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souliebird · 3 months

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[[and then I met you || ch. 15]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Words: 8.1k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

The first thing you process as you begin to come to is a slow, rhythmic beeping. It is dull and low and it almost carries you right back into the nothingness. You slip in and out of the fog a few times before your mind is able to catch a hold of conciseness. Even then, it feels like everything crawls by until your thoughts go from incoherent images to actual awareness.

You feel awful - like you've been hit by a massive truck, who then backed up over you only to run you over again. Everything aches, but the worst of it is centered on the left side of your head, going down to your neck. It throbs and feels so stiff. You don't think you could move your head if you tried.

The second worst thing is how dry your mouth feels. It is as if someone stuffed you full of cotton to remove all the moisture from your body, then to make sure you were drained, dried you out under a heat lamp. It hurts to even try to swallow the little saliva your mouth is producing.

You need something to drink.

Like some sort of miracle, something cold and wet is pressed to your lips. It startles you, but you react quickly. You force your lips to part and an ice chip is slipped between them. You suck on it desperately and it only takes a second for it to melt away, but almost instantly you are given another one. This happens two more times before your mouth finally doesn't feel like a desert.

Your eyes are hard to open. They feel crusted shut and you don't know if you have the energy to try and pull them apart, but you try. It takes multiple attempts, but finally they open. Everything is far too bright and blurry.

Matt comes into focus above you, face wracked with concern. His hair is a mess and it looks like he hasn't slept in ages. His eyes, while sightless, are puffy and bloodshot and you wonder if he has been crying. Your brow knits in confusion and you try to reach for his cheeks to offer some sort of comfort. Your hand doesn't make it far off whatever you are laying on, but it doesn't matter because as soon as it is in the air, he's clasping his around yours.

He breathes out your name just as you croak out his.

Above you, he lets out the smallest breath of a laugh, like he is relieved, before moving even closer to you. He presses his forehead to yours and you let your eyes fall shut again - you're too tired to keep them open and you don't think he will mind the lack of eye contact.

“You scared me,” he whispers against you, before you feel his lips brush your cheek.

You manage a confused noise, not understanding what is going on. Your throat burns as you attempt to talk, “what happened…?”

“You've got a pretty bad ear infection,” he tells you and you think that sounds about right. Everything hurts so much and you are far too warm. The cotton feeling in your mouth is also in your left ear, making it feel like half your head is dunked under water.

He is so close, his breath warms your still cool lips as he talks, “It hit you hard and fast - your fever got up to 104 and you wouldn't wake up. We had to bring you to the hospital, but you'll be okay now. Your fever has gone down a lot.”

The words float through you and it takes you a few seconds to grasp onto them and make them make sense. “We…?” You question because you don't know who ‘we’ could be.

“Foggy and I,” he confirms. The hand not clutching your own cups your jaw and feels so cool and nice that you can't help but lean into it. He gives you another kiss, this time to the forehead, with his scruff lightly scratching against you. It tickles.

You realize a name is missing and your heart starts to race. Matt hasn't mentioned your daughter and you start to panic.

Where is she? Where's your baby?

“Minnie?” You ask, but to your non-stuffy ear, it sounds more like a whine.

He quickly starts to shush you, his thumb gently rubbing over your cheek, “it's okay, she's okay. She's safe. Foggy took her to go get some breakfast. She's okay. She's okay.”

His words do calm you, but your heart still pounds in your chest. You know Matt trusts Foggy, so to an extent, you do as well, but you want your daughter. You want to hold her and make sure she is truly alright. She must be so scared.

You get another kiss to the forehead and it pulls you from your worried yet sluggish thoughts. You decide you like the feeling of Matt's beard against your skin. It's not something you're used to, and even if it is a little scratchy, it feels nice. It makes you feel warm but not like your supposed fever is making you feel warm. It's a good warm that wraps around your heart. It helps to soothe you - Matt would never allow your little one to be in any danger.

“Try to get some rest, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere - I'll be right here when you wake up, again. I swear,” he whispers into your hairline and you find yourself nodding into his palm.

Sleep sounds good - you're tired and achy. Your eyes are so heavy you couldn't possibly open them again. You are slumping back down into your pillow before you know it, thoughts slowly buzzing back into nothing.

The darkness takes you easily and you drift off without realizing Matt is practically clinging to you.

----

When you wake again, things make a little more sense. The hazy heavy fog is no longer covering your brain and you are more aware of what is happening around you before you open your eyes.

You can hear people walking around and talking outside your little room and everything smells disgustingly sterile. You can feel where IVs have been placed into your arm and the different monitors attached to your chest. You also know Matt is still clutching your hand and that motivates you to actually look around.

Your head is tilted to the right, stretching out the stiffness on the other side, and centered in your view is Matt. He's asleep, head tilted down with his chin nearly to his collarbone. He looks so peaceful with his chest slowly rising and falling and someone has draped a thin blanket around his shoulders, only adding to his gentleness. You can't see it, but you're sure his knees must be bumping against the bed with how close he is to you.

Your heart flutters in your chest. Had he stayed there this entire time? Has he let go of your hand at all?

You remember when you were in the hospital to give birth. You had been so lonely - no one had been there to hold your hand or keep watch over you. No one had visited you - though you had received flowers from your work friends.

Is this what it will be like now?

You want that desperately - to feel like you matter to someone, for someone to care about you and your well-being, to feel like you aren't always alone.

You squeeze his hand, and even though you feel absolutely horrible - hot and sweaty and like your head wants to fall off - you find yourself smiling at the sweet, handsome, lawyer who fathered your child.

You are so happy you forced yourself to tell him the truth.

You don't hear anything to your left but your heart rate monitor beeping, but your ear is also so clogged up not a lot of noise is getting through and you know it's throwing off your spatial awareness. It hurts to roll your head, but it eases your nerves to find you are alone with Matt in the exam room. However, you can't help the worry that bubbles in your stomach over the lack of your daughter.

You know she must be with Foggy. The hospital is probably an incredibly unpleasant place for her - you hate being here because of the smells and atmosphere and that must be amplified for her. You can't imagine all the awful things she might hear here - the sick and dying and the surgeries. You are grateful for Matt's best friend. You will have to find a way to thank him properly.

You force your gaze back to Matt and begin to slowly rub your thumb over his knuckles. He has so many scars there and you don't possibly know how he could have collected them all. He's told you before he practices boxing, but you don't think it is the bare knuckle kind. Maybe the punching bag can split skin - you have no idea about any of it beyond what you've seen in short viral videos.

You have toyed with the idea of asking about going to the gym with him. You think it would be a fun experience for Minnie and you're curious how fit you actually are. Your workouts consist of chasing a toddler around - star jumps, push ups, and weights are no longer in your repertoire and you haven't properly gone on a run since high school. Plus, Minnie has recently learned what a cartwheel is and you are sure she will want to learn to do one and a gym is a safe place for that.

You fall into a daydream about Matt teaching you and Mouse how to tumble, closing your eyes again as you do. You picture buying cute little leotards and watching your daughter perform a routine until there's movement under your hand.

Matt squeezes your fingers, and you open your eyes just in time to see him blink awake.

He gives you a sleepy smile, then with his free hand pulls his glasses out from somewhere under his blanket and puts them on. You watch him, taking in his crows feet before they disappear.

“How are you feeling?” He asks as he shrugs the blanket off his shoulders.

You take a moment to consider the answer. You honestly feel horrible, but you don't feel as horrible as you previously did. There are aches and pains but you feel human again, as opposed to the concept of one. So you squeeze his hand and respond, “Better. I didn't…I didn't think I was that sick.”

Matt hums and somehow scoots closer to the bed, then lifts your hand up to kiss the back of your hand. You feel your face heat up and your heart rate monitor beeps a little faster. “I'm glad, you gave us a good scare,” he says, keeping your hand against his lips.

You have to remind yourself he's a very touchy person to keep your heart rate from increasing even more. To help with that, you drop your gaze to his chest - he's wearing a Columbia sweatshirt that is far too big on him and hides his lean frame.

“What time is it?” His question throws you off at first, but then you realize there is a clock above the curtain entrance to the room.

It takes you a second to process, which you blame on the illness and not the fact you haven't used an analog clock in ages, “Almost 1:30. I'm…guessing that it is PM. I can't really tell.”

Matt nods and you guess he can tell whether it is day or night. You hope it is day - you'd feel so guilty if you'd been in the hospital longer than a few hours.

Behind your hand, a small smile appears on his face, “Minnie and Foggy are on their way back up. I think she heard - oh. Okay, yes, she heard you talking. She says she has a present for you.”

Your heart pangs for your daughter. You don't want her to see you like this, but you desperately need her in your arms. You try to push yourself up, but you don't know if you have the energy to keep yourself sitting.

“Do you know how the bed works?” You ask and Matt shakes his head. He reaches out and feels along the railings, but by his frown, you guess he can't figure it out. You doubt any of the button labels are in Braille.

“Let me get the nurse.”

He squeezes your hand once more before letting go. You tell yourself to ignore the strange feeling that envelopes you as he disappears behind the curtain separating you from everyone else.

You don't want to be alone again.

But you aren't - Matt is gone for barely thirty seconds before he's slipping back into the room, followed by a tired looking nurse. The woman comes up to your right side and you finally notice a little stand computer tucked by the bed. As she swipes her card key to unlock it, she looks at you, “How are you feeling?”

You decide to go with the same answer you gave Matt, “Better, ma’am.”

“Good, good,” she says as she types something. You go through the quick song and dance of confirming your name and birthdate, before she starts her questions, “Your pain on a scale of one to ten?”

You have to think about that - your head hurts but not nearly as much as it did last night and your body feels sore and groggy. You bite your lip before estimating, “About a four..?”

She adds that to your chart, “how about your ear? It should feel a bit clearer, you had a lot of fluid that drained out.”

That surprises you because you definitely do not remember that. You touch your ear and it feels far too warm and sensitive. You had no idea it was the problem, so you feel like you can't compare.

“I don't know. Full? It…hurts. Like it's…sore on the inside?” you feel like an idiot trying to explain, but you have no idea about ear anatomy.

The nurse hums, then turns to you, pulling a stethoscope out of her pocket, “I'm going to listen to your lungs. Take a deep breath.”

You do as you are told as she places the device on your back to listen. You repeat this a few times with her until she's satisfied and she goes to enter her findings in the computer.

“The doctor will be in shortly,” she tells you before leaning down to adjust your bed, so it can help you sit. You go from laying down to being propped up, “He will go over your discharge instructions.”

You're being discharged? You just woke up and haven't talked to anyone at all. The fact they are sending you away confuses you, “I'm being discharged?”

The nurse nods, not even looking at you as she locks the computer, “Yes. Do you feel you shouldn't be?”

You flush at the question and duck your head in shame. You know better than to question a doctor - if they think you should be discharged, you are fine. You force yourself to shrug and apologize, “No, I'm sorry, I just didn't expect it.”

The nurse simply gives you another hum before leaving to probably go tend to a patient that actually needs her. Almost instantly, Matt is back by your side, taking your hand. He kisses the meat of your thumb as he sits back in his chair.

“If you need to stay, you can stay,” he quietly advises.

You quickly shake your head, “No, it will be fine.” You huff a sad laugh, “It's not like I can afford this anyways.” You don't want to imagine the bill you are going to receive - being brought into the emergency room and given all kinds of medicine. You’ll have no more savings.

“Don't worry about it,” he quickly tells you, a frown clear on his face. “Focus on getting better. Taking care of yourself. We can tackle the bill later - there's plenty of work arounds.”

Guilt pools in your belly - you don't need Matt worrying about your money problems. You force yourself to nod at his words, simply so he'll not try to comfort you over this issue. You think he must be on to what you are doing because he squeezes your hand and starts to say something, but quickly cuts himself off. You don't understand why until a few moments later - the curtain closing off your room is pushed aside and Minnie barrels in, closely followed by Foggy.

You barely look at the blonde, instead pulling away from Matt to throw open your arms for your baby. The speed in which she manages to scale Matt and jump to you is impressive and you hug her to you like you're trying to absorb her. Your arm screams at you due to the fact you're trying to bend where your IVs are, but you don't care - and you don't care if your little angel is nearly strangling you with how tight she's hugging you.

“Don't ever get sick again!” She whines into your neck and you nod against her. You'll never get sick again - what you put her through for being sick will forever live in your mind.

“I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry, I didn't know I was sick.”

“It was scary!”

That absolutely breaks your heart and tears start to fall.

“I'm so sorry, Minnie,” you choke out as you try to hold her impossibly closer. The guilt you had regarding money transforms into guilt over being sick at all. How dare you put Minnie through this? You should have realized something was wrong. You repeatedly apologize into her hair, trying to keep yourself from sobbing while she clings to you.

You feel the bed dip and then Matt is pulling you both against his chest and pressing his lips to your crown, “Shhh, it's okay. It's okay.”

You try to shake your head because none of this is okay. You scared and upset your daughter and you've got a stupid ear infection that is going to bankrupt you. Nothing is okay.

“Do you want to show your Mommy what you got her to make her feel better?” Foggy asks Minnie after a minute of you being hysterical and shame courses through you as you are reminded someone else is there, watching you breakdown.

You are such a fucking mess.

However, Minnie pulls away from being squashed between you and Matt and jumps off the bed to go to the blonde. You finally notice, through teary tired eyes, that he has a decently sized gift bag. He sets it down on the ground and Mouse has to pick it up by its sides because it's too tall for her to hold by the handles.

As she tries to figure out how to get back on the bed, you realize Matt is still wrapped around you and you decide you are too tired to fight with your anxiety and guilt any longer. You want his comfort - so you lean more into his arms and he responds by nuzzling you. He begins running his hands over your arms and somehow, it begins to soothe away your upset.

You miss whatever exchange your daughter and Foggy have, but he lifts her up and places her and the gift bag on the bed and she hauls it over to you.

“We got you a present to get better,” she tells you and you know whatever it is, you'll cherish it.

There's no tissue blocking your view and you see something pink and white checkered that looks very soft. Before you can move to pull it out, Matt intervenes. He takes your wrist and gently stretches out your arm that has the IV in it, humming against you, “You have to keep your arm straight.”

You flush at the reminder, feeling like a complete idiot, and use only one hand to pull out the gift.

It is a massive blanket and it is so so soft. You want to bury yourself in it.

“Oh, Mouse, this will make me feel better. Thank you so so much,” you say as you reach out with your good arm to hug her again. She wastes no time tucking herself back between you and Matt.

“Blankies make everything better,” she advises wisely, “Froggy said so.”

You can't help but smile at that and hold your daughter even closer. You turn your attention to Foggy, who has just been an absolute saint for watching over your daughter, “Thank you so much, Foggy. For everything. I can't thank you enough.”

He scoffs and waves his hand, “it is my pleasure. This wasn't my first late night Murdock call, it won't be my last, and she is at least a pleasure to be around at three in the morning.”

You want to ask how they even knew you were sick, but you also don't want to know the details. You can only guess Minnie somehow called Matt and you aren't in a place to hear that conversation. The guilt and emotions would overwhelm you even more than you already are and you are so so tired of crying. So you hug your daughter even closer, so she's in your lap, and mumble another thank you.

Foggy takes a seat in one of the visitor chairs and asks, “has the doctor come yet to talk to you?” You very much appreciate his concern, but most importantly, his tact. You don't feel like he's judging or lying to you. He seems genuinely concerned.

You try to not shake your head at his question, since Matt is still holding you and it would just hurt your head more, and reply “Just the nurse. She said I'm getting discharged.”

The blonde huffs, leaning back in his seat to cross his arms, “Wow, they really do just turn and burn. Last time I was here, they pushed me through, too. American health care, right?” You hum in agreement - the health care system in America is very bad.

Foggy dives into a story about being in the hospital when he was a kid. It quickly catches Minnie’s attention and you realize this may be more for her benefit than anyone else's. You try to listen, but instead find yourself resting your head on Matt's shoulder and closing your eyes again.

You’ll just stay like this, your daughter in your lap and her father holding you against him, until the doctor comes.

If he takes his time getting to you, you don't think anyone is going to complain.

---

It takes another three hours for you to be fully discharged. You have to fill out a mass of paperwork before the doctor even speaks to you, but after he does, no time is wasted to clear you out of the needed exam room.

Any concerns you have about getting home are moot, as Foggy has everything covered. He has borrowed his girlfriend's car and procured a child's seat from his parents - who apparently have multiple due to their ‘hoard of grandchildren’. Minnie doesn't fuss at all, focused on being the best helper she can be by carrying your purse, which had apparently been brought in with you. Matt is insistent on helping you walk, which you are grateful for - standing makes you very dizzy and you have to focus to not stumble.

To your great surprise, Karen is waiting outside your building as Foggy pulls the car up. She's carrying a few shopping bags, and beside her is a grumpy looking man you vaguely recognize holding a very old fashion looking crockpot. It has an orange vintage flower pattern and you kind of want it.

No one says anything as you all climb out of the vehicle. Matt quickly gets himself under your shoulder and his arm around your waist while Minnie latches herself to your hand. You don't know if she thinks she's helping or if she's obeying your rule of hand-holding when outside.

You all awkwardly stand on the sidewalk and you watch as Foggy and the new man have a staring contest. You have no idea what is going on and kind of don't care, as you want to get up to your apartment. After a full minute, Foggy points to the man and declares, “you aren't coming to Thanksgiving,” before marching towards the door to the building. Matt, and thus you, follows after him and as you pass Karen, she snorts with laughter. She and the man fall in line behind you as you make your way to the stairs.

You just know that if you allowed him, Matt would pick you up and carry you up the three flights of stairs, but you refuse to let it happen. You are dizzy and far too warm, but also very stubborn and you determinedly take each step at a time, refusing to stop until you're on your floor. Only then do you resume leaning into his hold.

Foggy unlocks your door then ushers you all inside. Minnie lets go of your hand almost instantly, drops your purse, and runs to the bedroom. You guess she is going to grab Pig and Scooby to update them on everything. You make your way to your couch as Karen sets the groceries on the table and her grumpy friend finds a spot on the counter to plug in the crockpot.

As she unpacks, Karen narrates, “Okay, so I got you all the essentials - Gatorade, tea, saltines, ibuprofen, a compress, and I got you life savers to suck on because that helps when you want something to sweet but don't want to eat anything. I picked up your medicine, it's just ear drops. And of course, the most important thing,” you turn on the couch just in time to see her motion towards your kitchen, “Nelson Family Chicken Soup.”

You stare at the blonde with wide eyes and you feel like you are going to start crying again. No one has ever done this much for you before - not even your ex-boyfriends. Your last one wouldn't even pick up tampons for you, but Karen has clearly gone out of her way and you've only met her a handful of times. You have no idea how to thank her and Foggy for everything they have done for you. You are going to have to bake them a cake or something. As for Matt, you know you are never going to be able to repay him for the comfort and care he has given you in the last few hours.

You are so overwhelmed with love for this little group of friends who are letting you into their life.

“Thank you so much,” you say, meaning it with all of your heart, “you didn't have to do all of that. Thank you.”

Karen gives you a warm smile before waving you off, “Don't mention it. You'd do the same for any of us.”

You happily would and plan to take notes of what Karen bought, just in case. However, the soup is something that confuses you. Did Matt's best friend bring Minnie to his house to cook? You turn to Foggy, who is examining Minnie’s toy chest, and ask, “You made soup?”

The blonde man looks up with a laugh, “God, no, you don't want me cooking. That was all my mom. Her soup is a cure all.”

“It is,” Matt vouches from beside you. “It can cure almost anything. It got rid of my flu last year.”

“It saved countless Christmases,” Foggy adds.

“It also stops cramps,” Karen confirms.

You look to the man in the kitchen for his approval and he just shrugs, “Haven't had it, but it smells good.”

You have to cover your face at that point because it is all too much. Foggy's mother made you soup? How did she even know you were sick? Why did she do this for you - someone she's never met? Someone she has no connection to at all?

An arm wraps around your shoulder and you are pulled to lean against Matt. He nuzzles against you and whispers, “you aren't alone anymore. We're all here for you.”

You hide yourself against him and he starts to rub your back in a comforting manner. This is far too much for you. You don't know how to process all of it.

Luckily, a distraction from your patheticness comes in the form of your daughter.

You hear her come back into the living room and boldly ask the strange man in your kitchen, “Who are you?”

You try to listen since you are curious and you can feel that Matt has turned his head to pay attention to his daughter. You stay tucked against his shoulder, wishing you had your new big blanket to wrap yourself in.

“My name's Frank, what's yours, little lady?” The man says and you try to commit the name to memory. You wonder if he is Karen's boyfriend or something - you don't think he's been mentioned before.

“Minnie!” She declares, then, “This is Pig and Scooby. They like soup, too!” You guess she's held up her toys for him to see. She must be less nervous of the man since he is in your home.

There's a round of chuckles before Frank speaks again, “That right? How about we leave it to your Daddy to get you and your friends some soup and we let your Mommy get some rest?”

There's a few beats of silence before you hear Minnie again, “Okay. Bye-bye, Mister Frank.”

The man barks with laughter, which barely covers the pitter-patter of feet coming towards you, “Daddy, can we have soup for dinner, I'm hungry.”

“Of course, princess, I'll make you a bowl.”

The others must take that as a cue, because when you lift your head up, the three other adults are making their way back to your front door.

Karen lightly calls out your name to get your attention, and when she sees you looking at her, offers a soft smile, “Feel better soon, and let us know if you need anything.”

“Anything at all,” Foggy adds, “I'm more than happy to play babysitter. Parks are my specialty if the squirt needs to get out all that Murdock energy.”

