#I’ve been so mentally ill over the 3 of them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

azrielslightintheshadows · 5 months

Note

Heyoo! Can i request az x reader where they're mates and vowed to each other that till death do them apart. But az started questioning if he would die for his mate ever since elain came into picture, bcos of the 3 brothers for 3 sisters thing. And reader sort of found out about az's feelings and wanted time off from each other. Then all of a sudden war broke out in the court and everything was crazy. Reader went out to look for az making sure he is safe when she saw an arrow shot towards him and reader took the hit for az. And az started to regret his doubt in thie relationship and begging for his mate's forgiveness. Major angst pls and the ending is up to you! Thank you and have a great day 💖

Scattered Vows.

Azriel x f!Reader

Warnings; way too much angst, mentions of death and battle. Mental illness.

Masterlist.

Uhm my heart broke. I think you will need a tissue box.

You watched the door of your bedroom for what felt like hours. A sigh escaped your lips, and you pressed your head on your mate’s pillow, his scent so faint like he hadn’t slept in your bed for weeks. And he probably hadn’t, you couldn’t remember the last time he stayed in bed for more than three hours.

The city was bright and warm offering a perfect view from the hill you were currently standing on. Your friends’ eyes were filled with tears as they watched you and your mate standing in front of the priestess.

“What do you vow to each other?” She asked.

“I vow to be by your side, protecting you and loving you until my last breath.” Azriel’s eyes watered as he spoke, his scarred hands grabbed your own and he pressed a soft kiss on your skin.

“I vow to always support you and love you. To always shield you from any harm, heck I would even take an arrow for you.” You chuckled and Azriel smiled.

“May the Mother bless this union and let it bloom like the most precious flowers” the priestess shouted and started murmuring a prayer.

“I love you my angel” Azriel whispered.

“I love you” you whispered back as the tears streamed down your face.

You teared up at the memory. Those vows meant something right? Even though he reeked of jasmine when he came back, he loved you right?

You heard the door open, and your mate’s footsteps filled the silence, making you wipe your tears and sit up. He removed his boots to not wake you and you suppressed the urge to scoff, you slowly slipped out of bed and walked down the hall to find him.

He was standing at the middle of the kitchen watching the two cold plates on the table with a frown.

“You’re here” you noted, and he glanced at you.

“Please don’t start I’m not in the mood.” He huffed.

“Don’t start what Azriel? You stood me up AGAIN” you threw your hands in the air.

“Fine you want to do this now? Okay” he yelled, and you flinched.

Azriel had never raised his voice at you, it was one of the things you loved about him, how you could always talk things out without wrecking your vocal cords.

“Where were you?” You asked and stepped closer.

“I had to finish some reports” he replied and you stepped even closer making him back off, you quirked a brow knowing exactly why he did it and marched to him sniffing. Jasmine.

Your hands clenched into fists, and you growled “you were finishing off reports or Elain’s cunt?”

His eyes widened and he bared his teeth “don’t speak for her like that”.

Your heart broke into million pieces, every fear suddenly felt real and deep down you realized that the union bloomed like a beautiful flower, but in Elain’s garden.

“You’re defending her?” You gaped at him, your face pale.

“I can’t do this anymore y/n. Lately I’ve been thinking about everything and especially our vows…” he trailed off and you felt like his feet were stepping over the pieces of your heart, crushing them into even smaller fragments.

“Go on” you whispered and let the tears escape.

“I’ve been thinking about Cassian and Rhys…they are mated with two of the sisters and I wonder if I should be mated to the third one. Three brothers and three sisters.” He explained and his eyes watered.

“What?” You asked him.

“I just don’t feel like I want to protect you until my last breath…. Because I can’t protect both of you at the same time…” he avoided your eyes

“You want to protect her until your last breath” you whispered and he nodded.

“Okay, please pack your things and leave.” You continued.

“Don’t do this” he breathed “I’m so confused, I’m not even sure if this is what I want. I just spend time with her to see if I’m really interested or if it’s just a sick thought”

“You want me to stay with you until you decide which one you want?” You gasped at his nerve.

“I-i don’t know. Can we just take a break? I won’t touch her I promise I just need some time to think.” He pleaded.

You felt numb, and an adamant wall fell on your side of the bond, blocking him entirely.

You just wanted to be alone, you didn’t have any more power to argue. “Okay. Pack your things and leave and we will speak again when you make your decision.” You lied hoping it will get him out of the house as soon as possible.

“Thank you” he gave you a sad smile and walked into your bedroom. The small cottage you two had built a few months before the ceremony felt empty and dull now as every promise of love died slowly.

You covered your mouth with your palm to keep the sobs in as you clenched your eyes shut and let the tears flow. Azriel reached the door with a small bag thrown over his shoulder and glanced back at you. You turned your back on him and waited to hear the door shutting.

“I’ll be back” he promised and left.

When you couldn’t hear the beating sound of his wings anymore you let it all out, a heartbreaking scream wrecked your throat and you dropped on your knees. Every kiss, every touch, every promise pierced your skin and escaped to the darkness of the sky.

You remained on the kitchen floor for two days, letting every feeling out hoping that it would stop hurting so bad. You reached a point of numbness, where even your love for him was dull now, cursing at yourself for trusting him. He had your fragile heart in his hands, and he crushed it into mist, without a care, without a hint of regret. You pictured him in her arms and rage made your body tremble, you despised her even though it wasn’t her fault. She sure was a wicked female for leading on a mated male but then again why should she care? He was the one who should have said no.

A booming sound pulled you out of your thoughts and you felt the ground shaking making you furrow your eyebrows and peek out the window. Velaris' shield was gone, you couldn’t feel the magic anymore and winged creatures descended from the sky, slaughtering everyone in their path. The autumn court’s banners emerged from the mountains, with an army behind them. You gasped and quickly grabbed a dagger, running out of the cottage and winnowing to the main square, Feyre and Mor were there holding swords and shouting at people to hide.

“Where’s Azriel?” you shouted at Feyre.

“He….” She paused “He took Elain out of the city, he’ll be back in a few minutes.”

You shook your head, not letting your family’s betrayal cloud your senses. They knew and they supported them, like you never existed.

You ran towards the creatures letting all your feelings out as you sliced their necks, your vision clouding and the image of Azriel flying Elain to safety was the only thing you could see. You crouched and placed your hand on the ground screaming, your eyes became white, and your power flowed out of you, destroying creatures and buildings on its way. You gasped for air and glanced around you, Azriel had landed a few steps behind you, his eyes wide as he stared at you and what you did. You noticed a creature lurking in the corner with a bow in its hands, it grabbed an arrow and pointed it to your mate making your face pale.

“Az” you screamed and ran… ran like your life depended on it, the arrow was shot, Azriel whipped his head to the direction, and you jumped, using the remaining power to lunge yourself in front of him. Silence, deafening silence, a cry, pain, fear and darkness.

Azriel watched the arrow piercing your skin and the tip emerging from your back.

“I vow to always support you and love you. To always shield you from any harm, heck I would even take an arrow for you.” It rang in his mind.

“I would even take an arrow for you.” He cried out your name.

"I would even take an arrow for you.” “Stop” he ordered himself.

“I would even take an arrow for you.” He grabbed his head, his hands covering his ears.

“I would even take an arrow for you.” “No” he screamed and started hitting his head.

“I vow to be by your side, protecting you and loving you until my last breath.” He fell on his knees.

“Lately I’ve been thinking about everything and especially our vows… I just don’t feel like I want to protect you until my last breath…. Because I can’t protect both of you at the same time…” Darkness.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Azriel woke up with a groan, he was in his room in the house of wind. He glanced around and noticed Elain sitting on a chair by his bed, her hand holding his own.

He stirred a bit and pulled his hand back making her flinch and open her eyes.

“Az” she whispered and tried to pull him in her arms.

“No! Where is she?” he shouted.

Rhysand entered his room and nodded at Elain to get out.

“Rhys where is she?” Azriel raised his voice again.

“Calm down, you need to rest, your shadows almost strangled you to death” his brother spoke.

“What? Why?” he gaped.

Rhys sighed “I went into your mind while you were asleep, you ordered them to strangle you because you wanted the thoughts to go away”.

Azriel’s eyes watered “Where is she? I have to go to her, I have to apologize. I need to beg her not to leave me”.

“I’m sorry brother, you’ve been out for five days. We couldn’t wait any longer so we buried her at the garden of your cottage”

“No!” Azriel screamed “No no no”

“I vow to always support you and love you. To always shield you from any harm, heck I would even take an arrow for you.” “NO” he screamed again as his body started seizing.

Rhysand quickly moved to his side and grabbed his head making him go to sleep again.

“I’m sorry brother” he whispered and glanced at Feyre who was standing at the door, tears were streaming down her face.

“It’s done” she informed him and let him in her mind.

“Are you sure you want to do this y/n?” She asked you.

“Yes, this is for the best. Just tell him I’m dead.” You replied.

“Okay, please take care of her.” She spoke.

“I will, I promise to give her a place in my court” Eris nodded.

“Thank you” Feyre replied, “for everything, we wouldn’t defeat Beron without you”.

“It was my pleasure” Eris smirked and grabbed your hand.

Feyre let a tear slip as she watched you disappearing with Eris.

“Do you think he will survive this?” She asked Rhysand.

“I doubt it.” He sighed and they walked out, closing the door and locking it.

Sorry <3

641 notes · View notes

shidouryusm · 7 months

Text

𓆩♡𓆪✿༝༚༝༚-> tending to gojo satoru when he's sick and you're lovesick

Satoru x gn!reader

1.5k (Y'all shouldn't even be fazed atp im mentally ill ofc I'll write like crazy)

content- fluff, sick!gojo, banters, mentions of death (but not in any angsty way), too corny for its own good.

a.n -> this is way too self-indulgent. I just plastered a piece of my daily delusions with satoru in words. hope y'all will enjoy this little piece mwuah. I'm so lovesick for this idiot im not even embarrassed. a ginormous kiss to @stsgluver and @planetnini for proofreading and nini fixing all the little things. she is my second pair of eyes :3

Gojo Satoru. The strongest sorcerer of his age. The man bestowed with Six Eyes and Limitless, literally untouchable with a millimeter of radius separating him from the physicality of the world. The absolute one man army — is currently whining with a wet towel wrapped around his forehead, rolling over the bed with a mere fever.

“Baby, I think I’ve reached my end. We gotta prepare for my funeral” Satoru mumbles groggily, his eyes partly covered with a damp towel.

“Don’t just say anything, ‘Toru.” you hum, sitting by his side as you massage his head over the towel. He whines with his hands wrapped around your waist, nudging you closer to him.

Your boyfriend has always been an overdramatic nuisance in regards to everything ; a little too spoiled for his own good and a concealed face from the world that always yearns to be babied by you. Yet you cave, almost 9 out of 10 times, for how unconditionally lovable he is and manages to be everytime.

As of now – when he’s all theatrical with a cold fever, lips jutted in a small pout. Face scrunched up — which is scrunching a bit more…his forehead crinkles and nostrils flare-

“ANCHEWWWWW-”

His upper body jolts off the bed from the intensity, spraying droplets of sneeze in the air, the towel from his forehead dropping down to his lap.

You crinkle your nose momentarily from the two second snot hurricane that he just spewed everywhere but you continue to rub gentle circles on his broad back.

His body slumps into the mattress again as you put the towel back on his forehead. Toru shakes his head, “I'm telling you, baby. This is your final moment to write an obituary for me– how your boyfriend was the strongest as he stood resilient against the invisible sickness, and he stepped into the endless journey to the afterworld with the pretty face, hot body-”

“”Toru, do you ever shut up?”

“No I don't. I thought you knew” he pouts before sniffling audibly due to the cold.

You roll your eyes, exhaling a sigh. Nearly impossible to fight against him, even when he's knocked down in the bed. Rather, you decide to run your hands through his snowy white hairs, all splayed out on the mattress. He basks in the touch of your soft hands, humming gently.

“A millions of curses failed to do that and you think a simple virus would? That’s pretty underperforming coming from you, don’t you think, ‘Toru?” you quip amusedly, earning a little scowl from the man.

“Curses are child’s play for me. Your boyfriend isn’t the strongest for no reason.” Satoru grumbles.

“Yet can’t deal with a cold?”

“Now. I can’t fight biology, can I?” a hint of indignance in his voice.

You chuckle as you pinch his cheek,“Just playing with you, sicko boy.” you ruffle his hair before idly playing with them again, your fingers threading through the strands like some soft cushion.

The moment stills into the air with comfortable silence except from the little sniffles Satoru is occasionally letting out. You take in the beauty of this quietude.

The room lits with the mellowy rays of the sun – the slanted, golden beams cutting through the white blinds as it bounces off the white walls, leaving a warm brightness around.

The dust particles dance along the reflecting light on one of the corners and little chirps of birds outside melts into the air. There’s an endless blue casted on the sky and a remarkable silence veils you that is nothing but homely to revel in.

Moments like this are hard to catch like those dusts under the sunlight but living through them feels nothing less than walking into a dream and experiencing every minute humane feelings.

Every note of inanimate objects mixed with the soft song of nature makes your heart bloom with gratitude for feeling through them, especially with Satoru … despite how beat up with fever he may look right now.

You look at your sleeping boyfriend, his face morphing into an expression of comfort and content. Lips partly open to breath due to his congested nose. His chest heaves from the breaths and one of his arms strew across your lap, keeping the warmth of your body close to him.

You marvel at the effortless beauty this man possesses.

Even with a nasty cold, loose t-shirt, sniffling nose and disheveled hair, he managed to look like the most beautiful boy in the world.

Your beautiful boy.

Trailing your hands down his cheek, you gently cup them in your hands, your thumb runs over the rosy swell of his cheek, moving up to his eyelids. his snowy eyelashes brush against the pads of your thumb while you tenderly caress them.

“So beautiful…” you whisper into the air, looking at his sleeping figure with utmost fondness. Completely in awe with your ability to love him to the point of stretching infinity.

Hearing the two words escape your mouth, Satoru couldn’t help but break out of his character. His broad hands wrap around your wrist and he opens eyes with a squint, adjusting to the brightness. A teasing grin breaking out in his face. “Hehe, heard you~” his cerulean eyes brightens on seeing you a little flustered.

Way to ruin the tranquility of the moment.

He pulls your wrist close to his mouth, delicately kissing the inside of your palm, “You know, it’s not bad. I could definitely use some of that kindness every once in a while.” Satoru hums.

“What are you talking about? I didn’t say anything” you feign innocence, not really knowing why you feel the need to deny it.

“Mmhmm. Sure. I just heard voices in my head” he hums sardonically, his hands still tangled with yours.

“Yes. you were dreaming. Fever dreams are pretty common in illnesses.” you counter.

Biting back at Satoru’s remarks was second nature to you, regardless of how lame the topic has to be. As if it’s like the very first time you both have met, setting foot into the relationship with little remarks. The spark that never extinguished in your conversations: of the banters that never goes amiss.

One of the constants in the ever changing wave of your relationship with Satoru. The relief from the turmoil the serious jujutsu world throws at you both.

