy-far-away​ @nellachain​  @percywinchester27​

#sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x fem!reader #sam x fem!reader #sam x female!reader #sam winchester x female!reader #spn fanfiction #supernatural #sam fluff #spn fluff #spn sam #sam winchester #winchester fluff #sam winchester comfort #domesticity and things #basically my whole psyche in a tumblr post? #geez #i've ascended from tartarus to drop this and will be returning shortly #hope you enjoy it!

[whumpitisthen]

Récamier

Masterlist

First drabble! This was made as a way to torture my friend who has a slightly unhealthy obsession with vampires. That’s why it’s in first person, I usually write in the third! Anyways, hope you like it. :) 

"So..." - He began. He sounded soft and patient. - "You told me last week you've been having nightmares, ones you’ve never had before."

"Oh, did i tell you about that as well?" You reply, having genuinely forgotten that you told him about those.

"Yes, you have. Has your memory been getting worse as well?" He sounds almost concerned, a look of empathy in his eyes.

"Oh, no, no, I think it's pretty much the same as it always has been...?" It came out as a shaky reply, not confident in your own answer either.  

"You don't sound too sure of that, Darling.” He says, a mocking smile playing on his lips as he notices the reaction the pet name has brought out of you. It wasn't anything big, just a small widening of the eyes and setting of your jaw, but he noticed nevertheless. He seems to really pay attention to you, in a way no-one else has, in a way no-one should.

"Uhmm... I think that's not something to worry about. I just forgot, that's all.” You add with a reassuring smile, ignoring the one that he wore still, though now it's starting to morph into a different one. Looks a little smaller, tight-lipped, overly kind.

He seems to disregard your answer entirely, instead, he pulls himself up a little straighter. He takes a deep breath, momentarily closing his eyes, which allows you just a moment to take a good look at him.

You never told him but you do feel kind of intimidated by him. You know you shouldn't be. After all, he's your therapist. You should feel comfortable and relaxed, like you're just having a nice chat with a trusted friend.

But something about him seems... he just seems-, off, sometimes. You yourself are not even sure what the reason for that is. Maybe it's the relaxed way he keeps pulling his finger up and down on the arm of the chair. Maybe its the slight asymmetrical pull of the corners of his mouth, how on the left side it always pulls a little higher when he smiles. Maybe its the way he looks, distinctly paler than you, almost slickly, so much so, that you had to often stop yourself from asking him "Are you okay?". Maybe... Its the way his eyes seem to change colour, with the different lighting. You have noticed all these things about him in the month you've been coming here. Twice a week. He insisted on two times, even though you said you didn't think you needed it. In the end you decided to give in, he was the therapist after all. He knew what you needed.

"You're zoning out again, Darling. Do you perhaps need a break?"

There it is again. That pet name.

He hasn't called you that before. Or has he?

Maybe your memory really has been getting worse.

"Oh, u-uhm, sorry! No, it's fine we can keep going if you'd like." He seems to believe you, as he changes his position, crossing his legs and leaning his chin on one hand, as if getting ready for a story.

"So, you said something about bad nightmares you've been getting at the end of our last session. I'd like to ask you: Have they gotten any worse?"

You still don't remember actually telling him about them and honestly it’s starting to really bother you. You always have your guard up as it is, trust issues and all that, part of why you’re here, talking with your therapist. But for the life of you, you just cannot remember when you told him about those. Because you surely have. You have. He wouldn’t know otherwise! This is stupid.

"Ah, um. I guess... I-I don't know. I feel like they leave me more... tired? Than before. And I seem to get more exhausted as the days go on. I'm afraid I'll start falling asleep at my job if this keeps up."

He hums. Writes something on his clipboard. "Do you still see that shadow person that keeps following you?"

You don't remember telling him that either. No, shut up, you did because he knows, and the only way he would is if you told him.

He seems to notice your hesitation.

"I'm sorry, would you like to not talk about this for now? We can discuss something else."

His voice feels like it's background noise. Like waking up to birds chirping. They're loud and did wake you up, but you don't mind being woken up by birds singing under your window. It's a welcome way of attention.

It calms you. It relaxes you.

It makes you feel... tired.

"We can discuss the way you've been fidgeting a little more today than other times, I have noticed. Or how you keep stuttering so much. I can see something is bothering you. Can you tell me what it is, Love?"

A different pet name, but a pet name nonetheless.

You don't remember him calling you that before.

You don't remember.

You.

Dont-

"How do you know?"

You blurt out without thought.

You immediately regret it, but ultimately decide to keep the question in the air.

Because you cannot explain away the feeling of anxiety at every mention of those dreams, or pet names, or, or- ...you. It feels wrong, in this moment, to talk about you. It sounds dumb, these are your therapy sessions after all. It feels wrong though. Different. Like this isn’t how it was supposed to go. How else could it have gone?

"Excuse me?" He looks genuinely surprised. You think he might've missed the question, with how fast you blurted it out.

Before you could ask again, or rather apologize for the weird as fuck question, he continues. "How do I know... About what? About...” - He seems lost in thought, thinking about what it might be that you're referring to. His eyes land on his clipboard and stay there for a while, drifting over it. - “...about ...your dreams, perhaps?" He finishes slowly, as if unsure.

"Yes, uh... I... I don't remember t-telling about them... to... you?" You hate yourself for sounding like a scared child. You especially hate that your voice cracks in the middle of it, and you see his eyes widen, just a little, at that.

God, could you be more embarrassing?

"I told you, Dear.” - Another. -”You told me about them last week, didn't you?"

"I-I-I..., um..."

You're unsure of what to say

"I-, ...don't remember." You take a shaky breath, trying to stay calm. You notice the slight tremble of your hands.

"...You seem troubled. Are you quite sure you're alright, Darling?” - He gives a reassuring smile, encouraging you to be confident and tell him if you're not. - “Perhaps, you feel... Hm." He stands up leaving the clipboard on his table. He walks over, as slowly and non-threataningly as he can, putting the back of his hand on your forehead.

"Hm... You don't seem sick. Sweetheart,”- Again. - “maybe we should talk about those dreams. They seem to leave you confused and disoriented."

"Stop."

"Hm?"

"Get off me."

You lean back, away from his hand, and sit up to catch your breath.

He seems perplexed. His hand falls back in place as he gets lost in thought again, looking at you. Expectant. Quiet.

"Am... Am I making you uncomfortable, Dear-"

"Stop!"

"Stop what?"

"Stop calling me 'darling' and 'sweetheart' and 'love' and 'dear' and-, and... Stop looking at m-me."

He seems to freeze for a second. You're not sure what caused him to do that, but he seems... apathetic. Emotionless. Like he's not there, for just a moment.

He blinks once, swallows, and some resemblance of humanity comes back to him.

"I-... I am making you uncomfortable, is that it." It was more of a statement than a question. "Hm. So you say you don't remember." His eyes wander again. In the end, they come back, and change colour, and you feel like he's 100 metres tall while you're barely an inch.

The lighting didn't change, but his eyes noticeably did. You feel, with every second, more and more anxious, as the eyes keep looking at you, into you, and keep you in place.

Literally.

You cannot move.

You're trying.

The most you can do is flick your eyes betweeen his.

He comes closer now. His hand finds your forehead again, but this time to put a lost lock behind your ear.

He doesn't say anything, simply looks at you. All of you. While you're forced to keep eye contact, his are roaming over the whole of you, taking in every inch, every crevice, every nook and cranny.

As his eyes move the humanity seems to disappear once more and the hand returns to rest on your cheek, then slide down your neck.

As the pressure builds his other hand comes into view, positioning itself on your arm, effectively turning and pushing you down, back how you were before you realised his secret. Because you did, didn't you? You couldn't have just kept playing this little game of pretend between you two. You had to be smart and figure it out.

As you are shoved down back on the récamier, your thoughts are running a million miles an hour. You are panicking and scared and angry but mostly you just wanna run home, curl up under your covers and cry.

The feeling of having forgotten so much makes you wanna break down right there, but even that is denied of you as your "therapist" looms over you, shadowing your face. In the dark, his eyes, that scarlet hue, is so much more noticeable and unsettling.

How do his eyes go from such a pretty black to that mesmerising crimson? That cannot be human.

He leans down, close, close, right over you, so close you cannot see anything anymore but his eyes, boring endlessly into yours.

"Do you know when our last appointment was?"

You think and you feel like you know but you can't actually name the day, date or even time. Not that you could anwser him, not like this.

"Do you feel as if your mind has been working more different than before?"

"Do you feel unsafe, Angel?"

He leans closer, lips grazing your ear as he whispers, even quiter, like a deadly secret.

"Why did you have to ruin our fun, Angel? Wasn't it nice? Pretending? Playing? Why did you have to ruin that, huh, Sweetheart?"

As his voice starts to shake, a little in anger, a little unhinged, a little dangerous, you start trembling through his paralysing gaze.

You still don't remember anything. Not when the last appointment was, not when you told him about the dreams, not when you got here, not where you live, not who he is, not when your own birthday is, not your own name, only Angel, Angel, Angel...

"Does the shadow person ever... touch you? Has he ever talked to you? What did he say? Can you recall? What was it, hm? Tell me Love."

You don't want to. You don't want to you don't want to-

"A-A-Angel..."

"Yes, Love, keep going."

He was suffocating you

His sheer presence.

"A-a... Ang-gel, can y-y-you... can, you-..."

"That's it, keep going, you're doing great, Dear."

"Ange-el, can, can you-u-... can you c-...can y-you come see me-e...?"

"Mhm. There we go. There's a dear."

You feel violated. You feel him climbing on top of you, his weight effortlessly pinning you down even more, as he leans closer. You feel utterly completely absolutely terrifyingly helpless.

"See? In the end, you did remember!" He seems to sound different. He sounds like he's holding something back. Like there's a dam that's about to break and let the water envelop an entire city underwater. Like he's about to swallow you whole.

"Too late now, though. Shame. I was having fun with you. Too bad it had to end so soon. Now, maybe if you look desperate enough, we could do it again sometime? Wouldn't that be fun?"

"Now keep still for me, Angel, this might hurt just a bit. I feel it's only fair i make you pay for wasting my time like that."

#creepy whumper #intimate whumper #whump #vampire whumper #y/n #reader insert #fear #amnesia #hallucination #nightmare #paralyzed #therapy session #first drabble can i get a pogchamp #my writing #sadistic whumper #creepy whump #intimate whump

[aimasup]

So I saw a bunch of Human AU Sanders Sides and thought I could make my own version

Backstories under the cut for anyone who’s interested

(Tw warnings such as mentions of abuse, homophobia and car accidents but it’s angst with a happy ending don’t worry)

-Long post-

-Patton:

Toddler to child: Parents love me and I love them! Lots of friends in kindergarten! Met Logan one day! He’s so smart!

Grade school: More friends! Logan’s opening up! Everything’s perfect!

Highschool: My parents are arguing more and I’m tired Meeting Roman and Remus! Roman’s so cool! Meeting Virgil! Virgil needs a hug! I feel sad and stressed sometimes and I don’t think I want to worry anyone with it.- Virgil’s with us now yay!

College: My best buds are here! I got into an accident halfway through my studies Virgil please don’t feel responsible. It’s not your fault. I’m so sorry Logan I should have understood your situation better. Roman please get mad I deserve your anger and I feel awful and empty but I shouldn’t show it because some people have it worse than I do I know it why do I feel this way? I’m fine honestly this is fine everything’s fine I’m just the problem -

Adulthood: So. I’m not the problem. I just need to work on my attitude and my flaws. I love my friends and family so much because they let me know that expressing my feelings is ok! My parents are fine now! I’m getting professional help! I work in an animal care center with Virgil! Roman is successful and pursuing his dreams! Met this guy named Dean and he works with Logan in the bookstore next to our center! He’s fun but he might need to stop lying so much, but other than that I’m happy with where I am now!

-Virgil:

Toddler to child: Parents love me and I love them. Bullies can go suck it. I feel bad that my parents always spend their time comforting me but they’re my whole world and I feel safe with them.

Grade school: Bullies are getting worse. Dad’s dead. Mom is stressed and busy so I don’t want to trouble her further. She still spends time with me for some reason. I don’t think I deserve friends. MCR is great. I met Dean and Remus. They’re. Interesting. I hate Roman.

High school: Oh my god everything is stressful and oppressive and everyone is scared of me. That’s good. Maybe. Met Patton, Logan and Roman. They’re only somewhat scared? Hm. Dean and Remus are getting into even more trouble than usual and pulling me into them. Maybe they aren’t good for me with how they’ve been acting lately. I’ll go be with Patton. - Maybe they don’t really accept me they’re just waiting to kick me out like everyone else why would they even like me-

College: Mom I love you so much I swear I’ll get a good job and make this college money worth it you’ll see. And things are surprisingly less stressful? I really like my friends? Patton why the hell did you save me from that car. Logan you have some explaining to do. Roman you shut the fuck up. - Everything is my fault I should have never said anything why am I always like this everyone was right about me- 

 Adulthood: Mom!! You can now retire!! Roommates with Patton, Logan and Roman now and I love being with them so much. And. Dean and Remus are still around. Well then. Whatever. I work a nice job at an animal care center with Patton and I have my friends and I’m learning to be more open and things are going well for now. Not bad for a life.

-Logan:

Toddler to child: Parents go to work most of the time and I see them every other weekend. Who cares about everyone else in kindergarten I have my books and Crofters. Oh hello Patton.

Grade school: I’m smarter than everyone else and I know it. Patton is a wonderful companion. I’m doing well for my age. 

High school: Virgil and Roman are interesting. Remus needs to chill. Virgil no let me lay some facts down for you because you are valid you hear me. Oh! Oh my gosh! I met this amazing student and he makes me feel special and happy! I think I love him! - It hurts but that’s fine- 

College: I’m coming for those degrees! Patton needs to stop asking me to leave my boyfriend. He doesn’t understand how important this man is to me! I can stand a little pain! Wait what happened to Patton. Virgil? Roman? Ok. Wait. Shit. I’m an idiot. I can’t believe it took me this long to figure out - I’m such an idiot it doesn’t matter how knowledgeable I am I’m still a gullible moron when it comes to relationships and everything my ex has ever done and said to me is all my fault because I fell for his manipulations-

Adulthood: Ok. I trust my therapist and my friends when they say it’s not my fault and that it’s alright. What I felt with my ex wasn’t love and I’m not a moron for falling for him. I can always start over. Like with the bookstore I now own with my receptionist Dean. Apparently he knows Virgil huh. They frequently bicker whenever Dean goes to their animal care center to buy snake feed so that’s interesting. My parents have retired and are now trying to make up for lost time with me? I appreciate it I suppose. Now I live with my companions and contact my family and things are alright.

-Roman:

Toddler to child: Parents love me and I love them! They buy me anything I want! They support my dreams! But Remus keeps bullying me and I’m not sure how to feel about him. He’s still my brother

Grade school: I have so many friends! Extra-curricular activities because I’m really talented! Remus has new friends to cause trouble with oh boy. More people to bully me the better for him ugh. Virgil especially creeps me out. I’m getting a little concerned as to how my parents are treating Remus but I’m sure he’s fine 

High school: Ok. So. Apparently telling my parents that I like guys is a bad idea. - That’s going to scar on my back for sure- They treat me completely differently from when I was a kid? And I met Patton and Logan and I think I might be a tad spoiled by my family. Also Virgil’s here but he’s getting more and more ok. I’ll hang out with him now. - I’m ungrateful and a disgrace and I’m not as creative as I ever thought I was- 

College: Welp. I’m moving out. I wish Remus the best of luck because I think he’s coming too. My parents officially suck as much as Logan’s current boyfriend. He needs to dump him. Wait I’m a YouTuber now! Yay! - I’m getting more and more stressed and overwhelmed from debt and I fear rejection from my fans and friends the moment I say something out of line and the moment I run out of good ideas for them- Oh shit Patton what happened!! Logan what did you do!! Virgil you shut the fuck up!! Remus you’re not helping!! - I could have prevented this why didn’t I realize this earlier am I that self absorbed-

Adulthood: Yes I’m a full time YouTuber and actor and singer now!! Patton, Logan and Virgil live with me now and they even work close together! Remus is now a comic book artist and novel author, hope he doesn’t traumatize people too much. Logan’s receptionist Dean sure is a character.  I still fear rejection- but I know things will be good for now!

-Deceit:

Toddler to child: Where are my parents. Why is the orphanage so small and why do people look at me weird when I talk. I’m never getting adopted.

Grade school: Well, I’m adopted now I guess. No way in hell am I telling them everything that happens daily in my life. Why do my new parents think my bedroom door needs to be removed. They took my little garden snake because it wasn’t a ‘normal’ pet? Hm. Why hello there Virgil and Remus. Hello Roman. 

High school: That’s it. I’m getting piercings, I’m getting a huge tattoo, I’m kissing snakes. Screw my parents. I don’t need to let anyone know anything about me. My opinion doesn’t matter anyways and everything about me is going to be bad no matter what so why bother So they fear us, Virgil? Good. Wait. Where are you going?