“I'm not a squirt!” Mouse huffs and you can picture her puffing up her cheeks.

“I don't know, kid, you look like a squirt to me,” Frank tells her and she lets out a long ‘nooooo’ in response.

You smile against Matt at the little exchange - you can tell your daughter is extremely fond of Foggy and that makes your heart rest easy. She's never been so vocal around other adults before.

“Thank you, so much. I really, really mean it,” you tell the people who have come to your rescue.

“It is really not a problem, you're family, now,” Foggy tells you before directing himself towards Minnie, “Okay, squirt, can I get a high five?” The sound of a toddler running followed by a slap tells you she just did that. “Good girl! Now, help your Dad take care of your Mom and call me if he gives you any trouble, got it?”

“Got it, Froggy!”

Goodbyes are exchanged then it is just your little family left in your apartment. You finally allow yourself to pull away from Matt.

“You don't need to stay.”

His response is to raise his eyebrows at you, “You think I'm going to leave you alone while you're sick? You need to rest. I’ll take care of everything else. Minnie can finally show me her Scooby movie.”

You want to tell him ‘no’, that you have it handled and he should go get his own rest, but you know it's fruitless. You're learning Matt is committed to his role of being a father and there will be no way to convince him to go. He's a lawyer - he probably already has fifteen arguments ready for why he should stay.

So you give in and give a small nod, “Okay…”

He breaks into a big grin, like he expected you to push back and is happy you didn't, “Good. Are you feeling up to some soup?”

Your stomach turns at the idea of eating anything. You’d been given IV fluids at the hospital and managed a cup of water, but you do not want to eat. There is nothing actually wrong with your stomach - everything is centered on your ear - but that doesn't change the fact you'll probably not be able to keep anything down.

“No,” you tell him after a moment, then add, “I think I'm going to shower and go to bed.”

“Okay,” he hums, reaching up and oh so gently petting your cheek with the back of his fingers and making a shiver run up your spine, “Let me know if you need anything. You don't need to get up, if you just say anything, I'll hear it, okay?”

You don't like the idea of him being able to hear your sick gross body, but there is nothing you can do about it. You slowly push yourself up, careful to not get too dizzy, then start towards your bedroom. Behind you, Matt starts talking about soup and Scooby with Minnie.

Once you are alone in your room with the door closed, you break down. You sit on your bed, hide your face in a pillow, and just let out all of your tears. All your frustration, your shame, your guilt, your confusion, your tiredness, and your pain pours out of you. Your shoulders shake as you bite into the pillow to try and hide your sobs and you pray Matt realizes you need to be alone right now and distracts Minnie. You just need to get all of this out of you.

Your body is so exhausted you can only cry for a few minutes before you are completely drained. You feel slightly better emotionally, but your head is throbbing even more.

You desperately want to get clean and curl up now. You weakly toss your pillow back on the bed and force yourself up to gather something clean to change into. You place the new garments of the dresser, before going to the closet and pulling out a new sheet for your bed. You know you don't have the energy to strip it, but you don't want to sleep on your own filth. So, you push your blanket off, then lay the clean sheet over the dirty one.

Satisfied with your meager attempt, you grab your clothes, open the bedroom door, and shuffle to the bathroom.

You look like absolute shit and don't need your mirror to tell you that, so you try to not look at it. To help, you grab a towel and maneuver it to hang over your medicine box, then strip out of your soiled clothing.

You let your body go on autopilot to start the shower and as you wait for it to heat up, you wash your face and brush your teeth. That alone makes you feel cleaner. You take your hair out of its ponytail - you washed it on Saturday, so you aren't going to rewash it, but you'd like to wet your skull to remove some sweat.

You kick your dirty clothes into a corner, then check the spray. It feels nice and hot, but not scalding, and you step in.

Almost immediately, your vision goes spotty and it feels like your brain is floating in ice water. You have to reach out with both hands and lean on the wall so you don't tumble over and you shuffle to it to press your forehead to the cool tile.

Maybe a shower wasn't such a good idea after all, but you feel so sweaty and sticky and gross. If you just stand and let the water wash over you, maybe it will help and you won't have to let go of the wall. Or you can just sit on the floor, but with how you are feeling that runs the risk of you not being able to get back up.

A knock on the door startles you and you have to push more against the tile to keep yourself upright.

You close your eyes tightly.

You think it must be Minnie. She's come to go potty when you've been in the shower before and you don't think she went before you left the hospital. You take a deep breath and center yourself before calling out, “Come in.”

The door opens and closes and the voice that speaks isn't Minnie.

“Are you okay?”

You shake your head because you are very much not okay in any sense of the word. You don't know how to put that into words or even if you want to. You don't want to go on the emotional rollercoaster again - you're so tired. You just want to get clean and go back to sleep.

You don't mean to space out, but you do. There's just so much going on and your body decides to only focus on remaining upright. So when hands smooth over your waist, you nearly scream. You know it's Matt, but it still scares you.

Why is he in the shower with you?

You try to turn around to question him, but his hands tighten around you, keeping you in place.

“Let me help you.”

The words shake your core. Your heart begins to pound in your chest and you know, if you had any tears left in you, they would be falling. Why is he doing this? Why is he here, asking to help you? Why is he pushing for it?

You feel him step even closer to you and his chest brushes against your back. He breathes your name into your ear, then repeats, “Let me help you, please.”

You try to shake your head and choke out, “You should be with Minnie.” Minnie needs him, she needs his help, not you. He is here to help watch over her, he even said so himself.

His nose bumps against your ear and you feel like your knees are going to give out. Why is he doing this?

“She's trying to give soup to her toys and watching her shows. She doesn't need me right now. You do. Let me help you.”

You push your hands firmer against the tile to keep your balance.

Matt has been with you all day, holding your hand and keeping you upright until you left his arms to go take a shower. You haven't asked this of him - he's been with you of his own free will. He's been so gentle with you, so caring, so comforting.

His hands move from your waist around to your stomach and slowly up to your sternum and very gently pulls you flush against his chest. He feels so firm, so steady, holding you up.

Do you really want to push him away? Do you really want to send him back to watch Minnie?

You can barely keep yourself standing. You're so dizzy. It feels like at any moment your body is going to give out and you'll collapse.

It feels nice to be held.

It feels nice that he is here for you, for whatever motivation he has.

You think of your daughter. How scary this must be for her and how terrifying it would be for her if you fainted in the shower after everything that has happened.

That must be why Matt is here with you. He's far more in tune with your body and you know that means Minnie is too.

He's trying to keep her safe by keeping you safe.

You need to think of Minnie, not yourself.

Matt whispers your name again and you drop your hand from the tile and place it over Matt's.

“Okay…” you whisper. “Okay.”

Lips brush your shoulder and his hands move to be at your ribs and there's a gentle pressure, silently asking you to turn. You take a steadying breath and start to rotate, slow as can be.

You can't look at him in the face. Despite everything, shame burns deep inside of you. You've always been able to do things yourself - you've always had to. Even if it feels good to have the help, to know Matt is going to catch you if you fall, the voice that lives inside you hisses that you're being weak. Pathetic.

You force your eyes open and the first thing you see are the scars going across his chest.

He has been through so much you don't even know about, just like you have been through things you haven't told him about, and to make this work, to make raising your daughter work, you have to trust each other. You have to trust Matt and he needs to trust you.

You slowly reach up and place your hand half over the scar on his right pec, then, to prove to yourself that you mean the beliefs in your head, you lean in and press your lips to the other side of the scar.

He inhales sharply and you feel like, for some reason, you made the right move.

Neither of you move for a minute, then Matt gently presses against you and guides you back into the spray of the shower.

It feels so good against your hot sticky skin and you find yourself letting yourself lean more into Matt and you give in to your desires and let your head fall against his shoulder, closing your eyes as you do.

You feel him reach behind you to the shower caddy and you are happy you have been using bar soap, so you don't have to explain what is what to Matt. He lathers up his hands, then begins to wash you. He starts with your back and you decide to just zone out. You can't debate anymore, you can't let your mind go crazy - you're too tired, too sick to deal with much more.

Matt's hands slowly work over your back and sides. They dip down to your bottom and even though he's touching somewhere intimate, it doesn't feel lewd.

After your back has been washed, he tilts his head just slightly and his nose brushes the shell of your ear and he breathes into it, “turn around so I can get your front.”

It takes a few moments, but you do as you are told, and then you are leaning back against Matt's chest, head once again resting on his shoulder, just the opposite one this time. Your nose is a hair's breadth away from his jaw.

He relathers his hands, then starts on your stomach. He's so methodical about it and it feels almost hedonistic. You're not going to deny it feels good, but you know it's not in any way sexual or wanting. You just haven't been touched in so long, so anything will feel good.

He avoids your nipples when he runs his hands over and under your breasts and he doesn't linger, moving up to your shoulders, then down your arms. When he gets to your hands, he laces your fingers together.

“Do you want your hair done?” He quietly asks and you just barely shake your head.

“Just want to get it wet,” you mumble into his throat.

He hums in response and squeezes your hands, “‘m gonna need to turn you around again to do that and to get your legs.”

He keeps your hands in his and, to your great surprise, turns you slowly around like you are dancing, one arm over your head and another around your back. When you're facing the right way again, you open your eyes to see Matt smiling at you with the softest look.

In your chest, your heart clenches.

No one has ever looked at you like that before. No one. No one has ever treated you the way he has.

You don't think you care if it is because you are the mother of his child. Matt is a truly good and loving person and you want to bask in it, at least for now.

You let go of one of his hands and cup his jaw. He presses into it, closing his eyes and it's like you can feel any tension he might have in him melt away. You stay like that for a few seconds before he turns his head just slightly to nuzzle into your palm, then he lets go of you to drag his fingers through your hair. He makes sure to get your roots wet, but doesn't soak your hair. His nails dig slightly into your scalp and you try to not moan at how nice it feels.

“Hold onto my shoulders,” he directs you and you do as you are told. Only when you have a secure hold on him does he kneel down and begin to run his hands over your legs. He starts high on one thigh and works his way down to your foot, then repeats the process on the opposite leg.

You can't help but look down at him, watching as he delicately washes you. There's this deep urge in your belly, right above your core, to tangle your hands into his hair. A memory from your night together, all those years ago, flashes through your mind.

He had backed you against a wall and gotten on his knees to push your dress up and your panties down. Your thigh had been draped over his shoulder and he had eaten you out like a starving man before taking you to bed and making you cum two more times on his tongue.

You quickly banish the thoughts because not only do you know it's not the time for that, but that it was a one night stand between strangers. You don't want to make things any more awkward by Matt realizing he's having such an effect on your body, even if you don't intend for it.

You tell yourself to think of the pajamas you've picked out to wear instead - a nice, soft, baggy shirt and your favorite biker shorts. You picture the amazing blanket your daughter got you and how nice it will be to curl up in it and sleep.

You want that more than anything right now. You want to just sleep.

You focus on that until Matt is back in front of you and turning off the water.

“All done,” he whispers and you repeat the words back to him.

He helps you out of the shower and gets you wrapped in a towel before starting to dry himself off. You don't allow yourself to admire his body and focus on getting the water droplets off of your body and out of your hair.

Once you are no longer dripping, you bundle your hair back into a ponytail and pull on your clean clothes.

The little change makes you feel so much better. You always forget how just being clean can change your mood so drastically.

“Thank you,” you whisper once you are dressed. “Thank you so much, Matt.”

You turn to finally look at him, and he has redressed in just his boxers and oversized sweater. He steps towards you and cups your jaw, smoothing his thumb over your cheeks, “You don't have to thank me. I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you. You just have to let me in, okay? Please let me in.”

You close your eyes at his words and nod.

You can't promise you will let him in fully, but after everything he's shown you in such a short time, you think you can try. You can try to let Matt in.

“Okay.”

He lets you go with a small, sweet, and soft smile then cocks his head slightly to the right, “Let's get you to bed, I think someone has decided they want to join you for a nap.”

Joy swells in your heart and belly at the idea of cuddling with your daughter. You want to wrap her up and hold her and let her feel loved and protected. You know now how nice it is and words tumble from your lips without you meaning them to, “you should come too.”

His eyes go wide at the offer before that small sweet smile morphs into a boyish grin, “I would like that. I would like that a lot.”

a/n: Matt would not stop smooching. I could not hold him back from smooching.

tag list:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife

@petrovafire39 @allllium

@anehkael

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare

@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium

two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04 @ astridstark13

@lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday

@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #and then i met you

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burntheedges · 5 months

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Maintenance Request

main post & chapter list | 18+ (minors DNI) | ao3 word count: 80k+

Joel Miller x f!reader | new chapter every Friday

summary: Hot Construction Guy is the bane of your existence - he seems to only pop up at the worst possible moment for you, every time you see him.

There’s no way there could be something more there.

Right?

full fic tags/warnings: academia AU, modern AU, one-sided enemies-to-lovers, no outbreak, live music, fluff, banter, everyone is alive, misunderstandings, ex boyfriend who was manipulative and a jerk (only mentioned), no use of y/n, pet names (darlin, gorgeous, honey, baby, sweetheart), later: smut, kissing, grinding, frottage, p in v sex, oral sex (f! and m!receiving), creampie, somnophilia, phone sex, semi-public sex; each chapter will have its own tags a/n: this fic is completely finished! It was my 2023 NaNo project. I’ll post a new chapter every Friday. There are 23 chapters and an epilogue. There is eventually quite a bit of smut, but it’s going to take us a little while to get there. Mind the tags (for the whole fic above and for each chapter). That “one-sided enemies-to-lovers” tag was the motivation for the whole fic — what if only one of you thinks you’re enemies? And here we are. Chapters with smut are marked with *. The dates in each chapter are from a fictional fall semester, 2024. Shoutout to @fanatictypist for reading this and encouraging me 💕 and to the PPCU server. note about reader: in this fic you’re a college professor, vaguely of English literature and poetry. You like live music, you like to read, and Ellie is your niece. You have a best friend named Beth, a sister who is having a rough time, and a difficult mother. I’ve avoided physical descriptions and most clothing descriptions, except when plot-relevant. You are vaguely shorter than Joel. No age is specified, but I imagined 36-year-old Joel here (and 14-year-old Sarah), and most English PhDs wouldn’t get to this type of position until they were 28 or 29 at the earliest, even if they went to grad school right out of undergrad. So you can imagine reader any age from there to mid-30s, or whatever you want, really.

This fic is (almost) totally finished! A new chapter will be posted every Friday. Let me know if you want to be on the tag list! * = chapter contains smut

Chapter List

Chapter 1 | 2.4k Wednesday, September 4, second week of the semester

Chapter 2 | 2.4k | preview Friday, September 6, second week of the semester

Chapter 3 | 2.4k | preview Monday, September 16, fourth week of the semester, Friday, September 20, fourth week of the semester

Chapter 4 | 1.8k | preview Interlude

Chapter 5 | 3.4k | preview Friday, September 27, fifth week of the semester Saturday, September 28, fifth week of the semester Monday, September 30, sixth week of the semester

Chapter 6 | 2.1k | preview Wednesday, October 2, sixth week of the semester

Chapter 7 | 2.4k | preview Wednesday, October 9, seventh week of the semester

Chapter 8 | 2.7k | preview Monday, October 14, eighth week of the semester

Chapter 9 | 3.4k | preview Tuesday, October 15, eighth week of the semester Thursday, October 17, eighth week of the semester Friday, October 18, eighth week of the semester Saturday, October 19, eighth week of the semester

Chapter 10 | 5k | preview Monday, October 21, ninth week of the semester

Chapter 11 | 2.4k| preview Tuesday, October 22, ninth week of the semester Thursday, October 24, ninth week of the semester Friday, October 25, ninth week of the semester

Chapter 12 | 8.1k | preview * Friday, October 25, ninth week of the semester

Chapter 13 | 9.3k | preview * Friday, October 25 (still), ninth week of the semester

Chapter 14 | 3.9k | preview Friday, October 25 (still), ninth week of the semester Saturday, October 26, ninth week of the semester

Chapter 15 | 3.6k | preview Saturday, October 26, ninth week of the semester Sunday, October 27, ninth week of the semester

Chapter 16 | 5.8k | preview Tuesday, October 29, tenth week of the semester Friday, November 1, tenth week of the semester

Chapter 17 | 3.2k | preview * Saturday, November 2, tenth week of the semester Sunday, November 3, tenth week of the semester

Chapter 18 | 3.3k | preview * Monday, November 4, eleventh week of the semester

Chapter 19 | 7.6k | preview * Saturday, November 9, eleventh week of the semesterSunday, November 10, eleventh week of the semester

Chapter 20 | 3.3k | preview

Chapter 21 | coming 5/3 | preview *

Chapter 22 | 5/10

Chapter 23 | 5/17

Epilogue | 5/24

…

Moodboards

@sawymredfox made this moodboard and it’s amazing 😩 please go look at it 💕

@djarins-cyare made this wonderful moodboard, I love it so much -- please go look at it! 🧡💚

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fic #my fic #maintenance request fic #x reader #joel miller smut

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not-wholly-unheroic · 1 year

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50 Random Character Asks:

1. Canon I outright reject

2. A canon or headcanon hill I will die on

3. Obscure headcanon

4. Favorite line

5. Best personality trait

6. Worst personality trait

7. Age/height/weight headcanon

8. Unpopular opinion about them

9. Scene that first made me love (or hate) the character

10. Best moment on screen (or in the book)

11. Faceclaim for the role

12. Crack headcanon

13. Dumbest thing they’ve ever done

14. Most heroic moment

15. Worst thing they’ve ever done

16. Deepest darkest secret they won’t even admit to themselves

17. Quotes, songs, poems, etc. that I associate with them

18. What they’d go to see a therapist about

19. Vices/bad habits

20. Scars

21. Drink of choice (not just alcoholic)

22. Best physical feature

23. If they were a scented candle, what would they smell like?

24. Most annoying habit

25. 3 things they’d want to take with them if they were dropped off in the middle of nowhere

26. What they would do if stuck in an elevator with [insert character of your choice from the same fandom]

27. Their guilty pleasure

28. How they feel about [insert character of your choice from the same fandom]

29. Eating habits

30. Sleeping habits

31. If the had a tumblr what would it look like?

32. Something guaranteed to make them smile/laugh

33. Something guaranteed to make them cry

34. How they react when they are feeling X emotion (sad, angry, excited, scared, etc.—can specify as many as you like)

35. Their idea of a perfect day

36. Their favorite season

37. What they really think about themselves

38. Favorite holiday

39. Favorite game

40. Favorite book

41. If they could have lunch with anyone in the world (living or dead, from any fictional universe or the real world), who would it be?

42. 3 comfort items

43. 3 favorite foods and 3 they despise

44. Their happiest memory

45. Their favorite celebrity

46. The person they most admire

47. Their dream job

48. Scariest moment of their life

49. Favorite toy as a child

50. A memory they’ve blocked out

#ask me about the boy!!!#but also you can ask about anyone from the fandom #ask meme #character asks #character ask meme #asks #fandom asks #fandom ask meme #get to know the muse #muse asks #muse memes

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oceansmotion · 2 months

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Aoife's Maxis Match Face Templates UPDATED.

Now less gendered, more consistent between ages, and with baby faces! More info and a bunch of pictures below.

Finally, after months, I have finished these. A long time ago now, I'd made my original templates but didn't really pay any mind to how gendered faces really are, and how inconsistent they are between each age. I love the Maxis faces, I just wanted them to look a little less lumpy, and to replace ones that I felt were redundant. Basically, I hated that with any given template, I couldn't really tell what a sim was going to look like as an adult because every face looked different at each stage!

So today I bring to you my less gendered Maxis Match templates, where I have chosen which face I felt was more iconic and matched the other gender with it, and then made every age look more like that template (including baby faces).

Martin Ruben can be a good example:

Yeah, sure, the eyes are the same, but that's pretty much where the likeness ends. A lot of the templates will do this, and some of the female faces suffered for it (jaws were outlawed on females in 2004, didn't you know?)

They aren't perfect but they're miles better than the originals! I also think they bring a lot more variety to faces, because I did notice that a lot of the templates would use face parts from entirely different templates! Face 2's eyes and face 1's nose are really popular, as well as yeeting jaws and chins out the window.

Faces 1 - 4

Faces 5 - 8

Faces 9 - 12

Faces 13 - 16

Faces 17 - 20

Faces 21 - 24

Faces 25 - 27

An example between AF and TF

and the same face as a child and toddler.

If you noticed in some of the pictures, the ears clipped through a few hairs, and that's because I also took the liberty of adding custom ear shapes to almost every face. No, it didn't occur to me to change the hairstyle I picked for photos until I was already on face 18 and didn't want to start over.

These aren't perfect, and maybe someday I'll go over them again to change more minute details, but for now, I'm very happy with how they turned out! Please let me know if there are any issues, I triple checked everything but I probably missed something somewhere.

Download || Mediafire Box

Credits: Meowingcookie on MTS for their baby face templates. I pretty much just used their baby faces with some tweaks to better match my changes.

@withlovefromsimtown for giving me the idea in the first place. I love their faces!

#sims 2 #sims 2 download #oceansmotion #the sims 2 #sims 2 face templates #s2 face templates #sims 2 defaults #sims 2 default replacement #s2 default replacements #s2 defaults #sims 2 maxis match #s2 maxis match #s2: defaults #s2: face templates

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nanaminokanojo · 1 month

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BAD NEWS | CHAPTER INDEX/PROLOGUE (Ongoing)

-just when you thought you were over your humongous crush on your older brother’s best friend, geto suguru, you couldn’t be more dead wrong, and maybe there isn’t really anything holding you back from acting on it now that you’re all grown up…except satoru doesn’t like suguru for you because he knows his kind all too well: a huge ass playboy who breaks hearts like he changes socks. but you think. MAYBE you’ll be the exception...maybe not.