“anything else, dr.google? the way you are forgetting things you did two seconds back, it’s you who needs to get checked. You were making the most googly eyes at me I’ve ever seen” you gasp, smacking his chest lightly, pulling away your hand from his grasp.

“You’re gonna pass the sickness to me from your mouth, and for the record– I didn’t.” you scoff in defiance, clutching your hand away from him.

“Is this how you treat a sick person? I am wounded, baby,” mock hurt dripping from his words before he starts laughing. His laughter contagiously induces a chortle from you too.

The sound fills the room to the brim as if you guys weren’t cross talking just a minute back.

“That is so childish, why hide? Just accept you were being lovesick” Satoru adds. The laughter dies down a little and he’s back with his armor of words.

“You’re so impossible, ‘Toru. how would you know whether I made googly eyes or not? Your eyes were closed.”

“So you did make googly eyes, for you to be saying that? Such lame comeback. A bit underperforming. coming from you, don’t you think, baby?” he grins, tossing your own words back to you.

You narrow your eyes at him, fighting the urge to bite back your words, knowing the more you will drag it, Satoru will play along.

“Sometimes I feel the only response is to strangle you. What happened to you feeling sick to the point of death? Isn’t it affecting you right now?” you scorn. playfully so.

“Talking to you is the way to my recovery, baby. Your words bring me back from sickness. feel my heart– it’s so alive” Satoru grins like he replied with the most appealing answer ever.

He takes your hand, putting it over his chest. The murmurs of his heartbeat right underneath your palm.

“Well that was repulsive and corny.” you wrinkle your nose. yet, planting your hands right where he kept it.

the feel of his sturdy chest and soft thuds of heart soothes you. He's insufferable but nothing would have you trade such fleeting moments with him.

“Doesn’t matter when I’m hot.” Satoru mutters, his face inches from yours as his nose nudges the side of your cheek.

He’s not wrong but you’d be damned to accept that right now.

“We both know who’s bringing the hotness in this relationship.” you turn around and flick his forehead, getting up from the bed to bring him his medications.

“Yes, it’s me. I am literally quite hot right now”

“Whatever floats your boat, babe", you chuckle. The sound of your laughter ebbing into the hallway as you walk out of the door and Satoru couldn’t feel any more healed.

a.n.2-> if I'm being dead honest to y'all, I intended to make it angsty as fuck by turning the whole thing as a flashback reader has after gojo died 💀💀 but I will spare myself and others for this time.

comments, likes, reblogs are appreciated

tagging : @stsgluver , @kuroosexuall @shotorus + @satoruhour @hannzai + any of my gojo girlies im amnesiac baby i actually forgot yikes

986 notes · View notes

theabigailthorn · 5 months

Note

Hey I’ve been a fan for a little while now, and I just wanted to say that you’ve been an inspiration for me, a younger transfemme. But I do wanna also ask: what’s it like being a trans woman with her life together? I’m 19 (as of sending), been on hrt for almost 5 months, and have been trans for a year and change. But I’m scared. So, I guess, I wanted to ask: does being trans ever become the norm, my baseline? What’s it like after 2-3 years? And does it get any less confusing or scary?

I think there are a few things going on here.

I don't have my life together as much as it might seem; I just don't show you all the ways it's not. I don't talk publicly about the auditions I don't get, or the things I try and fail at, or the insecurities in my own head that hold me back sometimes, or the handful of decisions I've made that were bad calls and which still keep me up occasionally. I've talked about trauma and mental illness in the past, but I only ever discuss stuff I'm comfortably over - when I'm overwhelmed or in the middle of a crisis I don't post about it. I don't set out to deceive you by presenting myself that way, I just keep my most private stuff private. Everybody has failures and regrets and insecurities: "it's a sign of having lived," as my friend Phoebe told me today. But you see a curated version of me that appears not only more together than the real person, but more together than any real person.

Also, if you're 19 a lot of your life hasn't been in your control until pretty recently and a lot of it still might not be. I'd say it's okay to not feel like you have it all together. You just transitioned, which I think is one of the hardest things a human being can do: you can give yourself credit for that even if you feel like you're not settled into it yet. Congratulations!

As for it becoming the baseline, I mean yeah? Kinda? At least for me. Sometimes I forget. I had a moment today in the gym where I saw a man and I was like "Oh yeah, I used to be one of them, sortof? Weird!" The first year is the hardest, or so they say. I wouldn't say I get less confused or scared now, just scared and confused in different ways. I worry less about getting attacked in the street than I did in my first year, for example. (I'm lucky and privileged in that regard.) But I worry a lot more about other people. I struggle a lot with survivor's guilt, which is something only people who survive get! Anyone who's had a drink with me in the last six months has heard me beat myself up because the night of The Prince premiere in New York was the night of Brianna Taylor's vigil in the UK. That wasn't a deliberate decision - the premiere was booked and paid for months before she was even killed - but I've become a lot more sensitive to those sorts of feelings precisely because I spend less time worrying about myself. I'm more aware now of what my transness means for other people. Like, I made an ironic joke when I came out that I'd become The Transgender Princess of TERF Island, and it's kindof haunted me since - I didn't set out to become "a famous trans person" but it's happened a little bit and it's going to happen a lot more next year. That comes with serious responsibilities and a few mild drawbacks, as well as perks, obviously. So I guess that's a longwinded way of saying I might be a weird person to ask this question because, at least for right now, my transness, my whole self, doesn't just belong to me.

Oh also, some great advice I got from my friends: Paris: "Only change the things that bother you on your good days," and Mattie: "Don't believe anything you think about your life after 9pm."

484 notes · View notes

chai-berries · 8 months

Note

i’m a little crybaby bitch & i just sobbed over a movie but all i could think about is being abby’s little crybaby gf & having her comfort me </3

sooo unfortunately/fortunately i am not a big crier when it comes to anything but one of my best friends is a happy/sad/bored crier and i’ve helped her calm down post cry a few times. she’s a true cancer <3 i’ll channel her into my thoughts.

im thinking of two scenarios, watching something sad without abby & watching it with her ⤵️

watching without abby:

she’d probably be working on something in another room when you decide to start a sad fucking movie. abby’s ears perk at the first sniffle, but she brushes it off cause it’s always allergy season. but when she hears you shakily breathe out “oh,,, my gOD” with your voice all broken and wet, she’s immediately sliding to a stop right outside the living room. you’re curled up with a huge blanket swallowing you, surrounded by snacks and your emotional support water bottle. she notes your wide, glossy eyes and coos “baby what’s wrong?” and you gesture at the tv, “she - she just loves her family so so much! and she couldn’t tell them before they died!” your voice is cracking around your words.

abby has absolutely no idea who “she” is but that doesn’t keep her from sitting down and pulling you into her side, rubbing her hand up and down your arm. “they’re just a - a great family” you stutter though tears. abby looks up at the tv and sighs. “baby, why did you chose the saddest movie on netflix?” you hesitate. “uh, i was up to the challenge?” “yeah? how’s it going?” she quirks a brow at you. you laugh wetly and abby mentally fist pumps. she presses a kiss to your temple. “okay, how about we watch something happy. ill refill your water.” abby gets up to go into the kitchen when she’s stopped by a tug on her back belt loop. you’re looking up at her, eyes less glossy but still not dry enough. “what?” she asks. “thanks for putting up with a crybaby for a girlfriend.” she picks up your hand from its place at her waist and brings it up to her lips. “anything for you sweet cheeks”

watching with abby:

“no, no, no, nah, not happening! abby, please tell me they’re not gonna do what i think they’re gonna do!” you pause the movie and shake abby’s shoulder, your face so serious in the light of the television. abby giggles and shrugs like a fucking twerp and nudges you to keep watching the movie. she tells you that “you’ll find out soon - keep watching” like she’s never, in all the time you’ve been together, been witness to the millions of times you deep dived imdb and wikipedia five minutes into a movie whenever it starts out with a sad scene.

you don’t do sad movies. and it’s for a good reason! you get all dehydrated and you look sick for hours afterwards!! it’s embarrassing and gross!! abby has witnessed it once and, like her father’s daughter, handed you a glass of water and pulled you gently into her arms, holding you until you got your breathing under control. and that was a week before you asked her out!! on your first date she told you that the crying thing made her want to “take care of you forever”… is it too obvious to point out that she soooooo got lucky that night?

however, in present time she might be sleeping on the couch for trying to get a depressing movie past you. she apologizes to you, tucking you under her arm. “i promise it’s gonna be worth your tears, okay?” she kisses your head. “and i always take care of my crybaby girlfriend, don’t i?” she kisses the same spot again. you relax into her side.

… sooo it’s safe to say you sobbed a whole lot at the end and completely soaked the front of abby’s shirt. you guys had shifted horizontal mid-movie, you laying on top of her. “i hate you” sounds a lot more honest when you’re not desperately clutching at the waist of the person you’re talking to. “but it was a good story, right?? aww i’m sooo sorry, baby,” abby rubs your back. she hands you your water bottle and chocolate before you even think to ask, like she always does. then, you begin the embarrassingly to you cute to abby process that involves sips of water, bites of chocolate, and your head following the rhythm of abby’s chest up and down as you match her breaths.

<\3

no but really we all know abby will always comfort you even if she has no context to what you’re crying about! ride or die babyyyy

#hi anon <3 #WHEW!#this took so much brain power #but i did it!!!!!!#abby anderson x reader #abby brainrot era #abby anderson x you #mads’ headcanons #q&a

481 notes · View notes

handmade-witch · 2 months

Text

part 5 baby!! Slytherin boys x Incorrect Quote Generaror~

Part 1 ☆ Part 2 ☆ Part 3 ☆ Part 4 ☆ Part 6

Draco: Hey, are you free?

Blaise: No, I’m expensive.

☆☆☆

Mattheo: Go fuck yourself.

Lorenzo: Come over here and fuck me yourself you coward!

☆☆☆

Mattheo: BE A BETTER PERSON!

[Y/N]: WHY?!

Mattheo: BECAUSE SOMEONE NEEDS TO HAVE MORALS IN THIS RELATIONSHIP, AND IT SURE AS FUCK AIN'T GONNA BE ME, SWEETHEART!

☆☆☆

Draco: *venting endlessly to Mattheo about their week*

Mattheo, every once in a while: *in a monotone* Wow, that is so wild.

☆☆☆

Mattheo: Astrology is fun because I can pretend that all of my behaviors are just a result of being a Gemini and not symptoms of mental illness.

[Y/N]: Being a Gemini is a mental illness. That’s not hate it’s just a fact.

☆☆☆

Blaise: What are you doing here?

Draco: I could ask you the same question.

Blaise: I live here. This is my house.

Draco: I should probably ask you a different question.

☆☆☆

*Lorenzo and [Y/N] texting*

Lorenzo: Come downstairs and talk to me please. I'm lonely.

[Y/N]: Isn't Mattheo there?

Lorenzo: Yes but I like you more.

☆☆☆

Theodore, about Mattheo: I could fix them, but honestly whatever the hell is wrong with them is way funnier.

Draco: That's what any god probably thinks about me.

☆☆☆

Lorenzo: From now on we will be using code names.

Lorenzo: You can address me as Eagle One.

Lorenzo: Draco is “been there done that”.

Lorenzo: [Y/N] is “currently doing that”.

Lorenzo: Blaise is “it happened once in a dream”.

Lorenzo: Mattheo is “if I had to pick a(nother) dude.”

Lorenzo: And Theodore is..

Lorenzo: Eagle Two

Theodore: Oh thank god.

☆☆☆

Blaise: Anyone d-

[Y/N]: Depressed?

Theodore: Drained?

Lorenzo: Dumb?

Mattheo: Disliked?

Blaise: -done with their work... what is wrong with you people...

☆☆☆

Draco: I dare you-

[Y/N]: Mattheo is not allowed to accept dares anymore.

Draco: Why not?

Mattheo: "I have no regard for my own or others personal safety", as some would say.

☆☆☆

Theodore, at [Y/N]: Would you like to stay for dinner?

Mattheo, from the kitchen: Would you like to stay forever!?!

☆☆☆

[Y/N]: Do you ever want to talk about your emotions, Theodore?

Theodore: No.

Lorenzo: I do!

[Y/N]: I know, Lorenzo.

Lorenzo: I’m sad.

[Y/N]: I know, Lorenzo.

☆☆☆

Mattheo: Ooh, somebody has a crush

Theodore: Pfft, I don’t have a crush on [Y/N] I just think they’re cool, it’s not like I stay up at night thinking about them.

*Later that night*

Theodore, very much awake: Uh oh.

☆☆☆

Kidnapper: I have one of your friends.

[Y/N]: Which one? I have six.

Kidnapper: The loud, annoying, rowdy one who never shuts up.

[Y/N] Which one? I have six.

Pansy, distantly: HEY!!!

☆☆☆

Mattheo: I have very high standards, you know.

Theodore: I can make spaghetti...

Mattheo: Oh no! You're meeting all my standards!

☆☆☆

Blaise: You bought a taco?

Draco: Yes.

Blaise: From the same truck that hit Lorenzo?!

Draco, with a mouthful of taco: Well, me starving ain't gonna help them.

☆☆☆

Mattheo: In alcohol’s defense, I’ve done some pretty dumb shit while completely sober too.

☆☆☆

Theodore: Can you be serious for five minutes?

Lorenzo: My record is four, but I think I can do it.

#slytherin boys #lorenzo berkshire #theodore nott #blaise zabini #draco malfoy #harry potter universe #matteo riddle #lorenzo berkshire x reader #theodore nott x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #incorrect quotes

235 notes · View notes

newtsoda · 1 year

Photo

When school is torture...

A comic about autism and “school avoidance”.

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

Commence Alt Text:

[PAGE 1]

Title: 'It's Not School Avoidance – Trauma, Burnout and PTSD in the Education System'. The first panel shows a woman, her face veiled in shadow and surrounded by a thicket of thorns. She looks alien, with pointed ears and cat-like eyes. The second panel shows her drowning, her hand grasping at the air. The next panel shows ghost-like arms twisting around her. The speech bubbles read: When I was a kid, school was the stuff of nightmares. An intense and overwhelming environment, overstimulating and demanding, and entirely unforgiving. It's where I learned to mask and how to lie about all manner of things. I faked so many illnesses just so I could have the break I couldn't ask for. All so that I could somehow stay afloat in a system that did not recognise my needs. Neurotypicals don't understand just how much school is not designed for people who are not like them. Nor do they understand what it's like when you have to return to the place that is hurting you, day after day after day.

[Page 2]

The woman lies with her head on a pillow, staring wide-eyed at the reader. Thorns creep around the edges of the frame. The text reads: It's nearly twenty years later, and I still have the nightmares. Not the same vague dreams about not doing my homework everyone gets, but vivid night terrors that revolve around school and the things it made me feel. I've been told it's a symptom of CPTSD. The second panel shows a dagger with thorns wrapped around it as it is slowly dragged into their midst. The text reads: Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder develops over a series of prolonged traumatic events. A disturbingly high number of autistic adults go on to develop it and can trace the root of their trauma back to the torturous experiences of their school years. So, I guess it's safe to say I'm not alone. But what's worse: It's still happening today.