College: I’m moving out officially. Remus is in a different college. -Don’t miss him at all. I shall play along to society’s whims for now and get a degree and never use it. Got rid of the tracker under my car. I don’t think I’ll ever contact my parents again.

Adulthood: I think I’m doing rather well as a citizen. Remus is my new apartment mate oh god. But he is now a comic book artist and novel author so at least he has a job. Perks of working in a bookstore with Logan. That nerd’s one of Virgil’s new friends? And emo boy now works in the animal care center next to us? Whatever. I’ll leave them be unless I need some new snake feed. Things are peaceful now for me at least.

-Remus:

Toddler to child: I want my parents to look me in the eye and tell them they care more than just throwing fancy stuff into my arms dangit. Whatever I’ll just take it out on Roman and the kids in the playground.

Grade school: -If you can’t say anything nice don’t open your ugly mouth ever at all- So I’m disturbed? So my thoughts aren’t normal? Fine! Not like I can control what comes into my head! Let me bully Roman some more with my new buds Virgil and Dean! - freaking star child has everything I hate him so much what will it take for my parents to have their attention on me I’ve caused so much trouble in school why won’t they care-

High school: Roman what the hell happened?? I was planning your murder but now I’m not sure how to feel?? Damn you?? Uh?? We’ll move out?? And where the hell is Virgil going again?? Dean?? He’s leaving us? Alright. That’s it. That’s it - my grades and reputation are shit and my parents always assume the worst of me anyways so I’ll just sleep around with a bunch of guys every other week for quick cash and drag my family’s name through the mud and have fun because I don’t hate myself completely but my ideas are bad and I’m bad and- 

College: Fuck you mom and dad! Roman and I are moving out!! I’m gonna become a comic artist and write terrifying stories that’ll make Satan cry!! - Ugh Dean’s in another college dammit I miss him- Roman what is it this time someone get run over or something? What happened with that nerd Logan?  Is Virgil alright- What the fuck happened? - the star child is crying why are you crying why am I crying why do I feel like this I don’t care I shouldn’t care I hate you I hate me-

Adulthood: My ideas are selling! I’m a comic book artist and a novel author! Dean is my new apartment buddy! My brother is still some fancy theater geek but who cares! And the store Dean works at sells my books! And Virgil’s in the animal care center next door! I met his new friends officially and they’re boring lol. I really like where my life’s heading!

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides human au #remus sanders #sympathetic remus sanders #duke remus #deceit #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit sanders #virgil sanders #anxiety sanders #logan sanders #logic sanders #morality sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #princey sanders #roman and remus #creativitwins #my art #my post #very long post #long post #janice sanders #janus sanders

[frogtanii]

It’s wind anon. I know I should react to the Kenma part, but I just went through the update, saw Meiko’s portion and I have feelings that I need to get out because I’m so far gone right now—

I swear, I can break down every single text what the flip is this BS. Meiko, dear, do you,,,have a concussion. Are you thinking. What,,, this is like the time you were underdressed at the restaurant and you ended up getting drunk as heck.

Okay, let’s do the breakdown.

Coming in hot, we see Meiko with “tooru!!!!!!” (Yes, I did count the number of exclamation marks) firstly, the usage of his first name after ‘exiled’ where she raged at him and used Oikawa instead... mood swing much because I cannot believe the audacity of this... and really. First name basis. Trying to be close and to get rid of animosity, but not offering up anything like “hey, I’d appreciate talking to you for a sec if you’re free?” Or an apology for blowing up at him because he did indeed have your back, it’s just that you were the one problem. But yes, the exclamation marks too. A bit childish, obvious excitement...mmmm, I’ll move on to the next section.

Oikawa’s “oh. hey meiko” shows that he really ain’t up for this. First is the obvious low energy. I don’t want to go into depth about that but the “oh” shows that he paused. He saw her message. He answered. And he didn’t expect her to talk to him. Especially with that sort of energy. Mixed feelings towards her. And his “hey meiko”. I would say he is one of the more energetic of the House. He probably would’ve done something like “meiko!!! <3” in response before or something like that. He’s a bit flashy in that regard. But no punctuation. Just a downtrodden “hey” in response.

“don’t sound so enthused” she says. I mean, at the very least it seems she understands and can grasp tone from messages? But I am like “it would be more surprising for him to be enthused? I’m in awe of how you were able to become so enthused after you got yourself crushed into pieces by YN...” Besides that, even if Meiko wasn’t physically hurt, a confrontation of this sort would not lead to anyone having a happy mood? Me glancing between Meiko and all the therapists that were mentioned before because I really hope that we can figure something out because she gives off so many different vibes I am like... “what even goes on inside her brain...”

“can you blame me? you yelled at me the last time i talked to you” and this is the truth. He shouldn’t be enthused. You yelled at him, you disregarded his concern and you showed that you didn’t care for him as a person. Even if there was a circumstance where she didn’t yell at Oikawa, he would reach out first and be concerned about her health. Meiko has no grounds to try and blame him for anything right now. Frankly, I don’t think Oikawa should have even bothered answering her because I don’t think he is in the best place emotionally to deal with her.

“im so sorry sweetheart!!!! i didn’t mean it :(” lemme just day, wind anon cannot believe the BS that this message is. First, she says she is sorry. But really? Really. I can’t even look at her. Look, I don’t know what it is but “I’m so sorry.” Has the weakest apology energy. “I’m sorry.” Fine, decent, the classic and simplest. “I’m really sorry.” Also good! Shows regret. “I’m so sorry.” Sounds like you when you just learn that a person’s family member has passed away. There is something about “I’m so sorry” that doesn’t sound sincere to me and it’s infuriating. Next, the “sweetheart” I might’ve gagged a bit internally. Does she,,, talk like that? Normally? Is that a thing? She’s younger than him...and I don’t know but sweetheart sounds so condescending I literally can’t even— and finally, the “I didn’t mean it” yeah, well, you don’t mean anything because everything you say is BS that’s what you mean. Stop excusing your behavior. There is no merit behind it.

“you know i was just beat up and i couldn’t control what i was saying”. Okay, let’s break this down too. First, trying to incur sympathy by the “I was just beat up.” I cannot believe this gal. And the “you know” for a reference to a person’s knowledge of the matter, it lets them be more susceptible to beliefs. But the “I couldn’t control what I was saying” is complete utter hogwash. I mean, Meiko can’t control any bit of her because she is just impulse. But she excused her inability to control herself by saying it was because she was just beat up.

I don’t know what to say for the next portion. Alone, it’s cute, but put into perspective it’s just manipulation and she doesn’t love him. I’ll just move on.

“what do you need that you can’t ask iwa-chan?” Okay, so he didn’t reciprocate with an “I love you too” so that just shows what type of mood and how effective her words were. It also shows that she always messaged Oikawa when she needed something, because he caught on super quick to that. The “Iwa-chan” is interesting though. I wanna know if Oikawa talks to Iwaizumi after this conversation with Meiko because she is clearly going behind his back right now.

“oh well hajime is being very rude rn. he won’t let me leave my room!!!!” Okay, he had best interests at heart and Meiko...I know every single one of your rooms has a bathroom too. They’re bringing you food. They are letting people go into your room. Meiko, you wouldn’t have lasted quarantine if you’re this petulant now. It’s literally going to be like, 3 days max if you work to get an actual solution. I don’t want to break this down, I feel this is self explanatory. She feels entitled still.

“i know, it’s for your own good” he replies, and that is true but I am also of the belief that it is (hopefully) better for the rest of the house to not be in contact with her so I guess that’s that. Anyway, this shows Oikawa placating her, next

Meiko...being...not pretty. “ugh!!! but i wanna go out!!!!!!” Yeah, she would not have been able to be safe throughout the pandemic. Please,,, you’ll have fresh air if you open up a window,,, I know for certain you don’t exercise,,, please Meiko, shut up already you are making yourself look like more of a pile of garbage than you depict yourself as please I cannot handle the idea that the guys fell for this act—

“you have a black eye babe” okay, the black eye is actually Tooru trying to refer to knowledge that she has. As in, she should be trying to rest and get better right now. (Just curious, who treated her? For the injuries? She raged at Iwaizumi and Oikawa so maybe Daichi?) the babe gives off the placating vibe to me, still low energy, not very affectionate, but it’s there so I’m like “hm”.

“so??? omg are you calling me ugly tooru???????” Well...he didn’t call you ugly. But I might? Because you have the ugliest personality of everyone here. But also, shifting blame onto him. Gosh, I give Oikawa some water. He’ll get a migraine from this.

“of course not. i would never”. Low energy, not elaborating, I think he sees that she is trying to manipulate him, or at the very least he isn’t going to play that particular game. But actually, he runs a fashion channel on YouTube. We know Bokuto runs a fitness one and his header message was something along the lines of everyone’s bodies are beautiful, so chances are Oikawa has the same sort of idea for his channel too. He may criticize fashion, but he would never criticize the people wearing it or the people who made it in a mean way. He would be respectful, and he lets people do what they wish because it’s their choice. I mean, there has to be a reason why Meiko’s fashion is how it is—he doesn’t intrude on matters that aren’t his to intrude upon.

Okay, Meiko. I’m gonna stop trying to format the messages exactly how they are, autocorrect is making my time with them a bit too much, but she says she wants him to take her with him. Okay, starting off, you are really under the belief that he will take you on to a trip he has planned when he didn’t invite you in the first place? Pushy... but yes, her petulance again... me flicking water at her, “you got super drunk because you were underdressed at a fancy restaurant and now you have a face that looks like roadkill, how much do you want to embarrass yourself before you get turned into a pariah?”

Oikawa not knowing how she knows that is clear concern. Someone knowing your schedule when it’s none of their business and not public knowledge is major red flag. The “uh” shows that he is clearly taken aback. The ellipses shows that he doesn’t know what to think.

Okay, Meiko—she is actually able to notice something??? Good golly gee, I am baffled by how she did that when everything else she does is on fire. But the consistency probably gave it in. She may have been looking for him at one point, noticed he was out, and saw the pattern then. But actually, wouldn’t she be good at noticing the patterns of the guys so that she always knows which one to go to and use? Thoughts.... but I’m curious about the fact she said the “same group of absolute losers”. I highly doubt they always go and meet up directly in eye view of the house? Chances are they meet up at a bar or something? This potentially could be a thing where Meiko was stalking them? It would be interesting if she saw them while she was out as well—and if yahaba and kyoutani noticed her around before too. Also, her saying “you ain’t slick” like,,, Meiko, have you looked into a mirror. Can you see.

Oikawa defending his friends, we stan. Let’s move on though: “they’re so much younger than you?? and yahaba is def not cute lmao” me, doing like the... monkey meme where they look away because I am just like??? Meiko, you’re younger than Oikawa. I bet Yahaba and Kyoutani are your age. And anyone younger than you is a loser huh? That’s why you look at Bokuto and YN like they are dirt beneath your feet. (And Yes, I do remember that you put Bokuto and YN as the babies of the house, this reoccurrence is very well done). And she went and insulted Yahaba directly like...you’re talking to his friend? What are you doing? Excuse me? I beg your pardon?

And the ellipses strike again— and Oikawa is fishing for information because we have seen him—he listens to logic. And Meiko... her emojis... wind anon be flicking more water at her, she is too much. Also. Kyoutani. She is calling Kyoutani cute. This was the message that made wind anon start this long analysis. Kyoutani, cute? Listen. Kyoutani would take one look at this parasite hanging off his arm with her swollen black eye that was slathered with makeup and her lacking clothing sense, before looking at Oikawa who would be so haggard by then, and then Kyoutani would force her off his arm before grabbing Oikawa and running off with Yahaba following them. There is no way at all Kyoutani would involve himself with Meiko. I refuse to believe he would go for her.

Okay, the two messages after about wingmanning—I don’t want to do a large scale analysis of it. Oikawa really is shown to have good sense for Meiko’s intentions. His intuition is good. And we know that he cares and respects his friends and he focuses on their capabilities. He knows them. Meiko is just...childish in the worst of ways.

“You don’t see the issue with this”. Oikawa really digging in his feet. First, he wished to be in a relationship with Meiko. And here she is, asking for him to wingman to get her together with one of his friends, who may not even like her—and I bet that if it doesn’t go well, she would blame Oikawa for it like really—but I give Oikawa more water for the migraines Meiko induces.

“What?? It’s not like we’re actually together lol”. The laugh out loud at the end really shows how much of a joke she sees this as. She sees him as a joke. And she just crushed all his efforts and actions to try and get into a relationship. And actually...will Meiko ever get into a relationship with another? She has no loyalty. She definitely wouldn’t have ever got into a dedicated relationship with one of the guys. And she would be the type to get upset if they slept around, wouldn’t she? A hypocrite.

“Ugh don’t be like that!!! I’m sure you sleep around too!!” Okay, she is trying to defend herself while also potentially blaming him if he does. It’s just manipulation...I’m gonna move on...

Oikawa’s just done and his “I don’t” holds a lot of emotion. But Meiko’s response back I don’t believe at all. “Oh well that’s your fault, I don’t really give a sh*t if you sleep around hehe!!!” First, blaming him for his choice of only choosing you??? And I highly doubt the second part because she is shown to throw blame and ditch people for negligible reasons—I have no trust towards her words. I do not believe her. I believe she would care. I believe she would blow up at the guy before leaving him.

“Of course you don’t” And there is the utter doneness. He has given up on Meiko in this message. He doesn’t care anymore. He was already not in the mood for her when she first messaged him, he doesn’t want to see her at all anymore. He’s given up.

“So you get it!! Perfect!!!!” Please, wind anon has written so much already, her eyes are sweating everytime she has to look at Meiko being like this hhhhh. “I’ll be ready at like 9pm? Come by my room!! Actually no I’ll come by yours” and her usage of emoji. Get her away from me and everyone in PF. She’s toxic. Send her off with hazardous waste. Also, she deliberately changed from her room to coming by his. She is cutting off him so he has to go with her, he can’t just sneak out and not wait at her room (though she did offer a time so he could just go out now and ditch her presence completely). But it would be amusing if he did something like lock his door, (either after he’d go out or if he wold leave through window) and she would just be there waiting all decked out in her clothes and makeup pounding on his door. He wouldn’t answer and the others would see her out of her room (a misdemeanor). And then she would have to make an excuse. But it would be hard...because Oikawa has text evidence of Meiko going against Iwaizumi to just play like this.

“And if I say no?” Says Oikawa, who is testing the waters—very smart. We approve. “You won’t.” She replies, because she is terrible and we hate her controlling, manipulative, abusive self and we would all fight her. And she ends it off with a “great!! see you then!” Because she has to have her way and the last say.

Okay, wind anon is done

Completely. Utterly done with the analysis and reaction for that. Might not get to Kenma and YN analysis because I went off in this one but just know I appreciate it and I’ll try to get to it—just,,,not today.

I hope Oikawa sends these screenshots to like, Iwaizumi at the very least but it would be even better if he just drops it in a group chat with Daichi and Osamu instead and asks them to keep an eye on her for “her own safety” and ask her to stay in her room. She’s too daring and if she blows up on him after, he will receive more evidence of her being terrible. And of course, he’s smart. He’ll definitely block her number when he doesn’t want to bother with her anymore. Okay, wind anon is ending here. The ask is too long. I think it’s the longest ask I’ve ever sent. I wish you well fr0ggy. I hope your sleep is pleasant and you wake up very rested and refreshed!

WOO LONG POST!!!! i cannot nearly respond to all this!!!! but!!!! i am in Awe??? text by text???? i love this????? ur so amazing i <3 u

#j’s asks #anons babey #℗ poker face #wind anon

[bettydice]

I didn’t expect you to be lonely (too)

Xicheng, Modern AU, JC&WWX reconciliation, E-Rated

Chapter 1

When Jiang Cheng opens the window in the morning, crisp, cold air hits his face. The leaves on the tree in the courtyard of the apartment complex are turning colours.

When did that happen? When did summer end?

It’s a new semester, a new season, and Wei Wuxian still hasn’t returned. Hasn’t called, hasn’t messaged. Jiang Cheng had thought… had hoped…

He should’ve known better.

The wind picks up and raises goosebumps on his skin. A leaf, dark red, is torn from a branch and flutters through the air.

He used to like autumn.

Jiang Yanli was spring, Wei Wuxian was summer, Jiang Cheng was autumn. Winter was them together, because it was cold and they had to stick close.

Jiang Cheng scoffs and closes the window. There’s no use in remembering or hoping. He has work to do anyway.

He makes himself an unsatisfying breakfast that consists of instant coffee and - oh, there isn’t really anything else. Of course the fridge is fucking empty.

He goes jogging, but he’s hungry and it’s cold and he hates jogging.

He takes a shower, but the water is either too hot or too cold.

When he sits down at his desk and opens his writing program, it doesn’t fucking work. Because of course not.

Error #234871FUCKYOUJIANGCHENG

“I don’t even know what that means, I’m not a fucking COMPUTER SCIENTIST!”