TW/CW: strong/mature language | adult content so mdni on some parts; just skip them. you’re not missing much | mentions of alcohol, drugs | mentions of cheating, promiscuity, mild dubcon (consent >>>), etc. | again, god-awful pet names i’d cringe at if a 3d person says it | toxic behavior | will add more if something arises

AKI’S NOTES: I would like to express my sincerest thanks to everyone who loved and supported “Thawing Ice Queen” as well as those who participated in the poll on which smau I’m going to write next. So, this is what won in said poll, and I hope it gets as much as love as TIQ if not more. Reblogs and likes are very much appreciated, and I actively respond to comments as well as Asks. Also, if you’re interested, I will include you in the tag list. Just message me through whatever avenue you’re most comfortable with. Happy reading!

ADDITIONAL NOTES: i will be using pics and other media which would fit situations and make the smau-ness of this piece a little more realistic and entertaining when i believe it’s appropriate/fitting to the plot (as i've done with TIQ). having said that, with regard to inclusivity, i just want to put it out there that they will not necessarily be aimed as the exact descriptions to fit a supposedly generic reader nor will they be representative of a specific race or color (even if you’re/the reader is gojo’s sister here). it’s all for the simple fact of media availability, for funsies and the fact that i don’t exclusively write in consideration of those aspects when using reader-insert characters unless i specify it. thank you for understanding.

MASTERLIST

CHAPTERS: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30

PHOTOS/IMAGES/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS GO TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

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pikahlua · 19 days

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MHA Chapter 420 spoilers translations

This week’s initial tentative super rough/literal translations under the cut.

tagline 1 No.420　相澤くんから　堀越耕平ナンバー420　あいざわくんから　ほりこしこうへい NANBAA 420 Aizawa-kun kara Horikoshi Kouhei No. 420 From Aizawa-kun Kouhei Horikoshi

1 起きろ‼︎ おきろ‼︎ okiro!! "Wake up!!"

tagline 2 黒霧に飛ばされたマイクと相澤… くろぎりにとばされたマイクとあいざわ… Kurogiri ni tobasareta MAIKU to Aizawa... Mic and Aizawa, who were sent away by Kurogiri...

2 どこだよここは‼︎ doko da yo koko wa!! "Where is this place!!"

3 通信がきかねえ… つうしんがきかねえ… tsuushin ga kikanee... "We can't hear any transmissions..."

4 状況もわかんねえ…くそ‼︎ じょうきょうもわかんねえ…くそ‼︎ joukyou mo wakannee...kuso!! "And we don't know the situation...shit!!"

5 俺はおれは ore wa I am

6 死柄木弔をしがらきとむらを Shigaraki Tomura wo Tomura Shigaraki's

7 守る者まもるもの mamoru mono protector.

8 調子良くブッ壊れやがって‼︎ ちょうしよくブッこわれやがって‼︎ choushi yoku BUkkoware yagatte!! "Things were going well and then you had to go and break!!"

9 動けよこのヤロウうごけよこのヤロウ ugoke yo kono YAROU "Move, you bastard!"

tagline 3 コミックス40巻発売中‼︎今スグGETしよう‼︎マストバイ‼︎ コミックス40かんはつばいちゅう‼︎いまスグゲットしよう‼︎マストバイ‼︎ KOMIKKUSU 40kan hatsubai-chuu!! ima SUGU GETTO shiyou!! MASUTO BAI!! Volume 40 of the comics now on sale!! Let's get get it now!! Must buy!!

10 白雲じゃないなら思い出のまま消えてくれしろくもじゃないならおもいでのままきえてくれ Shirokumo ja nai nara omoide no mama kietekure If you’re not Shirakumo, please remain a memory and disappear.

11 こんなものに命運を委ねるんじゃなかった！こんなものにめいうんをゆだねるんじゃなかった！ konna mono ni meiun wo yudanerunja nakatta! "[We] shouldn't have entrusted our fate to something* like this!" (*Note: The word in Japanese here is ambiguous if it's meant to read as "something" or "someone.")

12 こんな屍体に縋るんじゃなかった‼︎ こんなしたいにすがるんじゃなかった‼︎ konna shitai ni sugarunja nakatta!! "[We] shouldn't have clung to a corpse like this one!!"

1 泣いてるないてる naiteru "Crying..."

2 泣いてねーよ男の子だぞ俺あ!!! ないてねーよおとこのこだぞおれあ!!! naitenee yo otoko no ko da zo orea!!! "I'm not crying, I'm a boy!!!"

3 違うちがう chigau "Not [you]."

4 黒霧が… こいつが… koitsu (kanji: Kurogiri) ga... "This guy (read as: Kurogiri) is..."

5 雨だ‼︎涙腺なんざねェよ！あめだ‼︎るいせんなんざねェよ！ ame da!! ruisen nanza neE yo! "It's rain!! He's got no tear ducts!"

6 こいつは脳無だ！二度も死柄木をハメた相澤が邪魔だから排除した！こいつはのうむだ！にどもしがらきをハメたおまえがじゃまだからはいじょした！ koitsu wa noumu da! nido mo Shigaraki wo HAMEta omae (kanji: Aizawa) ga jama da kara haijo shita! "This guy's a nomu! You set Shigaraki up twice, Aizawa, so he removed you because you were a hindrance!"

7 今考えるべきはいまかんがえるべきは ima kangaeru beki wa "What we should be thinking about now"

8 こいつを起動して俺らを戦線に戻させる事だこいつをきどうしておれらをせんせんにもどさせることだ koitsu wo kidou shite orera wo sensen ni modosaseru koto da "is activating this guy and returning to the front lines."

9 そんでその後すぐそんでそのあとすぐ son de sono ato sugu "Then immediately after that

10 もう動かねーようブッ壊す事だもううごかねーようブッこわすことだ mou ugokanee you BUkkowasu koto da "let's break [it]* so [it] won't move anymore." (*Note: He means they should break Kurogiri.)

11 相澤あいざわ Aizawa "Aizawa,"

12 こいつは黒い鹵獲品だこいつはくろいろかくひんだ koitsu wa kuroi rokakuhin da Literal. "This guy is our black spoils." Contextual. "This guy is our stolen black chess piece." (Note: This is hard to make sound decent in English. Mic is saying that Kurogiri is like their plunder or spoilers or stolen treasure that is the color black, which is a pun on the "kuro" (which means black) in Kurogiri's name. This pun will continue on the next page. The best corollary I could think of in English to keep up that pun is a stolen piece won in a chess game that is the color black.)

13 タルタロスの"奇跡"は忘れた方がいいーんだよ…！タルタロスの"きせき"はわすれたほうがいいーんだよ…！ TARUTAROSU no "kiseki" wa wasureta hou ga ii-inda yo...! "It's best that we forget about that miracle at Tartarus...!"

14 31だよ 31 da yo "We're 31." (Note: He means their ages.)

15 いつまでも雄英2年A組じゃねぇんだよ… いつまでもゆうえい2ねんエーぐみじゃねぇんだよ… itsu made mo yuuei 2nen EE-gumi ja neenda yo... "We haven't been Class 2-A students of UA for a long time..."

1 …でもこいつは ...demo koitsu wa "...But this guy"

2 雄英生のまま死んだゆうえいせいのまましんだ yuuei-sei no mama shinda "died as a UA student."

3 俺ガッおれガッ ore GA I

4 守…違う……シガラキ… まも…ちがう……シガラキ… mamo...chigau......SHIGARAKI... protect...no......Shigaraki...

5 何故俺たちをねじ切らなかった？なぜおれたちをねじきらなかった？ naze oretachi wo nejikiranakatta? "Why didn't he cut us off?" (Note: I think he's asking why didn't Kurogiri cut them in half like he planned to do to All Might at the USJ by "turning off the portal" while All Might was halfway through it.)

6 つき落とさなかった？つきおとさなかった？ tsukiotosanakatta? "Weren't we pushed off?" (Note: He's asking why didn't Kurogiri kill them when they had been pushed off the edge of the little island on UA.)

7 …う ...u "...U"

8 誰…ドコ… だれ…ドコ… dare...DOKO... Who...where...

9 …シ…友ダ…チ… …シ…ともダ…チ… ...SHI...tomoDA...CHI... ...Shi-...frie...nd...

10 あの日俺たちはタルタロスで白の栓を引き抜いた… あのひおれたちはタルタロスでしろのせんをひきぬいた… ano hi oretachi wa TARUTAROSU de shiro no sen wo hikinuita... Literal. "That day, we pulled out the plug of white at Tartarus..." Contextual. "That day, we released a bit of a white stream inside him at Tartarus..." (Note: Like I said, this pun really does not work well in English lol. He's saying they unleashed a little stream of Shirakumo inside him that's trickling into the river that is Kurogiri. The use of the color white is a pun on the "Shira/Shiro" (which means white) in Shirakumo's name.)

11 そして混ざって壊れた…黒にどれだけ白をそそいでも真っ白にはならないそしてまざってこわれた…くろにどれだけしろをそそいでもまっしろにはならない soshite mazatte kowareta...kuro ni dore dake shiro wo sosoidemo masshiro ni wa naranai "Then it got mixed in, and he broke... No matter how much white you pour into black, it won't become pure white."

12 だが黒は逆で… だがくろはぎゃくで… daga kuro wa gyaku de... "But for black it's vice versa..."

13 だから再び動いただからふたたびうごいた dakara futatabi ugoita "That's why he moved again."

14 …わかってるよ山田… …わかってるよやまだ… ...wakatteru yo Yamada... "...I get it, Yamada..."

15 俺たちはヒーロー科の教師だおれたちはヒーローかのきょうしだ oretachi wa HIIROO-ka no kyoushi da "We are teachers in the hero department."

16 雄英生を卒業まで送り届けるゆうえいせいをそつぎょうまでおくりとどける yuuei-sei wo sotsugyou made okuri todokeru "We will deliver UA students to [their] graduation."

1 そこに soko ni "To there,"

2 原点があるのならげんてんがあるのなら genten ga aru no nara "so long as they have their origins." (Note: By origins, he means the word "origin" we've heard about a lot, especially in this arc, where one gains more strength by keeping their origin in their heart, etc.)

3 ャヤマ……ダ…… YA-YAMA......DA...... "Ya-Yama-......da......"

4 思い出が……… おもいでが……… omoide ga......... "The memories........."

1 消えてくれねえよ………！きえてくれねえよ………！ kiete kurenee yo.........! "won't disappear.........!" (Note: This is Mic referring back to his previous line where he asked for Shirakumo to remain a memory and disappear that way. He's saying Shirakumo is being stubborn and sticking around, basically.)

2 塚内さん‼︎ つかうちさん‼︎ Tsukauchi-san!! "Mr. Tsukauchi!!"

3 イレイザー！無事だったのか‼︎今までどこにイレイザー！ぶじだったのか‼︎いままでどこに IREIZAA! buji datta no ka!! ima made doko ni "Eraser! Are you all right!! Where have you been until now?"

4 物間は動けますか？ものまはうごけますか？ Monoma wa ugokemasu ka? "Can Monoma move?"

5 彼は頭を強く打って緊急搬送中だかれはあたまをつよくうってきんきゅうはんそうちゅうだ kare wa atama wo tsuyoku utte kinkyuu hansou-chuu da "He hit his head hard and is currently in emergency transport."

6 では各地戦況と稼働可能人員ではかくちせんきょうとかどうかのうじんいん de wa kakuchi senkyou to kadou kanou jin'in "Then, the various battlefields and any available personnel--"

7 その座標を教えて下さいそのざひょうをおしえてください sono zahyou wo oshiete kudasai "please tell me their coordinates."

8 座標…⁇ ざひょう…⁇ zahyou...? "Coordinates...?"

9 ーー…！じゃあ… --...! jaa... "--...! Then..."

10 ええ ee "Yes."

1 イレイザーヘッド！ドウシテココニ！ IREIZAA HEDDO! DOUSHITE KOKO NI! "Eraser Head! Why are you here!"

2 "黒霧"を使えるようになりました "くろぎり"をつかえるようになりました "Kurogiri" wo tsukaeru you ni narimashita "We can now use Kurogiri."

3 敷地外にマイクと待機していますしきちがいにマイクとたいきしています shikichi-gai ni MAIKU to taiki shite imasu "I'm on stand-by with Mic outside the premises."

4 避難警護にあたっているヒーロー防衛特化を残して集めて下さいひなんけいごにあたっているヒーローぼうえいとっかをのこしてあつめてください hinan keigo ni atatte iru HIIROO bouei tokka wo nokoshite atsumete kudasai "Heroes guarding the evacuations, please set aside defense and gather."

5 黒霧ヲ⁉︎ くろぎりヲ⁉︎ Kurogiri WO!? "Kurogiri!?"

6 手綱ハ握レナイト… たづなハにぎレナイト… tadzuna WA nigiRENAI TO... "If you can't keep a hold on the reins..."

7 どれくらい保つかわかりませんどれくらいもつかわかりません dore kurai motsu ka wakarimasen "I don't know how long he will last."

8 早急に！そうきゅうに！ soukyuu ni! "Urgently!"

1 すぐ戦線に行けるのか…⁉︎ すぐせんせんにいけるのか…⁉︎ sugu sensen ni ikeru no ka...!? "We can go to the front lines right away...!?"

2 なら俺も…！行かせてくれ…！ならおれも…！いかせてくれ…！ nara ore mo...! ikasetekure...! "If so, then me, too...! Let me go, please...!"

3 俺も…‼︎無名だけど… おれも…‼︎むめいだけど… ore mo...!! mumei dakedo... "Me, too...! I'm anonymous, but..." (Note: He may mean he has no name (i.e. hero name) instead of that he's anonymous, I don't know. I'm not familiar with Horikoshi's Barrage manga, which this character is supposedly from.)

4 ヒーローなんだ！ HIIROO nanda! "I'm a hero!"

5 一緒に戦わせてくれ！いっしょにたたかわせてくれ！ issho ni tatakawasetekure! "Let me fight with you!"

6 正門前へせいもんまえへ seimon mae e "[You were the one] in front of the main gate."

7 これ…‼︎ kore...!! "This...!!"

8 怪我したヒーローに…！渡せねえか…？けがしたヒーローに…！わたせねえか…？ kega shita HIIROO ni...! watasenee ka...? "To an injured hero...! Could you pass this on to one...?"

9 ーーありがとう………！ --arigatou.........! "--Thank you.........!"

1 戦いは既にほぼ制圧完了している！たたかいはすでにほぼせいあつかんりょうしている！ tatakai wa sude ni hobo seiatsu kanryou shite iru! "As for the battle, suppression [of the villains] has already almost been completed!"

2 今各地で継戦可能な者をあたっている！いまかくちでけいせんかのうなものをあたっている！ ima kakuchi de keisen kanou na mono wo atatte iru! "Now we are looking for people in various places who can continue to fight!"

3 残すところは国立多古場競技場ーーー… のこすところはこくりつたこばきょうぎじょうーーー… nokosu tokoro wa kokuritsu takoba kyougijou---... "The only remaining place is the Takoba National Stadium---..."

4 面制圧と長持久戦で犯罪史に名を残すダツゴクめんせいあつとちょうじきゅうせんではんざいしになをのこすダツゴク men seiatsu to chouji kyuusen de hansaishi ni na wo nokosu DATSUGOKU "The jailbreaker who leaves his name in the history of criminals when it comes to surface control and long endurance battles."

5 嬰兒樹ギャシュリーえいじじゅギャシュリー eiji-ju GYASHURII "Baby Tree Gashly." (Note: I am horrifyingly confident in this translation. Via some WILD search engine shenaningans, @bakuhatsufallinlove (yes I'm tagging you here to immortalize this ABSOLUTELY WILD RIDE) and I discovered that this villain's name is a combination of titles of the children's books The Baby Tree by Sophie Blackall, a book about where babies come from, and The Gashlycrumb Tinies: or, After the Outing by Edward Gorey, a gothic alphabet book in which all the named children die untimely, grisly deaths. Horikoshi, WHY? DID YOU BUY THESE BOOKS FOR YOUR NEPHEW OR SOMETHING?)

1 アッヒャアーーーー!!! AHHYAA----!!! "Ah-hyah----!!!"

2 助けに来たよおおお‼︎ たすけにきたよおおお‼︎ tasuke ni kita yoooo!! "We've come to heeelp!!"

3 そして soshite "And then..."

4 分断作戦ぶんだんさくせん bundan sakusen "Division operation"

5 フェーズ３ FEEZU 3 "Phase 3."

1 奪われにきたかうばわれにきたか ubaware ni kita ka "Did you come to [have your quirks] stolen?"

2 先生…！せんせい…！ sensei...! "Teacher...!"

3 動いたらだめだうごいたらだめだ ugoitara dame da "Don't move."

4 ーー…腕ーー…うで --...ude "--...Your arms,"

5 失ってどのくらいだうしなってどのくらいだ ushinatte dono kurai da "how long ago did you lose them?

6 …わかりません…どのくらい…時間が経っていたか… …わかりません…どのくらい…じかんがたっていたか… ...wakarimasen...dono kurai...jikan ga tatte ita ka... "...I don't know...how much...time passed..."

7 心の中で… こころのなかで… kokoro no naka de... "[when we were] inside his heart..."

8 …AFOは完全に死柄木のモノになっていた… …オール・フォー・ワンはかんぜんにしがらきのモノになっていた… ...OORU FOO WAN wa kanzen ni Shigaraki no MONO ni natte ita... ...All For One had completely become Shigaraki's [property]... (Note: I think he means the AFO quirk is now 100% Shigaraki's.)

1 雄英でのAFOは棺でのオール・フォー・ワンは hitsugi (kanji: yuuei) no OORU FOO WAN wa The AFO at the coffin (read as: UA)

2 抵抗する死柄木を押さえつけて統合したと嘯いてただけだったていこうするしがらきをおさえつけてとうごうしたとうそぶいてただけだった teikou suru Shigaraki wo osaetsukete tougou shita to usobuiteta dake datta was only boasting that he had suppressed and integrated the resisting Shigaraki.

3 死柄木は違う… しがらきはちがう… Shigaraki wa chigau... It was different with Shigaraki...

4 AFOは…完全に取り込まれて消えていた… オール・フォー・ワンは…かんぜんにとりこまれてきえていた… OORU FOO WAN wa...kanzen ni torikomarete kiete ita... All For One...was completely absorbed and disappeared...

5 だから転弧の心をうった時に共に砕けている筈… だからてんこのこころをうったときにともにくだけているはず… dakara Tenko no kokoro wo utta toki ni tomo ni kudakete iru hazu... That's why when I hit Tenko's heart they should have both crumbled together.

6 なんなんだこいつは……！ nannanda koitsu wa......! What the heck is this guy......!

7 相澤せんせ…！あいざわせんせ…！ Aizawa-sensei...! "Aizawa-sensei...!"

8 エリちゃ… ERI-cha... "Eri-cha-..."

9 先生たちは…私を危ないとこにぜったい連れてかないってせんせいたちは…わたしをあぶないとこにぜったいつれてかないって sensei-tachi wa...watashi wo abunai toko ni zettai tsuretekanai tte "The teachers...they said they absolutely won't take me to any place where it's dangerous."

10 わかってるの…だから… wakatteru no...dakara... "I understand... That's why..."

11 これ kore "This."

12 デクさんに持ってってデクさんにもってって DEKU-san ni mottette "Please take it to Mr. Deku."

1 角を折ったのか⁉︎なんて事…どうやって…！つのをおったのか⁉︎なんてこと…どうやって…！ tsuno wo otta no ka!? nante koto...dou yatte...! "Did you break off your horn!? Such a thing...how did you...!"

2 お願いしておねがいして onegai shite "I asked"

3 協力してもらったのきょうりょくしてもらったの kyouryoku shite moratta no "for someone to help me do it."

4 エクトプラズム！ EKUTOPURAZUMU! "Ectoplasm!"

5 スマナイダガ… SUMANAI DAGA... "I'm sorry, but..."

6 コノ子ハ君ノ合理性ト非合理性ヲ良ク学ンデイルコノこハきみノごうりせいトひごうりせいヲよクまなンデイル KONO ko WA kimi NO kourisei TO higou risei WO yoKU manaNDE IRU "this child is learning your rationality and irrationality well."

7 先生たちと力の使い方をお勉強したからわかるのせんせいたちとちからのつかいかたをおべんきょうしたからわかるの sensei-tachi to chikara no tsukaikata wo obenkyou shita kara wakaru no "Because I studied how to use my power with my teachers, I understand."

8 きっとこうしたって力は使える…！だってこれは私だものきっとこうしたってちからはつかえる…！だってこれはわたしだもの kitto koushita tte chikara wa tsukaeru...! datte kore wa watashi da mono "I'm sure that you can use my power like this...! Because this is a [piece] of me."

9 だがそんな乱暴にしたら… だがそんならんぼうにしたら… daga sonna ranbou ni shitara... "But if you do something this reckless..."

10 "個性"自体に傷が "こせい"じたいにきずが "kosei" jitai ni kizu ga "your quirk itself will be damaged."

11 オールマイトさんの時もかっちゃんさんの時もこうしたかったけどできなかったの！オールマイトさんのときもかっちゃんさんのときもこうしたかったけどできなかったの！ OORU MAITO-san no toki mo Kacchan-san no toki mo koushitakatta kedo dekinakatta no! "I wanted to do something like this for Mr. All Might and Mr. Kacchan, but I couldn't!"

12 私わたし watashi "I"

13 お歌したいのおうたしたいの outa shitai no "want to sing."