[Page 3]

A girl is at the centre of the page, tears streaming down her face as scissors cut through her wings. Blood drips down the page. Thorns creep towards her. Another panel shows the woman's back with the shredded remnants of her own cut wings. The text reads: Autistic children are being dragged through a grim education system that does not get their needs, quietly suffering. Parents are denied support if their child makes good grades or is quiet in class, because all is well. But the school doesn't see the tears and fights getting to the gates in the morning. Or the meltdowns/shutdowns as soon as the child gets home. It doesn't matter what's happening to their mental health. That a bubbly, happy child who loved to learn has turned into a despondent, empty shell of their former self. Above all else, school emphasises attendance rates. As long as that child is still showing up every day, it's seen as a success, no matter the cost—and the cost, sadly, is often steep for people like us.

[Page 4]

The girl and the woman are wrapped in a towering mass of thorns. Swords jut from the wounded woman's chest while she looks down at the girl who reaches for a hand trying to rescue her from her plight. The text reads: “Your child just needs to develop more resilience.” An infamous line that keeps rearing its ugly head. It comes from a place of ignorance, from people who have no idea how resilient these young people already are from living in a world not designed for their neurotype. But what can parents do? They're witnessing the damage forced classroom time is doing to their children, seeing it destroy them, but feel powerless to help. Keeping them home for recovery results in fines, warnings, and intimidation tactics. Seeing no other way out, some parents are forced to take their child out of school for good, opting for home schooling instead. They report needing years to repair the damage done to their child's mental health.

[Page 5]

The woman is seen healing the girl's back. Tiny wings sprout where hers were cut. The text reads: Homeschooling can allow parents to slowly build their children back up, coaxing them back to their former selves. But not everybody has the means to homeschool, and while it should always be a choice, it should never be one forced by desperation. The next panel shows the woman's own shredded wings. The final one shows her defending her child. Text: This whole thing is excruciating for autistic parents who experienced it all themselves while growing up and know exactly the damage that is being done, yet find themselves unable to protect their child from suffering the same fate. I want to be a parent one day, but the thought of school already fills me with dread. I want my child to benefit from a well-rounded education without paying the steep mental health price I had to pay. It shouldn't be too much to ask! And yet, I've fully prepared myself for the battles I'll have to fight.

[Page 6]

The page shows the woman twirling the girl around while she holds her hands and the girl flies with her new, full-grown wings. The woman's wings are still shredded, but she smiles knowing that she was able to help her daughter. The text reads: I want to raise the next generation of autistic people unburdened by school trauma or CPTSD. We need more autistic-friendly options, and lockdown and the pandemic showed that it's possible! We need flexible schooling, less classroom time, more opportunities to do schoolwork from home, and low intensity classrooms for children who don't have parents who can support learning from home. Allow for recovery time and stop penalising low attendance rates! We want the education system to recognise the damage it's doing to young people and believe parents when they plead for support. There is more than one way to achieve learning outcomes, and we deserve a system that works for us.

#autism #actually autistic #autism acceptance month #neurodivergent #neurodiversity #school #education #newtsoda #comic #autistic comic takeover

612 notes · View notes

diaryujin · 24 days

Text

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍

summary: Sunghoon has never felt any spark in his heart, none of that silly love he’s read about in novels in his free time. No one interested him, and it wasn’t like his father, the king, would let him have friends, male or female, for fear of being betrayed or developing feelings for them. He lived a life of isolation, excited for nothing – neither the idea of being married to a pretty princess nor becoming the next ruler of the Park kingdom. He most certainly did not expect you, his new guard, to change all that. He did not expect you to brighten his days and light up his heart.

includes: death, murder, war/battle, attempted murder (kinda), breaking in, royal au, romanticized medieval setting of sorts, forced marriage/proposal, a lot of time skips so it moves somewhat quickly, brief mention of a toxic ex, death by illness, joking mention of jumping off a balcony, blood, wounds, denial of death kinda, graves, lmk if i missed anything!

genre: angst

pairing: prince! sunghoon x guard! fem! reader

word count: 8.1k (woah)

taglist: @kflixnet @kpopslays @jvjsssnaa a/n: it’s finally here! i sacrificed sleep for this and i do not regret it at all. this fic has two milestones for me - being my longest fic + a fic i’m kinda proud of. i hope you all enjoy it as much as i did writing it <3

PLEASE REBLOG/COMMENT IF YOU ENJOYED THIS FIC 🫶

Sunghoon was reading over some papers pertaining to the kingdom’s matters when he heard a knock on the door.

“Enter.”

One of the guards came in, before bowing upon seeing him.

“Sire, his Majesty wishes to see you.”

He nodded and set the papers in a neat stack. He then put them in a drawer and locked it for security. He then stood up and followed the guard, maintaining a neutral expression.

His mind was working much faster than normal though.

His father was very strict, and the slightest mistake meant an extremely harsh lecture. He flicked through his memories, trying to remember what he could have done wrong, and what he should say as his apology.

He pursed his lips as a thought crossed his mind - was his recent trip to the colder regions made known to his father? He had gone for administrative work, but he couldn’t resist spending some time there ice skating, which the king always considered useless since it benefited only the person skating, not the country. He had done his best to keep it under wraps, but maybe one of the guards reported this to the king. Damn it.

He mentally slapped himself for using such crude language. Those were the words of peasants and did not suit a prince like him. Holy moly…buckling barnacles, great heavens…such lengthy words to express frustration, he thought. ‘Damn it’ was only two syllables.

As he snapped out of his reverie, he entered the Throne Room. His father was seated on the grand throne at the end of the airy space. The seats where the ministers sat were empty. Court was always in the morning, and it was probably lunchtime by now - the prince wasn’t sure.

He stood a few feet away from his father. The guard bowed and left, and Sunghoon made eye contact with the old man in front of him. He didn’t seem angry, so the younger relaxed a bit, letting out a sigh.

“Why have you called me here, father?”

“I’ve received some proposals from other kings. They’ve sent me paintings of their daughters. A lovely selection of princesses, I must say.”

Sunghoon had to physically hold himself back from rolling his eyes.

“Father, I’ve already told you this. I am not ready for marriage and I am not interested in this topic.”

“Yes, but it’s good to start early. Maybe you’ll change your mind after-”

“I’m sorry to interrupt you Father, but why have you actually summoned me?”

The king narrowed his eyes at his son but didn’t say anything more about the topic.

“Well, I’ve decided to get you a personal guard. There have been many threats of attacks on the palace, so it’s better to take this precaution.”

“Interesting. Will he be with me all the time or-”

“She.”

“What?”

“Your guard is a female.”

To say he was shocked was the understatement of the century. His father? Hiring a woman? As his bodyguard? What if he-

“Are you serious?” “Yes. She is very capable and I’m sure she will protect and serve you well. I trust you to keep your relationship with her strictly professional.”

It wasn’t like he knew how to have a non-professional relationship with anyone outside of his family anyway.

“Yes, Father. Will she be with me at all times?”

“Indeed she will, except for when you are sleeping. At that time, she will stand outside your door and guard you.” “What about her food and sleep?”

“That is not your concern.”

“But-”

“Silence!”

He immediately bowed his head slightly as a sign of remorse for stepping out of line. This was going to be interesting, he thought. He had little to no interaction with women outside of his mother and sister, and the small talk he made with princesses and duchesses of other kingdoms was always awkward. Now he was having someone of the opposite gender, a woman, watching over him nearly 24/7.

He slowed down his train of thought. Why was he thinking like a teenage boy ogling over a girl? He was the crown prince, he was better than that. It was going to be a new experience, that was all.

“May I meet her now?”

“Of course. She’s arriving as we speak.”

Just then, the door opened, and you entered, a male soldier on either side. Sunghoon’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, but nothing came out of it.

He was having a cultural shock of sorts. All the women he had met were all dainty, graceful and poised - the epitome of perfection. You, on the other hand, had an air of authority about you — rough and firm. A few scars were on your face, probably from battle. You bowed the full 90 degrees, and he could only respond with a small nod.

Oh fuck, you were gorgeous.

And he used foul language again. Stupid Sunghoon, he reprimanded himself.

He didn’t take back what he said, however. Your beauty wasn’t the type written in books or sung in ballads, but it had to be known to the world, somehow. He was almost tempted to write one himself.

Hold on, why was he thinking all this? His father had just told him to not think anything about you that crossed the lines of professional, and thinking about how pretty you were was not within those lines.

“This is your new personal guard, Y/N.”

You came over to him and bowed again, although at a smaller angle than before.

“N…Nice to meet you, Y-Y/N.”

Did he just stutter?!

“It is an honor, my prince. I swear to serve you to the best of my abilities.”

“I’m sure you will.”

He managed a small, formal smile, looking completely pleasant and unfazed.

Which he very much was not. He wanted to jump off the nearest balcony when you said ‘my prince’. He didn’t know why - you weren’t the only one who addressed him in that manner. You might’ve even learned it from someone in the palace, so why was he so hot and bothered with the way you said it?

“Your duties start today, guard.”

“Yes, your Majesty. I will not let you down.”

He was going crazy. You were just his new guard. Nothing less, nothing more. He would just have to rein in his thoughts and get it all together. Not a difficult task at all.

As you stood behind him as he walked through the kingdom’s streets a week later, he seemed to keep a little distance from you, which was unsafe. Anything could happen within a few meters.

“My prince, you must slow your pace.”

He turned his face to look at you as he stopped walking.

“Oh? Why is that?”

“There’s a gap between us, and anyone could attack you with that.”

“Ah. I see. In that case…you can walk next to me. Or something.”

You stood next to him now. He quickly looked at the fruits a vendor was selling, trying his best to avert his gaze so that you wouldn’t see his reddening cheeks. It was unknown to him as to why he was so flustered. You were only doing your job, and that was it.

“Our kingdom seems to produce good crops.”

“Indeed they do, my prince. The farmer and the cultivators work very hard. It always seems to go unnoticed for some damn reason, though.”

He heard the angry tone in your voice and the curse word you said. This seemed to be a sore topic for you. He was curious, so he decided to ask more.

“What do you suggest, then?”

“We export more crops so that they get more revenue and in turn, they get paid as well. Increase the demand.”

You shrugged before turning your attention to a little kid who was clinging to your leg. You leaned down and patted his head, smiling a bit. The kid laughed and ran away. Sunghoon watched this interaction with interest and it dawned upon him that you cared about the people and their welfare, like a good ruler.

Wait, why was he thinking about you being a ruler? You were only a soldier, and with the hierarchy now, there wasn’t much chance you could become more.

It did make him wonder, however, what you would do if the people rebelled. He shook his head, not wanting to think so dark. Your suggestion was smart, though. It made more sense the more he pondered over it. He’d mention this to the old man and see what he’d say.

“Shall we move on, guard?”

You stood up properly before nodding.

“Yes, my prince. Apologies for slowing you down.”

He dismissed you with a wave of his hand.

“Nothing of the sort. Come, let’s go.”

You both continued your stroll and for some reason, his heart was beating very unnaturally. He only had this issue when he was agitated, but there was no reason for him to be scared now, so why was this happening?

It had only been two months since you became his personal guard, yet you were his closest and most trusted friend. He took all your ideas seriously and told them to the king who somehow accepted them, and called him ‘ingenious’ for supposedly coming up with them. He hated taking false credit, but he knew that he couldn’t tell his father that you were the mastermind of them all — he would then question Sunghoon as to why he was talking to them in the first place, which would lead to you being removed from your post and replaced with a boring male soldier.

He didn’t want to lose you, not when he finally found a change in his monotonous life, someone to brighten his dull days, someone to call a friend, even though it was only known to the both of you and no one else. He couldn’t bear to have you gone.

He was sitting underneath a tree, looking up at the sky in the comfort of the gardens reserved for his family and visitors alone. His father never came here out of his own accord - he always considered it a waste of time. His mother was in her room, and her sister was in another kingdom discussing alliances. This was a moment very rare, just you and him, with no one to interrupt or catch you two slacking.

You were sitting next to him, only a few inches away. The wind was blowing gently on his face. He closed his eyes and smiled, inhaling and exhaling deeply. Your presence next to him was oddly comforting. He opened his eyes again, turned his head, and looked at you, wanting to ask you something.

“Guard, you know how I always give your suggestions to the king and how he always says ‘I’ did a good job thinking about them?”

Your face tightened the same way it did every time he took credit for your ideas in front of his father. He sighed.

“Yes, I do.”

“Well, I wanted to apologize for that.”

You tilted your head at him, clearly not understanding two things - why he was suddenly saying sorry, and how you doing that simple thing made him go insane. You took over him, body and soul. All he could think of when he tried to sleep was you. It was just two months. Two months, and he was already attached to you. He was convinced, however, that it wasn’t love or anything stupid like that. No, it was simply him forming a close connection to the first person who cared about him. Not everything was romantic affection. He had never tasted this emotion, obviously, but he’d say that he knew enough about it to confirm this wasn’t it.

“Why now, my prince? I’m sorry- I just didn’t expect you to, y’know…actually apologize. Never met a royal who’s done so. They’re all usually stuck-up snobs who think their shit is worth the entire kingdom.”

He snorted at that. It wasn’t like you were wrong, most of the royals he met were indeed very arrogant. He didn’t dare anything about it though, simply doing his best to not behave like them.

“It’s not right of me to take credit for something I don’t even have the brain for. I don’t mention your name for your security. If my father knew I was talking to you about matters like these, then…”

He made a motion of him cutting his own throat, complete with the sound effect. You grinned a bit, which was enough for him to be over the moon, but then you laughed. Not just a ‘teehee’ or a ‘haha’ - an actual, proper laugh. His heart swelled, maybe his jokes didn’t suck that much. Your laugh was indescribable. It was a delightful sound to listen to. It was short, but he wanted to hear it every day at least once for the rest of his life instead of those ballads that were sung in the court all the time.

The way your eyes formed crescents, the way your face was half in the light and half in the shadow, the way the wind put an orange leaf in your hair like it was an accessory - it was making him sick in a good way. He rarely saw you smile, let alone laugh like this. He knew that you had to keep your expression serious all the time - all the soldiers had that training - and this was a proud moment for him to see you loosen up. He couldn’t help the small smile on his own face.

“My prince, is he really that harsh? I’m aware that he is super damn strict to us soldiers, but that’s expected since we have to be toughened up to protect the land.”

His smile faded before he shook his head in agreement.

“I’d say so. It’s for my good- I am the next in line, after all.”

“I don’t think forcing your child to have no friends is how you raise him to be king. He won’t know how to have proper social interactions.”

There you were again, hitting the mark accurately with your observation. He sucked at interacting with other people. Slowly, he was starting to dislike his father more. The faults he never saw in him earlier were becoming visible, the saint-like image he had of the king since childhood fading away. Was this meant to happen? He wasn’t sure.

“Right. I’m living proof.”

You shook your head in alarm.

“Oh shit- please don’t be offended by my idiotic statement, my prince…I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, really-”

He chuckled at how you were panicking and made a motion with his hand for you to calm down.