Like some people. Some people, who betrayed and abandoned him and moved in with some random-ass people to look after a random-ass child for no good reason and left him all alone. Now he has no one to share his meals with, so there’s no point in making sure his fridge is full, and no one who also hates jogging, so they can suffer together, and no one to fucking help him with fucking computer issues and this is all fucking bullshit.

Jiang Cheng slams his laptop shut.

Fuck you, Wei Wuxian. This is all your fault.

Another headache creeps up his temples. He’s already completely done with this day. At 9:37 AM. Fuck. He has a fucking essay to write about some bullshit topic he doesn’t care about, but how is he supposed to do that when his laptop hates him as much as everyone else does and his head feels as though it’s splitting apart?

His phone rings, and the sound feels like someone is applying a power drill to his brain. And of course it’s not on his desk but far away on the counter. Because nothing in his life can ever be easy or convenient, oh no. He stretches his arm and then his whole upper body to try to grab it from the counter without having to get up from his desk and then there’s a TWINGE and oh no, that’s not good. His shoulder feels as though it’s on fire and… yep, he can’t fucking move his head.

FUCK. FUCKING FUCK SHIT BALLS CRAP FUCK SHIT. FUUUUUUUUCK.

And his phone keeps ringing.

Everyone ignores him for DAYS but NOW when he’s literally DYING and can’t reach his phone, they want to talk to him.

He gets up, ignores the pain shooting down his right arm, carefully shuffles towards the counter, and answers the phone with his left hand.

“WHAT?”

“A-Cheng?”

It’s his sister. Jiang Cheng’s stress levels automatically lower by about 13% as soon as he hears her voice.

“Jiejie, hey. Sorry, I just…” He switches his phone to the other hand and then gets a painful reminder that this side is fucked. “Fuck, ow.”

“A-Cheng? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing! I just... pulled a muscle or something.” He sits down again and bites his lip to suppress a wail of agony. “Why did you call, Jiejie?”

He can basically hear Jiang Yanli’s gentle, slightly concerned, smile through the phone. “Ah, then I’m calling just at the right time. You’ve been struggling with tension for a while now and as you know, your birthday is coming up and -”

“Don’t remind me. That’s still over a month away. And I’m not struggling!”

“- and I have the perfect gift for you. You don’t have to wait until November to do it either. And I think it would be so good for you, A-Cheng, especially now with your pulled muscle.”

“And what exactly is ‘it’?”

“Do you remember Lan Xichen? He’s a friend of Nie Mingjue, and his uncle is Lan Qiren. I think we met him a few times during one of those large business-people dinners we used to get invited to, when father…”

Was still alive.

“I don’t remember anyone I met there, because I was bored out of my mind.” Because Wei Wuxian wasn’t invited to those. And because they were fucking boring. “What does this have to do with my mysterious birthday present anyway?”

“Ah, well, it turns out he works as a physical therapist and I guess you could call him a sort of life coach. Massages, yoga, meditation, physical therapy. He has his own little studio in his apartment, so it’s very private and intimate, and he spends a lot of time with every client, it’s not just a twenty minute massage and then you’re done.”

His sister speaks with rare urgency and Jiang Cheng feels a little bewildered by having this just thrown at him. “So, you want me to-”

“I met him recently, such a lovely man, and asked him whether he had time to take on another client, and he does! So I booked you ten sessions and the first one is Thursday, 5 p.m. We were going to meet that afternoon, so I know you have time, and we can just reschedule our meeting!”

“Jiejie! Ten sessions… I don’t… I’m not a massage person! I don’t want some stranger touching me!” This is all really very sudden, so of course his first instinct is to say no.

His sister, of course, is used to that, and expected it. So she laughs softly and continues convincing him. “Ah, but he’s not a stranger, he’s Nie Mingjue’s best friend and as I said, I met him recently - he’s very kind and sweet and he doesn’t just do massages. I’m sure he’ll be willing to listen to what you’re comfortable with and figure out what’s best for you. A-Cheng, why don’t you just go to the first meeting and see what happens, hm? It’s my present for you.”

As if he could ever actually say no to his sister. Nobody can.

“Alright, alright. But if it’s not my thing, you’ll use the rest of the sessions, okay? I could watch A-Ling while you go get pampered a little.” His sister deserves this much more than he does anyway. Not that she would agree with that.

“Just go and meet with Lan Xichen first, before deciding that it’s not for you.” She’s using her stern voice, oh no.

“I will! I’m just saying!”

“Alright. Let me know how it goes then.”

“I will.”

“Did you have breakfast?”

“Ah, yes, of course.”

“Good. Remember to drink tea or water, too, not just coffee.”

“Yes, Jiejie.”

“And-”

“I’ll call you after I’ve met with Lan Xichen,” Jiang Cheng interrupts, before she can shower him with even more care. “And thank you. I… could probably use some… relaxation.”

“Great! I’ll text you the address in a bit.”

They chat a bit more about A-Ling and what shenanigans he gets up to now that he can walk, and when Jiang Cheng ends the call a while later, his mood has significantly improved.

His phone makes a noise again. He looks at the screen, expecting a text from his sister with Lan Xichen’s address, but... Fuck. He unlocks the screen and stares at his daily Wei Wuxian selfie. Today he’s wearing a bathrobe so fluffy, it seems to swallow him, and he’s making… duck lips. Jiang Cheng’s mood plummets to the ground.

Why can’t he delete this stupid alarm or app or whatever his brother has infested his phone with? Why doesn’t he just change his fucking number, get a new phone? Why does Wei Wuxian keep up this nonsense, even though he’s obviously not interested in being in contact with Jiang Cheng anymore? Why torment him with these little glimpses into a life that he lives without his brother? The selfies don’t arrive at a set time every day and it’s a new one every time, so it’s pretty safe to say, Wei Wuxian takes them and sends them himself every day. They used to arrive between 11 a.m. and 1 p.m., but recently he sometimes gets them as early as 9 a.m. On one shocking occasion it was 6:45 a.m., though Wei Wuxian did look very sleepy. Since when does Wei Wuxian get up that early?

He also seems to be spending a lot of time at a place that is not the flat he moved into with the Wens. Not that Jiang Cheng spends a lot of time analyzing the background of the pictures. Because he does not care what Wei Wuxian gets up to. Wei Wuxian does not care about him anymore either, beyond annoying him like this.

Jiang Cheng shakes his head to make his brain stop thinking about useless things. Immediately, pain shoots down his arm, burns in his neck.

Fuck.

Maybe he should just go back to bed. Clearly getting up was a mistake.

Thursday

Lan Xichen lives on the outskirts of the city. Not quite the suburbs, but in one of those areas where rich people enjoy having a garden, or at least a balcony, and less busy streets, while the city centre is still only a few subway stops away. The kind of area where his own family once lived.

Jiang Cheng checks the house number again and rushes towards the building, wrapping his jacket closer around him. It is colder now, he’s known this and yet didn’t take that into account when getting dressed.

He enters the building, takes the elevator to the 2nd floor, finds the right door and rings the doorbell.

He doesn’t have to wait long until Lan Xichen opens him.

Oh.

“A-Sang… who… who is that next to your brother?”

“Huh? Aaah, that’s Lan Xichen. Da-ge’s best friend. Why do you ask?”

“No reason!”

“Oooooh, I see.”

“Shut up!”

“Well, now I finally know your type, Cheng-Cheng. You’re into impossibly beautiful people who you’re too scared to talk to.”

“I said shut up! I just asked who it was!”

“First Wen Qing, now Xichen-ge… But don’t worry, he’s super nice. Now, his brother on the other hand… So hot, but-“

“I’m leaving!”

Fuck.

“Hello! You must be Jiang Wanyin.”

Lan Xichen smiles at him and yep, yep, Huaisang was right, impossibly beautiful. Fuck.

Oh shit, he still hasn’t said anything.

“Ah yes, that’s me. Hello. Nice to meet you.” Jiang Cheng couldn’t be more awkward if he tried. Except he can, because then he bows, way too low.

Lan Xichen seems to be too polite to laugh at him, but his eyes sparkle as though he wants to, while he invites Jiang Cheng inside.

The apartment is large and bright and… full of plants. Lan Xichen leads him into the living room, where a pot of tea and two mugs are waiting for them on the coffee table. Jiang Cheng sits down on a very comfortable chair, next to a large houseplant with beautiful green and red leaves. All in all, the surroundings help him feel way more relaxed than what would be appropriate for the situation. The situation being: Sitting across from the man Jiang Cheng has seen maybe three times, back when he was 17, from afar, and whom he used to spend quite some time thinking about what it would be like to kiss him. More than three times. The same man who is supposed to give him a massage.

“Is tea alright? Would you prefer something else?”

“Tea is lovely, thank you.” Jiang Cheng hurries to take a sip and hopefully smiles instead of grimacing.

Lan Xichen picks up a notebook and a pen, rests it on his legs, then takes a deep breath. Despite his gentle smile, and the soothing smell of jasmine tea, and the literal urban jungle he’s sitting in, Jiang Cheng thinks he can pick up a hint of nervousness from Lan Xichen. But no, he must be imagining it.

Lan Xichen opens his notebook and looks at Jiang Cheng. “So, your sister already told me that you’ve been dealing with a little tension and stress. If you’re comfortable with it, I would like to ask you a few questions and make myself an overview of where you hold your tension and how it affects you, so we can think about how to best help you.”

Jiang Cheng only smiles and nods.

“This is only a preliminary meeting, so I already know how to best proceed, once we start our sessions.”

Lan Xichen asks him a few questions about his daily schedule (repetitive), whether he does any exercise (yes, well, sort of, sometimes), is he sleeping well (eeh), does he often have headaches (yes), and so on. Jiang Cheng answers as best as he can, and even though Lan Xichen shows no judgment at all, it is mortifying for him. His life is a mess and clearly he’s responsible for all of it. Why doesn’t he do more exercise? If he has headaches all the time, he should be doing something about that!

“Mhm, have you ever tried Yoga before?”

“No.”

“Can you touch your toes?”

“I don’t know? Why would I need to touch my toes?!” Jiang Cheng regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth but Lan Xichen only looks amused.

“Excellent question.” Lan Xichen puts the notepad he’s been using back down on the table and stands up. “Would it be okay if I touch your neck and shoulders to have a closer look at your tension?”

“Yes, yes. That’s alright. Sure.” Jiang Cheng puts down the mug and rests his hands on his knees, trying to project that he’s totally casual and relaxed and that he never spent even a minute wondering how those hands might feel on his skin. Why do these things happen to him? Why can’t he even nurse a schoolboy crush for a few months and then forget about it without suffering consequences???

Lan Xichen’s hands are warm, but not too warm. Perfect temperature for being touched, really. His fingers are long and smooth and it feels really good, the way they’re digging into his muscles and-

“Fuck!”

“Sorry. Looks like I found a sore spot.” Lan Xichen strokes his fingers in a soothing apology over the spot and that’s almost worse, because it feels really good.

“I, uhm, apologise for the… rude language.”

“Oh, haha, I’ve heard worse from clients. No need to hold back, I’m of the opinion that it can be beneficial to find release.”

“Right.” This is like one of Jiang Cheng’s dreams that starts out beautiful and turns into a horrible nightmare halfway through. Will he make it through this without horribly embarrassing himself even further and/or offending Lan Xichen in the process?

“You’re really... “ Lan Xichen runs his hands up Jiang Cheng’s neck and slightly presses his thumbs into a spot between his ear and his jaw. Jiang Cheng groans. “You’re very tense. In a lot of places. Do you grind your teeth at night? Or clench them?”

“Maybe?”

Lan Xichen rests his hands on Jiang Cheng’s shoulders for a second, then sits down opposite of him again. Jiang Cheng immediately misses the warmth of his hands, which is ridiculous and he needs to get a grip.

“Alright, well, I think for the beginning we will be focusing on relaxing and loosening your muscles. So, massage, thermotherapy, some gentle stretches. I’ll also help you find things you can do at home to destress and relieve tension. Does that sound good?”

“Uhm, yes. It does.” Jiang Cheng kind of tuned out after Lan Xichen said ‘massage’, because… He has this dreadful feeling his schoolboy crush never went away and instead just laid dormant until right now. Which is so fucking inconvenient, of course it’s happening to Jiang Cheng. “Thank you, Lan-ge… uhm… Lan Xichen.”

How should he address him? Apparently, he’s sort of a family friend (Where and why did Jiejie even meet him? Why didn’t he ask?) but now he’s also taking care of Jiang Cheng in a professional, sort of medical sense...

Lan Xichen is, of course, not oblivious to his discomfort, but smiles and pours him some more tea. “Whatever you feel comfortable with. Laoshi is fine, too.”

Lan Xichen then goes through a few formalities with him. He informs him he’s being paid per session, not by the hour, so they’ll never have to hurry. They exchange phone numbers, in case someone needs to reschedule or Lan Xichen wants to send him some exercises or something. Jiang Cheng only smiles and nods and agrees. When Lan Xichen proposes they have the first session tomorrow afternoon, Jiang Cheng smiles and nods, too.

After, Lan Xichen escorts him to the door, wishes him a lovely evening, says he’s looking forward to their sessions and Jiang Cheng should remember to wear something comfortable. When he smiles again, Jiang Cheng almost walks into the door.

As soon as Jiang Cheng arrives home, he calls his sister.

“A-Cheng! How was it?”

“Uhm, fine, but that’s not why-”

“He’s very handsome, isn’t he?”

“I… what? Why… why would you bring that up?” Jiang Cheng gives his phone a side-eye, even though his sister can’t see it.

“Well, it’s impossible to not notice. And he has such a lovely personality, too.” Jiang Yanli says this as casually as though she’s talking about the weather.

“Yes… I guess.” While both of those things are true, it’s unlike his sister to bring it up. Or at least, to bring it up so quickly and directly. “Jiejie, how do you know Lan Xichen again? Where did you meet?”

“Oh… he came over for tea recently.”

“And why did he do that?”

“Because I invited him.”

Well, his sister clearly is keeping something from him, something connected to his old-new crush and physical therapist and Jiang Cheng hates not being in the know when other people are clearly keeping secrets from him.

“How did you meet him? Why did you invite him? Why do you not want to tell me?”

“A-Cheng…”

Oh, of course. “Wei Wuxian.”

Jiang Yanli sighs audibly, probably frowning in the way she always does when they skirt around the topic of him and Wei Wuxian not talking. “Yes. Lan Xichen is-”

“I don’t want to know!” Of course this has something to do with Wei Wuxian. Because he can’t have anything in his life without Wei Wuxian. Are they… they’re not dating or anything, right? That would just be… actually that would be fucking typical.

“Jiang Cheng!”

“I didn’t do anything!” Is his sister… getting cross with him???

“I just… he misses you.”

“Yeah? I don’t see any evidence of that!” His headache is back with a vengeance.

“Because you’re not looking. Because you’ve convinced yourself he doesn’t!” It’s rare for Jiang Yanli to raise her voice, and compared to Jiang Cheng, she still sounds gentle. But he can hear her frustration, hear how tiring this is for her, and… He sometimes forgets he and Wei Wuxian aren’t the only people who are involved in this. Who suffer.

“Then why doesn’t he call me? He obviously still has my number!”

“Why don’t you call him?”

Because he doesn’t want to call someone who doesn’t want him. Because he doesn’t want Wei Wuxian to come back because he feels pity or obligation. Because he’s scared Wei Wuxian would still not come back.

“He’s the one who left.”

“It’s been over a year. Can’t you… I’m so tired of holding louder than normal conversations with my husband in the kitchen while one of you is in the living room, so you know the other is okay without actually asking for it.”

“A-jie, I’m sorry. I didn’t know… I… It’s just… “ Great, now Jiang Cheng feels mad at Wei Wuxian, guilty for upsetting his sister, who should never be upset, and sad… because he misses his stupid brother, doesn’t he.

“I can’t force either of you to make the first step, but… you’re both suffering. A-Cheng, I just want you both to be happy.” Now she just sounds resigned. Fuck.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll think about it. I promise.” If only because his sister deserves better than this - being stuck in the middle between them.

“Thank you. I love you, A-Cheng.”

“… Love you, too.”

“Now, tell me about your meeting today. Did you already get a massage?”

Right. Lan Xichen. “Jiejie… is Wei Wuxian dating Lan Xichen?”

Jiang Yanli laughs. “No. No, no. He’s dating his brother. Don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t worrying! Just… wanted to know how you met.”

“He’s very handsome, isn’t he?”

“Stop asking that! That’s not why I… you know what, I have to go. I have… university… stuff. Talk to you later!”

“Bye!”

He can hear his sister still laughing when he ends the call. Mortifying. Why did he have to ask?

Wei Wuxian is dating Lan Xichen’s brother… That’s… Why is the world so fucking tiny? He couldn’t have picked anyone else?

Not that it matters. It’s not like Jiang Cheng was ever gonna do anything about… Lan Xichen is attractive and nice and lovely, which is simply a fact. Like his sister said, it’s impossible to not notice. Doesn’t have to mean anything. Jiang Cheng will only concentrate on… being less tense and maybe having fewer headaches.