14 先生せんせい sensei "Teacher,"

15 私デクさんたちに楽しくしてもらったからわたしデクさんたちにたのしくしてもらったから watashi DEKU-san-tachi ni tanoshiku shitemoratta kara "because Mr. Deku and the others made it so I would have fun,"

16 今日終わったらデクさんたちにきょうおわったらデクさんたちに kyou owattara DEKU-san-tachi ni "after today is over, for Mr. Deku and the others--"

17 お歌するのおうたするの outa suru no "I will sing."

1 だから… dakara... So...

2 ちょっとしかなくっても chotto shika nakuttemo even if it's only a little bit [of me],

3 私も戦わせて！わたしもたたかわせて！ watashi mo tatakawasete! please let me fight too!

4 エネルギーガ充分ニ溜マッテイナイエネルギーガじゅうぶんニたマッテイナイ ENERUGII GA juubun NI taMATTE INAI "Not enough energy has been stored."

5 コノ場合ホボ意味ハナクコノばあいホボいみハナク KONO baai HOBO imi WA NAI "In this case, it has no almost meaning."

6 巻キ戻ルスピードモ時間モ極メテ僅カまキもどルスピードモじかんモきわメテわずカ maKImodoRU SUPIIDO MO jikan MO kiwaMETE wazuka "The rewind speed and time are both extremely small."

7 せいぜい２〜３分ぶん程度だろうせいぜい２〜３ぷんぶんていどだろう seizei 2~3pun bun-teido darou At most, it will probably take about 2-3 minutes.

8 お歌おうた outa "[Her] song."

9 聴くまで死ねないぞきくまでしねないぞ kiku made shinenai zo "I won't die until I hear it."

1 皆もきっと…オイラと一緒だよな… みんなもきっと…オイラといっしょだよな… minna mo kitto...OIRA to issho da yo na... "I'm sure everyone...is with me on this..."

2 もう動けねーって思ってても…緑谷が頑張ってっとよォもううごけねーっておもってても…みどりやががんばってっとよォ mou ugokenee tte omottetemo...Midoriya ga ganbatte tto yoO "Even though I thought I couldn't move anymore...I thought, 'Midoriya is trying his best!'"

3 体動いちまうんだよなァ‼︎ からだうごいちまうんだよなァ‼︎ karada ugoichimaunda yo naA!! "And my body went and moved!!"

tagline AFOの前に立ちはだかる…！オール・フォー・ワンのまえにたちはだかる…！ OORU FOO WAN no mae ni tachihadakaru...! In front of All For One, standing in his way...!

#my hero academia leak translations #mha 420 #bnha 420 #my hero academia manga spoilers #final arc spoilers #baby tree gashly...you bastard #i will never know rest again #wait a minute is mineta foreshadowing kacchan's return on that last page or--

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explosionkatsu · 1 year

Text

“Age doesn’t matter” 6

Dad!Bakugou x F!Babysitter!Teacher!Reader

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“Mama Y/n..”

Did he hear him right? Did his son just call his teacher mama?

Katsuki scowled at this. He was trying to keep himself calm as he put Kazui back to bed and left the bedroom fast. This time, he shut the door as calmly as he can not to wake Kazui and made his way to the kitchen.

“What the fuck have you been teaching Kazui, huh!”

The loud voice made you stop pouring the sauces onto each plate and looked at Katsuki who was slowly nearing you.

“W-what?” You were confused. You didn't know what you did wrong.

“What the fuck have you been teaching to my son huh,” Katsuki repeated his voice raising.

“N-nothing! What would I teach him?” You were so confused. Earlier everything was fine, now here you are, face to face with an angry Bakugou.

“I don't know what you did to him, but this is the last time you’ll take care of him! I don't care if you're his teacher. You are not to take him in this shitty-ass apartment, ever again!” Katsuki yelled slamming his hand on the counter, trying to not activate his quirk.

Hearing him say this, Y/n’s heart throbbed painfully. She didn't know what she did exactly and why was he suddenly like this to you.

“B-bakugou. I really have no idea, please. Believe me.” Y/n looked him in his eyes showing him your honesty. You were really clueless.

Katsuki who was staring back at you saw how you have really no idea what he was talking about. He simply looked away and ran his hand through his hair.

“You really have no fucking idea, huh,” Katsuki said with a lower voice this time.

“Please. I really don’t..” You mumble wiping a tear from your eye.

Katsuki hesitated at first. He wasn't sure if he should really trust you or if this is only an act. But seeing you wipe a tear from your eye made him feel terrible. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself before speaking.

“He calls you mama.”

Y/n didn't miss how his scowl deepened mentioning this. She sniffed a little bit before trying to compose herself.

“I need to tell you something.” She mumbled, head hanging low.

Katsuki slightly turn his head to look at you after he heard what you said.

“When we got home. Eer, I mean. When we reached my apartment, I was preparing our dinner when he suddenly asked me something and made me stop.” She said as she tucked a hair to her ear.

“What is it,” Katsuki commanded listening intently, his gaze never leaving her face.

“He asked if I could be his mother. I told him it was not possible so he cried.” Y/n said recalling the scene from earlier. She could remember how broke Kazui looks making her heart throb in pain. “He said why he doesn't have a mom, why he couldn't have a mom, and started crying.”

When Katsuki heard this, he couldn't help but close his eyes in despair. He didn't know his son is feeling this way. Was that the reason why he was asking for his mother?

“It pains my heart seeing him cry. I love Kazui. Like my own child. But at that moment, I couldn't do anything. I couldn't say no because I can't.” You said, tears streaming from your eyes. “All I did was apologize and carry him. Embrace him as much as I can.” You sniffed. “Then after a few minutes, he calmed down. I found out he was asleep. So I put him on my bed and just went back to cooking.”

After you told him what happened, there was an uncomfortable silence.

“She left.”

Y/n slightly look up to look at Katsuki who suddenly started talking.

“After she gave birth. Kazui’s mother just vanished without any trace.” Why was he saying this to you anyway? “I got home hearing Kazui crying. I made him a bottle of milk not bothering to change. I was helpless. I didn't know what to do when I checked my home empty. All her clothes were gone, jewelry. Even the money I stacked for emergencies. It was all gone.”

You stared at Katsuki in pity. So that's what happened.

Katsuki looked at you seeing how you were staring at him in pity making him tch.

“Don’t fucking look down on me.” Katsuki looked away. “I did what I had to do. I asked for my parent's help.”

“You were brave, Bakugou..”

Your statement made him fully look at you. He saw how sincere you are. How honest. How innocent. So unlike his ex-wife. Now he gets why Kazui was so attached to you.

“Papa?”

The small voice made both eyes widen. Katsuki looked behind him, and you, looked behind Katsuki both seeing Kazui waking up from his nap.

“Are you fighting?” Kazui looked at both of you.

“No, sweetie. Why would we fight?” Y/n smiled at Kazui.

“Papa?” Kazui looks to his papa asking for confirmation.

“Were not, brat,” Katsuki said ruffling Kazui’s hair.

Kazui lifted his arms up, asking to be carried but Katsuki rejected him.

“I thought you said you were too old to be carried,” Katsuki smirked but carried Kazui anyway.

Once Kazui settled in his arms, he looked at Y/n who just smiled at him.

“Ms. Y/n?” Kazui called.

“What is it, dear?” Y/n said staring sweetly at Kazui.

“Did you cry?”

Y/n stiffened but quickly compose herself. “Of course not, sweetie. Why would I cry?” You said.

Suddenly, Kazui places his small hand on your cheek making you blink.

“Are you okay, Ms. Y/n? Is someone bothering you? I can make papa beat them for you.”

Y/n laughed at what Kazui just said. He didn't know that you cried because of his father. But you’re not going to tell him that, of course.

“I assure you, sweetie. Teacher’s fine, okay?” Y/n gave Kazui a soft smile. “Now why don't you put this plate on the table so we can eat? You know your papa and I waited for you to wake up so we can all eat together.” You giggled seeing Kazui’s excited reaction as he wiggle out of his father’s arms.

“Really! We would eat together?! Yay!!” Kazui quickly grab the plates you were about to hand him and carefully took small steps, trying to spill the food.

Katsuki watches your interaction with Kazui quietly. He was still standing beside you in the kitchen, watching how you lied to his son about not crying.

Was this what it's supposed to feel like to have a wife around?

Katsuki saw how you treated Kazui like your own blood. How motherly you act towards him. No wonder he called you mama. Because he’s seeing you as a mother figure. A mother Katsuki wished Kazui has.

“Bakugou? Are you okay?”

Now here you are, worrying about him too.

“Tch. I’m fine.” Katsuki said about to head where the dining area.

“Wait.” Y/n suddenly said and grab his wrist, causing him to look at her.

“It may be too much to say, but please. Don’t take Kazui away..”

Her eyes. It's always her eyes that he noticed. It's how she shows her true emotions through her eyes.

“Tch.” Katsuki tched and firmly let go of her grasp.

He stood motionless, slowly putting his other hand inside his pocket and then slightly turning his head behind so he can look at her. But he didn't say anything, instead, he walked away.

Y/n looked at his back sadly. She didn't know if that was approved or not. But she tried not to get it inside her head. She took the last two plates from the counter and places them on the dining table where Katsuki and Kazui were now sitting on their own chairs.

“Itadakimasu.”

The dinner went well. From Kazui’s rambling, and spilling food everywhere to Katsuki scolding Kazui to not spill the food everywhere and you, just smiling and chuckling, watching the father and son interaction.

After dinner, Kazui was watching TV whilst Y/n clean up the dining table. Unexpectedly, Kastuki suddenly appeared, helping her.

“No, no. It's fine. You're my guess-

“Shut up,” Katsuki mumbled going to the sink and started washing the dishes.

“B-bakugou.” You tried to stop him but he just blocked you from going closer to the sink.

“I said shut up. Wipe the table.” Katsuki threw a soaked tablecloth to Y/n’s face. Noticing it hit her face, Katsuki smirked. But soon turned into a laugh when he saw you pouting.

“Bakugou.” You pouted but threw the cloth back at him, hitting him on his face as well, earning you a laugh.

Katsuki growled in this. “You little shit.” When the cloth slid off reveals his annoyed yet playful face. “Come back here!”

“No!”

When Y/n saw Katsuki took a step, you also took off. Both adult running around the house while Kazui watched in delight, laughing.

It was now 10 pm in the evening.

The sleeping Kazui was carried by Katsuki as he left the Y/n’s who were following him behind.

You followed them all the way to their car where you saw Katsuki settle Kazui into his own car seat, making sure that the belt was fastened and closing the door.

“Have a safe travel, Bakugou.” Y/n smiled as she watches Katsuki made his way to the driver’s seat.

But before Katsuki get inside, he looked at Y/n who was looking back at him curiously. “There’s a bag I left in your apartment. Go inside.” Katsuki said tilting his head in the direction of her apartment. “It's dangerous at this hour. You don't have to see us off.” He added.

“T-thank you.” You mumbled, slightly blushing.

“Ha? Tf are you thanking me for? I should be the one doing that.” Katsuki slightly pouts. “I said go.”

“Y-yes.” You stuttered. “G-goodnight, Bakugou.” You smiled slowly turning away.

“Tch.”

Once you entered your apartment, you heard the engine start and gradually, the sound drifted away.

Y/n smiled to herself. She didn't expect Katsuki to have his playful side as well. She thought he was all serious.

Once she locked her front door. Y/n was about to leave the living room when she saw the bag Katsuki was talking about.

She blinked at it curiously as she approached it. When she opened it, she saw a bunch of fruits and flowers and a small note with writing saying thank you. She smiled softly as she read this.

#bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katuski x reader #bnha bakugou #bakugou x you

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room-surprise · 2 months

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Addendum to Dungeon Meshi Age Calculations, and Thistle's age estimate...

This is sort of a sequel to two posts of mine, How to Calculate Comparative Ages of DM Characters and How Old Is Thistle?

I've seen some people claim that the age scale between elves and tall-men where elves age 5 times slower than tall-men can't be used accurately for elves that are very young or very old. I've also seen people claim that the half-foot age modifier is wrong.

I'm not a mathematician, but so far I have not seen any actual evidence that the 5:1 scale doesn't work, and a good amount of proof that it does, and I think the confusion about half-foot aging is a translation issue.

Please keep in mind, information about Marcille's age does not apply to any of this, because [SPOILERS].

WHAT ABOUT VERY YOUNG ELVES?

Here's something we know about the babies from the different races, which comes from Ryoko Kui's blog:

1 year old elven, dwarven and gnomish babies can only lay on their backs. Tall-man and half-foot 1 year olds can both stand, though the tall-man is not as good at it as the half-foot.

This lines up with real-world development milestones, human children can usually stand on their own somewhere between 9 to 12 months. Half-foots age faster than tall-men, so it makes sense that the half-foot would look more balanced and steady while standing.

A 2 year old elven baby has just gained the ability to sit up, while the babies of other races are walking or running. Normal human babies can sit up with help at around 5 months.

2 divided by 5 equals 0.4, that's 40%, and 40% of one year equals 4.8666666 months. That's 5 months.

I think it's very likely Kui herself is using the 5:1 ratio in order to calculate her elven ages in order to get this very specific 5 month developmental milestone to line up this way. So we can confirm that any elf over the age of 2 years old should have an age that is calculable with the 5:1 ratio. I also think it's not crazy to assume Kui may be using the numbers I calculated in my age post to work out other character's ages as well, since she's clearly doing it for the elves.

LET'S TEST IT WITH HALF-FOOTS

Human children learn to run between 18 and 24 months, so around 2 years old, like the chart shows us. 2 years divided by the half-foot age ratio (1.1428571429) equals 175% because they grow faster than tall-men.

175% of 2 years is 1277.5 days... Which is 3.5 years. So a 2 year old half-foot has the maturity of a 3.5 years old human child. 3 years old is when human children are expected to run and jump easily, and climb stairs without help.

That sounds about right to me, since the half-foot child in the drawing looks like they can confidently run around without balance issues. One foot is off the ground, and their arms are pulled in closer to the body than the tall-man child's arms.

Meanwhile the tall-man child is more unsteady, both feet firmly planted, standing with their arms held out as far as they can go to help with balance.

DOESN'T 29=50 FOR HALF-FOOTS?

Kui says that Chilchuck would be about 50 if he were a modern day human (which he isn't, he's a medieval half-foot), and then she says that half-foots in the time of Dungeon Meshi only live to be about 50 years old on average.

I'm pretty sure she's telling us that if Chilchuck were a human in our world, he'd be past middle-aged, and then for contrast, she tells us that most half-foots in Chilchuck's world die by age 50. Not that Chilchuck's 29 years is equivalent to a 50 year old modern human.

Chilchuck is 29 years old, and he had his first child at age 13. The average age of death for half-foots is 50, then that means middle-aged for a half-foot is 25.

Chilchuck is 4 years older than that, which makes Chilchuck past middle-aged. It does not make him developmentally the same as a 50 year old modern human though.

Using the numbers I've worked out, a half-foot would be developmentally 50 years old when they're 44.

Kui says that although Chilchuck wants to retire from going into the dungeons, if he did, it would be premature... Just like it would be premature for a 33 year old to retire.

In the real world retirement ages are connected to the average age of death. As that number goes up, so does retirement age. Because modern humans live until around 72, as a global average, retirement age is somewhere in their 60s.

So since half-foots average lifespan is 50, a normal age for Chilchuck to retire would be in his 40s.

WHAT ABOUT OLD ELVES?

The average age of death for tall-men is 60, however we know that tall-men can live into their 80s because Marcille's father did.

The average age of death for elves is 400, but they can live up to 500 years.

There's no reason to think that DM tall-men aren't like real world humans, and can't live into their 100's if they are lucky and wealthy enough. Even in the real medieval period, some people lived into their early 100's.

The thing that makes average death ages low in real life is usually issues like high infant mortality, starvation, war, lack of medical care, and lack of sanitation.

In the real medieval period, the average age of death was 30 not because people dropped dead at 30, but because SO MANY children died young that it pulled down the average. In medieval times, if you managed to live to 25, you had an average of 23 more years of life ahead of you, which is 48 years old.

I think Kui raised the average death age to 60 for tall-men to account for the fact that even tall-men have access to more advanced medicine and healing magic in DM, so infant mortality isn't as high and the adults live more than a decade longer.

The elves naturally have a longer lifespan since they live 5 times slower than tall-men. However they also probably have a far more advanced society than any of the other races in Dungeon Meshi. Fleki calls the Eastern Continent a "primitive land", and it's mostly populated by dwarves, gnomes and tall-men.

If elven culture was developmentally the same as tall-man culture, I bet elves would only live to about 300, which would be 60 for them, maturity wise.

WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?

80x5 is 400. That seems correct to me, a 400 year old elf would be considered elderly and getting close to the end of their life. An 80 year old tall-man would be considered VERY old, having lived past average expectations... But those expectations, as I said before, are based on poor living conditions, not biological certainty. 100x5 is 500, so the two maximum ages (100 and 500) also line up when you use the 5:1 ratio.

POSSIBLE MAXIMUM AGES FOR OTHER RACES

Using the same math, if gnomes and dwarves had the same culture as tall-men, they'd only live to be 150-ish instead of 240/200...

This is only a theory, but dwarvish and gnomish maximum possible ages should probably be around 250, if you multiply their age modifier (2.5) x100 like I did with the elves.

The current difference between their average age of death is probably attributable to lifestyle and cultural differences (gnomes use a lot more magic, and so they live longer).

Then, just to do the rest of the races:

Half-foots and orcs theoretical maximum age is 88. Ogres theoretical maximum age is 94. Kobold theoretical maximum age is 81.

Keep in mind, these numbers are based on the idea that "around 100 years old" is the oldest a human being can get. The oldest human to ever live survived until they were 122 years old... But obviously that is rare, and happened in the modern era.

Point is, there's wiggle room at the top end of the age limit, for some of the races that may be a matter of extra days or months, for others it could be an extra decade or two. But I'm using 100 for simplicity's sake.

Sorry for the long post! I hope this answers people's questions, and if I messed something up let me know!

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi #theories #dungeon meshi and aging part 2 #chilchuck #chilchuck tims

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heraldofcrow · 1 month

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Honest “Favorite Character” Asks 🌿

I can’t find character asks that suit my type of discussion, so I made some. These are meant to be somewhat personal, therapeutic, and pensive.

Send someone one of their favorite characters along with any of the following questions.

—

1. Do you project onto this character?

2. Did you always like this character?

3. What first drew you to this character?

4. Did you initially dislike/hate this character?

5. If this character were a woman, would you honestly still like them? Or in reverse, what if they were a man?

6. Do you have any nicknames or pet names you use for this character?

7. Does the character’s age matter to you?

8. Does the character’s looks/design matter to you?

9. Does this character remind you of anyone you know? Does that affect how you see them?

10. Do you see yourself in this character even without projecting?

11. How did you “fall in love” with this character?

12. If you could write effortlessly and as much as you wanted, what story (s) would you write for this character?

13. If you could draw effortlessly and as much as you wanted, what scene (s) would you draw for this character?

14. Are you physically attracted to this character?

15. Are your thoughts surrounding this character usually sexual, non-sexual, or a mix of both?

16. Have you ever cried when thinking about this character? Genuinely?

17. Have you ever felt physical pain over this character? (ex: physical heartache).

18. Do you prefer to see this character suffer or know peace? Angst or comfort? Both?

19. Does this character serve as a stress ball/ security blanket for you? Something you run to after a bad day to feel safe or happier?

20. Do you feel affectionate towards this character?

21. Are your feelings about this character platonic, romantic, or familial? All of these feelings at once maybe?

22. Do you think you will always love this character?

23. Has this character permanently altered or impacted your psyche in a way you won’t forget?

24. Do you ever dream about this character? If so, describe a dream you once had about them.

25. What kind of fan-fiction do you read about this character? If you don’t read fan-fics about them, why not?

26. If you look for this character’s name on AO3, what tags are you including or excluding?

27. Do you like to ship this character with other characters or do you prefer not to?

28. Do you get defensive about this character? If yes, then why?

29. Do you affectionately bully this character?

30. Are you especially sensitive about this character?

31. Are you ashamed of liking this character?

32. If you could make this character a meal, what would you make them?

33. Are you “blinded by love” for this character or do you accept any flaws they may have?

34. Does this character inspire you with little things in your daily life?

35. Has this character ever prevented you from sleeping because you can’t stop thinking about them?

36. Do you feel a spiritual/soulmate connection with this character?

37. Is your love for this character a secret from people you know in real life?

38. Do you tend to joke more about dying or killing for this character? Both? What causes the distinction?

39. Do you feel lovesick over this character?

40. Are you very empathetic towards this character? When they feel a certain way in the story, do you feel those emotions too?

41. Do you prefer to interact with this character directly via self-insert/reader type content? Or do you enjoy seeing them mostly with other characters in the story and/or your OCs?

42. If you could, would you write this character a song or poem?

43. What type of weather makes you think of this character?

44. Which season makes you think of this character?

45. Do you feel as if you are intimately familiar with this character?

46. How much do bad interpretations of this character upset you?

47. Does this character ever make you laugh sincerely?

48. What’s your favorite physical/design feature for this character?

49. What’s your favorite personality trait in this character?

50. Link your fav song, playlist, aesthetic board, fan-fiction, reference pile, personal artwork, analysis post, meme, headcanon, or quote for this character. Whichever one (s) you are most comfortable with!