“It’s okay. I didn’t take it that way.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

He saw your body relax as he rested his head against the bark of the tree again. He gazed at the sky, eyes fixated on the clouds and the way they moved in the direction of the breeze. Two questions lingered in his mind, and his mouth suddenly blurted one out.

“Do you ever sleep?”

It was random, sure, but he had to know. He was concerned for you. He never saw you leave his side, except for when he was asleep, and he already knew what you did then. You were still staring at him, but he didn’t notice.

“I do. I’m a normal person, my prince, I can’t function without food and rest. That’s impossible.”

“When?”

You let out a slight laugh at his curiosity, and his heart started pounding faster again.

“You don’t notice, do you? That means I’m performing the stealth part of my job well. When you’re in the dining room or a meeting surrounded by the best soldiers. That’s when. I also don’t stand watch for you every night. I alternate with another guard.”

His mouth formed an ‘o’ shape in understanding. He didn’t notice it at all, which meant that either you were a master of stealth, as you said, or he was just blind. It was most likely the former since he had no doubt in your abilities.

“I see. I was very worried for you, honestly.”

“I’m honored that I was an object of your concern, my prince.”

He scoffed at your slightly surprised expression.

“Of course, I would. You’re my personal guard, what reason is there for me to treat you inhumanly?”

That stupid fucking slip of his tongue.

Shit, he just cursed.

Damn it, again.

His tutor and family would go crazy if they could read his thoughts.

Of course he had to refer to you as his, like you were property. Of course he had to emphasize on that word as well. You were making him loosen up too much. It shouldn’t have happened, not at all. He couldn’t continue like this, what if he accidentally cursed in front of people? He would never be heard of again.

“I’d say I had expected that, but you’re different from other royals, so not really.”

“I understand. Also, you don’t have to call me ‘my prince’ when we’re alone. Just Sunghoon is enough.”

Your eyes widened in astonishment.

“My prince, I wouldn’t dare to-”

“Really guard. It’s fine.”

“But his Majesty-”

“He doesn’t have to know. Our secret.”

“If you say so…it’ll take me time to get used to calling you by your name, princ- I mean, Sunghoon.”

“Already getting there.”

“I guess so. In that case, you can call me by just my name. No need for ‘guard’.”

“Your wish is my command, Y/N.”

This was new. Not referring to someone by their title was disrespectful. He learned from a ripe young age that if he didn’t call someone by their title, he could end up with his head on a guillotine block in some places. Were you seriously making all his long years of education unravel? Silence fell upon the two of you before he spoke up again.

“What do you think love is like?”

You must’ve been taken aback, and he expected to see such an expression on your face. Instead, when he stole a glance at you, it was something else. Wistful? Longing? He couldn’t name it exactly.

“Books don’t give it justice. Neither do ballads. It’s…more than that.”

He was intrigued by your response. He raised an eyebrow, signalling you to continue.

“Oh? You’ve been in love before?”

You stared at him, a sad smile forming on your lips, a look flashing in your eyes. One of remorse, he recognized.

“Yeah. It was depressingly…beautiful.”

His chest tightened at your words for some reason.

“Heartbreak?”

“Kind of. We fought a lot…our personalities were very different. Then when we finally reconciled…he died. An illness took him away.”

Your eyes were filled with so much hurt, it almost made him cry. This was his first time seeing you emotional, vulnerable, and while he was honored that you trusted him enough to show you this side of yours, he wondered how much you were hiding away. All he wanted was to protect you so that you would never have to go through something as painful as that. He made a resolve to make sure that he was never the cause of the agony in your eyes.

“I’m so sorry that happened.”

“It’s fine. It was just- unexpected. It’s been a year anyway.”

“I hope this doesn’t bring back memories you buried, but…how would you describe love?”

You rested your chin on your palm, thinking for a bit.

“Love isn’t only about the physical signs. For me, love is always wanting to be by someone’s side, being so head over heels for them that even the littlest things like…I don’t know, something stupid, makes you remember them. It’s being their biggest supporter, but also telling them when they’re wrong. Love is wanting to keep them safe from all the bad in this world. It’s when even the simplest thing they do brightens your day, like a smile or a small act of kindness. Love is when you put their needs and wants above everything and everyone else. There’s obviously more, but that’s my personal experience.”

Holy moly. Sunghoon was in love.

He was in love. That emotion many desired to feel at least once. All his previous notions and confidence about it being platonic flew out the window. He very clearly did not learn enough about this feeling. He didn’t know whether he wanted to be happy that he could say he had loved once in his life, or scream in frustration that he fell for someone out of his league and not some princess who he was supposed to want like this.

God, he hated himself.

“Pri- Sunghoon, are you okay?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He couldn’t let you know, he was a hundred percent sure that you didn’t feel the same. Plus, he was the prince, and if you both were caught, it would mean bad for him and catastrophic for you.

“I’m fine. Come, let’s go. We might get caught if we stay any longer.”

He stood up immediately. You were confused but followed his orders. What he said, you obeyed.

It had been eight months since you became his personal guard, and half a year since he realized that he was in love with you. He tried to distance himself, but one look or word from you and his resolve faltered. He was so deep in this pit, and he didn’t know whether he wanted to dig deeper or climb out. He wanted you to stay away and he also loved the way you destroyed every single one of the walls he built around himself subconsciously.

He matured, and he was no longer the shy boy who didn’t know how to talk to someone of the opposite gender. He was a confident and charming crown prince now, the man of many’s dreams. You were the only one on his mind though.

His father was now eager to get him married off, and he had to comply with his wishes, He was no longer the king who served the people anymore - he was corrupted, only thinking about power. Sunghoon did his best to undo the damage inflicted on the population, but the situation was getting tense, and he knew it. Rebels were raising their heads and it was his job to keep them in check. It was difficult, but you helped him through it.

Presently, he was sitting in the dining room with his family, the king, queen, princess, and officials of the Hwan kingdom. This was the proposal his father liked the most because the Hwan kingdom was rich in resources, and this alliance hidden as a marriage would give the Parks access to those coveted precious stones. He was hoping, however, that the other king would say no for some reason and he’d be free.

He had no interest in the princess, however. She was too boring for him. They had zero common likes, and the only thing they related to each other on was the struggles of being next in line. This was probably the worst match he had ever met. She seemed like she wanted this much less than he did. She was at least trying, he had to give her that.

You stood behind him on his right side. He so desperately wanted to turn around and see your reaction to all this. Your face had to have no expression now, obviously, but you both shared secret looks with each other in odd situations, and he was sure you’d find this amusing. The chatter across the table died down suddenly, and all the attention was on the two kings in the room.

“We’ve agreed on this marriage. Prince Sunghoon and Princess Hyeju are now betrothed!”

Sunghoon’s hands, which were tapping the table, stilled. He froze in shock, every voluntary muscle in his body stopping movement.

No, this couldn’t happen.

This was a nightmare, a terrible dream. He pinched his thigh underneath the table and ended up proving to his dismay that he was wrong.

This was the worst day of his life.

His father droned on about the details of the wedding. He tuned it all out. He tilted his head just a little to see your face and noticed that you were gripping your spear much tighter than necessary. You knew that he didn’t want this, not at all. Maybe you were angry on his behalf.

He couldn’t do anything about this, however. This was just his fate, and he resigned to it immediately.

The meeting ended, and everyone, including Sunghoon, stood up and exited the room. You followed him as he went straight to the gardens to clear his head. His family would be occupied with entertaining the guests and making more plans, so it was just you and him. Again.

He sat in his usual spot underneath the same tree. He buried his face in his hands, frustrated. He heard the sound of you sitting down next to him, before feeling your hand lightly grip his shoulder.

“Hey, Sunghoon?”

“You don’t have to say anything. It’s fine.”

“I know how much you don’t want this. Trust me, I don’t want it either.”

The second sentence was uttered in a more quiet voice, and he moved his hands away from his face to look at you in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

Your lips formed a thin line, your body language making it clear that you were saying this with hesitation.

“I don’t want you to marry her.”

You removed your hand from his shoulder. You looked down at the grass, fresh and green from the new spring season.

“Why? I mean- other than me not wanting it personally, there’s no reason you should hate it…this is an amazing opportunity for the people and the kingdom! We will prosper-”

“Fuck the people and the kingdom- I want you, dumbass.”

His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped.

“What…do you mean.”

“I love you really badly. That’s what I mean.”

He couldn’t believe it. You, the very person he always desired desperately, his forbidden fruit, loved him back? Wanted him? This wasn’t real. He must’ve been knocked out after the marriage announcement and slipped into a pleasant dream.

“I don’t believe you.”

“You want me to prove it?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t know what to expect, but you grabbing his face and crashing your lips on his was the farthest from his vague idea of what might happen.

It lasted for a few seconds before you pulled away suddenly. You noticed his dazed expression and started to panic.

“Shit, shouldn’t have done that, please don’t kill me, I-”

Your voice snapped him out of his haze before he placed his hand on your waist and pulled you in for another kiss. His hand tucked one strand of hair behind your ear and you melted into the action, calming down instantly. He was so gentle, so careful, he was holding you like you were a delicate object that was to be treated with utmost care at all times. When you both parted, his face wore a lovesick smile, his eyes sparkling like stars.

“I feel the same.”

“Yeah, it was obvious.”

He chuckled at your comment, before frowning.

“You know this is dangerous, right? We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Your shoulders slumped at his words, knowing that he was completely correct.

“I do. I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess. I just didn’t…know how to tell you.”

He shook his head. To him, you could do no wrong. It was his fault. He should have gotten rid of you so that he could nip the blooming flower in his heart from the bud. He shouldn’t have been such a coward.

“I understand what you mean now. I don’t know how to stop it, though.”

“That’s…fine. Just knowing you feel the same is enough for me.”

It wasn’t. Neither for you, neither for him, and you both knew that. The fact that he couldn’t be yours and you couldn’t be his simply because of both of your duties was like a nasty, sharp torn ledged in the soft flesh of his heart. You and him were not meant to be. Your romance was only a fantasy, to be never fulfilled.

“Precisely. This is all it’ll ever be.”

It was night. He had one week until his wedding with the Hwan princess, and he was dreading it. Seeing your face became unbearable for him sometimes — you reminded him that he had everything a commoner could only dream of, but even the poorest of poor could love and he couldn’t. He was ready to throw his entire life away and disappear with you, but his fear of what would happen next to the country held him back.

He stared out the window in his bedroom which gave him a perfect view of the private gardens. The place where it all started and ended. The moonlight shone on the trees and flowers, giving it a peaceful aura, different from the cheery one it had in the daytime. Even in the comfort of his silk night clothes and soft blankets, he was in a state of unrest. He wanted to run, wanted to be free, wanted, wanted, wanted. He lay down, resting his head on his pillow as he waited for sleep to find him while he closed his eyes. Thankfully, the night was kind to him, and he dozed off almost instantly.

Sunghoon was rudely woken up by you frantically shaking his figure, pleading with you to wake up. When he came to his senses, he heard alarms sounding in the palace and immediately understood that it was an emergency, although what might’ve exactly happened was beyond him.

“Y/N, Y/N, I’m up. What’s going on?”

He sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes and slapping his face for good measure.

“Rebels. Come, we need to run.”

The first word was enough for him to be fully alert. He foresaw them coming, so it wasn’t a big shocker for him. He put on his slippers and looked at you with determination. He was actually trying to mask his fear, but you didn’t need to know that. You grabbed his arm and ran out of the room. He was a bit startled at your speed at first, but quickly matched your pace. When you both reached a corridor, you slowed down, wanting to be careful of surprise attacks.

“Hide your face to the best of your ability. I’m not sure if they’ll recognize you in non-prince clothes, but it’s better to be safe. They’ll aim for me instead since I have the palace uniform.”

His chest tightened. You were ready to give up your life for his. He knew that was protocol for all soldiers - royals over their own lives. He knew, but you were different. He didn’t want you to die, he couldn’t imagine a life without you. You were his oxygen, he’d suffocate if you were gone.

Suddenly, he noticed a flash of light. He heard a whoosh and he saw the way your hair moved in the direction of the sound. He assumed it was a gust of air along with the lights of the palace shining weirdly, but then he looked at the wall in front of him and realized what it was - an arrow. It was embedded in said wall, and you had missed it by a hair’s breath. Literally. It had scratched your face, but other than that, you were fine.

You pulled him down to remain on the floor, before you stood up and ran to the rebel that shot it, your hands gripping your sword tight. You engaged in combat with her. She was rather buff, and even though she only had a bow and an arrow holder on her, she was slowly gaining ground in the fight. She was blocking your thrusts with her bow, catching your moves with its string. She landed a harsh blow on your chest, and he gritted his teeth seeing your sharp flinch. He had to do something and fast.

He crawl-walked across the floor, making sure to stay unnoticed. He moved to stand behind the rebel before forcefully grabbing her neck. She was gagged, and the sudden lack of air caught her off guard. You took the opportunity and struck her in the heart, and he let go of her.

You both ran off, eager to get to the safe room specially built for situations like this. Barely some distance away, he raised his head, neck aching from the constant strain, when you suddenly pushed him to the ground and covered his mouth with your hand. He was about to protest, feeling kind of hot and bothered with his position, but then he decided against it. You definitely did this for a reason, and he could repress his feelings for a while.

Your head turned as you stared at a rebel passing by, praying he wouldn’t notice you both. He was blind to your movement thankfully, and as soon as he left, you got off of Sunghoon, pulled him up, and ran. You pushed the door of the safe room which was behind a cupboard open with your shoulder, and he then realized that he was the first one to reach. The door closed, and he glanced at you, relief and gratitude clear in his eyes.

You gave him a thumbs up and turned to leave to assist the other soldiers with getting the rest of his family to the room when he suddenly grabbed your wrist. You looked at him with confusion, and you opened your mouth to ask him what he was doing when he placed his lips on yours. You let out a soft gasp when he held you closer, one arm around your waist, the other hand on your back, holding you close. This wasn’t like the last time you kissed — this was desperate, filled with emotion. He let go of you too soon, eyes shining with tears.

You both knew that there was a chance you wouldn’t come back to him, and this could be the last time he saw you.

You squeezed his hand in an attempt to reassure him. He just nodded at the door, knowing that you had your duty. You bowed and left as he watched you in fear, praying that you’d make it.

After the attack by the rebels, there were always new questions about the palace’s security floating around. Quite a few lives were lost. None of them were you or his family, but Sunghoon still grieved for them mentally. He couldn’t imagine the agony their families must’ve been going through, and he managed to convince his father to give all the deceased’s close relatives compensation.

The wedding was called off for now, much to his delight and his father’s despair. The old man had accused him of doing something to sabotage it, but he had grown a thicker skin, thanks to you. All efforts were now being put into strengthening the forces of the kingdom, and the actual matters of state were being ignored. This would lead to more rebellion, but his father didn’t seem to care. At this rate, he could die if he stepped out of the palace grounds — the people hated him that much. Sunghoon was already preparing to become the next ruler since that future would become a reality pretty soon.

A surprise attack was inevitable, but he didn’t expect the aggressor to be the damn Hwan kingdom.

They must’ve heard about the damage inflicted on the palace from spies and knew that the Park kingdom would be focusing its efforts on repairing it, thus taking advantage of the situation. It was smart of king Hwan, Sunghoon would give him that.