And maybe… thinking… about… contacting Wei Wuxian…

“He misses you.”

Jiang Cheng is not convinced.

But…

#Xicheng #mdzs #cql #the untamed #Jiang Cheng #Lan Xichen #Jiang Cheng/Lan Xichen #background Wangxian #Modern AU #angst but not too angsty #they're also very soft #betty drabbles #To Meet You verse

[hydra-collector]

love & death & kisses

AO3

Pairings: Anxceit, platonic Analogical

Characters: Virgil Sanders, Janus Sanders, Logan Sanders, Roman Sanders (mentioned), Remus Sanders (mentioned)

TW: suicide attempts, self-harm, cursing, panic attacks, v v v slightly implied sexual content, food

Words: 4,153

Summary: Virgil meets someone.

Note: Human AU, I’m bad at naming, bad at summaries, Janus is ooc, i swear this is one of my better fics

Rain seeped into Virgil’s clothes, making him even colder than he already was. He’d forgotten his umbrella at work, so he’d have to get it tomorrow. Funny how things work that way. You put things off to the side for a rainy day, but when you need them they’re not there.

A tall, slim man stood beside him. He would usually avoid other people at the train station as much as he could, but he didn’t care at this point. He was cold, tired, in a depressive episode, and frankly too out of it to care.

The other man didn’t have an umbrella either, but seemed much less bothered by it. He checked his phone occasionally, but only typed something once or twice, aside from a seemingly frustrating venture on Google Maps from what Virgil could see. He was more on edge by whatever he was seeing on his phone than the weather.

“Excuse me, do you know where the nearest hotel is?”

The first thing he noticed was that the man was absolutely beautiful.

The second was his scar.

A wide scar, seemingly a burn mark, covered the entirety of the left side of his face. It traveled down his neck and past his shirt where Virgil couldn’t see it. His left hand had it as well, a pair of gloves stuffed in his pocket. His eyes were also heterochromatic, one much paler than the dark brown of the other.

Virgil didn’t want to talk to anyone, especially after the earlier events of the day, but he tried his best. He subtly hugged his side to provide pressure comfort.

“I think there’s one a couple blocks from Edwards Station. I don’t remember if it’s south or north. I can check.”

Virgil pulled out his own phone and found that it was half a mile north. Logan had sent him a text asking him why he was so late. He didn’t want to explain that he had to spend an hour on a bench in the pouring rain, trying to calm down from a panic attack. The stranger confirmed and checked his phone again, sighing when he didn’t find what he wanted.

Virgil could see his screen slightly. He’d been talking to a contact named April, both of them using a lot of cursewords angrily at each other. It looked like a pretty bad breakup. He figured he’d been kicked out.

The train arrived a few minutes after that. Virgil was never going to be comfortable with the thought of a big, heavy object rocketing in his general direction, but he wasn’t attempting suicide or anything at the moment. He learned to deal with it.

“Sorry, Logan, I’m here now.”

Logan had been Virgil’s roommate for almost three years now. He’d been his best friend even longer. He was the one there for him when he needed it most.

“What happened?”

Logan was making dinner for the two of them, which Virgil was disappointed to find out. The rule was they could make each other meals, but whoever made it got to choose what it was, and Virgil has never known Logan to make anything junkier than chili. Virgil had got him to eat macaroni and cheese a few times, so he counted that as a win.

“I… had a pretty bad panic attack.”

“Is there anything I can do to help now?”

“I think I’ll be okay. You don’t give bad hugs, though.”

Logan smiled slightly and hugged his friend firmly. He’d looked up the best ways to comfort people physically and figured out what was best for Virgil.

“Thanks, L. What’s for dinner?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to make it yourself.”

“Hey, you have plenty! You’re using two pans!”

“You hate fish, Virgil.”

“That’s fish? Ew.”

“What did you think it was?”

Virgil shrugged.

“Go get dry clothes.”

Virgil changed into another, softer hoodie and sweatpants. He figured he’d get something to eat later. He could go a couple hours scrolling on Tumblr or something before he’d be really hungry.

When he turned his phone on, it was still open to the hotel directions.

I hope that guy’s alright.

He’d seen him a few times before, he realized. The unmistakable bleached hair against the man’s dark clothing he recognized had never been put to a face, but he’d been at the train station a few times before. Virgil vaguely wondered if he got off work at the same time as he did and it was a coincidence seeing him today since his whole thing with April, or whoever.

You don’t know what happened, shut up.

Virgil squeezed his arm with his fingernails, hoping to make his self-hate go away.

Today was exhausting.

He didn’t want to go to work the next day.

~~

He’d had another bad day. His boss complained about the quality of his work again. It seemed he was fucking everything up lately. He’d gotten Roman angry at him for an insult accidentally personal, and Logan angry at him because he’d started cutting again. Who could blame him, though? It was just so much easier to cope by hurting than actually trying to help himself. At least he was still showering.

At least it wasn’t raining.

It felt like it, though. There was weight on his shoulders and chest, and he needed to cry. He wished he could afford a therapist. Then again, did he even deserve help?

Stop.

His inner voice was right. He should stop being so self-deprecating, it was annoying, he’d always been an attention seek-

Stop.

Virgil exhaled, rubbing his forehead and sitting down on the bench instead of standing for the train.

“Didn’t get to thank you. For the directions.”

“Hm?”

It was the man again. This was the first time he’d seen him in the few days since then.

“I needed a place to stay, thanks for telling me where it was. I tried looking it up, then texting my girlfriend to ask her if… I ran out of data, I wouldn’t have been able to get there if you didn’t tell me.”

“Oh. You’re welcome. Glad you found the hotel.”

He half-wished he didn’t have to talk to anyone right now, but something drew him towards this man.

And then he initiated a conversation. For once in his life.

“You just get off work?”

“Yeah. I work at the zoo. Reptile house.”

“Wow. I just have a boring tech job. I’m assuming you like reptiles, which one’s your favorite?”

“It’s basic, but I’ve always liked snakes. I have three.”

“I could never handle snakes. I know they probably won’t hurt me, but I’m anxious about everything.”

Am I oversharing? Should I be talking about my anxiety? Is that weird?

“I have a deathly fear of spiders, so that’s valid.”

Virgil would have said something else, but the train came, and it was difficult to talk onboard. It was weird how easy it was to talk to this person, even though he’d just met him.

~~

They’d got to talking about snakes.

Big breeds, small breeds, the most dangerous, the least dangerous kinds of snakes. Virgil swore he was being converted to like reptiles by this man. He talked about them with so much excitement, more than he showed any other time. Mostly he was calm and collected, a bit like Logan.

“I never got your name.”

“Oh, it’s Janus.”

Like, Janice?

“As in the Roman god, not like suburban mom.”

“Ah. Virgil.”

Neither of them smiled often, so whenever someone who knew them saw the smile, it always made them a bit happier as well. It was already happening with them, even a week or two into knowing each other.

“What kind of snakes do you have?”

“I’ve got a green tree python, a corn snake, and a ball python. Diana, Mercury, Liber.”

“All Roman names, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m a bit of a nerd.”

“It’s fitting.”

It was so easy to talk to him. More so than any other stranger. Usually he’d get anxious and all his energy would be expended (he usually had a mental breakdown if it was a lot of people). Something about him, the way he talks, moves, looks at Virgil. He’s like a reptile.

Don’t get a crush on him. He’s probably straight.

Maybe he isn’t, though. He could be bi or pan or something.

The train interrupted their conversation, but Virgil kept glancing over at Janus throughout. He was looking down at his phone, he must’ve gotten more service. Virgil got off after him, but it gave him time to consider Janus before he got home.

“Logan, I’m getting a crush on a straight guy and I just found out his name today.”

“You’re odd, Virgil.”

“He’s hot. And he likes snakes.”

“You hate snakes. Wouldn’t someone with an interest in spiders be more akin to you?”

“...He’s scared of spiders.”

“Virgil…”

~~

And he did get a crush on Janus.

They talked every day they saw each other, finally remembering they could exchange numbers. They spent months getting to know each other with pretty limited interactions, as neither of them texted or called much anyway. It wasn’t exactly a good thing, though, because he either spent his time at work thinking about Janus, panicking because his boss was mad at him because he wasn’t doing his work (because he was thinking about Janus), or completely depressed because he was angry at her for giving him a panic attack. And the cycle would continue.

It turned out April was his girlfriend, and they’d been in an unhappy relationship for a year or so. He was glad she’d broke it off, but was left without a house for a while. He’d managed to share an apartment with his friend Remus and that was going okay. Virgil didn’t tell him about his depression, but was open enough about his anxiety. Luckily for Virgil, he mentioned an ex-boyfriend.

He was not straight. Maybe he had a chance.

Are you kidding? He’s not gonna want to date you, worthless bitch. You can’t make him deal with your mental health, and he probably hates you anyway.

Their interactions were mostly limited to the train station, but that only meant Virgil appreciated them even more.

Still, he wished he could be happy.

The only times he was were, well, when he was talking to Janus and when Logan gave him hugs. Talking to Logan was enjoyable, but he kept reminding himself about everything going on, everything wrong with himself, how he kept fucking up, and cutting and wanting to kill himself. With Janus, he forgot. It was so easy to smile and laugh at sarcastic jokes and the cute things he did, like blush when he laughed and stick out his tongue unintentionally.

Time flew by when they were together. There wasn’t enough time before the train came to talk nearly as long as Virgil would have liked. Still, every interaction was worth it. His love for Janus grew the more he talked about what he does, and he actually seemed interested in Virgil’s job, even though he swore it must be the most boring on the planet.

“I think you’ve conquered my fear of snakes, Janus.”

“What’s this? I’ve shown my little ball of anxiety the ways of the snake with my own love for him and reptiles.”

My little ball of anxiety? And did he just say he loved me?

Was he thinking about this too much?

One corner of his mouth was raised in a smile and Virgil couldn’t help but blush, however much he wanted to ignore it. Janus chuckled slightly and picked up the conversation again, mentioning how Diana had gotten out and managed to get herself on the couch. Virgil proceeded as well, debating whether it meant anything or not.

~~

Virgil felt sick.

He felt all things horrible. Depressed, anxious, angry, hopeless, and worthless.

Over and over it repeated.

“I’m afraid someone as unstable as you isn’t fit to work here.”

Unstable.

Unhealthy.

Worthless.

Useless.

What was he going to do? He wouldn’t have money to keep living with Logan, he had to go through the stress of finding another job, people would judge him, he wouldn’t even be able to eat.

There was nothing he could do.

He trembled as he made his way to the train station. He was going to have a panic attack. Hell, maybe he was already having a panic attack. He wanted to cry but he wouldn’t cry. He had to go home and explain to Logan and he’d just have to live until-

No you don’t.

Of course he didn’t.

He was going to the train station, goddamnit.

He rubbed his hands on his face, static buzzing in his ears as tears almost came. This was going to be okay. It was all going to be okay. Finally.

He went up a different set of stairs, avoiding Janus. As he walked, the static slowly faded and was replaced with silence. Chosen silence, that is. He could hear the cars and the wind and the rain that had just begun to fall.

Fitting.

The train was early today, thank God. Its rumbling was familiar from the distance.

He took his last few steps to the edge of the platform, ignoring the tiny bit of anxiety that came with jumping down. He vaguely heard his name called over and over by the deep voice he knew well by now. He ignored it as well, starting with a slow walk, letting the raindrops soak into his hoodie. The walk sped up, and the rain got heavier, blurring out the train’s lights in a pretty way. He forced the muffled sound of his name out again, but it was getting louder.

There’s nothing you can do.

The walk got faster and turned into a run. He needed to catch the train before it slowed down.

Funny. Catching the train.

His ears pounded with the silence. So many things to distract him, things he loved. The awful sound of rain, knowing you’re going to get wet, but reveling in it anyway. The patter of feet on ground, now wood and gravel. And his voice, his beautiful voice.

The screech from the train stopped all other sounds, even splitting the silence in the bubble he created. It was warm, he hoped it was blood, so warm, so wonderfully warm.

Janus had never hugged Virgil.

He’d assumed he wasn’t one for being touchy-feely. He was tall and handsome, like the stereotypical distant, sexy man. But he wasn’t distant. He was there when Virgil needed him, even if he didn’t always know it. He put a hand on his shoulder or took Virgil’s hands in his to calm him down. He wished he’d gotten to know what kind of embrace he would have. Was it soft? Was it firm like Logan’s? Was it too tight? Was it always awkward like some people’s?

More than that, he wanted to know how his kisses were.

He imagined them soft, then passionate. Like something Virgil had always needed, the sweet feeling of pure love. He imagined he was the type to give solemn forehead kisses when a moment was serious, and short nose ones when the moments were playful. He imagined he’d kiss wherever he could on someone’s face, on his cheeks and chin, nose, lips, neck. They’d all be perfect for the occasion. There was a difference between a peck on someone’s cheek and smushing his lips against someone’s face. A slow kiss to the jaw was different from a badly-aimed one. Every subtle difference in position would say something new.

“I love you.”

“Shut up.”

“I need you right now.”

“You need me.”

He wished he’d learned every message. He wished he’d kissed Janus before today. He wished he’d at least told him and got rejected like he knew he would. He wished he could have everything. A hug and a kiss saying ‘it’s going to be okay. Nothing’s gonna happen to you. It’s-’

“-going to be okay.”

The sound of the rain hit the stones sharply, akin to the feeling on his back. Voices shouting, his voice, and a new sound.

His heart.

Virgil let himself sink into the rhythm and the feeling of warmth that encompassed him. Something was soft through the damp fabric, moving slightly every now and then. It was the pressure of something, a body-

-Janus.

He opened his eyes to see the blurry outline of blond hair covering Janus’s face. He raised his arm slowly to push it away, just then noticing the arms wrapped tightly around him, using the most of their surface area.

Janus’s eyes were beautiful and sad, was he- crying? Virgil couldn’t tell if it was the rain or tears until he sobbed, hugging Virgil even tighter, burying his face in his shoulder and muttering words Virgil couldn’t hear.

Virgil realized he was crying too. Of course he was crying, he was… alive.

He was alive.

“I’m sorry, Virgil. Please, please know I’m here for you.”

Virgil said nothing, still mute from shock. So many things happened just then, and now he was being hugged. And it was perfect, despite the rain.

“I could’ve- should’ve died.”

“No, Virgil, you shouldn’t have. You couldn’t have, I’d never let you.”

Did he really care?

“I need to- I need to tell you something.”

This could go horribly wrong.

I don’t care anymore. I’ve made the most impulsive decision of my life today, might as well make another.

Virgil took his hand to push Janus’s chin up, thumb tracing the scar closer to his lips.

“Can I-”

“Can I kiss you, Jan?”

He let his head drop towards Virgil’s, lips so close now. He would have smiled his snake smile if he could have felt an ounce of a smile.

Virgil pressed his parted lips to Janus’s, hand resting on the back of his neck. He pulled his fingers through his wet hair, feeling its softness even now.

It was everything he had imagined.

At first it was soft and tender, but Janus deepened it, hand wriggling out from under Virgil to hold his face. The raindrops drowned out that moment from the outside world. Janus’s heart quickened, as did Virgil’s, but they both relaxed into it. The scar was rough against Virgil’s face sometimes, but it only made him want him more. All either of them could hear were the raindrops contrasting with their hearts.

Virgil wanted to kiss him longer, hold this forever. When they did break, Janus laid his burned cheek against Virgil’s.

“Do you need to go home?”

He thought of Logan and how upset he was when Virgil cut, how hard he tried and how bad he felt for him. And how bad Virgil felt for hurting him.

“Can we go to your place? It’s... closer.”

“Oh- I suppose we could. I doubt Remus will be there.”

They avoided the people trying to help Virgil, weaving through the few scattered onlookers, Janus’s arm resting around Virgil’s waist. Virgil was scared he would have a panic attack again and tried to focus on Janus.

He called a cab as he wasn’t about to take the train after that, and sat in the backseat with Virgil, not letting him go for a second. It was expensive and Virgil tried to get Janus to let him pay, but he didn’t have much of an argument. Janus half-carried Virgil up the stairs and into his apartment.

It was clean, which Virgil guessed was Janus’s doing given what he’d said about Remus, and fairly dark. It wasn’t the kind of dark that made you feel uneasy, but rather as in lighted only with soft ambient light. He didn’t get a good look at their living room before Janus pulled him into his bedroom. It was painted a pretty yellow and lit with a color changing lamp, which Janus turned to purple.

He sat Virgil down on the bed, who was still rather dazed from the day. Janus rummaged through his clothing drawers until he found a shirt smaller than the others and an old-looking pair of sweatpants.

“Here, you can change into this.”

Janus grabbed some clothes for himself and left the room for a moment, allowing him privacy. Virgil removed his soaked hoodie and Evanescence t-shirt, putting on the soft purple one Janus had found. It had short sleeves, but he didn’t have anything to lose at this point. He put on the sweatpants, soft and warm and opened the door for Janus. He was changed into a big hoodie that Virgil would kill to wear.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah, I- I think so. Sorry about the, the cuts.”