#now go attack your mutuals and their favs <3 #i just couldn’t find the type of asks that help process feels on the blorbos so i just made em #character asks #fandom asks #character ask game #ask game #fictional characters #blorbos #mutuals #fandom

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wutheringskies · 6 months

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Re-reading MDZS; CH 1 - 11

rereading mdzs out loud with my bestie and we're only doing 2 chapters a day, and discussing everything and here are things I never noticed:

1. from the start, the narrative exposes us to how Wei Wuxian is when he's upset: he's unfocused, walking off the wrong way, disliking his reflection, organizing his thoughts, crying but not saying he cried.

2. despite being miserable, when lil apple tries to cheer him up, he thinks "the poor donkey even went out of its way to drag him" and decides to be get up and move on. it's not an in-built setting - it's not a "being born chronically optimistic" but rather a conscious choice.

3. frankly i never noticed just how sombre his tone is in the first couple of chapters. it's quirky and sarcastic but sombre all the same.

4. also, this guy is literally a Lan. like I'm sorry, he probably has a degree in the Lan Sect. he keeps explaining everything about them.

5. Sizhui already made such a huge impression on him that the first thing he thinks of when he sees Jin Ling is that he's of Sizhui's age.

6. Wei Wuxian IS traumatized about Jiang Cheng. His reaction is simply to run off into the distance. He DOES NOT like being around Jiang Cheng, and his opinion about him is not good, as he keeps adding comments about Jiang Cheng's arrogance, his anger, and comparing him to Lan Wangji (knowing JC hates being compared, and I personally think this was something he never allowed himself to do.)

7. Jin Ling was such a jerk under Jiang Cheng and Jin Guangyao's tutelage. Like, sincerely.

8. Lan Wangji does not even acknowledge Jiang Cheng.

9. Also, a comment that my friend and I made: MDZS is a book about Lan Wangji, with Wei Wuxian casually throwing some trauma on the pages in between. Like, goodness, the narration from Wei Wuxian's point of view rarely describes a lot. But come to the point of Lan Wangji and this guy won't shut up. His clothes, his face, his voice, his sword, their meaning, the clan rules, what they stand for - Wei Wuxian tells us more about Lan Wangji and the Lan Clan than about his own life.

10. Wei Wuxian was so in love with Lan Wangji. Since he saw the Lan Clan this guy was on his head. THE FACT WEI WUXIAN CAN RECOGNIZE LAN WANGJI JUST BY 2 STRUMS OF HIS ZITHER after 13 years of being dead!!!

11. When Lan Wangji held his hand, he was breathing hard and his notes on the flute kept cracking

12. Wei Wuxian is so good at meditating btw

13. Wei Wuxian describing Lan Wangji's voice as "deep and magnetic" and "stirring the heart" like bro trust me Jiang Cheng's not feeling any tugs upon his heart, and Jingyi is most probably just scared.

14. Wei Wuxian is such a flirt with women - his best flirting tactic is "give them space" 😂😂

15. Wei Wuxian did not ask, expect or even comment upon the absence of gratitude from the villager clan after saving them and instead even thanked them for providing him with information.

16. Wei Wuxian is so keen on people's behavior. Noticing the orb of souls that could've been saved if people were more focused on their duty than catching a prey like Wen Ning, understanding people's discomfort etc.

17. He's such a good teacher, earning the respect of Lan students just like that, asking good questions, not even complying with his own worship, and appraising them when they get things right and also playfully scaring them with Hanguang-jun's punishment (what a husband)

18. Wei Wuxian has great self esteem but poor self worth, but he's working on the second part.

@zenenini

#rereading MDZS #MDZS with fea and zene #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #my thoughts #lan wangji #wei wuxian #canon jiang cheng

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matthew-gray-gubler-lover · 9 months

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Sex With Spencer Reid All Seasons

If you are under the age of 18, please do not read this story. Thank you.

This will cover what I believe sex would be like with Spencer Reid from season 1 to 15. Warning contains adult situations, Sex. Dirty talk, Orgasms, Crying, Spoilers for all seasons and Spencer Reid being a sex God.

Also includes fingering and oral sex. (Female receiving only.)

These are a little bit longer than I anticipated them to be because I wanted to give a back story as to why the sex is the way that it is for each season. To give it in depth feeling of why Spencer was the way that he was in bed that season. So I will be posting them by each season rather than all at once. I hope this gives you something to look forward to, and please leave comments, I will be leaving links to the next season below.

You are a new agent at the BAU and Spencer Reid's girlfriend, the one who takes his virginity and has sex with him for all 15 seasons and beyond.

Spencer Reid knew the first time he saw you walk through the doors of the BAU that you were the one that he was going to love forever. The first time you smiled, he knew it was the only smile that he ever wanted to wake up to. The first time he touched your hand, he knew yours was the only hand he ever wanted to hold. The first time he kissed you, he knew your lips were the only ones that he ever wanted to have pressed against his own. and the first time he made love to you, he knew you were the only one he ever wanted to do this with, and he also knew he would never be the same you or his life now, his love and his only desire.

season 1

season 2

season 3

season 4

Season 5

season 6

Season 7

Season 8

Season 9

Season 10

Season 11

Season 12

Season 13

Season 14

Season 15

#doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #post prison reid smut #dr reid #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #sexwithspencerreidall15seasons

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dungeonsanddragonsfifthedition · 2 years

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sixty-nine more questions for your ttrpg characters!

(i originally made one of these on a defunct sideblog; i thought it was about time i made a new one! send an oc’s name and a number, go wild!)

1. what drives them? what’s their ultimate goal?

2. what was your original concept for this character? how did playing them change that concept?

3. can they accept failure?

4. what one person, place, or thing do they love more than anything else?

5. is there something they want to be known for?

6. how have they changed in the last year? how about the last five years?

7. there’s a magic item (or technological innovation, or special resource) made just for them—what is it?

8. what songs remind you of them? if there are specific lyrics or movements, list ‘em!

9. when in their life were they most scared?

10. what inspired this character’s creation?

11. if they have a pet or animal companion, how do they spend time with them? if they don’t have one, what sort of animal would they be interested in raising, if any?

12. how have they altered their body? piercings, tattoos, biohacks, or other modifications—anything. why (or why not) did they (or someone else) make those changes?

13. what are some motifs you associate with them? did you intentionally bring in those motifs, or did it happen over time?

14. what keeps them up at night?

15. is there something that never fails to make them laugh?

16. do they value their appearance?

17. they’re crying—what did it take to make them cry?

18. what dish brings back the best memories for them?

19. what sparks genuine, unadulterated rage in them?

20. what attracts them to someone—platonically and/or romantically, anything counts.

21. do they have an idea about how they’ll die? do you?

22. how would they decorate their living space, if they had a chance?

23. in what moment did they consider themselves to be “grown up”?

24. are they close to any family members?

25. who is their best friend?

26. what type of person pisses them off?

27. how do they usually dress? why do they dress the way they do?

28. do they collect anything?

29. what feelings do they internalize?

30. how do they handle confrontation?

31. do they respond well to praise? how about criticism?

32. which of your decisions led to their voice being the way it is?

33. what artistic medium are they most drawn to?

34. what languages do they speak? how did they learn them?

35. when did they feel loneliest?

36. how do they fidget?

37. if they’ve had one, what was their first kiss like?

38. do they see themselves as an important part of their party?

39. are they insecure about their appearance? how about their personality? what aspects specifically worry them?

40. if you had to remake this character right now, how would you change them?’

41. how do you keep notes for this character, if at all?

42. can they dance?

43. how much do they know about the world they live in?

44. what lies do they tell others?

45. what lies do they tell themselves?

46. have they taught themselves any skills just for fun?

47. what could they talk about for hours on end?

48. do they relate to anyone in their group? conversely, which person do they relate to the least?

49. how often do they cut their hair, if at all?

50. do they have a go-to beverage, alcoholic or nonalcoholic?

51. what element of their backstory are you proudest of?

52. how would they dress themselves up for a formal event?

53. do they keep their plans close to their chest?

54. how important is money in their life? do they save up for ages, or spend quickly?

55. they’re seeing their greatest wish come true—what’s happening?

56. who would they trust with their life, unequivocally?

57. do they see value in the laws of where they live?

58. how often do they swear? do they mind when others swear?

59. what’s an element of their philosophy that you disagree with?

60. what do they have faith in? what keeps them believing?

61. is there an in-game moment of theirs you think about and just laugh?

62. do they believe in good and evil?

63. what’s a meme or tiktok or vine (or whatever) that you associate with them?

64. how would a party member describe them?

65. what would their go-to karaoke song be?

66. which fruit do they like most?

67. do they consider themselves to be special?

68. where’s their home?

69. what’s one secret they don’t want getting out?

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eddies-house · 7 months

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Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Seven - Halloween

W/C: 10K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Or where you show up to the town's biggest Halloween Bash and you unexpectantly take on the roll of a babysitter.

A/N: this is a long one..and tbh some of it isn't edited...but i'm super excited about this one but also nervous.

Masterlist

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Bass bumped through the unfamiliar house, vibrating all the way down the driveway and to the street where you stood. Shouting could be heard, no doubt a collection of drunks getting overly excited about something usually mundane. Fog smothered the driveway, a decision you felt was made by someone sober at the time of setting it up only to neglect the fact that everyone would be wasted by the time it got dark, sending people tumbling down the driveway in their drunken state. It did add to the atmosphere though, a nice touch that gave it that eerie, spooky feel the owner was probably going for.

As you trekked up the lengthy and steep driveway, a mock graveyard sat to the right, taking up the space that would usually be the front yard. Fake limbs stuck out of the dirt and splatters of blood painted the plastic headstones. A lonely skeleton sat propped up against one, his arm hanging around it as if it were his good friend. Some pumpkins appeared to be slaughtered and littered throughout the yard, the guts surely rotting in the grass and in one of the trees, hung a hopefully fake body, swaying in the chilly breeze.

From what you had heard, the owners went all out every year, Halloween night being their specialty. The closer to the house you got, the louder the music and the louder the voices got. Donnie had told you that it would be a rager but you severely underestimated her words and took them as a joke. You were already hesitant to even attend but now, you were fully questioning if you should even dare to step through the door. It’d be smart to turn around now and go home, maybe watch a few movies and indulge in that candy you’d bought and placed in a large bowl on the coffee table at home. Half of it was gone of course, you stealing a piece here and there throughout the past week. You could stuff your face with the rest if you left now.

No.

You had to be brave and walk through that door with confidence. Even if it was fake. You were never going to meet new people if you kept hiding away in your tower. This town was never going to feel like home if you didn't start treating it like it. Donnie was the closest person you had to a friend and as much as you appreciated her, she was more than half your age and had a whole family already. She mentioned that people ‘your age’ would definitely be at this party, everyone went to this party.

You can’t miss it. She assured.

But on another hand, no one would miss you anyway, no one ever did. Even if they did know of you. There was no harm in trekking back down the driveway and rushing home to snuggle up in your pajamas, right?

No, you have to do this. You have to push yourself out of your comfort zone even if it feels like you're diving off a cliff. But what if everyone stares at you? And whispers about how they didn’t invite you? Donnie promised anyone who’s anyone attends this party, even people from a few town’s over who hear about it from a friend of a friend. So why couldn’t you shake the feeling that you just didn’t belong? That you were intruding.

Everyone’s gonna hate me.

It was especially embarrassing that you were wearing a Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz costume. It wasn’t even all that out there but you felt so uncomfortable without your standard wardrobe. You felt as if your ruby red glittery heels would suddenly draw unwanted attention, your pigtails making a mockery out of you even if just for the costume. Everyone dressed up so why were you the exception? Why were you the only one they would single out, especially in such a common Halloween costume? You were sure there would probably be much more flamboyant costumes, ghouls and goblins covered in blood, zombies with ungodly amounts of face paint, and even vampires with those ridiculous plastic teeth. No one made fun of them so why were you so insecure?

Every possible outcome ran through your brain while you stalled on the doormat. That is until two men dressed in chicken suits bursted through the door, cackling while they set up for a smoke break on the front porch, completely missing you as you stood there terrified. They leaned over the railing as they went on, slurring about how crazy it was that someone had somehow punctured a hole in the keg, a seemingly impossible task.

You took the opportunity to slip in through the cracked door, gently closing it behind you as you entered the chaos that was the famous Knife’s Edge Halloween Bash. Strobe lights flashed in the corners of what you could make out as the living room and the regular light bulbs in the ceiling were all switched out for purple and green, adding to the ambience. The floor was hidden beneath a sea of people dancing their hearts out to Thriller by Michael Jackson, some attempting to actually perform the dance, and others simply flailing their limbs around and hoping for the best.

A rather convincing mummy was stealing the show, everyone else creating a circle around him as he danced like no one was watching. Not one person glanced your way, either too intoxicated to notice or just unbothered seeing as there were already over a hundred people occupying the house. The line of cars you’d seen up and down the street should have given that away but to be fair, you were too busy running circles in your head and rehearsing how you were going to walk in. All of that went straight to the garbage once you saw the nature of the place.

Everyone was too caught up in having fun to take note of a timid Dorothy sneaking through the front door. Fun. Something you couldn’t see yourself having unless you had at least a drink or two in you. It’s sad but it was the only way to loosen up around such a large volume of people. Sobriety was not an option unless you wanted to remain an anxious fly on the wall.

The only issue was finding the source of alcohol, more than likely in the kitchen which you had yet to locate. In order to get anywhere, you would have to weave through the crowd of sweaty bodies, the smell of tequila and beer already filling your nostrils just by standing a few feet away from them.

Taking a deep breath, you clutch your little wicker basket close to your body and begin squeezing in between people with a polite ‘excuse me’ accompanying every accidental touch. Along the way you pass a preppy cheerleader, a few stereotypical vampires, a cowboy and a cow, a dentist, and some guy with a fake chainsaw covered in fake blood. You’re finally able to see your destination just through a large archway, relief already finding you as you inch closer and closer.

The kitchen’s fluorescent lighting is a major contrast to the purple and green throughout the rest of the house. It still follows the spooky theme, however, with an orange tablecloth draped over the island and purple and orange streamers hanging from the doorway. On the island sits a large punch bowl filled with mysterious red liquid along with a stack of red cups and a few choices of liquor next to it. A bowl of pretzels and some Halloween themed cupcakes are placed next to that, and at the other end, is a bucket of candy along with some various kinds of chips.

Hanging from the chandelier is a homemade ghost using a torn sheet, the eyes and mouth filled in with sharpie. The floor is sticky as you slowly make your way forward, most likely the mysterious liquid that had been spilled several times throughout the night already. More shouting can be heard from the living room, some kind of dance off being announced that you would gladly hide from. So far, you didn’t recognize anyone although it would be pretty difficult to seeing as everyone was dressed up.

Gingerly, you grab a cup and scoop the smallest amount of the mystery liquid in. Upon taking the tiniest sip, you can determine that it's some kind of jungle juice. A hangover in a cup. With disgust written on your face, you discreetly throw out the remaining juice in the sink, instead opting to take a shot or two to loosen up. Maybe just one for now. You learned your lesson when taking four straight tequila shots at a time and didn’t need a repeat. Especially at a party with several hundred people as witnesses.

So you fill the bottom of your cup with some whiskey, a generous shot. Throwing it back, it goes down a lot smoother than that tequila had, the burn being mild but still causing your face to twist. The cup is discarded in the trash, cutting yourself off before you can get ahead so as not to get absolutely wasted within minutes. If you had an appetite, you’d snatch one of those delicious looking cupcakes but unfortunately, you needed to pace yourself. Nerves and alcohol didn't make for the most stable stomach and you were already feeling queasy just from the mere thought of having to socialize with strangers.

Exploring further into the house, you exit through the other archway leading into a dining room that displays even more food than the kitchen, a whole buffet laid out for guests including potato salad, macaroni salad, various horderves, snack mix, a giant bowl of M&Ms, and more. A dream for a child, dinner and dessert all in one.

A few partygoers were scooping some food onto their plates, chatting about who knows what while you moved on to the next room which appeared to be the family room. The TV played some kind of horror film while absolutely no one watched it, the room almost empty aside from a couple in the corner making out.

A few pops and some celebratory yells are heard just out the back sliding door, drawing you in. The closer you got, you could see someone dressed as a scarecrow holding a bottle of champagne overflowing onto the deck. You were curious as to what everyone was celebrating but got cold feet when you reached for the handle, your hand glued to it but not putting any effort into actually sliding it open. Just as you decided you were going to chicken out and find a corner to hang out in instead, someone points at the door, outing you, causing your blood to run cold in embarrassment. When the scarecrow turns around, you can see that it's Donnie, face paint pulling her whole look together.

At the sight of you, her face lights up, hands thrown up in excitement as the champagne she’s holding sloshes over and further coats the deck. She doesn’t seem to mind, as she hands off the bottle to someone else and makes her way over to the door, sliding it open. Your cheeks begin to feel hot as people stare at the interaction, unwanted attention that you could’ve escaped had you been quicker.

“You made it!” She just about squeals, giving you a tight squeeze.

She had clearly had a few drinks, unafraid of any affection as she previously stated that she hated friendly affection of any kind, more prone to use her words to show appreciation. But you didn’t mind, Donnie was the one person you were comfortable with and your one friend so if she happened to show affection while under the influence, so be it. And maybe by her doing so, you wouldn’t appear to be such a freak to what seemed to be her friends. Maybe it would grant you acceptance into their circle.

“I made it.” You repeat with a polite smile.

“So we were just popping some champagne we found.” Donnie explains. “No rhyme or reason, we just found it inside and thought, hell lets just go at it.”

Nodding, you try to appear as enthusiastic as possible, covering up your anxiety to the best of your ability. People were still staring at you and it was proving difficult to just ignore it, holes practically being burned into you. A few of them you recognized as regulars at the bar but the rest were complete strangers. Either way, you were intimidated.

“You want some?” Donnie offers to which you begin shaking your head frantically.

“No, no, I’m okay! I already had something and I have to drive later anyway.” You explain.

Donnie nods understandingly before starting a dreadful introduction to the group. She points out Brian, Sam, and Wyatt, her sons who were fully grown, the oldest Brian, being around thirty. You didn’t catch who was the youngest or middle since Donnie was talking so fast. Then she reintroduces you to her husband, Nathan, who you had previously met at the supermarket though Donnie didn’t seem to remember in her current state. Then there were the owners of the house, Crystal and Gabriel, a very nice couple in their forties who made Halloween their night and everyone knew it. Apparently Thanksgiving was Donnie and Nathan’s holiday according to a little comment uttered by Crystal. There were what seemed to be a dozen more introductions though you couldn’t recall every single person. You only remember Donnie skimming by an introduction to Jett’s mom, Kristy who seemed like a lovely woman.

Thankfully, once everyone was acquainted with you, they seemed to move one rather quickly and continued on with their festivities. A fire pit sat in the middle of the deck, crackling away while a few individuals rested on the chairs circling it, warming themselves up. Some orange lights were wound around the railing accompanied by some fake cotton spiderwebs. Everyone held a drink in their hand except you and you were starting to regret not at least carrying your empty cup with you to occupy your awkward hands. Rookie mistake.

Your breathing becomes increasingly shallow with each passing second, panic settling in as you attempt to remember how to act like a person. You almost contemplate rushing off to the bathroom to hide but quickly scrap the idea, knowing Donnie may take notice. Instead, you stupidly shuffle your feet in place, trying to ground yourself with no luck.

In your inner turmoil, you can vaguely hear everyone else engaging in conversation about their lives or some silly story. Something you didn’t care to tune into as your inner monologue chants at you to run. Even with the one shot that you thought would relax you, you still feel your shoulders tensing and your jaw tightening anxiously. If anyone were to initiate small talk with you right now, you’d come off like a dunce, thoughts unable to form gracefully. Tonight was definitely a bad idea and you should’ve just stayed home where you knew your place.

Uncomfortably, you remain standing as everyone passes around the champagne. There was no way to dismiss yourself without seeming like you were rude and awkward. This was hell.

“Okay, elders!” You hear a familiar voice from around the corner, steps clunking up the deck stairs. “We got your drugs, now pay up.”

Jett emerges, a second pair of steps heard behind him. He’s dressed like a greaser, hair slicked back as he wears a white shirt tucked into his tight jeans.

“We got the goodies!” Eddie singsongs from behind him, dangling a plastic bag full of weed.

Eddie seems to be dressed as…himself? With a bit of smudged eyeliner. His torso is covered with his standard black leather jacket and he’s pretty much wearing what he wears in his day to day. Except when he dramatically flings his leather jacket at Jett, he sports a very revealing cut off shirt, all ripped and torn. And his fingernails are painted black.

“Jeez, Eddie! You’re gonna catch a cold, put that back on or go inside!” Donnie scolds.

“‘M fine.” He mutters, tossing the weed at Jett who just barely catches it as he drops Eddie’s jacket to the floor.

Donnie sighs, giving up on the argument seeing that Eddie was too stubborn to listen. Suddenly you feel yourself warm up, the chill October air no longer pinching at your cheeks as they grow hot again. Not out of embarrassment this time.

“Gon’ get ‘nother beer.” Eddie mumbles, stumbling toward you though he doesn’t realize it yet.

“That kid gives me a headache and he’s not even mine.” Donnie says.

“Hey!” Eddie whines, turning back toward the group mid stride. “You claimed me ‘s one ‘f your own, ‘member?” He points at her.

Several people chuckle at the scene while Donnie rolls her eyes and waves him off. He was clearly a lot more intoxicated than everyone else. His waddle toward the sliding door is evidence enough.

“Drink some water, boy.” Nathan advises.

“‘Rink some water.” Eddie mocks in a high pitch to himself while hiccuping before colliding into your shoulder. “Oh shit.”