He rode his horse while inspecting the soldiers preparing for battle. None of them were properly ready for this. Many veteran soldiers were on break and were called back suddenly. They all did come, and he was grateful to them for that, even when they had the right to refuse. The troops were arranging their positions quickly, and a little bit of his anxiety relaxed. Their army was strong, they could face this.

As he rode back, he saw his father, who was seething with rage at being betrayed, Sunghoon’s brain was in overdrive. Many of these brave soldiers would sacrifice their body and soul for a stupid fight that wouldn’t bring much to the land that could have been easily prevented. He knew it would happen, but didn’t do anything that was enough to fix it. He couldn’t keep falling short of what was necessary, that wasn’t what a future king would do.

Not wanting to talk to the old man, he rode a little further where you were on your own horse, surveying the battlefield. He relaxed a bit more upon seeing you and moved to be next to you.

“This will be a tough fight, Sunghoon.”

“I hope it remains a fight that ends today and not a war that stretches over days.”

“Where we are victorious.”

“Obviously.”

“My- Sunghoon, what will you do in case your father…is killed?”

The slip-up and the way ‘my Sunghoon’ rolled off your tongue so perfectly made him miss your actual question for a moment. He let out a soft giggle, before manning up to think. He hadn’t considered that possibility at all. If that happened, then he would automatically become the next king. He’d rule the land and hopefully lead better than the previous king and his reign would be peaceful. He’d make sure of that.

“Be the next ruler, of course. I’d promote you to my personal advisor.”

You cracked a small smile at that.

“Not enough brain. Plus, what if I don’t make it?”

“Won’t happen. You’re too sexy to die. Your abilities are top tier too, you’ll survive.”

You laughed now, and he smiled fully at you. This was a situation unheard of — right before a whole battle, he was here flirting with you and laughing. So very serious.

He leaned his head closer to yours, hair falling over his eyes. They were pleading silently with you to steal one last kiss, one last secret gesture of love before you both left to fight, one last chance to hold you. You shortened the gap, about to comply, when the war horn sounded, signaling the start of the battle. He frowned, angry at the lost chance, but quickly kissed your forehead. You pecked his cheek in return, before putting on your helmet and riding off.

The sound of hooves hitting the ground and the sight of dust flying from them brought him back into the moment, and he rode in the same direction as his own army, intending to lead the fight. His father was weak and made dumb decisions, so it was up to him. He moved directly to the frontlines, pulling out his sword from its hilt as an enemy soldier charged at him. He fought with ease, and soon a dead body was on the ground.

He should have been desensitized now upon seeing gore and corpses, but it still disgusted him. He gritted his teeth and averted his gaze as he parried with more enemies. Soldiers were dropping left and right from both sides. Blood splatters were on his own face from fighting so fiercely. It was a miracle that he was still standing with only minor injuries, the Hwan soldiers were vigorous.

Time was passing quickly, although for him it felt like an eternity. He just wanted to go back after all this ended. He didn’t care if he had to marry the Hwan princess, all he wanted was for this bloodshed to end. The sound of arrows being shot, horses neighing, grunts of hurt and dying soldiers — it was all too much for him.

All of a sudden, a more experienced soldier was attacking him, he could tell by the moves. His entire focus was on fighting back because this guy could actually kill him, that much was clear. He didn’t notice the other soldier charging towards him from his left with a spear until he heard a clang.

His eyes darted in the direction of the sound for a second, only to see you had blocked the attack and thrown the soldier off his horse. He was impressed and inspired by you, and with renewed strength, he killed the veteran. He gave you a thumbs up, before looking to his right as someone else ran to replace the deceased soldier. He was ready to fight that person and everyone else with you and for you.

Then, tragedy struck.

An arrow was heading in his direction. Occupied with the current fight he was in, Sunghoon was in no position to dodge it, and you took the blow. Pushing his horse with your own, the arrow lodged in your chest instead. The only reason he noticed it was because of the sound of pain you made. He finished off the man fighting him, and then turned his head to look at you. Your head was drooping slightly and your grip on the reins of your horse had faltered.

No, no, no, this can’t happen!

You were supposed to stay with him, you were supposed to be by his side forever, he was supposed to get more chances to love you, even in secret, not just lose you like this.

He immediately shoved his sword back in its hilt before grabbing your torso to steady you. You were very faintly there, you just had to keep going a bit more for him, and he knew you could.

“Y/N, hold on, okay? Don’t close your eyes, please.”

“Try…ing.”

Fuck, your voice was so weak, you really were trying. He’d end your suffering soon, he promised silently.

Coincidentally, the war horn sounded once more, signifying the end of the battle. It was his kingdom’s, which meant he had won, just like you wanted.

But you weren’t conscious enough to realize it.

He promptly sat you on his horse in front of him, one arm around your waist holding you close and tight. He galloped fast to the palace medic, the best one in the entire region. He ignored the weird looks and the shouts of his name, traveling with urgency. He had to move fast for your sake, and also for his own. He’d lose his shit if you…no. You weren’t going to, he was sure of it.

“Try to not focus on the pain, we’re almost there.”

That was stupid advice, but he had to say something, anything to save him.

“This doctor will fix you up, I swear. Just- don’t give up yet, Y/N. I beg of you. It’s all I’ll ask for this badly from you.”

Your head was now tilted back, and it rested on his right shoulder. You opened your eyes slightly to look at him, which he took as a good sign.

Then you spoke.

“I won’t…won’t make it. It’s…no point…denying it…my…Hoon, I…love you.”

At your words, Sunghoon’s lips formed a thin line as he squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds to force his tears to stay back. He could feel the blood running from your wound and collecting onto the sleeve of his suit, but he refused to accept it. You would make it, you couldn’t die.

“Shut-Shut up. You’re not dying, not when I’m here. Look, we’ve reached- you’ll be okay, I swear.”

He got off the horse, your limp body in his arms bridal style.

He wished he could be holding you like this in a different, more happier situation.

The doctor rushed out of her house and knew that it was urgent upon seeing the prince at her door. She took you in and he waited outside, pacing around nervously. He was so certain you’d survive, but the wound could be a major setback for the rest of your life. He’d have to make adjustments to accommodate you at the palace. He wouldn’t mind though, it was for you after all.

The doctor came out after a few minutes, and he waited for her to say something along the lines of ‘she survived, but ___’. Not to see her shake her head with a soft sigh.

“I’m sorry. She didn’t make it. She was gone when you came here. We tried our best, but…the arrow was poison tipped, which reduced her chances of surviving to zero.”

No. No no no no no. This lady was old and wrinkling, she was probably cuckoo and playing an unfunny prank on him.

“Can I see her? Alone?”

“Of course, sire.”

He rushed inside immediately, expecting to see you on the bed bandaged up and smiling at how well the prank worked on him-

She was right. You really were gone. You took your last breath in his arms. Your arms rested limply by your sides. The arrow was removed, but the blood stains were on your armor as evidence that the fatal injury did indeed happen. Useful reminder for a delusional ass like his. Your helmet was off your head now.

He sat down on a chair next to your bed and held one of your hands gingerly. It was already turning cold, and he hated it. He felt freshly made cuts and bruises along with older scars on your palm. His gaze fell on your face. The scratch you got from the rebel’s ambush was still partially healing. He took in your features with intense concentration, engraving them in his memory. He despised the fact that you looked so much at peace right now – when you just left his entire life in turmoil. He needed so badly to shake you back to life or something, but he knew that there was no point now. He lifted your hand up to his lips, kissing it in a tender manner, a weak replacement for the one you both missed maybe an hour or two before.

Just when he let go of your hand, the doctor rushed in with news.

“Sire, his majesty has passed away due to a…similar poisonous arrow shortly after victory.”

Both the people he knew wanted to win the most were dead just after it happened. Ironic, he thought - this was worthless now.

King Sunghoon walked through the cemetery for soldiers who had sacrificed their lives for the country. He stopped right in front of one which had many flower bouquets, a lot of them from his own previous visits, all of them your favorite flowers. He got on his knees on the right side of your gravestone, head bowed in respect and hands folded in his lap.

“Hello, Y/N. I know I’ve come to see you many times before, but I can’t help it. I miss you so much. You left too soon. I still believe that I should have taken that arrow instead of you…although it was for the better in hindsight. At least your last memory was of me and your pain ended quickly.”

Silence. He quickly wiped his eyes.

“I love you, Y/N. I still do, so much. I should move on by now, but it’s hard. Not when you meant so much to me, not when you changed me. A little for the worse, mostly for the better.”

He laughed dryly, looking at his hands. An expensive ring gleamed on his ring finger.

“I married a queen who I liked a lot. Not the Hwan princess, although she and I keep in touch often. We’re allies now. Kind of ironic, since I lost you and the old man in a war against that same kingdom’s old ruler.”

He wasn’t willing to let himself break, what if someone walked in on him sobbing over a dead soldier's grave? What would they think? He poked his eyes with his fingers, still in misery. No matter how much he tried, everything in his brain led back to you. While he didn’t want you to fade or leave his mind exactly, you were only meant to be a guest, visiting occasionally, not a permanent resident, not someone he still needed. When he calmed down, he quietly lifted his crown off his head and put it on top of your gravestone. He placed a solemn hand on it, closing his eyes. “This is a love stained crown, tainted with you and I, along with all our memories. Your affection will never wash away, no matter how much I try. I miss you and I love you, and I hope you’re doing better, wherever you are.”

#mallow’s works #mallow’s oneshots #divider by fairytopea #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen royal au #enhypen angst #sungoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon angst #sunghoon royal au #enhypen fic #sunghoon fic #sunghoon prince au #sunghoon enhypen #kflixnet

134 notes · View notes

thecreelhouse · 13 days

Text

accident prone

part one - cold-blooded and drifting away

Paring: Steve Harrington x fem!OC - Francesca “Frankie” Amato

Summary: five years after leaving Hawkins, Steve is still searching for answers on how to manage the pain the Upside Down permanently left him with. What’s only meant to be a mundane trip to the coffee shop and yet another doctor appointment turns into more thanks to shaky hands and unfortunate yet perfect timing, giving him hope, for the first time in a long time.

WC: 8k+

Includes: angst, hurt/comfort, ableism, language, PTSD, discussions of chronic pain/illness and disabilities, brief mentions of comorbidities, brief mentions of medical gaslighting, etc.

series playlist ⋮ masterlist

tether - chvrches

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

“will we ever get away from this place? / it’s an image that’s burned on my chest / for a moment you need me to stay / cold-blooded and drifting away”

A/N: I touched on this more in the masterlist, but basically, this is a HC I’ve had since ST3. After all of the physical/mental trauma Steve’s endured, I imagine he’d end up with some sort of chronic pain disorder/illness/disability. May is Fibromyalgia Awareness Month, so I feel now’s a good time to share this. This will be 3 parts, and more Steve centric. This was easier to write with an OC than reader, so I hope y’all will still give this one a chance despite that. There’s not enough disability/chronic pain rep in fics imo— so chronic pain babes, this one’s for you. ♡ (Also s/o to @stevenose for the help, feedback, and encouragement!)

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

It’s another brutally beautiful winter morning in Chicago, and that means it’s another morning Steve dreads leaving bed. Not the common, casual dread most folks talk about when coming back to work after a long weekend off. Or how people dread meeting their significant other’s parents, when they really mean they’re just nervous.

Steve feels dread deeply on the days he needs to get up, but can’t find the energy, or motivation, or a two for one special of both. There’s a certain way his stomach turns over and drops with this kind of dread, and it makes his aching joints just hurt more.

It’s simple, really— Steve hadn’t been himself since 1983. It’s not surprising for anyone from Hawkins to not be themselves for a while now. For Steve Harrington, though, it’s been rough, to say the least.

It began with nightmares. His mind started taking on massive amounts of a very specific type of trauma no one should ever face, especially not as many times as he had. He was awake more often than asleep in the beginning, terrified to shut his eyes and find himself back in the tunnels with the demodogs, or trapped far, far below Starcourt Mall, struggling for his life, relying on a child to save both him and Robin.

Steve didn’t even want to acknowledge the events of 1986, leading up to Hawkins transforming into hell on earth as the Upside Down bled into the sleepy little midwestern town. He refused to talk about it, or even think about it while he was conscious.

Now, it’s 1991, and the world continues to spin; people Steve graduated with were getting married, having babies, starting their own families… things he quietly longed for, even after confessing to Nancy that’s what he wanted with her.

Years later, Steve still regrets confessing anything to her. He’s happy she’s happy, with Jonathan, both of them career driven and building their life together with some sort of plan.

He’s happy for them, really, he is.

But Steve still longs to find someone to share a life with— a normal, long, happy life. And he’s tried, but there’s always some shitty excuse to stop things before they start with someone new. He never expects anyone he first meets to be The One, nor would he just settle; Steve wants that dream with someone who clicks perfectly with him, someone who doesn’t shame him for the mental anguish and physical pain he’s been burdened with from the trauma. He wouldn’t want that with someone who wouldn’t want to understand him, and love him unconditionally, while he returns that love to someone he truly adores.

Robin tried setting Steve up for blind dates, introducing him to new people, but he slowly lost interest in the process of getting to know someone. What was the point if everyone left the first night they slept together, and he had a nightmare? Or the moment something triggers a flashback, he’s left grounding himself alone. And when his joints lock up, or the haze in his mind gets too thick, he’s seen as a burden.

A liability.

Unworthy of love for something out of his control.

Why bother with any of this if it would just waste Steve’s time and energy in the end?

“No, Rob, I don’t want their number.” Steve grumbles into his scarf, turning another set up down as he’s dragging his feet along the sidewalk. He and Robin make the trek a few blocks away from their apartment to a nearby coffee shop. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he’s shivering and shaking, despite being bundled up. “This shit’s just draining any enjoyment I had in a social life.”

“Steve, the only social life you have is seeing doctors regularly.” Robin bluntly points out, and shrugs off the side eye Steve throws her way. She’s not excessively bundled up the way her best friend is, nor is she violently shivering. “Dude, you could’ve stayed home, I would’ve grabbed your coffee.”

Steve’s shaking his head, but Robin can’t tell if it’s from the cold or if it’s his response to her. “Doc said I gotta “keep my joints movin’”. Easy for him to say.” Steve flatly points out.

“Yeah, maybe, but I am proud of you for getting out of bed. I know that hasn’t been easy.” Robin has been one of the very few people in Steve’s life who has held space and empathy for him and his pain. She tries helping more than he lets her, but he feels bad. It’s Steve’s battle to fight, not hers. Robin has already had her fair share of trauma, she doesn’t need to try to juggle any more flashbacks or nightmares outside of her own.

“Thanks, Robin.” He’s quiet, but sincere. It really does help, even a little, to hear words of encouragement. Because without those, his own mind is just on a constant cycle of negative self-talk. It’s something he’s still working on in therapy.

If Steve was being honest, there was a lot he was working on in therapy.

It wasn’t long after that the two of them arrived at the coffee shop, groaning in unison when they realize the line was all the way to the door. There’s just enough room for them to squeeze right at the end, directly by the doorway. Steve keeps his scarf up against his face, shivering each time someone exits the cafe.