“It’s okay, Virgil. If you want me to get you something with long sleeves-”

“I think I’ll just end up stealing your hoodie at some point. Otherwise… it’s fine.”

“Okay.”

Virgil sat down on the bed again, craving the soft blankets. Janus took his spot beside him, wrapping one arm around his shoulders.

“Thanks, Jan. It- I’m, I’m alive because of you. I don’t know how I could repay that.”

“Tell me when this happens, and I’d die happy.”

Virgil smiled, leaning against Janus. He pushed himself against the wall, pulling Virgil along with him. He heaved the thick blanket around him and Virgil, but mostly Virgil. He snuggled into the weight and comfort, still sitting against Janus as if he were the only thing keeping him balanced.

“What happened today?”

“I got… fired. ‘Cause I’m too depressed to work. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“I can help you find a job, V. It doesn’t have to be the end.”

“Sometimes it just… feels that way. Like you’re never going to get out of this pit of loneliness and you’re sure everyone hates you, and you’re so scared something will go wrong all the time even though you don’t really care.”

“I don’t hate you. And I know you can end this the healthy way. Shall we start with some ice cream?”

“Ice cream’s not exactly healthy, Janus.”

“Ssshh.”

He left for a moment and returned with two tubs of chocolate ice cream and a spoon for each of them.

“No bowls? And two whole tubs?”

“Mhm. It’s better that way. And you could have both of them if you asked.”

“Nah, you deserve some ice cream too. I probably hurt you a lot by doing that.”

“Mm-mm, Virgil. You’re hurting, not me. Self-care rule number one: you’re better than everyone for a while, put your feelings first.”

“I’m not.”

“Pretend. Now, what would you like to do?”

Virgil considered the question for a moment. It might be nice to listen to music, or to distract himself with a game or movie, but he didn’t really want that.

“Honestly?”

“Yes.”

“I… want to kiss you.”

Janus turned pink for a moment, before smiling his smile with one corner of his mouth.

Before he could say anything that he wanted to, Virgil kissed that smile. He wondered what it would be like to do so many times, so he wasn’t going to miss his opportunity. He put his ice cream down to hold Janus’s face with cold fingers, savoring the feeling of the little half-smile turning surprised and then into a giddy smile that began to kiss back. Virgil grinned when it ended, looking back into Janus’s eyes.

“So you’re going to surprise kiss me now?”

“Yep-”

Janus, just as quickly as Virgil had, kissed him quick on the nose, eliciting a blush from Virgil this time.

“Unfair, Janus.”

“Nah.”

“I’m gonna pout and eat my ice cream now.”

“Is there anything else we can do while eating ice cream?”

“I suppose we could watch a movie.”

“Lion King?”

“...Lion King? I mean, yeah, sure, okay!”

He smiled as Janus put the movie on, his familiar excitement seeping through. Virgil managed to wrestle the soft hoodie from him, revealing that one, he had no shirt, and two, that Virgil would cuddle Janus’s burn marks and he appreciated that. As Virgil fell asleep next to him, he pressed his lips to his forehead, who was just awake enough to feel.

And one by one, the messages were unlocked to him. Once, after a dance, came the desperate, passionate kiss that told him “I need to kiss you.” One Disney marathon he came to feel the peppered kisses on his cheeks that said “You’re adorable.” After a weekend trip alone he got the long cheek kiss that said ‘I missed you.’ When he finally got a job, he was given the messy kiss, cheeks held tight that said “I’m so proud of you.” One tired night he blushed at the kisses on his jaw and neck that said “You’re hot and I’m bored.”

And again and again and again, the tender forehead kisses that said “I’m here for you. I love you.”

#sanders sides #ts sides fanfiction #virgil sanders #janus sanders #anxceit #logan sanders #platonic analogical #ts virgil #ts janus #ts logan #ts virgil angst #virgil angst #anxceit fic #virgil sanders angst #ts food #tw suicide #tw suicide attempt #tw self harm #tw swearing #tw panic attack #grays fics

[blvejeanbaby]

What Has Changed

Pairing: Jisung x reader, Minho x reader Word count: 2.7k Warning: gets angsty real quick

Songs I listened to while writing include: Ivy by Frank Ocean Rivers and Roads by The Head and the Heart You Give Me Something by James Morrison

It’s your wedding day. It should be the happiest day of your life. But as you’re looking down at the people gathering in the courtyard for the ceremony, taking up rows upon rows of seats, you start to doubt. Not doubt if this was the right choice – if marrying the love of your life was the right choice. But doubting if perhaps it was wrong to never have truly explored different opportunities. What if you had decided you would try long distance with your partner? What if you had decided to have babies before getting married? What if you had decided to get married the first time he proposed to you, when you declined? What if, what if, what if? But the biggest what if of your life came walking into the wedding venue that moment, looking for his seat among the rows of chairs. Every seat had a name on it, the seating well thought-out. But for him, it didn’t take him long to look. The front row, reserved for closest friends and family, on the groom’s side. “Han Jisung,” you whispered, well aware that even though you were alone, you could be overheard, “I have missed your face like hell.”

There was something so special about him, about the surroundings you were in, about the day itself. The sun set beyond the signs along the highway, your bikes discarded in the grass behind you. You pulled your legs up under yourself, watching as your friends walked down the grassy hill, toward the cars rushing past on the highway. You weren’t about to risk your life like that, but you also were fairly sure your friends knew what they were doing. You glanced beside you, trying not to make it too obvious that you were trying to look at him. Jisung sat next to you, his hood pulled up over his head, his skateboard underneath his feet as he tried a new flavour of candy you had recommended him. You weren’t sure if the sunset or Jisung would be a better sight. “Hm, this is pretty good.” Jisung smiled at you, offering you the candy. You stuck your hand into the bag, feeling around for your favourite type. He watched you intently as you put the jelly on your tongue, wanting to see your reaction to it. “Is that your favourite?” “Yeah. It’s the red and gold one with the hole in the middle.” You glanced into the bag. “There’s only two left.” You dipped your hand in again and pulled out the two of your favourites, handing one to Jisung. “Are you really sacrificing your favourite candy to me?” He smiled at you as he grabbed the candy from you. “Sure.” “Why?” “Cause I love you,” you said, jokingly. Or really, you weren’t sure if you were joking, considering the thoughts you sometimes had about him. But Jisung took it as a joke, although a dreamy look appeared in his eyes as he popped the jelly in his mouth. “Good?” “Really good.”

“My family moved,” you said, explaining once again to your now husband’s close family friend how things had changed for you, how you had to adjust to living in the Seoul area by yourself. How you had met your husband. You didn’t know what to make of this man still not knowing the story, after you had explained it to him on multiple occasions. You were glad to find an arm sneaking around your waist, your husband appearing behind you. There was no way you would call him by his name now, as he was your husband and you were proud of it. “Hey, Minhyuck,” he said to his ‘cousin’. After all, Minhyuck’s mother had always been auntie to him. Auntie looked beautiful, decked out in her nicest clothing for the wedding ceremony. She had always been really supportive of your relationship, even in the early days when things were still a little rocky and your husband’s family was a little apprehensive about you. “Hey, Minho,” said Minhyuck, a genuine smile on his face that made him appear more handsome than he generally looked. “Y/N was just telling me about how you two became a couple.” “Oh, I remember that,” Minho said, smiling at you. Your husband was the most handsome of everyone gathered here tonight. He was even more beautiful than the past, you reminded yourself.

If perhaps you had thought that something would come off of the subtle hints you would give Jisung, you guessed you were wrong. There was little to nothing that would confirm Jisung receiving and understanding the hints you were increasingly trying to give him about you maybe being interested in more than just a friendship. It got to the point that Chan pulled you aside one evening, asking: “So, how’s things going with you and J?” “Jisung?” You rolled your eyes as you glanced over at the boy in question. He was laughing at something Minho had said, his entire body involved in his laughter. You felt your heart swell up and immediately willed it to calm down. “There’s nothing going on.” “I thought you were going to confess to him.” Chan accepted the soda can you handed him from the cool box at your feet. For tonight, everyone had gathered at the beach for a barbecue, you being the one in charge of the drinks. You hadn’t really left the cool box’ side at all yet, admittedly sulking a little bit about Jisung and how little attention he paid to you. “Yeah, well, I kind of did. But he thought I was joking. And it started nothing, so…” You shrugged. “I don’t think I even want it all that much.” Chan eyed you suspiciously before he shrugged and said: “You know, it’s your choice.” And so you thought about it. And a little bit more. You ended up taking Chan’s advice and asked Jisung to swing by your place the following night. You had asked him to come by in the afternoon, but he was off collecting his car from the shops. Jisung’s car was stunning, an old-style BMW they had done a new painting job on, which made it sleek black. You climbed into it knowing full well to expect a messy interior, only to find out that it was relatively clean – cleaner than Jeongin’s car, that’s for sure. “What do you think of my baby Ronda?” “You named this thing Ronda?” You pulled the door shut. “She needed a name that would fit her past,” Jisung lovingly stroked the steering wheel. “Isn’t she beautiful?” “She actually is.” You smiled at him. The two of you drove, across bridges lit beautifully with reds and greens and blues. Once you left town, the light pollution lessened and there was room for the stars to shine through now. Jisung parked the car in a grassy field near the farms that surrounded town. And you got to thinking. And overthinking again. Before saying: “You know, I have to ask. If I don’t do it now, I will never do it and I will forever regret that I didn’t.” Jisung turned to look at you, away from the stunning view of the city skyline. His face scrunched up slightly in confusion. You took a deep breath and said: “I like you. A lot.” Jisung’s face stood frozen for a second. And then he said: “Oh.” Just that. Oh. You felt like you were going to be sick or cry or have a heart attack. Possibly all three at the same time. All from that blank statement. Oh. “Y/N… I’m- I’m so sorry. I don’t feel the same way. I can’t.” “You can’t?” Were you so appalling to him? “It’s just… It’s not about you,” Jisung said. You were aware that perhaps he thought everything was coming out all wrong too, but you simultaneously weren’t really prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt. You withheld from making the comments you so desperately wanted to make – if it wasn’t about you, then who was telling him now that they loved him? But you were glad you didn’t say anything, because what Jisung then said, rocked you to your core. “I just- I’m in therapy right now. For my depression. And my therapist sometimes says things… My parents say I misinterpret them, but I’m pretty sure I understand them really well. Anyway… She said that perhaps I should focus on improving myself first and being in a healthy relationship with myself, before I try to give myself to someone else.” Even though he had been avoiding eye contact up to that moment, he now looked you right in the eyes. “If things were different – if I didn’t feel this way – then maybe I could feel the same way towards you. But at this moment I just can’t. Everything just sucks right now and I don’t want to hurt you.” “You’ve already did.” You weren’t sure if you said that out loud. For the remainder of the drive home, you both didn’t speak a word, letting the music in the background do all the talking.

All eyes were on you right now - on you and Minho. Your arms were around his neck, his arms decently around your waist. There was nothing lustful about the way you held each other, nothing to indicate that some day, you had touched each other without love. Despite how nervous you had been before the music had started, you felt utterly at ease in Minho’s arms. The music that played was perfect to sway to, perfect to remember this moment by. You didn’t doubt that whenever you would hear the song on the radio next, you would think back to this moment - your first dance with Minho as a married couple. He spun you, the way he always did. You had danced with him before, as practice for this moment. It wasn’t that you didn’t often dance with him, because Minho loved dancing, you sometimes swore he loved dancing more than you, but more so that it was now in front of all of these people. In front of the boy whose heart you wanted to break so desperately that he made you fall in love with someone else...

You were entirely aware that you were doing this just to make a statement to Jisung. You knew that hooking up with his best friend was probably the lowest of the low you could stoop, but you were there anyway, your arms around Minho’s neck as his tongue explored your mouth. You were both not fully into it – you also both knew the reasons why. Minho’s head was stuck on his fight with his now ex-girlfriend Dojin and you were only thinking about Jisung. There were no feelings involved, but it was beneficial to you for Jisung to think there was. After all, if you were all over Minho now, it didn’t have to matter that you got rejected by Jisung then. Then refering to just a week ago. When Jisung dropped you off at home he tried to tell you that you would probably feel better by the weekend. You had told him to drive safely, shut the door on him trying to tell you something else and ran inside the house. Safely in your bedroom, you could let the tears fall freely. You screamed into your pillow and hated yourself for confessing. And now, a week after your confession, you didn’t necessarily feel better. Just different.

You were whisked away from your friends, didn’t get a chance to tell them goodbye. They didn’t have a chance to wish you a nice honeymoon, wherever it was you were going. Minho had neglected to tell you, in favour of keeping your destination a secret. You hated every single moment you spent not knowing, hated every single moment he had your friends pack your bags. He knew they could keep a secret and according to you, they kept their secret too well. You were up in your prepping room, the balcony doors closed with the curtains shut to offer you some privacy. You were in the middle of getting out of your wedding clothes and changing into something a little less dramatic and a lot more comfortable, considering you were hopping on a flight soon, when there was a sharp knock at your door.

“Hey, Y/N, can I talk to you for a second?” Jisung asked, his hands nervously playing with the hem of his shirt. You nodded, jumping up and wiping the sand from your behind and legs before following Jisung to the seaside, where you were out of earshot from the others. “Do you hate me? For not liking you back?” “Hate you?” You were stunned at the sincere look on his face. For exactly how long had Jisung been thinking you hated him? “I don’t hate you.” “I’d understand if you did.” Jisung bit his lip. “I wouldn’t know why I would hate you, J,” you said, shaking your head. “Whatever’s happened between us has already happened. I could never hate you. And even if we weren’t friends anymore, there’d always be a part of me that would still love you.”

Perhaps it had been stupid to imagine Minho being at your door. After all, he was changing out of his tuxedo now too; knowing him he was changing into the most comfortable pair of sweats he owned. But even though you scolded yourself for not expecting anyone other than your husband, you would never have been able to predict it would be Jisung. “Hey, Y/N, can I talk to you for a second?” he asked, his hands nervously playing with the hem of his shirt. He was dressed impeccably for the occasion, you had to admit. Even though it had been years and you were happily married to someone else now, your heart still contracted a little at the sight of Jisung. You nodded and stepped away from the door, opening it further in the process to let him in. He stepped into the room, looking around it and at the royally uncomfortable outfit you had just shimmied out of, laying on the bed. “So...” you said, when Jisung didn’t immediately say anything. “What’s up?” “I just wanted to say...” He turned around, hands still busy. “I wanted to congratulate you and Minho. You’re an amazing couple. You know I think so. And uh-” He gestured toward your packed bags next to the door. “I wanted to wish you a lot of fun on your honeymoon. I know where you’re going and you’re going to absolutely love it.” He smiled, but it was a half smile. You couldn’t help yourself. “Do you sometimes wonder what it would’ve been like?” “All the time,” Jisung said, too fast. He was obviously shocked that the words had passed over his lips. “But we put it behind ourselves, right? I meant what I said, back then. I was sincere when I told you that even if I wanted to, I couldn’t have. Loved you back, I mean. And when I thought you hated me... I was always glad that you weren’t stuck on me. That you were able to move on, move past my rejection of you. I’m really happy that my two best friends found each other.” You weren’t really sure what part of that to respond to, so you responded to what had stuck best in your mind: “We have put it all behind us. We’ll never be those skater kids again.” “I’m just glad we’re still in each others’ lives.” “Me too.” There was a knock at the door again, followed immediately by Minho’s mother, asking you if you were nearly finished. “Yes, I am.” You managed to keep the shakiness out of your voice. “Thank you for stopping by, J.” “Of course. Have fun on your honeymoon.” “Thank you.” You gave him a last smile, before grabbing your suitcase and opening the door. “Let’s go,” you said to Minho’s mother, smiling at her brightly. She smiled back and started down the corridor. Before you closed the door you cast one look back at Jisung, who still stood in the middle of the room. His hands were still now, but there was something different about him that wasn’t connected to his nervousness having subsided. But it wasn’t your place to wonder what had changed.

#stray kids x reader #stray kids imagine #stray kids angst #lee minho x reader #lee minho imagine #lee minho angst #han jisung x reader #han jisung imagine #han jisung angst #kpop x reader #kpop angst #kpop imagine #mine #my writing

[themoonandotherslikeit]

Gone - Epilogue

Dean

It wasn’t functional, but when has anything that Dean Winchester has done been functional?

He signed in at the front desk and walked down the long hallway. It was the fifth door to the right, he had it memorized at this point. The door was unlocked, as it always was, because he wasn’t permitted a lock. He was too unstable, and it was understandable given the circumstances. Dean opened the door and stepped through the threshold. “Hey,” he said softly into the dark room.

There was a muffled response through the darkness, and Dean shook his head. “Listen, man. The light is good for you. We’ve talked about this.”

“No ‘s not.”

Dean smiled and shook his head, his heart aching. “I’m going to open the curtains.”