Stumbling backwards, you stabilize yourself while his hands reach out and rest a bit too comfortably on top of your shoulders, heavy handed. Almost as if he were using you to keep himself up. When you dare to glance up, you’re met with heavy, glazed over eyes, bloodshot and decorated in smeared black liner. His lips paint a perfectly content smile as he sways back and forth, unbalanced.

“Bambi.” He cooes.

“Hi.” You whisper, startled like a mouse.

“Heyyy.” He draws out eyes becoming even heavier if possible.

“Um—“

“Munson, get off ‘er.” Jett laughs, shoving Eddie to the side. He manages to save himself from face planting into the deck, leaning himself against the side of the house.

“Should kick ‘yr ass.” Eddie mutters, glaring at Jett.

“No one wants you leanin’ on ‘em like that!” Jett defends. “Hey, Bambi.” He greets you.

At this, Eddie appears enraged, his face visibly going red as he shoots Jett a glare that no one would want to be on the receiving end of. Everyone else seemed to have moved on, paying no mind to Eddie’s sudden shift in mood.

“Hi, Jett.” You reply, a friendly grin gracing your lips.

With a grunt, Eddie pushes off the wall and storms inside, evidently pissed about something. Jett shares the same confused expression as you, shrugging while he starts asking how you are, if you’re enjoying the party, and if you’d seen the huge array of food they had out yet. You answer all of his questions to his satisfaction but mentally, you’re trying to track Eddie down. Trying to understand what set him off and made him leave with such irritation. Had this been the first week you met him, you would’ve dismissed it as his normal temper but now that you’d known him for almost two months and gotten to know how his emotions function, you knew better.

He had also clearly been under the influence which could mean nothing happened and his emotions were just sensitive. But you had a strong suspicion that there was a definite reason he abruptly got angry and rushed inside. No one else seemed to notice, aside from you and Jett. And he obviously paid no mind and didn’t intend on going after Eddie so maybe you were missing something. Or maybe everyone was also blinded by their intoxication and you were the only sound minded individual in the group right now.

“Oh and then—“

“I think I’m gonna head inside, it’s kinda cold out here.” You interrupt Jett’s tangent on his and Eddie’s journey down the road to collect the weed they had been sent to pick up.

“Oh well just take this.” He says, snatching up Eddie’s jacket off the ground and handing it to you.

You should’ve come up with a different excuse though to be fair, you didn’t think he’d hand you Eddie’s jacket. He was supposed to follow your lead and let you go inside. Wasn’t he concerned about Eddie too?

“T-thank you.” You clutch the jacket in your hand, draping it over your forearm.

“Yeah! So we were just walking—“

“Jett, I’m sorry I’m gonna run to the bathroom, okay?” You cut him off again.

You felt bad for seeming so uninterested in what he had to say but you couldn’t go much longer without knowing if Eddie had gotten himself into trouble. He was super out of it from what you could tell and it was eating away at you. It only made it worse that he was so angry and if you were the most sober one at the party, it would be in your hands if something happened to him and you knew he had run off.

“Okay—“

Before Jett can get another word in, you spin on your heel and rush inside, the music still blaring and everyone still screaming from the living room. The whole house felt like it was vibrating, your body buzzing as the bass dropped. That same couple still remained in the corner making out, their stamina impressing you.

Entering the kitchen, there’s no sight of Eddie, only a few guests topping off their drinks and toasting to themselves loudly. Realistically, you should take another shot to calm your nerves but this nightmare of an evening needed to be cut short and you would need to drive home as soon as you found him and returned him to the group.

Dreadfully walking yourself back into the living room where the heart of the party beats, you focus on each individual, attempting to spot the one dressed in all black with almost no shirt, tattoos, and a head full of brown curls. It proves to be more difficult since the lighting was so dim and the strobe lights left you seeing spots.

Everyone seems to be having the time of their life and here you are, worried sick about someone who never thinks twice about you. Even before he arrived you were having the worst time and wanted to go home immediately. Halloween would’ve been perfect if you stayed home where you couldn’t make a fool of yourself in front of people.

“Tequila!” A woman dressed as a slutty maid shouts, carrying a tray full of shots past you, only eliciting a gag from the back of your throat at the smell. “No tequila for you then.” She jokes, you shaking your head as you cover your nose.

It was obvious that Eddie wasn’t going to hit the dance floor after getting so infuriated. Unless that’s the first thing he would do in his state? You weren’t completely sure but you were almost certain that he wouldn’t. As a large group gathers around for shots, you manage to escape down a hallway where you imagine the bathroom might be. It’s completely dark, the only light coming from underneath a door on the left, probably the bathroom. At the end of the hall is what looks like a bedroom, the moonlight shining in from the blinds to just barely reveal a bed.

No one seemed to be in said bed, an empty room for people to crash in at the end of the night. Eddie could be in the bathroom but you’d have to be sure before leaving. With a shy knock on the door, struggle to hear any voice that might respond. Pressing your ear to the door, you try again, only to be met with the annoyed voice of a woman saying she’ll be out in a second and that she was fixing her lipstick.

Clearly not Eddie.

At this point you’ve covered the downstairs, no sign of the man so far. He would be good at hide and seek, you assume. Or maybe you’re just the blind. Retracing your steps back out into the living room, you collide with a few bodies, none of them paying any mind to the impact as they continue to dance, flailing around like rag dolls. You didn’t think it was possible for the room to get any more humid but you were proven wrong, sweat grazing your arms as you pass by and attempt to avoid touching anyone, failing miserably.

Your perfect ruby heels are starting to kill you, digging into your skin in all the wrong places, making it more difficult to walk with every step you take. You know for sure that come the morning, you’ll have blisters that will be bothering you for days. Reluctantly, you slide them off and scoop them up, dangling them by your fingers, Eddie’s jacket still hanging off your arm. You were becoming a walking closet.

Going upstairs didn’t seem like a great decision seeing as this wasn’t your house and you didn’t want to give Crystal and Gabriel the impression that you liked to snoop around. Although, if someone did see you, you could just vouch for yourself by saying you were looking for a bathroom and the downstairs one was taken already. So up you went, nervously glancing behind you. The coast seemed clear, not one person paying you any mind, the party still capturing their undivided attention.

Like magic, Eddie appears as you reach the top of the stairs, leaning against one of the doors as he weakly knocks, his forehead pressed to the wood. He was gorgeous, the perfect image of an 80’s rockstar gone 90’s. His back was nearly on display, shoulders all broad and waist lean. You could make out bat wings tattooed symmetrically on his shoulder blades and something along his ribs. The sight flustered you but you were here for one purpose and that was to retrieve him and get him back to Donnie so she or someone else could keep an eye on him.

“Dude, ‘urry up!” He whines into the door, pounding on it with more force. “Hafta piss ‘n maybe throw u—up.” He hiccups.

You want to giggle but quickly remember how miserable that feeling is, your stomach rejecting you and releasing its contents in protest of the alcohol you continue to bombard it with. You realize that no light pours out from underneath the door which meant the bathroom had to be available.

“Eddie, I don’t think anyone’s in there.” You offer, slowly walking up behind him.

“Pfft, it’s locked.” He scoffs, hitting his forehead against the wood with a thump.

When you reach your hand toward the handle and twist the door open, he gasps, nearly falling head first into the bathroom. It wasn’t thought through, opening a door with a grown man leaning his full weight onto it. Luckily, he catches himself, hands gripping the countertop as he sways.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” You hiss, voice tinged with regret.

“‘S okay.” He mumbles, pulling his zipper down.

“Oh!” Covering your eyes, you shut the door.

“Wait, wait, wait!”

“Eddie, I am not standing in there with you while you pee!” You yell through the door.

“God.” He groans, a stream following. “Just—I know!”

“I’ll stand right here and make sure you don’t fall and hit your head, okay?” You bargain.

“Okay.”

After several seconds, you don’t hear any movement, worry kicking in once again. He couldn’t have hit his head, you would’ve heard it. What if he passed out but didn’t hit anything? It was pathetic, the way worry would grow inside you solely for him. Just when you begin a countdown to burst through the door to check on him, you can hear the unmistakable sound of him puking his guts out. Now you wonder if you should go in anyway and hold his hair back.

Dry heaving is heard through the door, the awful sound the only thing you can focus on. You can’t take it anymore. You can only hope he remembered to zip his pants back up in his drunken state. Opening the door, you reveal Eddie hunched over the toilet, his hair draped over his shoulders, clearly in his way. You rush to his side, dropping your heels and his jacket in the process and collecting his curls in your hands, pulling them back as he breathes heavily, drool hanging from his mouth. His eyes are wet and his hands are shaky as they grip the toilet seat. You feel as if he should be vomiting in your lap for payback for puking on him that one night.

“Ah shit.” He complains, shaking his head. “Round two, get o—out”. He gags.

Throw up was the embodiment of the most disgusting thing you could ever think of, smell and everything but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care at this moment. Even with his clammy skin and pukey lips.

“It’s okay, just let it out.” You encourage him, hesitantly running a hand over his back, regretting doing so as you feel the muscles under his skin tense.

“Seriously, out.” He almost vomits, swallowing it down.

The action alone should be enough to have you jumping up and leaving but you stay.

“Eddie, just puke it all up. It’s fine. I’m gonna hold your hair.” You tell him.

He shudders, glancing over at you with his bloodshot eyes. It’s like he’s shooting daggers at you before his eyes soften involuntarily, irises becoming that caramel toned warmness you were becoming more and more familiar with. His pupils are dilated, huge planets in the middle of his eyes, clearly high and drunk though you still recognize the puppy dog-look he was giving you.

“Eddie, if you don’t puke right now—“

As if on command, he lunges forward and spews out the rest of his stomach. The sound makes you wince but you try to hide it as best as you can for his sake. It’s not his fault his body is reacting to the substances he put into his body. Maybe it is his fault since he put those substances into his body but regardless, you felt for him. Once it has to come out, it has to come out and there’s no going back.

“There you go.” You soothe, fingertips gently raking up and down his spine.

“Fuck.” He whispers into the bowl, spitting out a huge glob of saliva. It would repulse you if it were anyone else.

“It’s okay.” You whisper just as quietly.

Grabbing the toilet paper and folding it a few times, you rip it and hand it to him to clean himself up. You linger for a few seconds, waiting for him to grab it but he only continues to stare into the toilet bowl, hands braced on either side. Just when you’re about to speak up again, he goes in for a third round. You can’t help but feel bad for him even if the smell is nauseating you.

“You want some water?” You offer, standing up in preparation to go find him some.

“No, stay.” He blindly grabs the hem of your dress, wiping his mouth with his forearm.

He didn’t seem to have a follow up reason as to why he wanted you to stay but you do anyway. It was still a concern of yours that he stayed hydrated but you would tuck the thought aside momentarily to appease him.

“Okay, what do you need?”

Finally, he relaxes, his stomach seemingly empty now as he sits back against the wall. A sigh leaves his lips, relief slipping off of them as he gazes up at the ceiling. Shutting his eyes, he shows no indication of responding anytime soon, his pale face exhausted. Sitting down beside him was your best bet, that way if he did decide that he needed to spill his guts again, you were there to assist. And it was especially comforting to sit there just in case he passed out since he was at risk of hitting his head against something. He was obviously still out of it, sobriety seeping in very slowly, the room more than likely spinning from his perspective.

“Dizzy?” You ask.

“Mhm.” He hums, squeezing his eyes shut as if it would aid in steadying the room.

“You need water.”

“Mm.” He disagrees, shaking his head.

“Yes, it’ll help with the dizziness…probably.” You tell him, standing up once again.

This time he doesn’t protest, the message sinking in. You do, however, worry what could happen in the seconds that you’re gone. But, you have no other options right now.

“Stay here—Eddie, stay here. Do you hear me? Don’t move.” You try to drill into his brain.

All he offers is a weak nod, unable to even open his eyes. Satisfied enough with the response, you speed out of the bathroom and down the stairs into the kitchen. It was easy enough to grab a cup and fill it with water, dodging the wasted party guests that had gathered around the counter to play some kind of drinking game.

“Hey, where did you run off to!” Jett calls over to you.

Carefully, carrying the cup of water as not to spill, you turn around to meet his cheerful face. He had clearly gotten into that weed stash as his eyes were even more bloodshot than Eddie’s and his face was the most relaxed you’d ever seen it. And he was a pretty laid back guy so that was saying something.

“Oh, uh, Eddie’s not feeling good so I was just helping him out.” You explain.

Jett offers a suspicious squint, eyes glimmering in mischief as he reaches for a cupcake.

“What?” You ask genuinely.

He shakes his head, sticking his hands up in surrender which only makes you question the strange boy further. What was going on in that hyperactive mind of his?

“Nothin’” He smirks, orange icing coating his upper lip.

You didn’t have time for him to elaborate, if you could even get him to. You just needed to get back upstairs, you had already been gone for a few seconds too long, worry burying in your gut like a parasite.

“Okay, I have to get back to Eddie and make sure he hasn’t done something stupid.”

“Mmmhmm.” Jett giggles.

If only you had the time to interrogate him and inquire as to why he found that so funny. But you didn’t. Leaving him behind to laugh to himself, you can just barely make out one last word as you turn on your heel.

“Lovebirds.”

Your eyes grow ten times bigger as you scurry away. Did he think that’s what this was? That you were on your way to hook up with your boss? Did it look that way to everyone else? Jett was going to rat you out for something you weren’t even doing, you were convinced. No matter how nice of a guy Jett proved he was, he was higher than a kite and could start up a rumor like wildfire if he relayed his suspicion to anyone. It’s possible you were being paranoid but come the morning, if there were rumors floating around, you knew exactly who to blame.

Trying to shake the butterflies you felt taking your stomach hostage, you concentrate on getting the water upstairs without spilling a drop. It was evident that you had filled the cup a tad too high, giving you even more of a challenge. As you conquer the stairs, you anxiously peer around the corner into the bathroom, hoping and praying that Eddie had listened and didn’t move an inch. Otherwise, you were on another goosechase for a six foot tall metalhead for the second time that night and respectfully, your organs wouldn’t be able to handle another spurt of anxiety like that.

Much to your relief, Eddie sits against the wall just as you had left him, eyes still shut tight and head bowed. He doesn’t seem to hear your sock covered feet padding into the bathroom, not one muscle twitching.

“Eddie.” You call, holding the water in front of him.

No answer.

“Eddie?” You say, more panicked.

Nothing.

“Okay, this isn’t funny, Eddie. C’mon, drink the water.” You tell him, gripping his chin as you examine him.

His eyes seem to flutter beneath his eyelids, brows furrowing as his head resists your hand and leans toward gravity. You continue to hold him up, giving his cheek a small pat. A deep groan escapes him although he’s still practically sleeping.

“Eddie.” Shaking his shoulders, he only moves like a rag doll in your hold. “Eddie, wake up.”

“Mmm.” He grumbles, swatting your hands away.

“Okay, I gotta take you home.” You decide, placing your hands on your hips, attempting to determine just how you were going to even get him into your car.

You couldn’t leave him here, he was still wasted. You could leave him with Donnie and everyone to look after him but what was the point if you were going to go home anyway and he lived right next to you? There was no use in making them babysitters if there was a more logical solution.

“‘M fine.” He says, curling up into a ball.

“No, Eddie, get up. Get up.” You try to be firm with him but he remains on the floor, comfy as ever with his hands tucked beneath his head. “Shit.” You sigh.

It was time to call in some reinforcements.

–

“Jesus Christ, he’s really fucked up isn’t he?” Jett stares down at the figure of a sleeping Eddie on the bathroom floor, perfectly content.

“Yeah, can you guys just carry him to my car and I can figure out the rest once I get home?” You plead.

Jett and Nathan share a look of concern to which you raise your eyebrows in confusion, expecting an explanation. They glance once more at Eddie’s sleeping body and then back up to you, appearing as if that had said everything though you were still lost.

“How are you…going to carry him out of the car?” Nathan asks, his bushy gray eyebrows knit in thought.

In all fairness, you didn’t think far enough into the future. If it were only you, you assume you would be required to drag his body across the yard and onto the porch before fishing out his keys and lugging him up onto his couch before leaving some water next to him and dismissing yourself. The affair may take you over an hour considering Eddie was proving to be a stubborn drunk. But you’d surely manage if it had to be done.

“I dunno, I’ll work something out.” You tell him.

Nathan glances over to Jett once more, concerned expression only deepening as he peers back down at Eddie. Jett shrugs, surrendering the decision to both of you.

“How ‘bout this.” Nathan starts. “We’ll follow you home and help you get him situated–”

“God, ‘m up! ‘M up, okay!” Eddie takes the three of you by surprise as he rapidly pushes off the floor and begins standing on wobbly legs.

“You sure about that?” Jett teases while Eddie stabilizes himself against the sink.

“Fuck off.”

Eddie’s aggravated demeanor persists once again, a pathetic puppy dog pout at his lips while his eyes become overshadowed by eyebrows, a stern scowl forming. If it was meant to intimidate anyone, he was sadly mistaken. Instead, Jett snickers behind his hand, attempting to hide his grin.

“I’m kidding, I’m just kidding.” Jett continues to chuckle, avoiding Eddie’s harsh gaze.

“What is goin’ on here?” Donnie emerges from the stairs.

“Christ, ‘s go.” Eddie murmurs, rolling his eyes.

Donnie’s face contorts in confusion at his attitude, something that if it were directed towards you, you wouldn’t think twice about. It was no secret that his moodiness carried over even when he was intoxicated. But you suppose she has a motherly hold on him and should he act up, she wasn’t afraid to confront him. It didn’t matter how much taller or how grown of a man he was, she wouldn’t hesitate to pinch him by the ear and drag him off to give him a lesson in manners.

Obediently, Eddie backs down, his expression instantly relaxing. His scowl is replaced with a blank face, any negative thoughts seeming to fall right out of his head.

“You’re leavin’?” Donnie questions.

Rather than answering, Eddie shifts his gaze to you expectantly. Like you were suddenly his keeper. It was odd, going from being absolutely repulsive in his eyes when you’d first met him, to him essentially submitting to you so willingly. He was wasted but it was still something you fondly tucked into the back of your mind to remember later, like a little postcard for yourself.

“I, uh, yeah. I was just heading out and I thought…since we’re neighbors…” You try to elaborate, only feeling as if you were digging yourself into a deeper hole as you remember Jett’s comment from earlier.

Low and behold, the brief glance you offer Jett only confirms it, a huge smirk displayed on his face just for you. It was enough for the blood to rush into your cheeks, practically sizzling to the touch.

“You just got here.” Donnie complains.

Jett puffs out his cheeks, offering some kind of communication that has Donnie reeling back on her previous statement.

“It is late though and if he’s really not feeling good…” She reasons.

You weren’t stupid and you knew Jett was assuming the position of a wingman and somehow, he was able to convey that to Donnie in just one simple look. And she ran with it, much to your surprise. Eddie seemed to check out of any conversation, bags hanging underneath his eyes while they drooped in boredom, his tall frame leaning against the wall as he toyed with the chain attached to his jeans.

Externally, you were irked, irritation written all over your face, even a hint of disgust could be found within your features. But internally, you were having quite the opposite reaction. Those damn butterflies had started up again, whirling around in your stomach so intensely, you were beginning to think they were bees. Your heart pounded in your ears, the tips of them becoming embarrassingly red and hot. You didn’t know why, maybe it was the prospect of everyone else thinking you had some secret relationship going on or even a little fling and the fact that they seemed to be rooting for you. It ignited the tiniest bit of excitement in you, you weren’t going to lie to yourself. Even if there was truly nothing going on.

Within minutes, you had an entourage escorting you to your car, Nathan insisting that it was no issue if you’d rather him drive Eddie just in case he were to pass out again. Though you were grateful, you didn’t see the trouble in making him drive all the way out to your street only to turn around and go right back to the party. If Eddie passed out again, you’d splash some water on him and surely figure out a way to wake him. Besides, he had started to become more alert since stumbling down the stairs and making the walk down the steep driveway. Of course, you also required that he down some water before leaving, otherwise he could stay and let his friends have their fun and tease him about sleeping in front of the toilet, which he didn’t seem to like as he scrunched his face and grabbed the water from you.

Donnie had advised you to drive safely several times while Jett continued to poke fun at Eddie, only earning himself a sock to the shoulder. Jett may not feel it now but in the morning there would be a good chance he’d have a nice purple bruise.

At some point after you had stepped outside, a jacket was draped over your shivering shoulders. Eddie’s jacket. And seconds later, he walked ahead of you with his hands shoved in his pockets, no doubt trying to escape Jett’s teasing. It was in that moment, surrounded by people who seemed to just…care, that you began to feel wanted. While Donnie talked your ear off about keeping an eye out for deer, Nathan continuing to even offer to drive both of you home, assuring you that he didn’t mind in the slightest. Eddie resting his jacket over your shoulders, even in his current state, and Jett…well Jett was being Jett but he still contributed to the warm and fuzzy feelings you were experiencing.

It felt a lot like…family.

–

The cold glass soothes Eddie’s sweaty cheek, the surface fogging up with every breath as his finger taps away to a beat in his head on the center console. The slumped position he had been in for the past five minutes was sure to awaken a few aches and pains in his spine but he didn’t budge. The radio softly sounded through the car, some random pop song he could hardly make out. His eyes followed tree after tree, nearly causing him to go cross-eyed as he kept up with the little game he made up in his head, counting each tree. Sometimes he would get distracted by the pavement zooming by before continuing.

Not a word had been shared between you since the bathroom though it was an oddly comfortable silence. It didn’t feel like you had to speak or fill in the gaps like you usually would, desperately clinging to words that you didn’t have in order to appease the other person. The fact that Eddie was coming out of his drunken haze could have something to do with it but had it not been Eddie you were driving, you’re certain you would struggle to strike up a conversation as if it were required.