“When’s your appointment?” Robin asks, unable to take her eyes off the massive line of customers.

Steve, unfazed, replies, “Three hours from now. I planned for this, don’t worry.”

Robin finally turns around, shooting him a puzzling glance. “You plan your doctor visits around getting coffee?”

“… You don’t?”

“I see my doctor, like, once a year, maybe.” Robin shrugs.

“Must be nice.” He grumbles, burying his face further into the fuzzy warmth of the scarf.

Robin winces before giving a soft, “Sorry.”

A loud conversation at the front of the line grabs Steve’s attention, wondering what the commotion was about.

“Isn’t today your day off? The hell are you doing here?” One barista asks the customer, who he can’t see beyond the crowd behind her.

Another barista barks a laugh, occupied with the macchiato they’re making. “She can’t make coffee to save her life.”

“I can! It’s just… not good.” The stranger admits, response growing quiet towards the end in embarrassment.

The playful tones make it obvious they greet each other like this often. Something about the banter brings a tiny smile to Steve’s face.

“Usual, I guess? You’re sick if you say yes.”

“Why is it socially unacceptable to enjoy a fresh iced coffee in the middle of winter?” Steve chuckles to himself at the comment. “And yes, Cade, with extra sprinkles, pleaaaase.”

“Yeah, yeah, get outta here, ‘Key. You owe me that Dinosaur Jr. tape, better bring it next time, or I’m charging you real life, adult dollars.”

Walking out of the line, she makes her way over to the opposite end of the counter to wait for her order, shooting Cade one quick smile. “No Monopoly money? Dang.”

Steve’s gaze lands on her, eyes clinging onto the sight before him with no intention of peeling back. She has to be close to his age, but he immediately notices the cane she’s using, moving in time with her feet while walking. He’s in awe of the casually cool aura she seems to radiate, despite being mostly bundled up in layers, hiding any defining features besides the cane and a worn jacket, countless patches and pins covering most of its surface.

Robin snaps her fingers in front of Steve’s face. “Quit being rude.”

“I- huh? I’m not!” He retorts in a hushed tone. The line moves up a bit, and Steve’s grateful to be heading towards the warmth, and away from the frigid cold by the door.

“You were staring, dingus.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Steve’s face flushes red, but it blends in with his winter wind-dusted cheeks. The bonus of the scarf still pressed against his face helps, too. “I just- I never see anyone our age using mobility aids.” He tries sneaking another glance at the woman, but Robin steps in front of Steve’s line of vision.

“Quit it. I know you mean well, but I know how much you hate when people stare when you’ve got your knee brace on.”

Steve didn’t think of it like that; he squeezes his eyes shut as he nods with embarrassment. “Right. Shit. Yeah. Got it.”

“Thanks, Rhi, I owe you too.” The stranger’s voice floats above the chatter amongst others, not with volume, but a distinct warmth and sincerity. Then, voice turning up, she shouts towards the cash register, “I’ll get your tape tomorrow, Cade, promise!”

The line moves up, and Robin steps back in to move, too. Steve can’t help peering over again, and the timing is perfectly unfortunate; the woman only makes it about two steps before her hand violently jerks, sending the coffee flying forward forward and onto the tiled floor.

The room doesn’t fall completely silent, but it does settle into hushed voices, with some concerned onlookers, but mostly nosy and judgmental. Steve doesn’t miss the way some people in line feel the need to say something, like it’s their business. As if these strangers know her.

“She deserves it for being so obnoxious.”

Steve feels his jaw set, immediately bothered by the unnecessary comment.

She’s frozen for a moment, staring down at the mess, pooling around her boots. One of the baristas, Rhi, calls out to the back for someone to take over before rushing over to the scene.

“Hey, you okay?” Rhi asks her, to which she nods silently, carefully bending down with the help of her cane for balance while pulling napkins out of her pocket, trying to sop up the puddle of iced coffee. Rhi throws the towel down that was in her back pocket before reaching for one of the napkin dispensers on a nearby table.

“What the hell is she using a cane for anyway? She can bend her knees just fine.”

Steve’s fists clench in his pockets, and somehow Robin can still notice that; she’s reaching out to touch his coat-shielded arm, almost holding him back as she whispers “Steve, hey, don’t.” He bites his tongue, wondering how ignorant people can be when it comes to any of this; it’s always those who are able bodied who act like a disabled person’s struggle is an inconvenience to their own lives. Makes them feel high and mighty, like they themselves are invincible.

What a hard lesson that’ll be for them to learn, Steve thinks.

If life doesn’t disable someone, through accident or injury or a bad hand of cards dealt, lying in wait, it’s age that usually changes everything. To this day, it still shocks Steve that people just don’t get it.

Or maybe, they just don’t want to.

“Great, now we’re gonna have to wait even longer.”

The woman is kneeling on the floor, cane leaning against a table while she does her best to clean what’s in reach from the spot she ended up in; her hands continue to tremble, jerking involuntarily every so often. Tears well up in her eyes while shaking her head silently.

“Hey, it’s okay, I got this, babes.” Rhi continues soaking up napkins with the coffee; she tries consoling her friend before realizing how many people were staring. “Hey, haven’t your mothers taught you to mind your business?!”

Some customers scoff, others leave, but not before spitting rotten comments at the pair of them. The rest in line have common sense to mind their business, going back to talking amongst themselves.

”Well, at least the line’s shorter.” Robin murmurs, trying to look on the bright side. Steve wants to go over and help, but he’s torn; he doesn’t want to come across as if he’s pitying her, or trying to be a good guy for some kind of backwards recognition. He just knows how it feels when a health ailment gets in the way of your daily routine, and he really knows how hard it is to go without coffee when you’re looking forward to it.

“Great job, Rhi, you drove half the morning out.” An older woman scolds her from behind the counter while she's scurrying to catch up on orders. Rhi looks furious, but holds herself back from challenging the unnecessary comment further.

“Hey, I’ll make ya’ a new one, on the house,” Rhi offers. “Don’t listen to her, Cade and I would rather you be comfortable than deal with those assholes. Bet they actually make and like their shitty coffee, too. They’ll be back.”

Laughing softly, her friend sniffles, wiping her eyes, “Can I mop or something in return? You don’t need extra work ‘cause of me.” Rhi shakes her head, linking arms with her as she rises to her feet, pulling the woman up, too.

Rhi throws a thumb over to an empty nearby seat, “You just chill here, I got this under control, no sweat.” She gives her a quick side hug before hurrying to the back to grab cleaning supplies. Steve hears an audible sigh; the woman sounds defeated for the day, and it’s only 9 in the morning.

It’s a sign of defeat and fatigue Steve knows all too well, but he pushes down the desire to talk to her, knowing this isn’t the time. Plus, what would he even say as an introduction?

Hey, I’m Steve, and I’m disabled, too—

He shakes the thought from his mind, embarrassed he’d even think that was appropriate at all. He’s bummed that the first time he runs into someone else his age that’s disabled, is truly at a perfectly unfortunate moment in time.

When it’s Steve’s turn to order, he pushes every thought involving the stranger to the back of his mind.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

If Steve had a dollar every time someone ignorantly told him, “You’re too young to be in pain like that!”, he’d certainly have enough money by now for a better treatment plan. This is one of the very few things in life he wished his parents would actually help with; it’s not the easiest to juggle several jobs and still barely get by, with the bonus of always playing “catch up or drown” with medical bills.

It’s even more of a challenge to keep up with medical bills when jobs constantly let him go for the very few sick days he has to take, and it leaves him wondering, “Doesn’t the ADA protect against that kind of discriminatory shit?” except he never has the energy to research it.

Every doctor visit is the same routine; arrive with a list of symptoms, turning from nuisances to roadblocks in his quality of life. Telling them what he’s been feeling, or what he’s become numb to, physically and mentally. Or that the cons of his medications have started to outweigh the pros; it’s a struggle trying to find a combination when you need several kinds of medication, and it’s even more of a pain in the ass to change even just one, restarting the process all over again.

When one of the countless doctors he saw finally believed his pain, he was left with what a lot of medical professionals believe to be a last ditch diagnosis: Fibromyalgia.

Steve felt validated, for the first time since seeking help years after the traumatic events that plagued Hawkins for so long. He also felt lost, because what the fuck was fibromyalgia? Any time he’s heard anyone talk about it, it was mainly in judgment and criticism; even with the most life-altering of fibromyalgia cases, the majority of able-bodied people and doctors considered it to be a phony condition.

It’s been six months since his diagnosis, and Steve still feels just as lost and clueless since day one. It doesn’t matter how many packets and pamphlets the doctor gives him with handy information on what his chronic pain is, or what he can try as treatment, because nothing seems to work. Taking different vitamins and medications, trying physical therapy, trying out yoga— because everyone seems to think that one’s a cure— if you’ve mentioned it, he’s tried it.

There’s still no clear answer on where or how it starts; genetics, trauma, depression, sickness triggering something more long term? No one, no medical professional, or his own fruitless research with late nights at the library, can give a solid answer.

As time has flowed forward, all of the years of serious damage and injury from Hawkins and all its demons, supernatural and human, he wouldn’t be surprised if the trauma theory was true. His parents are fine (at least, on the surface, but they’ve got too much pride to ever say otherwise), so cross genetics out. Depression? Yeah, no shit Steve’s depressed.

Refer back to answer 1.

It’s a never ending cycle, and now that he’s aware of it, Steve is constantly wondering if this is how the rest of his life will be. Waiting rooms and lab work that tells him nothing about his pain? Humiliation with every doctor he sees, who tells him it’s not that bad, as if they live in his own damn body and know. Making a choice between using the last of a paycheck on another co-pay for another dismissive specialist, or on the medication he’s been on to help him at least live some kind of life, knocking some symptoms or comorbidities off the list.

Today, Steve’s in a waiting room where the fluorescent lights are too damn bright, pushing him onto the brink of a migraine. It’s quiet, which he’s grateful for, but he wonders if that has anything to do with the doctor, if they’re really any good, or he’s excluded from a local secret everyone else is in on.

The room is relatively plain; fake plants, small tables with outdated magazines, a handful of health PSA posters are scattered along the walls, and the chairs are much more uncomfortable than they appear.

Steve basks in the silence, at the very least; usually waiting rooms are too noisy, and it sets off his fight or flight instinct. That’s one he still has to get to the bottom of, but he had to push off therapy for a while with his tight budget. It was that, or skip this appointment he waited months to get in for.

That blissful silence doesn’t last long, of course, knowing Steve Harrington’s shit luck. With a swing of the office entrance’s glass door, the little bell dings, along with the clunky sound of shoes, faint against the basic carpet lining the floor. His head tilts up, and to his surprise, it’s someone that’s not decades older than him.

“Kid, what did I tell ya’ about those cursed platform boots?” A voice scolds from behind the receptionist’s desk, where this person is leaning against the counter, elbows on the surface, head in hands with a soft giggle.

Wait—

“Dad, my outfit begged for these boots today. Told me it’d die without ‘em.”

“Yeah, and one of these days, you’re gonna croak with those death shoes on.”

Steve can’t help the small, amused smile that graces his face, recognizing the woman from the coffee shop earlier.

“Kiddo, you still gotta sign in.” The receptionist pushes the clipboard towards her, not sounding annoyed, more so familiar with her presence.

“You better be saving all of these, Betty. Someday those autographs will be worth something.”

“Yeah, just as much as my 3 hour old coffee.” Betty teases; she’s an older woman, grey and silver hair in a perm that frames her face. Steve can tell the banter and chit-chat is a normal occurrence.

“Yeah, well, you enjoy that coffee, Bets. I dropped mine in the coffee shop and was too embarrassed to let them make me a new one.” She rolls her eyes with a dramatic sigh. “It had those cute, crystal-lookin’, sugary, sprinkles too.”

Steve felt bad, remembering how flustered she seemed. He couldn’t help replaying this morning’s accident over and over in his head again. The end of her conversation with Betty floats over Steve’s head as he’s lost in his thoughts.

Spinning around, the woman’s eyes land on Steve immediately, confidently striding over in platform boots, cane working in tandem with her steps. She keep a respectful distance, one chair over and across from Steve.

Steve blushes, realizing he’s finally seeing her face completely as she smiles at him; it’s not filled by forced positivity, not like the ones all the healthier and able bodied folks give him. It’s warm and familiar, like sunshine on his skin; no pity, no fake empathy, none of that shit.

The contrast of her smile against her outfit, one that resembles something at the crossroads of 90s grunge and cute and cozy, with a hint of mall goth somewhere in her style, is something he admires. Her wild, black hair is tied into a messy side braid, hanging over her shoulder, with a thick, blonde streak interwoven in the braid.

“There’s never anyone in here that’s younger than 30. It’s kinda nice to see someone my age.” She admits in awe, then backtrack while her face falls. “I- not that it’s nice to see— oh my god, you’re probably not even chronically ill, I’m just assuming like a jerk. I’m so sorry.”

Steve’s unsure where to begin, but he returns the same warm smile back her way, hoping it offers reassurance. “Don’t apologize, I- yeah. I am, actually. It’s… kinda nice to see someone my age too, for once.”

“Lemme guess, you get told all the time you’re too young for this shit.”

“Kid, language.” Betty scolds, but she waves a hand at her, unfazed. “You better have a quarter for the swear jar, kiddo.” Betty closes the little glass partition, clearing her throat loudly.

“Right, introductions would be helpful, I guess,” She extends a hand out towards Steve, “Name’s Frankie Amato. Or, well, Francesca,” She cringes at her full name. “But everyone calls me Frankie.”

That explains why one of her friends at the shop called her ‘Key’ earlier, Steve realizes.

Steve takes a moment to reach back, observing all of Frankie’s tattoos and painted black nails, jelly and beaded bracelets colliding on her wrists. He shakes her hand, the contact pulling himself out of his daze, “I- I’m Steve, Steve Harrington. Sorry, didn’t mean to stare, you just— ”

“Oh, it’s okay, I know I dress like someone who tripped into their closet and left the house with whatever ended up in the outfit that day.” Steve snorts at the joke directed towards herself.

“It looks… cool.” Cool? Seriously, Steve? What is this, middle school? “ I- words. It’s. You- You look really cool.”

She stifles her giggles lazily, coming out as a snort, “Brain fog, huh?”

It shocks him to hear someone his age use the term. “How’d you know?”

“It’s like staring into a mirror right now, except you’re dressed way nicer than me.” She jokes, nodding to his cozy cable knit sweater, and Steve shakes his head, even though he’s smiling.

“Nah, no way, I’m still kinda dressing how I did in high school.”

“Oh, you think I dressed normal in high school? I was even more mismatched than this.” Frankie enthusiastically gets up with the support of her cane, twirling to show off today’s outfit. Her overall ambience is a kind Steve had never seen exude from anyone else before.

Tripping over her own feet, she yelps, losing the grip on the cane before losing her balance. Instead of hitting the floor, though, Steve catches her awkwardly, lunging out of his chair with his arms planked out in front of him. The rapid movement and odd position are doing no favors to his already irritated joints, but he wasn’t going to just let her fall over like that.