“No.” It came out as a whine, which normally would irritate him, sending a sharp pain through his temple, but it didn’t. Not now. Not anymore.

“Come on,” he pleaded. “I want to see you.”

There was a huff and shuffling, a groan from the bed as he moved with a bit of struggle. “Fine.”

Dean walked through the room, stepping over piles of clothing, discarded blankets and pillows that were thrown off in fits of frustration.

He opened the heavy, dark curtains, letting the sunlight stream in through the windows. He turned to find Castiel twisted in a pile of blankets, looking sleepy and riddled with irritation. Dean smiled at him warmly, nonetheless. “Good morning.”

“What is so good about it?” Cas groached.

Dean walked to him and leaned down to kiss his pouty lip. “I get to see you and,” he said, standing back up, “Naomi was convicted today.”

They’d caught her. Her confession’s to Castiel were enough, and he was not only deemed a victim of her, but also a hero.

“Okay,” Cas said quietly.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Is it any better today?”

Dean hadn’t gotten to him in time, Cas broke his promise, and he barely made it. It could’ve been worse, but it was bad...really fucking bad.

Naomi had poisoned him. Cas told him that he thought it was whatever she used to drug him before, to confuse him… but he was caught. It was arsenic. A huge dose. It was a miracle that he was alive, but he didn’t escape unscathed.

The sun caught Cas’ blue eyes, and he sat up with some struggle. “I haven’t gotten up to try,” Cas admitted.

“Let’s get up.” Dean offered a hand to him, and Cas took it. He pulled Cas up, his weight straining on Dean’s arm. He slid his arm through Cas’ and held him at the waist. “We should put on your shoes.”

“I’m fine,” Cas said through gritted teeth.

He had been in a coma for a month and was still recovering. The poison damaged his nerves, and he was working with a physical therapist to learn his new way of life. There was a chance that he would never regain that feeling back. Dean had been with him everyday, honoring his promise of making Cas laugh, being with him, loving him despite his bad attitude and continuous struggles.

Cas’ nails were planted in Dean’s arm, stinging the skin, but he didn’t mind, because when he ran into that room, gun extended only to find Cas slumped in his chair with a broken mug at his feet on the floor, Dean’s heart stopped in his chest. He knew then that there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to see Cas again. “Get on the fucking ground! Naomi Smith you’re under arrest for the murder of Meg Masters…” He couldn't breath. The EMT’s were running in after him, poised, and ready to help. He felt far away, like he was in a dream, and every day he regretted letting Cas go into that room.

He was a fool.

They stepped outside, and Cas sucked in the fresh air. “Summer,” he commented. “I never liked it before.”

“Why not?”

Cas smiled a bit, turning his face to the sun. “Didn’t like to be outside.”

“Ah so that’s why you’re so pale.”

Castiel shot him a look, and Dean grinned back at him. “Before being inside, locked in that morgue was the only place I felt like myself…”

“How about now?”

“Now… the only place I feel like myself is when I’m with you.” He tilted his head to the side, leaning into Dean’s touch just a bit more than he had been before.

“When did you turn into such a sap, Cas?”

Dean felt Cas’ shoulder nudge him in defiance at the question which just made him grin wider.

“Maybe when I almost died?”

Dean’s heart cracked at that and ached deep inside of his chest. “Yeah,” he commented quietly, squeezing Cas’ waist. “Made me a sap, too.”

“I was kidding,” Cas said, looking up at Dean, squinting from the sunlight.

“Not funny.” He leaned his head against Cas’ as they walked. “You know, I was thinkin’ about that first day on Meg’s case.”

They didn’t talk about it much. It was a potential trauma trigger for Cas, and when he said it, Cas’ blue eyes seemed to glaze over, but it was on Dean’s mind, and he couldn’t shake it.

He felt Cas tense under his fingers. “What about it?”

“I asked you to call me if you found out anything… I did think things were weird about the case, but more than anything I wanted you to call me. I just wanted to see you again.”

Cas looked up at him incredulously. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” Dean said, defensively. “I’d seen you around before, and I always thought you were handsome.”

Cas clicked his tongue and shook his head. “I’m odd.”

“Yes, I never said you weren’t.” Dean grinned down at him. “But I’m kind of into it.”

Cas laughed, filling Dean with joy that seemed to warm his entire being. “I was thinking… after all of this is over maybe you’d want to…” Why was it so hard? He loved Cas. Cas loved him. The worst part was over. The bad guys were gone . As far as what Cas said things were clear in his head for the first time in a long ass time. So why was it so hard?

“I would want to what, Dean?”

“Um… maybe… stay with me? And Sammy. He’s back with me now and doin’ good by the way.”

Cas smiled up at him warmly, his cheek not rising completely from the damage to his nerves, but the smile traveled all the way up, settling in his blue eyes. “I’m glad to hear that.”

It was like he’d asked the guy to prom. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach, making his fingers tap at Cas’ side. “Yeah, it’s good.”

“Yes,” Cas agreed.

“And uh, the rest?”

“Hm?”

Dean stopped their walking and turned to face Cas, still keeping a hold of his hip. “If you don’t want to stay with me, Cas, just say it. Okay? Can’t take this…”

His beautiful lips parted and a laugh escaped them, poking at Dean’s annoyance, making his own jaw twitch. “What the fuck is so funny?” Dean snapped.

“You,” Cas said softly, reaching forward and touching Dean’s nose. Even the minimal contact had chills running up his spine. “Asking questions you already know the answer to.”

“I don’t know the answer. That’s why I asked.”

Cas’ reached his thumb up and touched Dean’s bottom lip, stroking it gently. “Of course I will. I’m not in a good place right now… I haven’t been for a long time. I don’t know when I will be okay, but I do know one thing. When I’m with you, I feel sane.”

Dean pulled Cas to him then, in a pressured, feverish kiss.

+++

Castiel closed his eyes, leaning into the kiss, the warmth of Dean’s lips fading into his own. He pulled back, breathlessly, opening his eyes to tell Dean that he loved him, and of course he would live with him. It felt like the most pointless question that had ever been asked, but he had his answer anyway. He opened his eyes and his stomach dropped out from under him, his breath ripping out of his body like he’d been punched.

Dean was gone.

The outside air.

The grass under his feet.

He stood in the morgue, his hands dripping wet from where he’d scrubbed them in the sink trying to stop the bleeding, and he was staring at the table in front of him. The table that had a woman laying out, exposed, her chest sewn up, her hair spilling out across the shining silver.

+++

Masterlist

Thank you for reading! 

#destiel #ppb2020 #dark!fic #twist #love #pain #mortician!Cas #detective!Dean #MCI

[its-r-i-d-i-c-u-l-o-u-s]

Right Side of Wrong- Ch 3: The Real Me

Words: 2544

Warnings: panic attacks, anger

Ch 2 | Ch 4

~ ~ ~

“Mal!” the reporters shouted as I ran through the dorms.

I prayed that someone was in the boys’ dorm because I needed to get out of there, and fast.

Even better, the door was unlocked, making it easy for me to slip inside and lock it.

I took in a deep breath, letting my head drop against the door for a moment. That was bad. Really bad. I was stressed enough about this dumb date with Ben and now the paparazzi knew where I was, trapping me inside this room.

“Mal must be counting the days until the Royal Cotillion,” the tv reported behind me. “When she will officially become a Lady of the Court.”

I spun on my heel, rushing straight for the remote and fumbling to turn it off.

I dropped the remote, the edges of my vision turning a hazy green, just as they had when I spoke to Jane a few days ago. My breathing was ragged and I blinked rapidly.

“Woah,” Carlos said, jumping up from his bed to get to me. “Easy girl!”

“What?” I screeched. “You think this is so easy? You don’t have people taking a photo of you everytime you open your mouth!”

I didn’t mean to have an outburst on Carlos, but it was getting harder and harder to control myself. There was no way I could take this for much longer.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, stepping back from me.

“I didn’t mean to… Carlos,” I started. It hadn’t worked with Evie, but maybe Carlos would understand my frustration. “Don’t you ever miss screaming at people and just making them run away from you?”

He scoffed. “You’re thinking of my mother. And I was usually on the other end of that. So, not really. No.”

I turned away, sitting down at his table. I was just going crazy. I had to be.

Why would I ever want to go back to the Isle? That place was dirty. It was full of awful people and awful memories. What could stand to draw me there?

And why did I still want to go despite having no reason to?

“Is everything okay, Mal?” Carlos asked, sitting beside me.

“Yes!” I cried, losing my calm again. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

I took a hard bite out of my right cheek. No one is going to take me seriously if I kept answering questions like I was close to tears.

“Sorry.” I looked for excuses. “I’m just stressed for the Cotillion and all.”

Carlos smiled. “Are you kidding? You shouldn’t be stressed! It’s your big night, after all.”

I thought about my words very carefully. “Yes, but first I’ve got to learn how to be a proper lady, and have a fitting gown, and choose the decorations, and I feel like I don’t have time for any of it.”

Carlos put his hand over mine. “Mal, you can’t put their expectations of you above your own. Your happiness comes before their satisfaction with you, alright?”

Those words sent a deep pang through my heart. I wanted to listen to him so bad. I wanted to forget about it all and just be the me that I used to be. The one who walked through the Isle without a care as to where I had to be or how I had to look. Because when I was there, wearing fancy dresses didn’t make me the leader. It was just that look in my eye. And my mother, of course.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “Did you bring it?”

I sighed, reaching into my purse. “Yeah, um…”

I held out the little gummy that had resulted from my work in the kitchen today.

“So, this thing will make me say what I really feel to Jane?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I confirmed. “I mean, this is a truth gummy, so take it or leave it.”

“Perfect.” He reached out, but I felt the need to say one more thing before giving it to him.

“Hold on, though. Are you sure that you want to be taking this? Because this is going to make you say the truth, all the time, no matter what. You better not have any secrets.”

“I’ll take my chances, I guess,” he joked. “You said it will only last a few hours, right?”

I nodded.

“Great.” He plucked it from my fingers and hesitantly chewed on it. “Oh god,” he said, covering his mouth. “This is nasty.”

“Here,” I mumbled, grabbing some water from his bedside table.

He chugged that down and sighed in relief. “How come you can turn a love potion into a cookie, but the truth spell is a gross ass gummy?”

I chuckled quietly. “You good? You want to test it out?”

He shrugged. “Why not? Ask me something.”

“Hm.” I glanced around the room, before my eyes landed on the computer, discarded next to Dude. “What were you looking up before I walked in?”

“Therapists,” he said, bluntly.

“Woah!” I cried, louder than I meant to. “Carlos! Is everything alright?”

“Sorry. I wasn’t planning on telling you guys, because you’ve got your own stuff to deal with and it’s silly, but I sort of felt… overwhelmed? You know? Not like you, obviously, learning to be a Lady of the Court and all, but I suddenly realized the world is nothing like what my mother told me and I’ve been scared and so I thought it would be easier to talk things out with someone who isn’t also in pain and you’ve been going to therapy a lot too, so it isn’t that strange, but of course I know that everyone’s situation is different and I-”

“Carlos!” I interrupted. “You do not need to explain yourself to me. Or to any of them. We support you no matter what. We just want you to be happy.”

He nodded. “Thanks, Mal.”

I smiled. “Now I’ve got to go, before I miss my whole lunch with Ben and you should probably go find Jane before that spell wears off… Let’s hope that Fairy Godmother got those photographers out of the building.”

~ ~ ~

I already set up the tablecloth and dishes, so the minute I got to the pavillion all I had to do was put out the food.

I opened the basket and pulled out one object: a paper plate with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. This was set in front of Ben’s seat.

I did a quick sweep of the area. There was nothing in sight and the world was silent with the exception of the crackle from the water and the miscellaneous sounds of the treeline.

My spellbook was the last thing to come out of the basket. It felt heavy, almost as if begging me not to use it. And god, did I want to listen to it.

“Take this food, this lackluster feast. Make these plates fit for a beast.”

The sandwich disappeared, replacing it with food beyond compare. There was so much that it could feed three whole families on the Isle. And it was warm and clean. I couldn’t have dreamed of feasting like this over a year ago.

I ran my fingers over each dish, assuring myself that it was all corporeal. The biggest tell would be if Ben reached for a cookie and his fingers went right through it. There was no way to cover that.

I tossed the spellbook back into my basket, planning on putting it underneath the table, but got distracted when I heard Ben calling out to me.

Always punctual.

~ ~ ~

“Would you like a hot hors d'oeuvre?” I offered, doing my best with the french pronunciation.

“Yes, please.” He leaned forward, taking a bite out of it directly from my hand. It took a couple of seconds to chew it, before saying, “This is the best thing I’ve ever had.”

“So, you like it?” I prompted.

It was silly. Of course he was going to like it. It was a magic feast. But I just wanted to make him happy. I wanted him to enjoy himself.

“I more than like it.” He stood up, reaching past me for another. “I, uh, so like it.”

I gave him a laugh, but the way he said that made me nervous. Was he going to say he loved it? And if so, why didn’t he?

We hadn’t used the word love since my mother died. It wasn’t that strange to me at the time. We were just teenagers. Love didn’t consume our lives and perhaps it was a bigger commitment than we were ready for.

… but he made eye contact with me before he hesitated. So, had he changed his mind about me in the past year? Was this no longer about the food?

“Beef ragout?” he asked, pointing to another dish.

“Yeah.”

“This is amazing,” he said, shoving some onto his plate.

“Did I surprise you?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah, you surprised me.” He didn’t look up from his meal as he ate. “This is every single dish Mrs. Potts made for my parents. What did it take you? Three days?”

It should have, I thought to myself.

I clucked my tongue. “You know, don’t even ask me.”

He laughed along with me, slowing down and turning to a more serious tone. “Well, it means a lot that you stopped and did all this for me. Especially, with all the craziness you’ve been put through.” He took my hand gently stroking my knuckles. Another wave of guilt washed over me. “I’ve missed you.”

The moment was so sweet, I wanted to pull away. He was just too perfect and I was… me. I was a stumbling mess, pulling myself through Auradon by a rope attached to Ben and maybe one of these days instead of pulling me forward, I would pull him back.

“We don’t get much time to be just us anymore.”

“I know,” I said softly.

I found my eyes wandering, wanting to soak in as much of the moment as possible. And at the corner of his mouth was a little bit of leftover food. Instinctively, I reached forward and wiped it away.

He laughed, realizing what had happened. “You can’t take me anywhere, right?”

I giggled, recognizing the phrase from something I had said on our first date.

“Do you have a napkin or something?”

“I do!” I replied, cheerfully. “I packed some!”

I turned to my right, but the basket wasn’t there. I had left it between the two of us.

I flipped around to find Ben pulling the spellbook out of the top.

“I can grab them!” I argued, but it was no use.

“What’s this?”

He looked at me and I panicked. He was still smiling, slightly. He didn’t realize what was going on yet, but he would. Ben was too smart.

“I actually threw that in there super last minute,” I explained, watching him flip through pages, “in case it rained or-”

“Speed reading spell,” he read aloud. My bookmarked pages. “Blonde hair spell.”

“Ben seriously, it’s not-”

“Cooking spell,” he finished, seeing my most recent work. 

My face dropped. What was I supposed to do? He had caught me in a lie I hadn’t ever planned to be in. I didn’t want this. How could I do this to him?

“And I was giving you props for fitting in so well,” he snarled. “For doing your best.”

He threw the book down on the table, frustrated.

“Ben I never meant for this to happen. I just got so caught up-”

“Don’t lie-”

“It has been so hard for me!”

“Yes!” He burst from his chair. “Some things are hard! Do you think learning to be king has been easy for me?”

“No!” I shouted back.

How could I let this happen? I was so caught up in my own problems. Why was I such a disaster? Why couldn’t I just walk through everything like my friends were? Why couldn’t I just adapt and be happy for once??

“I thought we were doing this together!”

“I want us to be doing this together!” I responded. “But Ben, I can’t just keep-”

“You’ve been keeping secrets and lying to me!” he continued. “I thought we were done with that. This isn’t the Isle of the Lost, Mal.”

My heart shattered. Because maybe it wasn’t, but I couldn’t really tell the difference anymore. Both places felt like hell at this point.

A tear fell down my face and for once I didn’t try to hide it. I didn’t try to stop it. I didn’t have the strength to anymore.

“Yeah,” I replied through gritted teeth. “Believe me. I know that.”

“Then, why are you doing this?” he demanded.

“Because!” My voice broke as I screamed it. My eyes had turned green, but I didn’t care. I had let go of myself for a minute and now it was all out on the table. “I’m not one of those pretty pink princesses, Ben! And I’m not a Lady of the Court! I’m a villain. A slimy, evil monster who you SHOULD HAVE LEFT ON THE ISLE!”

“Woah, Mal,” he began, but it was too late.

“Don’t touch me!” I shrieked. “You say you want to be in this together, but you’re going down a path that I can’t follow!” My vision was a swirling, salty mix of green and blue. “Maybe Evie, and Jay, and Carlos can find themselves here and be happy, but obviously I can’t. I tried so hard to be with you. To be the real me! But this isn’t it, Ben! And maybe I can’t change who I am!”