Glancing over at him, you can’t help but feel a small smile tug at your lips, his fingers drawing a smiley face into the fog he created with his breath. You’d never seen him so content but perhaps you shouldn’t look too much into it. A few beers and some weed would have that effect on anyone. It was just pleasant to see him so laid back, the stressors of his life set aside for another time. You could only hope he could appear the same way sober someday soon.

“Where’s your family?” Eddie suddenly mumbles, eyes still glued to the scenery outside.

The question is out of the blue and the last thing you would expect from him. Although he had taken somewhat of a liking to you, he’d never taken an interest in something so personal. And you offered him that same respect.

“What?” You ask, sneaking a glance at him, your hands squeezing the wheel.

His focus shifts from the window to you, his body turning inward as he leans his cheek against the headrest, waiting for your response. The way his lips pucker from his cheek squishing against the seat only makes your heart clench. His large awaiting eyes reflect the moon and you find it hard to change the subject when they appear so patient and attentive.

“Um, well, they’re back in…back home.” You answer simply.

“Where’s that?”

He looked the most inquisitive you’d seen him, body turned toward you, his attention not once wavering. Instead of the usual knit brows he often wore, his features remained softer and full of wonder. Lips parted and eyes twinkling, who were you to deny his efforts? Even if he was slightly under the influence. Worst case scenario, he doesn’t remember this conversation.

“California.”

“Oh.”

You didn’t know what kind of response you were expecting but for some reason, the one word was a bit too vague, self consciousness kicking in.

“What about yours?” You shift the spotlight over to him.

From what you can tell as you keep your focus on the road, his gaze drops while he collects his thoughts, his breathing going shaky for just a second before he regains his composure. A hum deep in his throat notifies you that he’s ready to begin speaking again.

“Uh, don’t really have one. Never really have. Or, uh, I just don’t remember them? Other than my uncle, Wayne. He’s back…” Eddie hesitates. “He’s in Indiana.”

“I’m sorry—I didn’t know…” You start to backtrack and although he was the one who initiated the conversation, maybe it was too bold of you to reverse the question.

“No, ‘s okay.” He assures you, shaking his head, his curls flattening against the seat.

“You miss him?”

The car is silent again, aside from the radio playing quietly. You fear you’ve said the wrong thing, struck some kind of a nerve that forced him to go mute. No longer wanting to engage in the topic. But when you peer over at him again briefly, he’s biting his lip, getting lost in his mind again before he decides on an answer.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. He visits when he can.” A sadness lurks beneath the surface of his monotone response, eyes growing shinier in the moonlight. And then he wipes the slate clean, face devoid of emotion once again as he seems to shake his previous thoughts from his head. “So what’s your deal? What made you come all the way out here?”

This is the part where you would shrug and offer no further insight into the corners of your mind that usually were kept isolated. But when his gaze softens from the passenger seat like that–like he wants to know, like he cares, you wanted to give him the key to your contaminated brain and let him poke around all he wanted. As long as he wanted.

“Well, uh, I love my family...” You start, voice timid. “But I was feeling super lost. And like I was living for everyone else. And when my dad passed months ago he left me his estate…left me everything…”

“I’m sorry.” He says, sympathy coating his words.

You nod, a silent thank you before continuing.

“So I split it up with my family…then moved away. Guess I wanted to…I dunno find myself?” You laugh, as if you’d just told a joke.

Rather than laugh along, Eddie studies you with intent. Like he’s searching for more, digging into your soul.

“Why’s that funny?” He asks.

“I just–I don’t know what I’m doing.” You laugh again.

“Well, neither do I.” He begins to chuckle. “I mean look at me.”

Progressively, you both start to laugh harder, glancing at each other and reveling in the failures that you both had endured up until this moment. It’s like you were slap happy, a snort threatening to escape you through your uncontrollable laughter.

“Ah, fuck.” Eddie exhales, a grin plastered to his face. “Bar is going to shit, my government hush money has run out–”

“Your what?” You question, amusement taking over your features.

“Nothing.”

Suddenly, he has no desire to converse, his lips shut in a tight line as he once again turns his attention to the window.

“Government hush money?” You repeat.

With a roll of his eyes and a deep breath, you can tell he contemplates carefully as he chooses his next words.

“Jesus Christ, I’m really not supposed to talk about it.” He breathes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But, fuck it I guess.” He drops his hand from his face.

Pulling into your driveway, the gravel crunches under the tires before you kill the engine, headlights leaving you in the darkness. Eddie has your full focus, your body turned toward him as you pull a knee up to your chest, resting your chin on top.

“You don’t have to.” You assure. “I can just forget you ever said anything–”

“Honestly, it’ll probably do me some good to get it off my chest.” He interrupts.

At his insistence, you keep quiet, waiting for him to continue. He fidgets with his rings nervously, pulling them off and putting them back on.

“You, uh, you have to swear to never talk about it again. To anyone.”

“Promise.” You whisper, sticking your pinky out.

A puzzled look crosses his face, looking from your pinky to you in uncertainty. It was becoming apparent that he was sobering up, laziness no longer taking a hold of his eyelids and words coherent.

“Pinky promise.” You smile.

“Pinky promise?” He still appears confused.

“Yeah, you never made a pinky promise before?”

A small smile forces the corners of his mouth up, eyes shining with entertainment as he stares at your pinky. Shaking his head, he rests his hands in his lap, almost bashfully. A contrast to his usual prickly tendencies and forward personality.

“Well, I take pinky promises very seriously. They can’t be broken. So I pinky promise, I won’t mention this ever again.” You stick your hand even further forward, awaiting his pinky.

“Yeah?” He asks with a lopsided grin. “How do I know you mean that?”

“It’s a pinky promise, Eddie.” You deadpan, as if he was supposed to know how eternally binding it was.

A few seconds pass, Eddie still looking from you to your pinky with round eyes, soft at the edges with something that resembles the innocence of a little boy. His inner child was sparkling, pouring from him like a forbidden fountain that only you had the honor of witnessing. When his pinky wraps around yours, his comically larger than yours, you can’t fight the way your heart flutters in response to the touch. His warmth encompassing yours, melting together like the sweetest chocolate.

Then, once your pinkies part, he speaks of a horrifying earthquake, striking his home town and wreaking havoc on the innocent lives once lived. He tells you of things that you would never in this lifetime believe, things that he was forced to believe within seconds, creatures that attacked him, putting him on his deathbed only to be revived and put in the hospital for weeks. Of the horrifying manhunt for him, how he was a wanted man for things he was never responsible for, conveniently at the peak of satanic panic. How he was blamed for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, how the whole town pinned a murder on him. How there are things he could never even begin to explain like how Chrissy, the head cheerleader at his highschool had died right in front of him. And how she was the first girl he was actually interested in, only for her to die a horrific death before his eyes. He didn’t go into detail, though you didn’t need him to. You didn’t want him to re-live such trauma just to provide you further explanation.

Once all was said and done, once he was out of the hospital, he was arrested and sat in jail for a week or so, he couldn’t recall exactly how long. His uncle trying everything, doing everything he could to bail him out but he didn’t come from money so that proved to fail, especially since no one was on his side, even a majority of the police. He told you of Dustin and Lucas…of Max, Erika, Steve, Nancy, and Robin. The people that had always been on his side even when he was the only suspect for murder. The people he missed so dearly every day but could only see every so often when they could find time to visit. Which they did. He only wished he could go back home. If he did, it would only spark up another riot and it was against his agreement with the government to even step foot in the state of Indiana.

So when he was bailed out of jail, his friends all awaiting him just outside the station, it was bittersweet. He was relieved that he wouldn’t be stuck in that hell hole for the rest of his life like his dad but he was terrified of leaving everything he’d ever known. It was his dream to someday get out of that place, a place that he wouldn’t name which was most likely due to his agreement. But the second he was forced to leave, he didn’t know what was next for him, a terrifying concept for any smalltown boy at the fresh age of 20.

Wayne had intervened, making plans for Eddie to move in with his grandfather, Roy out in the middle of the mountains a few states away rather than being shipped somewhere where he had no connections, a setup for failure. Eddie told you about how he didn’t know his grandpa his entire life, didn’t even know he still had one until he went to live with him. But without any hesitation, Roy took him under his wing, stating that it's what his daughter, Eddie’s mother would’ve wanted him to do. The least he could do for a boy who only knew broken family and lost his beloved mother so young.

You learn that his grandfather had distanced himself due to Eddie’s dad and truthfully didn’t know of Eddie’s existence until Wayne made that phone call. The moment he found out he had a grandson, he welcomed him with open arms and put him to work at the bar, giving him a kind of security that Eddie had never been familiar with in his life. Grandpa Roy died last year of kidney failure, leaving Eddie everything and you could tell it was really taking a toll on him, the responsibility of the bar, the fear of losing it and disappointing his grandfather.

It seems that within the span of ten minutes, you learn Eddie’s life story. From the incident back in Indiana to how his dad created destruction in his life long before that and how he would teach Eddie how to commit petty theft and hotwire cars. He was on the route to becoming just like his dad before Wayne got involved, fighting like hell for legal custody of him. His dad refused time and time again although Eddie spent most nights and days at Wayne’s trailer anyway. Wayne didn’t want him to have any authority over Eddie, the man was a criminal and an addict that would leave poor young Eddie alone for days to fend for himself until he decided to come back. He didn’t want that life for Eddie.

Eventually, he won, the courts taking far too long to review the case but he was granted full custody and not long after, Eddie’s dad was arrested for grand theft auto. He still rots in jail to this day for several other crimes he committed once he got out the first time.

It was all laid out for you, Eddie’s entire upbringing. His whole life on display for you to judge if you felt so inclined to. You didn’t. You sat and you processed. Deciphering that Eddie is the way he is because of the way he had been treated his entire life. An outcast among the working class, growing up in poverty and being made fun of for things out of his control. Kids steering clear from him for the simple fact that he was his father’s son and that his name had already been tarnished before he was even born. It was becoming clear as to why Eddie was so emotionally withdrawn. How could he not be?

“Eddie I–” “If you say you’re sorry I’ll puke again.” He jokes.

It was something you found so endearing within him, his ability to remain playful even when addressing his trauma. Perhaps it was a coping mechanism. You could relate if it was.

“Let’s just, uh, call it a night. I think that’s enough about me. I don’t wanna talk about me anymore.” He shakes his head, exhausted but still displaying a playful smile.

“Okay. Yeah.” You agree, opening the door before he stops you with a raise of his hand.

“Would this…would this be a bad time to tell you that I’m ninety nine percent sure that I left my keys at the party?” He squeezes his eyes shut.

“Wow.” You sigh, resting your head on the steering wheel. “Look at how the tables have turned.” You grin, shoving his shoulder, eliciting a grunt from him.

“Gonna make me sleep on the porch with the bears?” He half jokes. He wouldn’t blame you.

“Only if you don’t puke on me like I did to you.”

Eddie can’t fight his grin, dimples deepening. He’s thankful that it’s too dark to make out the pink tinting his cheeks.

~end~

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saint-siren · 7 months

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A World For Her Alone | Suffer Does The Wolf

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

cw (chapter specific): pregnancy loss, infidelity, abuse, suicide, childbirth, vomiting, dubcon, nothing good happens

pairing: claude x fem!reader

summary: Claude will never be able to save you but that doesn't mean he can stop trying.

He woke with a start, looking about the room as if the blood and carnage could follow him. But all he could see was his familiar dreary bedroom even though he could still feel the pain in his arm, even though he still felt disoriented from the carriage crash, even though he felt the phantom warmth of Diana in his arms. This life struck a stark contrast to the others. Before, Felix was the only one to ever kill him and for reasons clear as day. But who was this stranger in the woods?

The assailants of the forest were not ordinary criminals. They didn’t seem at all interested in what money or jewelry he and Diana had. They did not search the carriage, their eyes never even met the brooch on his cravat or the ruby necklace around Diana’s neck. Who were they? No, more importantly – who was the swordsman with unbridled joy in his expression as he cut his head off? Could they have been comrades of Felix’s, seeking retribution? He could have sworn something about the swordsman felt familiar, only he couldn’t figure out why exactly. He told himself that he’d have to be careful, he’d have to watch for them but it was half hearted. What was the point of saving his own life? If he could do anything in this life, he wanted to find a way to save you from himself.

So valiant it sounded to him but the reality of the matter never left him. He knew he likely wouldn’t be able to do either of those things anyway. There was no choice to begin with. His life was out of his hands. He’d been given over to darkness ages ago. There was nothing he could do to avoid becoming paralyzed in his own body. It had already been done. Sure as the sun would rise every morning, he would always be given over to a force greater than himself. This moment of control only existed as an illusion, it only existed so that he could be put back into his place.

He would never be able to save you. He would never be able to stop trying. He would watch you die again and again for so long that the lives would blur together and no longer be distinguishable. This, he was sure, was ordained by god. He had never been pious, he was always much too arrogant for it. Even now, he held to the last shred of it, the deluded belief in himself that helped him pretend there was a chance this time could end differently.

And so he began again. The moment he saw Diana again, he was overcome with grief and intrusive love that needled its way deep into his mind. He was stifled. He could finally breathe. He was regretful, he wanted to pull her into his arms and beg her forgiveness for letting her die. He wished she’d died before this meeting. Her life was so fragile. It was precious. It was a burden.

It seemed there was nowhere he could take refuge from Diana. She’d started going to the academy, her health was better this time. She was so happy to get the chance that she nearly floated to her first class and Claude’s heart stalled to see her so vibrant. But when the classes let out for lunch she was walking alone, the roses were taken from her cheeks, she looked somber, nervous. He could not help what came over him again, he went to her. Her big, ruby eyes looked up at him in surprise, wiping away all the shyness in them. “Lord Claude?”

“Just Claude. No titles. We’re to be family and family has no need for formalities.” Family. How could he say such things with a straight face? Never mind the fact that it wasn’t true in and of itself, not of your family and certainly not of his.

A pittance of a smile rose to Diana’s face. “Claude,” She tested out calling him only by his name and an inevitable thrill stung his heart. She must have felt it too, for her he could see the affection clouding her gaze.

“What’s wrong? You were looking troubled.”

“Well…” She hesitated and for some reason, this reminded him of you. It was like pulling teeth to get you to ever admit something was wrong and when you finally did, it was with your eyes to the floor in embarrassment. The reminder of you made his chest ache, it felt like the edge of Felix’s sword as it first broke his skin. But Diana spoke again and cut off all resemblance, obfuscated the pain of memory. “I underestimated how hard it is to go here, I don’t know anyone and I don’t have any classes with my sister. The work is hard, I don’t know if I’ll ever catch up.” Diana was not you. She never hesitated to make her feelings known. She had probably never been made to feel shameful of being human. A sudden and intense hate rose from within his truest self, though he didn’t know who it was meant for. Your parents who blatantly, egregiously favored Diana over you? Or Diana herself for…for simply being as she was? For making him feel this way?

Still, his love for her had fallen over him, smothered him. It seemed almost primordial, as if the love of her had always been and it was the Claude inside who was formed around it. It was more than inevitable, it was written into his very being. He was running desperately from something that was inside him all along. That would be until he was no more. This darkness lived before him, he was born to it. It wrapped itself around him and cradled him like a mother. It sung out in a honeyed voice, “there is nothing more for you than her.”

And so her pitiful troubles struck him deeply. “I’ll help you. If you’d like, we can sit together at lunch and go over your assignments.”

She brightened again and like a child who knew no modesty, she accepted without pretense at first. But then she remembered something Claude was certain both of them had wanted to ignore. “What about my sister? Will she mind?” She asked. He couldn’t keep himself from frowning at the mention of her. His greater self reviled the interruption in his break in reality. They usually had an unspoken agreement between them not to mention you but with eyes all around, it was impossible not to remember what they were. What other people must think when they see the two together.

“Of course not. She prefers to eat alone.” It wasn’t true, of course. You had always been pleased to spend time with him. In previous lives, he had simply avoided eating with you much of the time to the point where at lunch you did not even make a half hearted attempt. You knew what the answer was before the question left your lips and you simply left to eat alone, in some abandoned corner of the gardens. It was no matter. You could be left alone, you knew how to be alone. Diana needed someone. It couldn’t be you so it would be him. A sense of what was perhaps pride filled his chest. It felt righteous and gallant of him.

He swept her away to the dining hall, they walked so close their hands occasionally brushed against each other’s. People were looking at the two and he could hear them whisper when they walked by. He’d always hated being around other nobles, always simpering and gossiping. Although he knew that even before this all began, he had never been excellent at being human, he was certain that his fellow aristocrats were even worse at it than he was. Everything was up for grabs, fodder for the entertainment of others, everything from an alleged affair to murder. It was all very detached and uncharitable as if they were only speaking of nebulous people whose lives had long since become nothing more than stories. He felt the humiliation that exacerbated the dehumanization deep inside but what darkness surrounded him warmed at Diana’s company. It thought of nothing but her. He could be suddenly plunged into a circle of hell as payment for his many wasted lives and he’d only think to wonder if Diana had judged him as a good man; if wherever she was, she went to bed believing he’d go on to a sweeter afterlife.

His shoulder brushed against another student’s in the hall, a flash of black hair passed him by and sent a chill down his spine but he kept walking his fated path. He could not turn his head to see if he’d met his killer again but for what it was worth, he doubted finding him would have ever been so easy. As he entered the dining hall and scoped out a secluded table, it occurred to him to wonder how he would die this time around. Maybe this time, if she died before you did…

Diana opened her mouth and it became harder to hold onto that thought, it seemed to slip through his fingers. The more they spoke, the quieter his voice became. It was so eerie to speak lightly of schoolwork with a girl he’d seen murdered twice over. He’d seen her sullied by blood, dirt and terror. Now she was safe next to him and everything seemed unreal. There was the feeling of being pushed aside, out of his own body. He was losing himself, ebbing out of the wound in his chest with no way back inside.

He felt himself warm with the simple joy of having her near. He felt his expression lift from its usual seriousness. “I think you can catch up to your classmates but you’ll have to put in some effort.”

“Of course. Though, I really wouldn’t know where to start.” Diana’s brow furrowed, littered around the table were reading lists, syllabuses and assignments due the following week.

“If you want…” He sacrificed the last of his dignity failing to stop himself from finishing that sentence. “I could help you with everything. I could study with you.”

A hope blossomed in Diana’s eyes that he had not seen since the tea party where they’d made a promise. “Really?” Her voice was so tentative, so sweet that it actually hurt him to think of denying her.

“Yes. I can make time after classes end. We can start today, if you like.” On days where he was not meeting with you, he typically trained for several hours after getting home from the academy, spent a few more hours working on whatever tasks for the marquisate were delegated to him which left him with a slim space to simply relax. Doing this could only make that space smaller. He couldn’t remember a time since he was first able to hold a sword that he wasn’t tired, all of him ached for rest, he always had. He had been waiting to truly rest since he was ten. But what did any of that matter? He had always been dutiful and this was the one task which would bring him joy simply in and of itself.

When lunch was over, Claude walked her out of the dining hall, his hand on the small of her back to gently navigate her through the swarm of students leaving. Diana clung to his arm, squeezing closer their bodies closer together to let someone by. However, neither of them let go even when they had passed the crowd. It couldn’t be helped, it couldn’t be helped. Was that what he’d say at the end of his life this time? It could not be helped, he loved her dearly and that was a force in and of itself that could not be denied.

It was Diana who had spotted you, returning from the garden. Her cheeks had turned bright red. She quickly separated herself from him, which Claude might have laughed at if his body were his own. So embarrassed to be caught touching her future brother-in-law and yet brazen enough to be doing it at the school she also attended of all places. Such a stupid girl she was, he had built a hatred of her where before there had been none. Before, he had not even considered her existence. He only ever met her out of formality but it would have been just as well if he never did. Because his love for her was so intense, it could only be met with the strongest hatred he could muster out of dregs of what he was. All of his grief turned to hatred for her and for himself. The love of her had made him sick, made him mad, brought him hell in his own home. Why wasn’t she dead? Why was she healthy? Why wasn’t she dying quietly in her bed? Why could she not have died before they ever got to meet at that stupid tea party?

“Your next class is this way too, right? Should we go together?” Diana asked, nervously. Your face became a mask at that. He scrutinized you, the detached disdain he had for you was waiting to fall onto him with one word from you. He’d not have any of the harassment you brought on other ladies directed toward Diana simply for having lunch with him.

But you smiled, a false smile that kept the darkness at bay. “Of course.” He wondered if Diana even knew how affected your voiced sounded in that moment, was she enough of a sister to you to know when you were putting yourself aside for her?

“I hope to see you again soon, Lady Diana,” He heard himself say, not even bothering to address you. He turned and left for his next class. “Good,” A voice from the dark. “No harm should come to her, not even by the hands of her elder sister.”

The days were short because he spent so much time with Diana. He didn’t know what it was about this life, but he could swear he spent more time with her in this one than he ever had before. It felt sick and rapturous, it was like the cloying, syrupy medicine the doctor had given him when he was injured in training once. He felt open, his very being had softened to the world itself because of Diana. He was rotting inside and his very being had begun to show his dread upon waking because of Diana. Even if he couldn’t express it outwardly, even the joy couldn’t obscure the steady drip of misery he sustained himself on. In a strange way, he was relieved for it. It reminded him that she had not always been in his heart. His love for you refused to be forgotten and as a result, the person he was never submitted to the greater self. This pain was visceral, he needed it like water.