Frankie laughs, as if she wasn’t a foot away from cracking her head on the concrete underneath the thin, corporate-esque carpet. Steve’s so perplexed by her entire character, but he’s curious, wants to learn more.

“Are you okay?” Steve’s asking as he guides her into the chair next to her. She’s laughing, face flushing with embarrassment.

“Are you? I’m so sorry for that. Got a little too excited, I guess.”

“Or, it’s those damn boots.” A booming, yet mellow voice comes from the doorway leading into the doctor’s office. A tall, burly man with olive toned skin, and a scruffy salt and pepper beard with hair to match, holds the door open while giving her a look. “Francesca, quit trying to make that poor boy dance with you.”

“I was not—”

“Steve Harrington?” The doctor comes over to them, shaking Steve’s hand. He introduces himself formally with his name, following up with, “Dr. Amato. It’s nice to meet you.”

Before today, Steve knew the doctor’s name, but he’s just making the connection now that Frankie and his new doctor are related.

What a small world.

“He’s a stick in the mud, but you’re in good hands, promise.” Frankie murmurs, and her father rolls his eyes.

“What, did you forget I’m right here? I can hear you.” Dr. Amato deadpans. “Also, that’s biased of you to say, you’re my child.”

Steve’s honestly amused by the lighthearted banter between the father and daughter duo, that for a moment, he forgets why he’s even in this office to begin with.

“Don’t you have a job to do?” She shoots back, but there’s no venom in her tone. The teasing banter seems to be something she has with everyone she’s close with.

Her father narrows his eyes at her before turning back to Steve, waving his hand back towards the office door. “C’mon back, we’ve got a lot to cover from the files I could get from your previous doctor.” He doesn’t say it like Steve’s a burden, rather it sounds like the doctor actually wants to comb through the younger man’s medical history and help where he can.

As the two men head back into the office, Frankie settles into her chair, kicking her feet up and over the chair beside her before flipping through a crumpled magazine. Steve can hear Betty slide the partition open and scold her, “Kid, get your damn boots off the chair.”

“Oooh, that’s a quarter for the swear jar, Bets!”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

For once, Steve’s leaving a doctor’s office with hope. Genuine, solid hope. This isn’t like the false hope most doctors gave, if any at all. “There’s studies saying a cure’s not too far off.” and “This should be what helps, but if it’s not working for you, you must be doing something wrong.” That kind of medical gaslighting bullshit he’s unfortunately so used to by now.

Dr. Amato kept things honest, telling Steve whoever said a cure was on the horizon was a terrible liar, and doctors shouldn’t ever produce false hope like that. He told Steve he was doing everything right, and that sometimes, unfortunately, you can do everything right— physical therapy, a good night’s sleep, medication, eating well, drinking water, even caving in and finally trying yoga (which Steve loathes now)— and your body can still work against you.

“It might take some time, a long time, but if you’re willing to keep trying and work with what we’ve got, we might be able to find some kind of relief from your pain. It won’t be perfect, and studies are too new for fibromyalgia to determine cures yet, but with what I’ve learned from fibromyalgia patients over the years, every single body is different.”

Hearing that was already refreshing. Finally, a doctor understood that treatment for invisible disabilities like Steve’s weren’t easily helped with a generic, one size fits all, treatment plan.

“It’s a lot of trial and error, and that can be exhausting, as you already know. But getting to the root of the cause is crucial, I think. And judging off of your medical history, and what you’ve shared from what you’ve endured in Hawkins, I’d say a lot of it is both a physical and mental response to trauma. If you’re ready to face that, I believe you can find your way in time. Regardless, your pain is incredibly real. Anyone in the medical field who says fibro isn’t real is a quack.”

Steve wasn’t leaving with any solid answers, but this was the most reassured he felt for his future and well being in… well, ever, honestly.

After setting up a follow-up appointment with Betty, Steve begins to leave the office, when a light tug on his sleeve stops him in his tracks. Turning around, he locks eyes with Frankie, wearing that warm smile that feels like sunshine all over again to him.

“Steve, can I talk to you quick?” She asks softly, and Steve nods before he’s pulled into the hallway, closing the door behind them. “I’m sorry if I came off strong earlier. If that, like, totally didn’t scare you off, I was wondering maybe if you’d wanna hang out sometime?” Her words begin to turn into a nervous ramble as she finishes.

Steve smiles, but can’t think of a proper response. Damn brain fog. Just say yes, idiot.

“That was probably uncalled for, huh? I’m sorry—”

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. I- I’d like to hang out too.” Steve answers sincerely.

“Yeah? Okay, cool.” She smirks as the last word leaves her lips, silently teasing him. Frankie’s digging through her messenger bag, hoping to find a pen and some paper, even an old receipt would work; nothing of the sort comes up, so she pulls out her pencil eyeliner, waving it between her fingers. “Can I? It washes off easily, I promise.”

Steve’s brows furrow for a moment before he gets it, “Oh, yeah, no problem, that works.” He hopes he’s not coming off as too eager, but he truly is looking forward to hanging out with someone who just… gets it.

Awkwardly, Frankie takes Steve’s hand into her own, writing her phone number with the eyeliner on the back of his hand. As she scribble the digits, three things stand out to him.

The way she holds his hand is soft, but certain. Any awkwardness she had at first is shaken off while she finishes writing.

She’s got fingerless gloves on now, which he’s always found them funny; what’s the point of a glove if it doesn’t cover everything?

The tips of her fingers are tinged more pale than her skin tone. Her hands, even with the warm fabric, are fucking freezing.

They weren’t cold when he shook her hand earlier. “Your hands are cold,” He murmurs, kicking himself mentally for how blunt and invasive he must sound. Pulling away, she snaps the cap back onto the eyeliner, giving a lazy smile.

“The Windy City ain’t too kind to those of us with Raynaud’s,” The shrug Frankie gives plays off how much the winters here affect the disorder, and how much of an inconvenience it is to one’s daily routine. “I should really use full gloves, but they make it hard to grip stuff sometimes… I mean, I guess the cold does too, but I’d rather be cold— Jesus, I never shut up.”

“If it helps, once I get to know someone well enough, I never shut up, either.” Steve hopes the poke at himself eases her concern, and judging by the smile she gives him, he thinks it does.

“Well, I look forward to not shutting up with you, hopefully soon.” Frankie teases, reaching for the door. Looking back at him, she says with sincerity, “Get home safe, Steve.”

Before she can head back inside the office, Steve gives a nod and a warm smile, hoping it’s at least a fraction as warm and sunny as her own.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Robin!” Steve pushes the apartment door open, rushing in with excitement. “Robin, guess what, hey, guess, just guess—“

She looks up from the magazine she’s leafing through, sitting sideways on the recliner with her legs hanging over. Her eyes are wide with shock at his energy.

“You won a million dollars?”

“What? No. I mean, shit, I wish. But no.” He ends up on the couch, sighing happily to be sprawled out after a long day. If joints could cry, they’d probably be crying tears of joy right now. “Remember the girl from earlier? At the coffee shop?”

Robin nods, “Yeah, what about her?”

“Get this— her dad’s the new doctor I’m seeing, and she happened to come in when I was in the waiting room.” Lazily setting the scene, he plunges into his usual rambling. “We got to talking before my appointment, and she— her name’s Frankie— anyway, she’s just… she’s so cool, Rob. I- I don’t think I’ve met anyone like her. And Dr. Amato is really nice, like… kinda like Hopper, if he was nicer… and a doctor.”

“Hey, don’t talk shit on Hopper—“

“I’m not! I- don’t distract me,” Steve grumbles. “Anyway, it was weirdly… refreshing? Like he didn’t sugarcoat anything, or try telling me there’s a ‘cure on the horizon’, or some shit like that. But he wasn’t a dick, either. I don’t think I’ve met a doctor with that much empathy yet. And it wasn’t any of that bullshit about taking up yoga—“

“Why does everyone seem to think that works?” He’s been suggested this so many times, even Robin’s beginning to get annoyed for him.

Steve snorts, “Wish I fuckin’ knew.” Then he quiets down a bit, emotions hitting him. “I don’t think any doctor’s been this understanding, or validated my pain like this. He even said it’s common to still be in pain even if you do everything right… he- he told me it’s not my fault. Being sick isn’t my fault.”

There’s a pause, because Steve’s not sure if he’s even believing the words leaving his mouth, not after being gaslit by medical professionals for so long.

Robin throws the magazine aside to sit next to her best friend, throwing an arm over his shoulders for a side hug. “Of course it’s not your fault, you never asked for any of this.” She takes notice of the tears building in his eyes as he tries rubbing them away. “Even if you didn’t try everything out there, it’s not your fault. No one should have to suffer the way you have.”

“Especially everyone back h—“

Steve stops himself, still coming to terms that Hawkins is gone. Everyone in the group is safe, living better lives wherever they ended up on the map after the disastrous effects of the Upside Down bleeding into the real world.

“It’s cool, I get what you’re saying.” Robin tries to move the conversation forward before Steve can get hung up on the dismal facts. “Everyone in our group has damage one way or another… none of us deserved that.”

With a sigh, Steve nods before continuing, “He wants me to come back in a month, gave me some options for treatment to look into, see what works, what doesn’t, but he wants to find out why something might not work. Not just brush it off and move onto something just as useless. I really, really don’t want to get my hopes up yet, but it feels so validating to not be treated like a lost cause.”

“None of us are lost causes, ‘specially not you, Dingus.” Robin looks down and notices the eyeliner on Steve’s hand that you left behind. “What’d you get on your hand?”

“Huh?” He looks down, “Oh! That’s Frankie’s number! That—“ The digits are smudged. Some he can slightly make out, but the majority are swept away into a black, blotchy stain on his skin. “Shit. It was her number…”

“Eyeliner? Rookie mistake.”

“Hey, she couldn’t find a pen, or paper.”

“And she didn’t go back into the office for some?”

Steve’s dig back fades away as he wonders the same thing. The pair were right outside of the office. Why didn’t either of them—

Oh. Right.

“Probably brain fog… least for me it was. I couldn’t even think to reply when she asked about hanging out.”

“So call the d—“

“No. That’d be weird. So fucking weird. And wouldn’t it be against the hippo thing?”

“The what?”

“You know, the oath that doctors take, or whatever.”

“Oh my god, Steve, the Hippocratic oath?”

“Yeah! Close enough.”

“Not even, but I’ll give you this one today.”

Steve groans, sinking further into the couch. “I finally meet someone who fucking gets it, and lose their number immediately. She’s gonna think I’m avoiding her.”

The two are silent for a beat, until Robin gets an idea. “One of Frankie’s friends mentioned something about her owing him a Dinosaur Jr. tape, when we were getting coffee this morning.”

“Robin, what the hell do dinosaurs have anything to do with this?”

“No, the band, not the— oh my god,” Robin puts her head in her hands, sighing loudly before she continues, “My point is, there’s a record store next door to the coffee shop. Maybe she works there.”

Steve’s face lights up, but he stops his excitement, “Isn’t that also weird? Just… showing up where she works?”

“Maybe a little, but it’s better than guessing numbers, or ditching her, or trying to ask your damn doctor—“

“Okay, okay, okay!” He huffs. “You’re right. I should go tomorrow, maybe before work.”

“Uh… that’s the other thing—“

Steve’s heart sinks; he already knows what’s coming. It’s happened enough where he can spot the pattern from a mile away.

“They called, huh? Told you to pass the message along? Cowards. Can’t even fuckin’ fire me in person.”

“I tried bringing up the ADA to them, but they gave me some bullshit about the decision to let you go wasn’t related to your health.”

“I worked there for barely a month, and never took a day off.” When this happens, Steve’s on the fence between rage and depression, and right now, he’s angry, rightfully so. “I asked for a goddamn chair to rest between helping customers. That’s all I asked for. I did my job, I was nice, I— This is so fucking… so… so,” Steve can’t even find the words for how angry he is, fists clenching, nails digging into his palms while he screams internally.

“Steve, you’re worth so much more than being treated this way. You know that, right?”

He leans forward, elbows on his knees while he runs his hands through his hair, letting his head hang low as his throat tightens with the threat of crying.

“I appreciate you trying to fight it, but employers only get a slap on the wrist for discrimination, if that. Half the time, nothing is investigated. It’s so fucked. Can’t even keep a shitty retail job just for requesting an accommodation.”

“They’ve got a lotta’ nerve for a shitty grocery store.”

“Yeah, you’re tellin’ me.” He tries joking it off, but it’s useless. “Like, it’s no loss to get fired from some stupid retail job, but Christ…” Steve picks his head up a bit, mouth still covered by his hands. It’s muffled, nearly missed when he mutters, “I’m so fucking tired, Rob.” His voice wavers, cracks, “I’m so goddamn tired of this.”

Robin knows nothing she says can make him feel better, not right now. She just uses the arm still around his shoulders to give a comforting squeeze, a tiny sign Steve isn’t alone.

At this point, Steve will take any empathy from anyone he can get.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The next morning, Steve wakes up with nothing but fatigue pushing him deeper into his bed, despite sleeping for nine hours. He was already struggling in a flare up, but then remembers he lost another job, and it just weighs heavy on his already shit mood.

Does this ever get any better?

He should be happy he was finally heard out by a doctor. He should be glad his best friend defends him. He should be excited he met Frankie, someone who understands first hand how hard it is to exist with a chronic illness.

Instead, Steve just feels numb inside. Outside, everything hurts. He knows he should get up, eat something, start the job search all over again. He also knows if he pushes himself too hard, he’s down for the next several days.

There’s no winning when you’re always sick.

The more time separates Steve from the traumatic life he had back in Hawkins, the more he finds himself wondering if any of this is worth growing from. Sure, everyone in the party had long lasting PTSD— that alone could be debilitating— but no one else ended up with an illness considered fake by most of the world. Even chronic pains and ailments anyone else were left with weren’t as baffling as Steve’s battle with fibromyalgia.

Days like today make Steve feel like sinking into the mattress, and disappearing forever. He talks about it in therapy, and it helps, for a moment. Then when he’s mistreated for his health condition, something out of his control, he feels useless.

Back in Hawkins, Steve was able to at least look out for everyone. Protect his friends. He’d do anything for them if it meant keeping them happy, or safe, preferably both. He put himself last, always. There’s never any regret over taking care of others first, but if he knew it would’ve led to the deterioration of his health, maybe he’d have been a little more selfish and put himself first where necessary.

Jesus, I wish therapy wasn’t at the end of the week.

Rolling over into the pillow face first, he groans, remembering he wanted to stop at the record store, in hopes Frankie would be working and give her number out once more. And he does. He does want to go, he wants to see her, wants to get her number so they could eventually hang out.

Yet Steve can’t find the motivation to get up today. Not even for Frankie. Now, instead of feeling numb, he feels guilt seeping through his heart. Rolling back over to face the wall against his bed, he stares at the sunlight peeking through the blinds, dancing slowly across the wall as time continues on.

That might be one of the worst parts of being chronically ill— no matter how sick you are, the world never stops spinning, never waits for you to catch up. Time just… continues on. And if Steve was being honest with himself, he’d need years to catch himself up to speed.