“Mal, where is this coming from?” he asked.

“I’m a big fake, okay?” My voice got softer. “All of this. All of me? It’s fake. This dress is fake. This hair is fake. This food…” I reached across the table and reopened my spellbook. “Take this food, this sumptuous meal. Turn it back to what is real.”

In a flash, all that was left where freshly cleaned empty platters and a single, sad looking pb&j.

“The real me is hiding in this tunnel in the back of my heart. The real me wants to scream, and run away, and be by myself. The real me wants to knock out every single one of those reporters who ambush me after school. The real me is whispering that I made a mistake by staying here and I should have just gone back to the Isle and let my mother kill me, because there is no true happiness. The real me is the scared, angry, tired girl that I was back on the Isle. That dumb sandwich,” I said, pointing, “is more of the real me than this princess I pretend I am.”

Slowly, all the anger slipped away. The green was replaced with fountains of water, pouring down my cheeks.

“So, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I can’t get rid of all this… mess that my mother made me. Because I wanted to so bad.”

I was running before I could register that I needed to get away. Of course Ben tried to call out to me and even run after me, but I was long gone.

#descendants #descendants fanfic #descendants fanfiction #disney descendants #descendents #disney #disney fanfiction #disney fanfic #disney channel #dcom #descendants dcom #descendants imagine #descendants imagines #disney imagine #disney imagines #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #mal #mal descendants #mal daughter of maleficent #mal x ben #ben #ben descendants #ben x mal #carlos #carlos de vil #ben son of belle and beast #carlos descendants #carlos son of cruella de vil

[builder051]

Merrily we roll along

For @mohini-musing.  Happy belated birthday, my dear, and I’m very sorry I put you through this terror on a regular basis.

Whoa Bessie, the AU in which Steve is trans and Bucky is a veteran, not that either of those particularly figure into the story. __________

They’re driving.  Again.  James’s slew of twice-a-year check ins with various specialists have rolled around, and more than one has referred them on to yet another more capable doctor friend.  There’s new technology out now, too.  First James let them outfit his ears, and now, finally, he’s thinking about letting them outfit his arm.  

The new prosthetics specialist is Swedish, at least Steve thinks he is.  Somebody Odinson.  Between James’s hearing and the doctor’s accent, their teleconference went less than well.  So now they’re driving.  Not to Sweden, but it may as well be, with all the twists and turns and side streets.  Steve silently tells the GPS to go fuck itself, then mutters to James, “We’re so taking the highway the rest of the way.  Just let me find an on ramp.”

“Ok.”  James doesn’t seem to care.  Why would he?  He doesn’t drive, doesn’t particularly mind if they’re on time for his appointments.  He looks especially blank, though.  Maybe a little grey in the dim afternoon light filtering through the heavy clouds.  

“You doing ok?” Steve hopes James isn’t carsick, though it would make sense if he was.  The path they’ve been following is more akin to Thunder Mountain than an actual street map.  But there’s no self-conscious gulping, no green tinge across his cheeks.

“Yeah.”  James blinks, but doesn’t look at Steve.

“Tired?” Steve guesses.  They were up once overnight, briefly, at one in the morning, but a cuddle and a glass of water put James down again without much trouble, so Steve counted it for a win.  Compared to the sleepless nights they’d endured before the insurance approved the Prazosin, it was practically pleasant.

“Hm.”

“Alright.”  Steve doesn’t push him.  He’s probably nervous about the consultation, and talking about it will just make it worse.  “Here’s the highway.”  Steve twiddles the steering wheel and merges onto the interstate.  “I bet we’ll be there in ten minutes.”

This time, James doesn’t respond.

Steve mentally shuffles his deck of therapist cards.  He’s not technically supposed to treat James, but the techniques have done a lot to calm him through stressful situations.  “You feel like talking it through?” he asks, always wary of chattering too much and getting on James’s nerves.

“Eh.”  James shrugs and looks out the window.

“Ok.”  Steve settles on a CBT protocol.  What’s the positive?  What’s the negative?  What’s the realistic?  “What’s a good thing that could happen at the appointment?”  He looks at James, then quickly returns his eyes to the windshield when a fat drop of rain splatters across the glass.

“Um,” James starts.  He takes a shuddering breath.  “I…  I could…”

“Uh-huh,” Steve encourages him, turning on the windshield wipers.  

“I could… um.”

The traffic slows in front of Steve.  He presses down on the brake, wondering what’s causing the backup.  He shifts in his seat, trying to see around a monsterous jeep.  At first he doesn’t notice anything unusual, then he sees a line of orange barrels edging him steadily out of his lane.  “Shit,” Steve whispers at the same moment that James gives up on his stuttering and murmurs, “Fuck.”

Steve laughs quietly.  “Aren’t we a pair?”  He throws another glance in James’s direction and turns on his blinker.  “Come on, give me a good possibility.”

“I… ok…”  James heaves a sigh.  “Um…”

“Buck?”  Steve squeezes in between the jeep and a pickup truck that seems set on bottoming out the speed limit.  Steve could probably roll faster if he put the car in neutral.  The one benefit of the slow tempo is that he doesn’t need to steer, though, so he reaches over to gently pat James’s shoulder.  It’s the stump arm, so he’s careful not to exert too much pressure or move too quickly, but James seems to need the grounding touch.

“I…”

“Ok,” Steve assures him.  “It’s ok if you can’t think of one.  You wanna tell me… what we should pick up for dinner later?”

He hears James drag in another breath, then let it out with what sounds like a mighty tremor.  Steve breathes slowly himself and keeps his ears peeled.  

“I...can’t.”

“Huh?”  It’s not want Steve expects to hear, though he can’t think of a good reason why not.  “You don’t have to, Buck.  You never have to.”

“I… Just… I…”

“Take your time.”  Steve’s beginning to worry now, his heart hammering just a bit more quickly than usual.  He turns his head and takes a good long look, his eyes bouncing from James’s pale cheeks to his cockeyed sunglasses to his slack, white lips.  “Buck?  You feeling alright?”

“I…”  The answer is plainly no, but James still seems unable to pronounce the short word.

“Ok, let me figure this out…”  Now that he’s well and truly merged, there’s nothing to do but inch the car along until they get to the next exit.  Steve ponders pulling over and calling someone, maybe 911, but that’s probably overreacting.  James won’t take well to paramedics poking and prodding at him.  He’s still too coherent for this to be a real emergency.  “Here,” Steve finally says, reaching across James’s chest for his right hand.  “Hold on to me, ok?”

James obliges, though slowly.  His grip starts out strong, then begins to slacken the longer he holds it.  The rain that had previously been sending down drops every thirty seconds or so breaks into a steady downpour.  James practically hisses in distaste.

“I know, just hold on, ok?  I’m going to exit as soon as I can.”

James makes a breathy noise, then swallows wetly.  “I… ok.”

“Ok,” Steve echoes, glad James is at least minimally coherent.  “Ok.  Let’s play a game,” he says with an air of confident cheeriness he doesn’t feel.  “What do you see?”

“Um…”  James pauses for a long moment.  Trees, Steve expects to hear him say.  Or cars.  But instead, James slowly says, “Orange?”  The word trails up at the end, as if he’s not sure what he sees, or maybe how to put it into a verbal form with letters and syllables and sounds.

“Orange?” Steve repeats, his brown knitting in concern.  

“I…  I think?”  James gulps again.  “Um…”

“Alright.”  Steve squeezes his hand.  “You feel sick and you can’t see.  Am I right?”

James slowly nods.  

“Give me those.”  Steve points to James’s sunglasses, then winds up gently pulling them off the other man’s face when he’s too slow.  “Now look at me.”

It’s as Steve suspected.  His pupils are blown and not responsive to the change in light.  The rain makes the afternoon dark and dingy, but there should be enough contrast from the shade of the dark glasses to make at least a little difference.

“And you’re seizing.  Hold on just a little further, Buck,” Steve tells him.  He can see an exit ahead of them now, one thankfully devoid of traffic cones and flaggers.

“Hm.”  James blinks hard and tucks his chin as if suppressing a gag.

“Yeah, just a minute…”  Steve carefully extricates his hand from James’s clammy grip and turns the steering wheel.  There’s a McDonalds just off the road.  Steve barely pauses at a stop sign and pulls into the parking lot.  

“Alright.”  Steve flings open his door and dashes around the car just as James pitches forward against his seatbelt and begins to vomit into the footwell.  He swears under his breath, then yanks the passenger door open and helps James aim for the pavement.  “Ok,” he whispers, squatting in front of him.  “You’re ok.”

“I--” James sputters.

“It’s alright.  You don’t have to talk.”

“No, I--”  James retches again, then drops his forehead onto Steve’s shoulder.  “Ow.”

“Head hurts?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Ok.  Just breathe for me.”  Steve wraps him in a loose embrace and pats him on the back.

James inhales, then pushes the air back out.  He hiccups, then retracts his neck before he throws up again.

“Just breathe,” Steve encourages again.  He tucks a lock of hair behind James’s ear, careful not to jostle the aid perched there.  “Just get your breath back.”

“Ok…”  James spits and wipes his mouth on his stump shoulder.  “I’m… I…”

“Shh,” Steve says.  “We’re not done with our game.  I have a few more questions for you.”

“Hm.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“Uh…”  James clears his throat and his whole body shakes.  “Car?”

“Ok, good.”  Steve presses his cheek to James’s temple.  “Know what day it is?”

“I don’t…” James starts.  “Tues… I mean… Wednes… Wednesday?”

“Alright.  See, you’re with me.”  Steve grins and kisses him on the hairline.  

“Still… don’t feel good.”  James bites back a dry heave.

“Let it out.  It’s ok.”

He’s quietly sick again, though it’s just bile now.  Mucous hangs from James’s nose and lips.  Steve opens the glove box to find him a tissue.

“I…” James croaks.  “Home.  P-please?”

“Yeah, of course.”  Steve reaches in his pocket for his phone.  “Let me just cancel your appointment.  Then we’ll go so you can have your migraine in peace.”  It’s the sad truth to seizures like this.  First absence.  Then illness.  Then pain.

“Sorry.  R-really, I’m...”  The words may be in the wrong order, but the sentiment is sincere.  

“Don’t worry about it, Buck.”  Steve gives him another soft peck, then scrolls through the massive list of doctors in his contacts.  “Let me take care of this.  Then I’ll get you home.”

#fanfic #fanfiction #stucky #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #captain america #sickfic #emeto #emetophilia #seizure #Avengers #hurt comfort #mcu #marvel #alternate universe #WHOA BESSIE

[lids-flutter-open]

James orsino -goth gay YA ch 5

“Hey,” Orsino said. He was smiling at me. “Nice to see you. James, right?”

“And you’re Orsino.”

“I’m Robin,” said a girl with good skin and short hair in a flat-top. She looked like a panel from a 1980s lesbian comic. “I’m Orsino’s sister.”

“Hi,” I said. “Does anyone want weed?”

They did. We smoked and January talked to Ian. I didn’t get all of what they said, but Ian was glowing. Overhead the trees dropped a few leaves and some of the pine needles from the scrubby little pine tree by the house blew over the yard and into the bonfire, sparking as they went. There were at least fifty people at the show. Probably more, inside the house and around in front where they weren’t meant to be. People were slowly trickling back around the edges of the show space in the garage, waiting for the temperature inside to finally get cool enough to repopulate. 

“So are you from around here?” I asked Orsino. “Or where?” I had given him a joint I’d rolled earlier and been carrying around in my cigarette case. He coughed a lot as he smoked.

“Down south about an hour,” Orsino said. “Near Centralia, kind of. But most of the time lately I live up in Tacoma with Robin and January. My dad owns some cows and a chicken farm and my mom is always fighting with him and it’s bad to be around. You?”

“I’m from here,” I said. “I’m in high school. One of the ones near the farms. It’s all rednecks. No gays really.”

“You go to that Compton House thing?” Orsino asked. “I know that’s like, a big thing for gay kids here. My therapist was trying to get me to go since I didn’t like the trans group in Tacoma.”

“I go,” I said. “I’m on the Speakers’ Bureau doing sex education at schools and public organizations and stuff.”

“Oh,” Orsino said. He waggled his eyebrows. “You know a lot about sex then?” He exhaled some of the smoke from his joint into my face and smiled.

“In the public health sense, anyway,” I said. “I know where to get condoms and free dental dams.” I paused. I really wanted to say something flirtatious, but wasn’t sure what to start with. “And I know from Delaney and Genet and White for the rest, though who knows what I’m missing in that sense.” I could feel my hands reach up and touch the bad little patch of stubble on my neck. I wished there was a mirror or a dark window around I could glance into to make sure I didn’t look like a fool. I crossed my legs and turned more towards Orsino.

“Don’t know who those guys are,” Orsino smirked. His eyes were really dark brown and the firelight was sort of reflected there. I couldn’t tell if he was making fun of me for the references or making fun of me for doing sex education as a teenager like some kind of Young Democrat. I didn’t know his vibe enough to tell.

“They’re all older. Delaney’s the one you’re supposed to read, I’m pretty sure,” I said. “Or at least, he’s the one most likely to have been read by hot people, from what I can tell.”

“Oh, it’s a book,” said Orsino. 

“He’s an author,” I said. “Samuel Delaney. Chip Delaney. Time Square Red, Time Square Blue. Science fiction and sexy gay memoir. Never mind. I’m stoned. I’m sorry.”

“He writes about sex and taught you sex, is what you’re saying.”

“Yeah.”

“Does he write about like specific kinks you were trying to communicate to me or something?”

I felt my face grow hot. “Public bathrooms,” I said. “Is one thing he’s very into. Not that I am. Unless you are. But that’s not—it’s just his prose.”

“Do you always give a … what’s it called. A bibliography. Do you always do that when someone asks you about sex?”

“Do you always ask boys about sex two seconds after meeting them?”

“Only when they’re hot,” Orsino said. “Then yeah, I do. Sorry, I can’t read social cues well. Was that out of line?”

“No.”

“You didn’t answer the question. You go around give out bibliographies about sex? Like that pink hair lady who draws that weird comic about sex toys online?”

“You’re the one named fucking Orsino,” I said. “Literary references are something you signed up for.” I took a hit from my pipe. I was starting to feel slightly more comfortable, but it wasn’t happening fast enough. I glanced at Orsino’s hands. The nails were short. His pinky nail on his left hand was painted black but none of the other fingernails were. There was a little stick-and-poke of a rabbit on the back of his right hand.

“Maybe I should change it,” he said. “To something butch. I can be Harry. Or Brandon.”

“A trade name,” I said. 

“A farm boy name.”

“Brandon is a G.O.P candidate name.”

“Now that’s trade.”

“What music do you like, Brandon?”

“Well, I’m here. OVID’s good. January can be a bitch a little bit, but it’s good music. And I like Dyke Drama and G.L.O.S.S, obviously. And LOONE. But also Mitski. And Blood Kennel and Limp Wrist and Dick Binge. But I also like The Shins.”

“My dad likes The Shins,” I said. “I have like a gag reflex about The Shins.” I could hear my voice, catty and faggy. “They’re such a dad band. How old are you, anyway?”

“Eighteen,” Orsino said.

“Okay. Well, for an eighteen-year-old you sure like dad bands.”

“It’s good music,” Orsino said. “You gotta listen to the lyrics. What about you?”

“I only listen to Ariana Grande,” I said, smirking at him stupidly and fluttering my eyelashes. I might have been being dumb, but he was still smiling at me, so I wanted to try being bolder. “And Gaga. I literally only listen to Just Dance by Lady Gaga and Pete Davidson by Ariana Grande every single day of my life. On repeat. I hate punk music.”

“Oh, really,” Orsino said in a flat-affect kind of voice. “You must be having a really interesting time here tonight then.”

“It’s really funny music,” I said. “And nobody is wearing platform boots or a rainbow pin or jewels or teal hair or anything.”

“I saw someone with teal hair,” Orsino said.

“That was me, actually. Earlier. I came with teal hair and an Ariana Grande tour shirt and changed.”

“Oh really,” Orsino said. He made eye contact with me and then slowly reached out and pulled at one of my curls. “I like what you’ve done with your hair since then. Insta-dye job to black. Insta-goth. It’s a really cute haircut on you, actually.”

“Thanks. I did it in the bathroom sink,” I said. “Just now. Using charcoal from the fire. I thought, oh no, everyone has dark hair or bad orangey dry bleach jobs. I have to fit in.”

“You’re doing good and blending in,” Orsino said. He finished the joint and ground out the end in the dirt under the stump. “Wait. Did you just neg me for my bleach job?” 

I felt my face fall. “What?”

“You said bad bleach jobs and looked at my hair. Were you making fun of me for my bleach job? You know, negging me? I know it’s all dry forest fire thatch up here.”

“I guess I did,” I said. I looked at his hair and back at his eyes. 

“Didn’t expect you to be acting like a straight English major goth at a sorority party over here,” Orsino said. “Calling all the girls ugly cause you think it’ll make them like you.”