He surprised himself when he took you on an outing to the botanical gardens. It was just obligatory, because Diana had thought to pull from him slightly so that he could tend to you like he should have been doing. It was a tentative offering, it was “I know that I betray my sister daily but do you not see me trying to resist?” It was pathetic. Even so, his greater self had not objected the thought of spending time with you, in this life you were far more tolerable. You spoke not a word of complaint against him when he spent hours with your sister at a time, behind his back you had even tried to cover them against rumor after rumor when before you would have made a scene. You could have moped in unearned despair and jealousy over Diana, you could have lashed out at her for eating lunch with him like you would have done before but instead you allowed Diana to have what she deserved in graceful apathy. You finally seemed to know how to behave.

He tried to enjoy the date as much as he could but it was too sweet to believe, your apathetic expression had even cracked a bit to reveal just a sliver of happiness. It was a tender moment he did not deserve. And he was painfully aware of that every moment, he had no tears but he might have cried at how unsure your happiness was. Happiness from something so small as him doing exactly as he should, taking you out to spend time at a place you enjoy. If he could have freed his body just in that moment, to apologize, to tell you how he really felt, it would have been worth dying right where he stood. He knew the moment would not last. He would live to hurt you again.

On your wedding day, the weather was appropriately miserable. Hope had deserted him, it had vanished in both sides of himself. The mirage of an oasis that had kept him company in the barren wilds had deserted him, leaving him somehow worse off, alone with the reality of his dire situation. When he first set eyes on you in white, you seemed almost unearthly. A beautiful apparition. He had seen you in your wedding dress so many times, he knew it was odd to look at you as though for the first time but he couldn’t help it. You, right then in the glow of candlelight looking holy, were the loveliest sight in all of his many lives. He could not hold back the thought that he would live to destroy this moment for the both of you.

He heard himself say words rehearsed to the point of blind recitation. He hated the words, the greater self defied them by conjuring the image of Diana on the terrance after dark, bathed in moonlight. “I swear in the name of my good house, to love and honor you for as long as you shall live. Never will you be disgraced by any action or inaction of mine.” He doubted he could have said the words with any more sincerity if he had his own voice anyway. Perhaps it was just as well that it wasn’t him saying the words, he could never have managed to hold his composure as he looked into your eyes knowing that you could remember looking into his as he grasped your throat.

After the ceremony, when the guests were free to roam around drinking expensive wine and gossiping, he caught a glimpse of Diana over your shoulder and was yet again besotted as if the first time. He tried to focus his eyes on you but it was no use. She was positively shining in the scarce silver light that passed between clouds. Somehow the fact that she had managed to smile and radiate such warmth on such a day that must have been devastating to her made her all the more lovable. A pity unfurled in his heart that felt the same as his love. Oh, Diana. He had not even considered how hard this day would be for her, he was too self absorbed. She was made to watch the man she loved give his promise to another at a ceremony that symbolized the binding of their lives and fates together. She could not dwell in dreams of him anymore without being reminded, it would only be harder when children were born to them. Still, she shone brightly, exuberant in her love of both of you.

He forgot himself. “So beautiful…” He murmured. Words that drew the vague horror inside him from its pathetic stillness back to its desperate lashing. He saw you react immediately, you had heard him. He saw your face take on the sweetest look, as if so happy and surprised that your now husband should think of you as beautiful. He saw your face fall when you looked behind you and realized who the words were really for. “Stranger, if you must come for my life…” He thought, “Come now.”

Obligation to the crown soon took him away from home for a while. He couldn’t have left sooner. This time, all his letters were Diana. Not so much as a rushed, perfunctorily done letter for you. He could leave you to care for the marquisate, you could hold your own. He saw no reason to burden himself on top of everything else. But Diana sent her perfumed letter and he sent his replies. That much was different, it was what he needed to get through such tedious and draining work. They were all he thought of, all he wanted for. Diana wrote more frequently when he had mentioned in one of his replies that he read them over and over to fall asleep. His superior laughed when he called Claude’s name each time as he distributed letters among the knights, ribbing him about being newlywed. He thought the letters were from the new marchioness and how could he correct him?

Diana’s letters grew increasingly intimate, she expressed such a longing for him that he dreamed of sneaking away in the night even though such an act was treasonous. “Claude, I don’t know what there is to do without you. I thought it would be good not to see you for a while after the wedding, some time to cool off and accept things as they are. But I haven’t, I don’t think I can. I’ve been treating the love I have for you as though it’s a fever to break but no matter what I do, I cannot let go.” Those were the words that disintegrated whatever ease her letters had injected into his life away from home. He hated it, every moment spent here. He needed to see her again so much that he was sure it would show in everything he did. He was sure that you’d only have to look at him to know what he was struggling to hide.

Throughout the next two years, his absence in the manor was even more pronounced than in lives past. Because when he returned from his duties, he went to Diana’s side. He would always remember the cloying scent of Diana’s room. Even when he bathed upon returning home, he swore he could still smell it lingering on his skin. Her touch could not be forgotten.

He had not realized the depth of his desire for her until he set eyes on her again. Until he saw her in the flesh. A carnal and intrusive desire hung over his head precariously. She’d been in her nightgown this time, fresh from sleep, eyes soft and dreamy. It was morning, she was slowly getting ready and she’d not expected his visit but he could not help himself, it was a wonder he had even lasted the night. In the white of the morning sun shining through the cover of clouds, he could see the outline of her body plainly. His voice dried up in his throat. Desire, until then distinct, waiting to be claimed, finally reached over him and sealed his fate.

It is a strange thing for the body to yearn for things the mind opposes. When he reached for Diana, he felt a dread so strong that it became him. He understood what was meant to happen and he fought against his own body desperately, trying to assume control over it. But no amount of exertion ever made a difference, he was made to feel Diana’s body beneath his hands, her lips against his. No matter what he wanted, the greater force moved his body to its own desires. Even when inside, he was screaming at the scene unfolding before his eyes with his own body as its star.

His body was not his own but even so, he had to feel how it moved, what pleasure unfurled within him as his bare skin lay against Diana’s. It was a sick feeling of humiliation, of intrusion that juxtaposed the arousal which heated his body. His whims reduced to nothing in the face of her bare body. The inevitability of this act, it was a monumentally difficult thing for him to accept but what else could he do? Could he lay paralyzed and aware in his own body as he could only watch what was being done? No, the anguish of that would kill as surely as the sword that felled his head. Instead, he seemed to leave his body. Instead he let go of his body, he allowed it to take all it pleased as he visited elsewhere. He seemed to drift upwards toward the ceiling where he watched the act transpire more objectively. From that view, he could imagine it was not him who was driving himself into a moaning, gasping Diana, it was some other man. Yes, it must be, for Claude was not in that body, he was adrift.

When returned, he was holding her against his sweaty body beneath the sheets. Her scent clung to his skin. “I love you, Claude. I was never prepared to resist,” she said. She was trembling slightly as the heat of desire passed and left them only with the gravity of what they had done. “But we cannot allow this to happen again.” He held her closer against his chest and nodded numbly. He knew he would come to her again. This thing, it stole even dignity from him, even love.

Claude and Diana laid together again and again. And again and again. Despite their promises the first few times that it’d never happen again, that they couldn’t, shouldn’t, musn’t. It was always him who set aside these promises first, seducing her instead, he’d said on one occasion with his lips against her neck, “I don’t love her, I can’t. You are the first and last woman I will ever love. The moment you and I first met, we both knew we weren’t just going to be in-laws. Haven’t we done enough pretending?” Her will melted under her desire. His was buried under another’s.

Then came the day Diana revealed herself to be pregnant. He thought himself to be dead inside but the moment those uncertain words left her lips, he found that he still had hope enough to destroy. He was in agony. A child between he and Diana when he knew you had never even gotten to name your own? It was a pain that had followed you into your previous life, searching for a child you’d never hold again. How could he be fit to have a child like this when he had abandoned the one born of his failure? Now, it seemed, he had a child of his shame too. Would he love this child of Diana where he’d been unable to love yours? It was unfair, he knew and he could do nothing, nothing at all to erase it.

He knew that in his misfortune, this child would be born. He would hear himself reveal it to you and watch you crack apart as you lived between haunted memory of your daughter whose name remained elusive because of him and the child of Diana who would surely be loved. As its mother was.

Diana begged him not to reveal anything until later on, she was uncertain in her ability to carry a child to term and if she could not, what would the reveal be worth? Nothing but more pain to gather up around hers. He was bound to the secret until she was rather far along and sure that she would give birth. Even your parents knew before you did, they kept her secret and shielded her from rumors as much as they could. Their loyalties always belonged to Diana but this was egregious. They refused to even condemn their son-in-law for having an affair with his wife’s sister. Instead, they only shrewdly suggested that he take responsibility by annulling his marriage to you and take Diana as his wife since, of course, she was the one with his child.

The greater force had not decided whether he would or would not, for even though he loved Diana, he had married you for a reason. You were the one capable of what the marquisate required. His innermost self could only recoil, seeking escape from the whole situation even as he lived in it. Desperately seeking to dissociate from the pain he would live to cause. He hid deep within worthless flesh inside the cold corner of his mind which belonged to him in the same way a cell belonged to the prisoner who lived and died in it.

But it did not save him.

When Diana was almost eight months along, he brought her to the manor. She would have it done no sooner. She was ill from the strain of carrying their child in her womb and ill from the stress of the secret, of the inevitable fallout. Her bump was quite small even now, her condition could be made slightly more obscure with the right cut of dress and a coat. Her skin was pale and her hand trembled in his as they reached the salon where you were having tea. He let go of her when you looked up at them and approached you warily, slowly.

“It isn’t Diana’s fault.” The nonsensical words came out of his lips instantly, above reason, he needed to protect Diana as he always had.

You, with your flat, lifeless eyes seemed to stiffen with anticipation of his next words. “Is there something wrong?” You asked. Oh, his heart broke to hear the concern in your voice, the eagerness to help him.

“Diana is pregnant.” He would rather have died right there than witness what those words would do to you but there was no other will than that of his greater self.

A teapot fell from your hands onto the floor, making a loud clang which Diana flinched at. “Who’s the father?”

With bile in his throat he answered. “I am.”

These words seem to break you, it cracked open the mask you hid your contempt and grief behind. It revealed a frail woman whose eyes shone with unshed tears and whose lips trembled as she tried to speak. You lost what little held you together. All you could ask was “Why?”

He wanted to answer with. “Because I was devoured by this thing which impersonates me.” But instead he said “Because I love her,” shameless as an arrogant little prince. The thoughts flooded in, he was taking control over his own life, he was proud of himself for standing up for what he wanted. It was ridiculous, almost to the point of hilarity. Who was he standing up to? A fragile woman who looked as though she were at the verge of losing her mind? His wife who asked so little of him?

Your eyes glazed over and there was no doubt in his mind that you were remembering your daughter. You screamed and he thought of your daughter, unwilling to be soothed after losing her mother. You fell onto the ground, eyes on the floor as if it could open up and reveal to you what had already been lost.

“I’m sorry, big sister.” Diana mumbled and he felt sick to his stomach as his attention turned to her, leading her to the couch to sit. Covering her ears as if this wasn’t her sorrow to witness, she should have had to hear her sister’s screams. She should have to bear witness to what she had done to her own flesh and blood. He had covered her ears as if the noise were only an inconvenience to Diana rather than the cacophonous song of her doing.

Your nails dug into your skin so hard there was blood gathering beneath them. Your screams came like waves, faltering here and there between whimpers and sobs but returning. “Stay here, I’ll take her upstairs,” He said to Diana, calmly, dissonant as if this had nothing to do with either of them. As if he shouldn’t be on the floor begging her forgiveness, telling her that he’d met their daughter and he could never acknowledge another child. The child in Diana’s womb would be born to the darkness that moved him.

He brought you to your bedroom, his uncaring touch stilling you, anchoring you to the dreadful reality he had created. He left you there in your room even as your screams reached out to him through the door, to tend the mother of his child in this life. Diana had her face in her hands when he returned, he sat down next to her and put his arm around her, bringing her softly weeping face to his chest. He stayed there until she calmed. They slept in his room together, she wouldn’t suffer being alone in such a situation. His hands warming her skin, his sweet words of false assurance in her ear allowed her to fall sleep. He stayed awake, watching her with all of a husband’s concern for his wife. Everything Diana had belonged to you, was misappropriated for the wrong woman. Did she know that? If she did, would she care? Not the kind of care that would make her shed a few tears and words of regret, the kind that would eat her alive as it had done him. He doubted it.

She clung to him in sleep as if she would fall apart without her comfort, while having left another woman broken.

Come morning, Diana wanted to take a tray of breakfast from the kitchen up to your room. She already navigated the manor as if she were its mistress. Perhaps subconsciously, she felt she would be. Maybe she even thought that was the way things had to be. Was she already justifying it to herself? She walked with her hand protectively on her belly as if wanting to shield her child from her own wrongdoing. He wanted to tell her it was too late for that.

When the two reached your door, Diana knocked. “Sister?” She called, hesitantly. “Are you awake?’ When no answer came, she simply opened the door and called out your name. The stench of vomit hit them and before he could tell her not to, Diana rushed in. He followed behind her as she raced to your bedside and he was overcome with unspeakable grief. The sheets were covered in vomit which had run down the side of your bed onto the floor. A bottle of sleeping tonic lay in the middle of the mess, your hand still slightly cupped as if you’d been holding it and your lips stained the same hue as its contents. You lay motionless on the bed. Diana gasped and took hold of your shoulders, shaking you, trying to call the life back into you.

The grief turned to hate, turned to rage and he wanted to throw Diana aside so that she’d stop touching you. Stop handling you so harshly as if she had any right. Hadn’t she done enough? What made her think she was going to save you? In the piercing moment of loss, he wanted nothing more than to follow you. He didn’t think he could hold to reality any longer, but he knew would. He had no other choice. What misfortune to not even be able to go mad in the face of something like this, to always be aware of the enormous pain belonging to both of you. What misfortune to never be in control, remaining unable to even apologize. He held her shoulders and gently pulled her away as she went into shock.

Diana had begun to hyperventilate as he held onto her, she clutched at her stomach and cried out as if pained. “Diana?” he called to her, panicked. She did not respond, she stared at your dead body as if it were the only thing in the room. With the sight of you, chased into the grave by her actions, she was gripped by anguish strong enough to render her inconsolable. The fear, the guilt, the horror of this knowledge and the stress that it put on her, spurred her into labor too soon. She cried out, doubling over as the pain returned. He called out to the servants in the hall, preparing for the day. “We need help in here!”

The servants ran to swarm around Diana, gently leading her into another room. “Please, my lady, you must calm yourself!” a maid cried as they went down the hall. No one bothered seeing if there was anything that could be done for you. No one seemed to take a second look at your body. They were busy tending Diana. She was the one with his precious child, after all and you were the one with nothing. Even if they could bring the life back into you, what would they be saving? What use would you be? Claude took one last look at you before he followed after her. Even in death, you’d been neglected and even now he would abandon you.

The labor ended quickly, that was the most merciful thing that could be said about it. Diana gave birth to a small, stillborn boy. He’d been at her side the whole time, clutching her hand. The boy was small enough to be held in one of his hands. Diana was inconsolable, sobbing and screaming out her pain at the loss of their son. After he was taken away from the room, she shrugged off Claude’s touch, it only seemed to further upset her. She begged for him to leave the room, still in tears. And he could do nothing else. His heart was hollow.

Diana entered a sort of catatonic state. Barely eating or drinking and avoiding his presence. His greater mind was inundated with grief but what did he feel inside, at his core? How was he to know? One pain rolled into the other, one grief was much like another. You had gone to your grave with the knowledge that he’d given another woman a child where you had lost yours. Now this child had been lost and both he and Diana stained in your blood with no child in their arms that might’ve allowed them to pretend it had been worth it. To what end? What kind of fate was this?

He understood what Diana must have been feeling, he had no choice but to. He was meant to be her other half, pulled on a string by some nebulous force’s yearnings for her. Her sister killed herself because the man she so dearly, so dutifully loved had an affair with her sister and there was a child between them, that much was tragedy enough. But even that could be accepted, that much guilt swallowed in the face of a very precious, much wanted child. It wouldn’t be right to say that the life she’d bring forth would be worth the death she caused but it would be something to hold to. When she looked at the child in her arms, she could put aside her guilt and regrets. She would have to put her shame aside, swapping it for the love of a mother. She could fool herself into believing it was a strange sort of fate, her greatest happiness whose birth she would never take back had to come from her greatest sadness. Through the love of her child, she could find a way to let go of the regret. Something new and good would come forth to occupy her time, her love. But her child had died and she was alone with the guilt. Her sister died because of her and nothing had come from it but grief.

He understood too that Diana must have seen their son in his face and if it were up to him, he’d have gladly stayed away from her. He had enough grief to last lifetimes, what place did he have trying to ease hers when he had not even figured out how to do it for himself? Even so, the thoughts that ran concurrent to his own, stronger and louder, wanted nothing more than to comfort her. It wounded him that she was in no state to accept his comfort and he wanted to keep trying. He needed her comfort and he desperately needed to take care of her. He felt powerless when he couldn’t. He might’ve smiled at that, if only he could. Foolish. How foolish a man his greater self was.

It was weeks later when Diana finally let him in. A maid had come to his door on some unworthy night saying that the lady wished to see him. He came to her immediately, easily mollified by the simple act of her wanting him again. Out of the darkness came forth thoughts that they could still marry, could still have a child together even if it would never fill the void their son had left. We could still be happy, sung the darkness.

When he came to her bedside, she looked as she had in other lives when her health had failed but she smiled at him. “I’ve been thinking of our son.” Her voice was faint and fond, though it wavered slightly. “What if…he died as retribution for what we did?” Claude started to object. Even his lesser self was certain that this was probably the only tragedy he’d experienced thus far that wasn’t given as punishment. But she held up a hand. “Please, please just let me finish. He and my sister both were made to die because of we did. When I was still….with child, I thought everything would be alright, so long as I had you. I thought nothing could touch us. The hard part was over, my child was determined to live despite my weak constitution and I had nearly eight anxious months behind me to prove it. I thought my sister would come around somehow…I thought…I don’t know. I just didn’t think she’d ever react that way. Even if she wouldn’t forgive me.” Tears rolled down her wan cheeks.

“We never thought of anything but each other, did we? We didn’t even think of what we would be bringing a child into.” Her smile now resembled a grimace, she didn’t look at him. “I felt guilty for everything but I believed we couldn’t help it, we were so in love that we had to be together. I always softened it like that, you know? I sweetened it by likening us to my favorite romance novels, I believed that fate was on our side. I believed in the kind of love that was stronger than anything and I never thought I’d know a greater pain than not having you.” Her hands anxiously fidgeted with the threads on the sheets. “I…I think it’s time for me to return home,” she mumbled.

He murmured his discontent in soft words meant to coax her back even as his heart, the false one, was breaking. But Diana shook her head. “I’ll leave in the morning, I just— I need time.” She sounded slightly apologetic but it was clear she would not be argued with. He knew that she’d never return. How could she? There was too much blood between them now. This was their swan song. It struck him like a blow to the chest but it only made the contrast between his two selves that much more apparent. In that cold corner he reserved for the person he used to be, sometime, some place, ages ago, worlds away— he breathed a sigh of relief.

In the morning, Diana left and the darkness unwound. It retreated into the air, returning his body to him too late. When he realized this, the first thing he did was cry for you. He hadn’t been able to before, he could do nothing but mourn the shambles of his relationship with Diana. Everything was Diana and the child they’d lost. He had been forced to stew in grief but in all reality, he felt relieved in some small measure. It was a sick thought that shamed him like everything else but it was there, hiding beneath misery. He was relieved never to have to give that a child a name knowing he’d never done for yours. To give that child a love that he hadn’t been able to spare for yours.

But at the end of everything, you were dead. Gone to your grave thinking that he had done everything he’d never do for your child. Why couldn’t he ever save you? Or if not save you, then spare you this agony somehow, send you to death eternal. Why were the two of you forever trapped in this repetition? He cried for your memory, your lonely grave next to the unnamed baby boy who’d been born to the darkness that killed you again and again. He came undone, succumbed to the helplessness and dejection of his station finally. He mired in that grief. He refused to undercut it with drink or with self platitudes. He did not even stir up rage to combat the relentlessness of his own mourning. There was nothing more for him than the blood that trailed behind each and every life of his.

Eventually, when he’d grown numb, he made the decision to die again. That seemed to be an unspoken promise, the only one he could keep— that he’d always follow you into each life and each death. He drank too much sleeping tonic as you had and fell to an ungentle journey toward death. He retched and writhed in his sheets from the sharp pains. He struggled to breathe, to even move with the heaviness of his limbs. It was a wonder he had been able to turn on his side and avoid choking on his vomit. Only when he was spewing bile did his eyelids begin to droop and his consciousness fade. His addled mind conjured the image of your body lying next to him, already long gone. He reached his fingers toward the mirage, and curled them around the hand of your specter.

tags: @kage-tobiuo@kreishin @rosephantomhive@yeahdrarry@splaterparty0-0 @dear-dairiesss @qluvrv @hafsuhhh @eissaaaa @ayolk @doan-19 @fourcefulcupid@ariachaos@cerisearan@irisspade@yaesflorist@jcrml@xiaosprettygf@yevenly@amaris08atoshi012022 @obsessed-with-a-fictional-man @softbummiee@cassanderasblog @waka-babe @bananatwirl@s1mp69 @mitsuyamistress @hottiewifeyyyy @reiko69 @syyyy4ever @pinkpastel-l @dododododooosworld @gwyneveire

#claude x reader #wmmap x reader #claude de alger x reader #claude de alger obelia x reader #wmmap fanfic

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