Fatigue envelopes him, pulling him back into a deep, weighty sleep.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Winter’s nightfall comes before Steve can wake back up, and when he does, he feels even worse. Resting didn’t help, leaving him just disoriented and somehow more tired. An entire day, wasted to fatigue; just another day that could’ve been used to catch up in life, slipping through his fingers.

The phone rings, but he can’t get up. He can’t bring himself to roll out of bed, walk a few feet to the phone on his dresser to answer it. So, it rings. And rings. And rings. And rings—

As the shrill sound abruptly stops, Steve allows his eyes to fall shut again, until there’s a knocking on his door. Groaning, he pulls the blankets over himself, murmuring the weakest, “Go away.”

Rather than politely wait and try again, the door is pushed open; Steve pokes his head up, squints as light pours into his room, with Robin standing in the doorway.

“Oh, shit, wait, do you have a migraine? Fuck, dude, I’m sorry—“ Robin scrambles for the door, about to rush out, but Steve shakes his head, leaning up a bit.

“No, but if I did, I’d kill you right now.” He winces at how miserable he sounds. “Sorry… uh, what’s going on?”

Robin squints around his room, keeping the lights off for his sake, until she finds the phone. She grabs it, grateful the wall jack is long enough to bring the telephone over to him. Setting it down on his nightstand, she replies, “S’for you, Dingus.” Robin leaves it at that before exiting the room, closing the door behind her.

Steve sighs, picking the handset off the receiver with an unenthusiastic, “Hello?”

“Bad day, huh?”

He immediately recognizes Frankie’s voice, perking up a little as he sits up further.

“How’d you get my number?”

“Robin gave it to me, she stopped by the shop earlier. Told me all about the eyeliner smudging off— I’m so sorry, that was such a dumb idea.”

At first, he smiles faintly, but curiosity gets the best of him. “Okay… why was Robin there? I— I swear, I didn’t ask her to— I was going to come by, but it’s been a hard day—”

“Steve, it’s all good. You don’t owe me an explanation, or anything. I’m glad she told me, though.”

“…. What else did she tell you?”

She giggles softly, “That you two saw me fling my coffee like a damn frisbee yesterday morning, and that you were planning on stopping in, but when I told her you never came by, so she figured you had a bad pain day. Y’know, she seems like a great best friend.”

Steve falls back onto the pillows, phone pressed against the side of his head while he runs his hand through his hair. “Yeah, she is—“

“Damn right I am.”

Steve jumps at the sound of Robin’s voice cutting in from another phone in the apartment. “Robin! Get off the— hang up!” Frankie’s laughing hysterically on her end of the call, listening to Steve sigh dramatically as a click! sounds out, signaling Robin finally leaving the line. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be, I needed the laugh,” Her voice settles into a deflated tone, but only for a moment, leaving Steve curious, but he doesn’t pry. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Heart pumping wildly at the simple question, Steve answers truthfully before he can filter himself, “Well, nothing, now that I lost my job.” He cringes at himself, about to apologize for being so blunt, but she speaks first.

“Good! I— well— okay, not good about being fired, that fucking blows, but,” Steve’s unsure who is better at rambling and word vomiting, Frankie or him, but she’s on a roll. “We’re hiring, y’know. And by we, I mean me, ‘cause I’m the only one left running this place and reallyyyyy can’t do it alone.”

“Wh—“ A scoff of a laugh escapes him. “I don’t think I’d be the right person for that.”

“Why not? You listen to music?”

“Well, yeah, but,” Steve’s dizzy from how fast this conversation is moving. “I- I don’t know a whole lot, I just like whatever’s on the radio, sometimes other stuff, but— you barely know me. Why are you offering me a job?”

“Steve, I’m not offering you a job. You gotta have an interview first, duh.” Frankie’s teasing is lighthearted, playful, and keeps a smile on his face despite feeling confused about everything. “Look, no pressure, but if you’re interested, I’ll be there tomorrow. Or if you just wanna hang out, that’s cool too— unless you don’t wanna hang out, that’s totally fine—“

Steve breathily laughs, “Frankie,” into the phone, bringing her rambling to a halt. “I’ll be there.”

“Oh, okay,” He can hear her smile over the phone through her nervous giggle. “Okay, cool. See you tomorrow, Steve.”

“See you t— wait!” An idea pops into his head. “Don’t get coffee tomorrow.”

“Huh? Why not?” Then it hits her, “Oh, dude, don’t— you don’t have to—“

“Too bad, I remembered your order anyway.” He blushes at his own admission, wondering if it comes off creepy.

She still laughs, just as genuine as every other time Steve’s heard so far. “Yeah, we’re definitely alike if your brain fog fucks everything up except remembering someone’s coffee order. I’ll just have to memorize yours eventually, too. G’night, Steve.”

His cheeks hurt from smiling so wide for the first time all day, “Night, Frankie.”

The first time he’s felt something outside of guilt or numbness all day, and it’s all thanks to her.

… And thanks to Robin, being the nosy best friend she is, but he won’t admit that and let it get to her head.

#steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x original character #steve harrington x fem!oc #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #sorry i’m using these tags the other ones are so dead 😭#my fics #accident prone

60 notes · View notes

raffe156 · 1 year

Text

Late Night sparring

Pairing - Price X Tank X Ghost

Summary - A Late Night sparring sessions turns into something more.

Warnings - Smut (18+) Voyeurism, Language, Age gap Price (39) Tank (25) Ghost (36) SoftDom!Price, public sex, praise kink, fingering, Oral (F receiving) P in V, unsafe sex, Ghost being a little simp for Tank, Price likes to watch...

AN- I'm so sorry this took so long! not 100% happy with it, but we'll see what you guys think.

It's kind of filth, I re wrote this about 4 times so please please please let me know what you guys think either by comments, anon asks or however you feel comfortable! I've been in such a writers block headspace that getting this out felt like such an accomplishment haha!

Also enjoy another one of the commissions I had done by the amazingly talented @hffhifjou x

@deadbranch @mildlyhopeless @fanficandartgal @shuttlelauncher81 @a-littlebirdie @soapyghost @boomtowngirl @mostannoyingbillioner @brewed-pangolin @chb-7 @sarcastic-raptor163 @tapioca-marzipan

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Call of duty characters, Only Tank

“Hands where I can see them Riley!” Price shouted from the side lines. Ghost currently had you pinned underneath him both arms locked behind your back pressed to his stomach, face pressed to the floor of the ring.

“Will one do?” Ghost waved his free hand at Price causing his weight to shift fully onto you. You could just make out Price giving him the finger, his brow furrowed.

“Off now…” He made his way over to the edge of the ring, but Ghost didn’t ease up. Instead he leaned down close, you could feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek.

“You don’t want me to get up do you?…I think you like being under me…” it was just quiet enough for Price to miss but he didn’t miss the flush that spread across your face.

“UP NOW!” It was more of a warning that a request now. Ghost made a slow effort to get up, his hands being the last to leave your wrists. They felt bruised but it was a nice ache. You would never admit it to him, but he was right.

‘I think I’m done for tonight cap…I need a shower” You rolled over onto your back flat out. You didn’t even need to look at Price to know that wasn’t happening.

“Ill be the judge of that…I’ll take over the session..” Price shrugged his shoulders, stretched his arms and entered the ring. Ghost shot him a look.

“Maybe we should just hit the showers eh Cap?” Ghost rubbed your calf, you both knew exactly what he meant and the mental image caused your mind to wander…would all 3 of you even fit? The cubicles were small…you and Price just about fit…would Ghost keep his mask on? Did Ghost wear his mask in the shower? You hadn’t realised Price was talking to you till he snapped his fingers in front of your face.

“I said are you ready kid?” Price cocked his eyebrow at you.

“what? Really? I’ve just had my arse handed to me by him…I don’t need another beat down from you! Can we just all go take a shower?” You sat up, looking up at Price from under your lashes…hopefully the little lost lamb look would soften his big bad wolf stance…it didn’t. The pathetic attempt made Ghost scoff…but you and he knew it would have worked on him. Price was a tougher nut to crack. You stood up.

“If that’s what you want then you better get to work…because we aren’t stopping till you get me pinned to the ground” before you could protest Price was on you like a rash, in two moves he had disabled you completely. Both arms behind your back body bent forward. If you weren’t so pissed off this would have been hot, but you knew he meant business an knew he wasn’t joking about not stopping till you pinned him.

*******

It had been about an hour your breath was ragged, the sweat dripping from you, your body ached from being slammed to the ground numerous times by Price his full weight resting on you each time, he didn’t hold back.

Every sly attempt to seduce him or touch him failed and almost always ended up with you on your arse or in a headlock tapping his arm.

“Can’t flirt your way out of a headlock love!”

“How long can you keep this up? Really?” You crouched taking in the few minutes rest. You watched Price from the corner of your eye he circled you like a predator his breathing was deep, though he didn’t look half as worn out as you did, if anything he looked virile, rejuvenated what was he getting out of this? He crouched in front of you a smirk planted across his face.

“You know me Tank I can go all night…”

His smug words had you grabbing at his arm to attempt a throw but instead he pulled you back into him your back pressed to his chest your own arm locking you in place.

“Nearly…” He chuckled in your ear, he knew it enraged you. He knew you were getting ratty now like a toddler that had been deprived of an afternoon nap. You bucked back into him trying and failing to throw him over. His laugh only get louder.

Ghost was silent in the corner, he had watching in awe as the two of you had fought. Watched as your bodies collided and crashed into one another. He watched as if in slow motion you bare and snap your teeth at Price who only returned the aggression in the form or a smirk. It was like a dance and Ghost wanted to cut in.

“Think she’s had enough Price…she’s getting snappy now…literally” Just as he said it you had sunk your teeth into Prices forearm. He kicked your leg out from under you causing you to drop down releasing his arm from your bite, Price went down with you repositioning himself so your arms were completely locked behind you.

“Im sick of this shit…” you were struggling against him so much you hadn’t even clocked Ghost now crouched in front of you. His ski mask was up.

He leaned in his lips grazing yours. It took you by surprise but you welcomed him in, Price watched as you let Ghost slip his tongue into your mouth. He felt you ease up but he didn’t release his hold. He liked the control. He pulled you back.

“Tell me what you want Tank?” Price was in your ear. You let out a sigh.

“Ghost…” you knew the answer was a risky one, but he had wound you up. Ghost looked at you a little smirk on his face, but he knew Price was in charge here still.

“Is that right?…fair enough…” Price slowly released his hold. You looked back…there must be a catch surely it wasn’t that easy? But not to look a gift horse in the mouth as soon as your hands were free they flew up to Ghost face, your thumbs running just under the edge of his mask testing your limits, his hands came up to rest on yours.

“Easy tiger haha” Ghost watched Price from the corner of his eye, what was he up to? Price jumped out of the ring and made his way over to his jacket pulling out a cigar and lighter. Really?

Ghost turned his attention back to you, he was going to make the most of this “free rein”. He gently pushed you back so you were lay flat pulling your shorts off in one quick move. Your underwear was soaked. It made him feral the thought of you getting off on being thrown around and pinned by you Captain and Lieutenant.

He lowered his head his mouth just a few inches from your centre making you scream internally, his hand kneading your inner thigh he lifted his head slightly to plant little kisses close to where his hand rested in between each kiss you could feel the faint nip of his teeth, as he got close he used his other hand to gently pull your underwear to the side. His warm breath caused your nerves to spark and fizz. The sight of you laid open for him made his mouth water like a sour sweet had been placed under his tongue. He noticed your hand fidgeting in anticipation so decide to lace his fingers with yours, his much larger hand nearly swallowing yours as he did he slowly licked a stripe up your core, savouring your taste, smoked honey mixed with salt…it drove him insane as he licked and sucked at your slit you could feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head, as he pushed two fingers inside, you felt your walls clamping down on him and then came the familiar swell in your stomach. You turned your head locking eyes with Price his face mostly distorted by a cloud of thick cigar smoke, but you could just make out his sharp blue eyes.

The thought of Price watching you pushed you over the edge, he didn’t break eye contact as you came.

“Atta girl” the sound of praise from Price flooded your system just like his smoke filled your lungs. Even without touching you he could still cause a stir inside. He still had control. Ghost knew this but he didn’t care, he had you laid out, open for him to explore even if he had to share your attention.

He made his way up your body, taking you in as he did. He almost completely covered you, his body a shield. He had you caged underneath him his arm blocking you from Price’s view. He could see you looking for your Captain, but right now here you were under your Lieutenants command.

“Eyes on me…” he whispered as he undid his pants, pulling his cock out the weight of it resting on your opening. You were pinned under him but you watched his eyes as you managed to roll your hips up into him causing the head of his cock to slip over your clit.

“Fucking HELL” his eyes rolled back as you rolled your hips again for another pass. Ghost couldn’t take it anymore he hooked your legs over his thighs pulling you up as he did supporting you from underneath, you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck. He fisted his cock angling it at your core you were warm an inviting. You looked at him your eyes glossy an wet, you wanted him inside you here an now and you wanted Price to watch him have you. You both looked down to where you were almost joined.

“Ready?” Ghost drew back he knew from last time he had to take it slow allow you to adjust around him.

“Mhmm” you head felt foggy like the smoke from Prices cigar had clouded it. But the feeling of Ghost entering you cleared the fog like a wave, washing it away suddenly all your senses were filled with Ghost, his body heat, his smell cigarettes and mint all filled you up the feeling of his rough hands gripping your arse as you rocked back down onto him. You held on tight pushing yourself into him chest to chest. He could feel your heart racing he wanted you closer needed you closer if he could he would open his chest an keep you there.

His thrusts became rampant, rutting up into you the sounds echoing across the gym. Ghost could feel himself getting close an could tell you were as well by how your walls clung to him reluctant to let him pull out even an inch.

“Cum for me…” he lowered you back down onto the floor of the ring his pace only slowing slightly your legs still wrapped around his waist.

You felt the spring in your stomach coil up tight as Ghost buried his face in your neck.

“Are you gonna be a good girl an cum for your Lieutenant” he growled through gritted teeth into your neck. You turned you head to allow him to get deeper into your clavicle. As your eyes fluttered open you noticed Price was sat closer to the ring slouched and legs spread, cigar still in his mouth puffing away. A smirk on his face was he enjoying this? He knew you were looking for him, knew you needed to know he was watching you. He knew you needed his nod of approval to say you could be a good girl an cum and there it was subtle but it was there. You allowed yourself to fully be devoured by Ghost and swallowed whole, you took all of him in every nerve ending was alight and screaming his name an he knew it he could feel the difference in you, Ghost wanted to give you all of him willed you to take it he only asked for a fraction of you in return as he knew he could never have all of you but for a split second as he glanced down at you he felt like he did.

You both came at the same time you could feel the hot ropes of cum filling you as your bodies eased up. Your panting an moans filled the gym hall. Both trying to catch your breath a haze of lust and body heat surrounded you. Then out of the haze came Prices voice

“Hurry up an hit the showers, you still haven’t pinned me yet Tank…so don’t be thinking we are done for the night…”

370 notes · View notes