I swallowed. “You’re right. That was cruel of me. I made fun of your name, earlier, too, and that was wrong. I shouldn’t be mean to cute boys.” 

“And my music taste.”

“That’s just a difference of opinion.”

Orsino looked at me like a cat playing with a mouse, but in a friendly way. “You were very cruel about my hair, though. I feel so small.”

“Sorry. It’s a bad habit. You can do two negs for me now. Tell me I’m ugly so you can hit on me better.”

“Hm,” Orsino said. He swung one hairy leg over the stump so half of him was in shadow under the trees and his right foot was nestled in the ivy and broken glass that lay all along the perimeter of the Goat Mansion yard. “Well, you aren’t ugly, so I can’t do exactly that. Maybe I want to save my negs. Find your weak spots and then go in for the kill.”

“I’m shaking,” I said. 

“Okay. I have one. My first one is that your mustache sucks. It’s like really cute that you’re trying it and I know what you’re going for, and the concept is attractive to me, and I like your philtrum, but it’s a bad mustache.”

“Ooh. Ouch. That stings,” I said. “I think it stings more because of all the compliments you threw in with it to cushion it.” But I scooted closer to him.

“I can do more.” He looked at me hard. “If you consent. I can be meaner about it.”

“About my mustache? Okay,” I said. “But I might be hurt and never speak to you again.”

“You’re trying to look like Freddie Mercury or something, right? You look like a summer camp counselor from the 1980s.”

“Ouch! You sure snatched my wig.” I put on a faggy voice. It kind of did sting to hear him say that, though also I knew that my mustache amounted to about twenty-four downy bad little hairs. But I guess I deserved it.

“See how it feels?” Orsino scooted a little closer. I found myself appreciating how broad his shoulders and torso were compared to mine. I looked at his smile. His canines were a little crooked.

“I actually am a summer camp counselor,” I said. “During the summer.”

“I’m Sherlock Holmes.”

“I can give you another weak spot,” I said. “I’m a nerd and I used to be a horse girl. Got any horse related disses?”

“It doesn’t count if you give them to me. That’s a self defense maneuver. Also I don’t know if you’re even telling the truth. It’s gotta be something you’re sensitive about.”

“Are you sensitive about your hair and your name?”

“Yes! I’m a punk. My image is very important to me. Talking shit on my hair was mean. You started this whole battle.”

“Okay, fine. I’m sorry already. But give me time to recover from your first cutting remark before you do any more to me.” I put away my pipe. I glanced briefly over at Ian. Jukebox had left and now he was talking to Opal and Robin a few feet away. I felt like socially I was obligated to join their shit instead of sitting here talking to this boy I didn’t really know yet. At least so I could be up on the whole deal with Miss San Juan and the Dusties or whatever the new band was called. “Do you want to meet my friends?” I asked Orsino, standing. 

“Sure,” he said. He pulled himself up. “Hey, you’re not really hurt about the mustache thing, right?” He wasn’t smiling as much any more.  “I was just playing around. Your mustache is fine. It looks like every other high school punk’s mustache. Better than some. Better than mine. And you’re cute. You pull it off pretty good.”

I realized he thought he had misstepped and now I’d lost interest. I felt a flutter in my stomach. 

“It’s a really sensitive topic for me because of my gender dysphoria,” I said in a deadpan voice. I walked over to Ian and Opal and Robin.

Orsino followed me, squinting a little as if he couldn’t tell if I was joking. He put his thumbs into the belt loops of his pants.“Are you serious?” He asked.  "I’m sorry, I…”

“I won’t ever forgive you. Hey, meet my friends. Here are my friends Opal and Ian, who I guess have a band now.”

Ian paused. He had been saying something to Robin about some music stuff. I wasn’t sure what equipment they were talking about but it had hertz. He looked over to Orsino and then me and raised his eyebrows. 

“Hey,” he said. “I’m Miss San Juan, otherwise known as Ian. You saw me set up and then saw my set just now. You were jumping. Didn’t get your name.”

“I was indeed jumping,” Orsino said. “It was a pretty good show for how messy it seemed like things were before it started. You did good. You have a great stage presence. I’m Orsino.” He held out his hand, arcing his arm out for a man-handshake. 

Ian placed his delicate little hand in Orsino’s big one like a princess greeting her security guard. “Pleased to meet you.”

“I’m Orsino,” Orsino said again to Opal, holding out his hand again. For the first time I realized he was maybe kind of too stoned.

“I’m Opal,” said Opal. “I’m a drummer and use they/them pronouns and I’m really hungry for some trash food right now. Does anyone else want food?” They looked at me and then at Orsino. “You both look like you want some trash food.”

“Fuck yeah,” Orsino said. “Do we know when the next show starts, though?”

“There’s the gas station that doesn’t sell beer around the corner that way,” Opal said. “They have chips and sometimes hot dogs and pizza. We’ll be quick.”

“Let’s go,” Orsino said. He put his arm around my shoulders and set off toward the edge of the yard as if we had been walking together like that everywhere for years, as if he had touched me before.

“I don’t think I want food right now,” Ian said. “I’ll stay here.” He had a sort of quiet, wan tone in his voice that made me pause.

“Oh,” I said, and dug my feet into the ground to stop and pulled away from Orsino’s arm. I looked from Orsino to Ian. I didn’t want to leave Ian standing here alone right after his big set. “Ian, are you sure? You’ll need calories in a little bit.”

“I just feel like standing and smoking for a second in the quiet over here by the fence,” Ian said. 

“Quieter out by the gas station,” I said.

“I don’t feel like walking.”

“I’ll stay here too then,” I said. 

“I’m still going,” Orsino said. “I’m genuinely hungry.”

“Come on, then, big papa,” Opal said. “Let’s get some cheese fuel.” They turned their chair and wheeled fairly rapidly across the grass. 

#james and orsino #long text #long post #writing #goth gay ya #trans #lgbt

[iris-writes-things]

Crazy, Millennial Love Story chapter 9

Read on AO3, FF.net or under the cut!

After years of near radio silence, Shiro follows up on an invitation to have dinner with the Holts; the family he had carefully avoided since getting Matt and himself into an accident 3 years ago. On top of that, Pidge has an announcement to make!

Chapter 9 of ? Ongoing 2226 words Modern/romance

Shiro stood silently in front of the Holts' front door for a solid five minutes, contemplating whether he should ring the doorbell or go home. Deep down, Shiro knew Keith was right. Besides, now that he'd made contact with Katie-- Pidge again, there was no way he could avoid the family forever. They were a family of cops and cryptid hunters after all. If they wanted him, they'd find him.Finally, he took a deep breath and pressed the damn button. He flinched when the door was opened immediately, only to be greeted by Matt's smiling face. "H-How long were you standing there?!"

"About as long as you." He said, looking at his watch. "Give or take five minutes?"

"Was it really that long?" Shiro asked, growing flustered in embarrassment.

"Don't worry about it. I'm just glad you didn't bail on us." Matt said, ushering him inside, patting his back reassuringly. "Hm, no Keith?" He noted.

"No, he's taking pictures at his first wedding."

"Ah, so he's finally getting his photography thing off the ground, huh? You can take home whatever we don't eat today, so he won't miss out." Matt smiled.

Shiro found himself forcing a smile back, awkward and disingenuous, but it quickly faltered. He hoped Matt hadn't noticed, and when the other pushed him into the front room, he figured as much.

"Guys, look who's here!" Matt announced cheerfully.

The inside of the house was just as cute and quaint as he remembered it, very little had changed after all. The walls had been painted a slightly off-white, and the furniture was slightly rearranged, but other than that, it was the same. Where there was no furniture occupying the wall space, the walls were covered with family photos, meticulously arranged in chronological order. Shiro had been there for most moments since Matt’s teenage years, but he noticed there had been new additions to the photo wall since he last visited. Holy crap, had Pidge already graduated high school? She must have been so disappointed in him...

"Shiro!" Was the only warning he got, a mere fraction of a second before a much smaller body threw itself at him

"Oof..." He groaned from the sudden impact. "Hey Pidge."

"Honey, be careful with our guest, will you?" Her mother, warned. It was strange to Shiro, seeing the medical examinor in her very homey open kitchen instead of her cold lab in the precinct’s basement.

"Don't worry, he’s been tackled by people three times her size and made it out okay.” Matt chuckled.

“Only because you picked the fights. Don’t think I never read through your partner’s paperwork, son.” His father teased, glancing up from his newspaper.

“Aah, good times.” Matt sighed, a nostalgic grin plastered on his face.

“I’m really fine, dr. Holt, captain.” Shiro said as he attempted to pry their daughter off him.

The two looked at each other for a moment in surprise. “You know you can just call us by our names, right? We’re all friends here, Shiro.” Dr. Holt, Colleen, said, carefully choosing her words.

“Yeah, friends…” Shiro couldn’t help but look down as the feeling of guilt crept back up on him, spreading through his chest and mind like poison. His lip quivered, and his grip on Pidge tightened ever so slightly.

“Shiro?” The little girl whispered.

“Dude, are you okay?” Matt asked, reaching out for him, but Shiro recoiled, staying out of his reach. Matt’s face fell, he sighed. “Shiro, listen, it’s not like you didn’t lose anything that night. Hell, if anything, you lost more than me.” He mumbled, staring at his friend’s prosthetic arm.

“But you lost your future as a detective.” Shiro argued. “There’s no way you’ll get through the city police’s psych evaluation, and that’s because of me.”

“And neither will you! How long will it take to get that through your thick skull?! Look, I’m seeing a therapist to get back on my feet, and who knows, maybe I’ll be a detective like dad someday, but right now I’m having the time of my life working as a private detective and helping Pidge with her monster hunting. Just because maybe you weren’t as ambitious as I was doesn’t make what happened to you any more okay than what happened to me! And I know you’re getting there too thanks to Keith, but I’m going to need you to let go of that night, and for the love of God, stop avoiding us. We miss you.”

“You done, buddy?” Pidge asked, looking up at her brother. “I think you broke him.” She said as she nodded towards him.

“Uh-oh…”

Shiro stood speechless and unmoving, mind racing to catch up with what the Hell just happened. It was small and weak, his voice trembled when he spoke a few moments later. “I know. And I’m sorry, I knew I shouldn’t have avoided you guys, but there was just always this nagging voice at the back of my mind that you guys would never forgive me…” His voice was barely above a whisper as tears started to form in his eyes.

“It’s okay, Shiro. You’re here now, that’s what counts.” Captain Holt, Sam, smiled, placing an encouraging hand on Shiro’s shoulder.

“And, for what it’s worth, we never blamed you for what happened. Not for one second. You just got a call for backup and answered it. You couldn’t have known they would gang up on you guys. It was an accident. It could have happened to any officer in the area.” Colleen added, cupping Shiro’s face in her hand, forcing him to look at the melancholy expression on her face. “If you’d like, you could still come over for dinner once a month. You know, like you used to.” She offered.

“Yeah! He deserves at least one decent meal every month.” Pidge piped up. “Keith can come too! Or your girlfriend, maybe.”

“Girlfriend?” Matt asked, turning to Shiro, who only shrugged and smiled apologetically. “Shiro, you sly dog! When were you planning to tell me?”

“She’s not technically my girlfriend, yet. But I’d like her to be.”

“I sent my friend Allura that same Buzzfeed article I sent you. You know, the one with Shiro’s naked torso?” Pidge said, shit-eating grin plastered on her face. “She went on a date with him the very next week.”

“H-hey, that was for business! She wanted me to model for her…”

“And by ‘your friend Allura’ you mean your hot friend Allura, right?” Matt asked his little sister, ignoring Shiro’s excuse.

“Smoking.” Pidge pointed out, smirking devilishly at Shiro, who tried and failed to hide his embarrassment, burying his face in his hands.

“Oh my God, Shiro, you lucky bastard!” Matt chuckled, punching his friend in the arm. “Seriously, if she likes you as much as you like her--”

“And she does.” Pidge cut in.

“You should totally go for it!”

“A-are you sure?” Shiro asked them, stammering.

“Yes, we’re sure.” The Holt siblings insisted in unison.

“Just trust me, you have more than a chance with Allura. You guys are seriously good for each other.” Pidge winked, elbowing him in his right side.

“And if you need any help, we’d be more than happy to.” Matt said, mirroring his sister’s motions and elbowing him in his left side.

Shiro couldn’t help but laugh. Seriously, these two seemed to be linked on a telepathic level. It was like they should have been twins, but had been born seven years apart for some odd reason. “Okay, if you guys say so…” he drew a deep breath. “I guess I’ll give it a more serious shot.”

The siblings cheered, only to be cut off by their mother.

“It’s great that you guys are having fun, but can you please come and have dinner before the food cools down again?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Even though Shiro had been hesitant to join the Holts initially, he was glad he showed up after all, and even more grateful that Colleen always made enough Thanksgiving dinner to last the family three days. If he was completely honest, this was the best home cooked meal he had eaten in literal years.

It was making him sentimental, not just about the good food, but about sharing it with so many people he loved, as well. Of course, Shiro loved Keith too, but it was different in a way. These were people he had called family for years before suddenly breaking almost all contact with them. The fact he was now re-establishing that relationship felt surreal to him, but in the best kind of way.

“Okay, so, now that we’ve all had dinner and everyone seems to be in a good mood, I have an announcement to make.” Pidge said as she stood up from her chair.

Shiro glanced around the table to find Pidge’s parents and brother wearing the same surprised expression as he was.

“Alright… I’ve been thinking about this for a very long time… And breaching this topic is pretty hard, because it’s both a complicated concept, and I have no idea how you guys are going to react to this, but anyway, here goes nothing.” She paused to take a deep breath before continuing. “So, uh, you know how computers work on binary code, right? Zeroes and ones?”

Shiro nodded, assuming the rest of the family did so too, prompting her to go on.

“Okay, so, like, that’s also the way society tends to look at gender identity, right? Even on the rare occasion the mainstream talks about transgender people, we’re still talking men and women, zeroes and ones, a binary of gender identities, if you will.” She said as she adjusted her glasses. “But it’s weird, because we all know there are more numbers in the Arabic numeral system than just zeroes and ones, right? So it’s not really that far-fetched to think that there are more than two gender identities. Like, if boys are zeroes and girls are ones, then twos could be agender people, bigender people could be threes, demiboys and demigirls could be fours and fives, and so on! There’s like a bazillion different gender identities out there that each don’t fit in the traditional gender binary, and what I’m trying to say is that I don’t fit in the traditional gender binary either, and I’ve decided I’m not gonna try to fit inside it anymore. So... If you guys could call me Pidge and refer to me with gender-neutral pronouns like they/them from here on out, that’d be great. Thanks for coming to my TED talk, I guess.”

The family kitchen was quiet for a time, but there was no real tension. Not like Shiro expected. Everyone was just collecting their thoughts, Shiro assumed. He knew he was. However, he could read in Pidge’s face that they were feeling the non-existent tension nonetheless. The speech they had just delivered was heartfelt and obviously came from deep within the kid, but was practiced and worded in a way that made the concept easy to understand. Despite being bi himself, he had never met many trans people, let alone non-binary ones. He had a lot left to learn, he felt.

Finally, the silence was shattered when Sam spoke up. “Honey, I’m glad you discovered this about yourself. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to open up about this.”

“Exactly. And if you ever need help with anything in regards to your self expression, you just let us know and we’ll do what we can.” Colleen added. Shiro was sure he heard Pidge letting out a relieved sigh. “You’re still our little baby, and we’ll do anything we can to make you as comfortable as possible.” She reassured.

“Thanks, mom. Thanks, dad.” Pidge mumbled, smiling, but tearing up a little.

Shiro looked at Matt, wondering what he had to say on the matter.

“Honestly? I knew this was coming. I’m just disappointed you didn’t use the powerpoint presentation you made.” Matt shrugged, the same old, stupid grin plastered on his face. “I’m proud of you though, no matter what.”

“I’m with Matt.” Shiro said simply. “I thought something was up when you asked me to call you Pidge instead of Katie, but I decided not to push.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t very subtle back there, was I?” Pidge giggled. “I’m so glad you guys are okay with it, though.”

“What can we say? We’ve always known you were different from the other kids, but that’s the best thing about you.” Sam smiled at them, prompting Pidge to hug him tightly.

“I love you guys so much.”

“And we love you, too.”

“Whoa, like, I always thought Pidge was a bit of a tomboy, but she’s not a girl at all?” Keith asked, looking at Shiro. His eyes wide like saucers.

“Nor a boy, apparently. Pidge is just Pidge.” Shiro yawned. “It’s actually a pretty nice way to look at it; not being a boy or a girl, but just being yourself…”

“I guess. I’m still very comfortable with being a man.” Keith shrugged.

“Me too.” Shiro yawned again, his eyes starting to droop in exhaustion. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but I’m gonna hit the hay. If you’re hungry, there’s turkey, mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie in the fridge.”

“Thanks Shiro.” Keith smiled. “Good night.”

“Good night, Keith.”

#fanfic #Voltron: Legendary Defender #modern AU #vld shiro #vld pidge