Summary: When you arrive at Scarlett's house to babysit as usual, she starts noticing that you're behaving differently. She intervenes. You feel safe enough to fall asleep
Warnings: Ill mental health, body issues/mentions of eating disorders, bring sick, lack of motivation
Word count: ≈1500
Reading time: ≈13 mins
Type: Oneshot
req by: original request by Tumblr anon, part 2 request by a wattpad comment 🫶
a/n - rushed this a lil 🎀
You don’t remember moving.
One second you’re standing there, trying to hold yourself together under Scarlett’s gaze, and the next you’re sitting on the closed toilet lid, hands clenched in your hoodie like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.
Scarlett’s still in front of you. Not hovering. Not pacing. Just there. Steady.
She doesn’t speak right away. Doesn’t fill the silence like everyone else does when things get uncomfortable. She lets it sit. Lets you sit. Your breathing is still uneven, shoulders tight like they haven’t figured out how to relax yet.
“…I didn’t mean for you to find out,” you mumble eventually, staring at the floor.
Scarlett exhales softly. “Yeah,” she says. Not upset. Not surprised. “I figured.”
Another pause.
“I wasn’t looking for it,” she adds after a second. “But I’m not going to ignore it either.”
Your jaw tightens slightly. “I wasn’t asking you to,” you mutter.
“No,” she agrees gently. “You weren’t asking for anything.”
And that lands differently. Because it’s true. You weren’t. That’s kind of the problem.
Your fingers twist tighter into the fabric of your hoodie. “It’s not—like a thing,” you try again, quieter now. “It’s just… sometimes.”
Scarlett tilts her head slightly, watching you carefully. “Sometimes doesn’t make you this sick.”
You don’t answer. Because you can’t.
She crouches down in front of you again, bringing herself level instead of towering over you. It makes it harder to avoid her, but easier to breathe at the same time.
“…Does it happen every time you eat?” she asks.
You hesitate. “…Not always.”
“How often?”
You shrug. Small. Noncommittal. “I don’t know.”
She studies you for a second longer, like she’s trying to piece together everything you’re not saying. “…Okay,” she says eventually. “We’re not going to figure everything out tonight.”
Your shoulders loosen a fraction at that. Just a fraction.
“But,” she continues, voice still calm, “we are going to make sure you’re okay right now.”
You huff faintly. “I am okay.”
Scarlett gives you a look. Not the full mom look this time. A quieter version of it.
“You can barely stand,” she points out.
You don’t argue that one. “…I’m just tired.”
“I know.”
That’s the thing. She does know. And she’s not dismissing it.
She reaches over, turning the tap off. The sudden quiet feels louder than the running water did. “C’mon,” she says gently, offering her hand.
You hesitate. Not because you don’t want to take it. Because you do. And that feels dangerous.
Still, your hand lifts anyway. She doesn’t grab it. Just lets your fingers settle into hers before she helps you stand. Your balance wobbles slightly. Scarlett notices immediately.
Her other hand comes to your arm without thinking. Steady. Not tight. “I’ve got you,” she murmurs.
The words hit harder than they should. You swallow quickly, looking away. “I can walk,” you mumble.
“I know,” she says easily. “You don’t have to prove it.”
That shuts you up.
She walks you out of the bathroom slowly, not rushing you, guiding you back toward the living room but she doesn’t stop there. Instead, she leads you to the couch.
“Sit,” she says. You do. This time without arguing.
Rose glances up from the TV. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, sweetheart,” Scarlett answers before you can. “Just giving her a break for a minute.”
Cosmo barely looks up, still focused on the movie. Normal. Everything feels weirdly normal
Scarlett disappears into the kitchen for a moment. You hear quiet movement—nothing loud, nothing overwhelming.
When she comes back, she’s holding something small. Not the full bowl from before. Just a piece of toast. Plain. She sits beside you, not too close, not too far.
“Try this,” she says, holding it out slightly. “No pressure. Just… see how it feels.”
You stare at it for a second. It doesn’t feel as heavy as the pasta did.
Still… your stomach twists. “I don’t—”
“Just a bite,” she says gently. “If it feels wrong, you stop. That’s it.”
You hesitate. Then, slowly, you take it. Your fingers brush hers for half a second. Warm. Grounding. You bring it to your mouth.
Pause.
Then take a small bite. You wait. Your body waits. Nothing immediate happens. No sharp wave. No instant recoil. Your shoulders drop slightly.
Scarlett doesn’t react outwardly. Doesn’t make it a big deal. But you can see it in the way she relaxes just a fraction.
“Okay?” she asks quietly.
You nod. “…Okay.”
You take another bite. Still small. Still careful. But easier. The silence that follows isn’t heavy this time. It’s calmer. Safer.
After a minute, Scarlett speaks again, softer now. “We’re going to figure this out,” she says.
You don’t look at her. “You don’t have to.”
“I know.” A pause. “I’m going to anyway.”
Your throat tightens slightly. You don’t argue this time. Because part of yo, a quiet, tired part doesn’t want her to stop.
The movie keeps playing, but you stop following it somewhere in the middle.
You’re still holding the piece of toast, though it’s gone cold in your hand. A couple small bites missing. That’s it. Your body feels heavy.
Not in the same overwhelming way as before. Not sharp. Not panicked. Just tired. Deep, bone-deep tired that settles behind your eyes and pulls at your shoulders.
Cosmo is still tucked against your side, warm and steady, his small hand gripping the fabric of your sleeve like he always does. Rose is curled up on the other side, half-focused on the screen, half-leaning into you.
You don’t realise your head has tipped slightly until it rests against the back of the couch.
Your eyes slip shut for a second. Then a second longer. You don’t mean to fall asleep. You just…stop holding yourself up.
Scarlett notices almost immediately. It’s subtle at first.
The way your hand goes slack around the toast. The way your breathing evens out. not forced, not controlled. Just natural.
She glances over from where she’s sitting, her gaze softening slightly. “…Hey,” she murmurs quietly.
No response. Her eyes linger on your face a second longer, making sure. You’re out.
Not pretending. Not avoiding. Just asleep. Her chest tightens a little at that. Because it shouldn’t take this much for you to rest.
She carefully reaches over, easing the piece of toast from your hand before it can fall, setting it on the coffee table without making a sound.
Cosmo shifts slightly against you, but doesn’t wake. Rose glances over. “Is she asleep?” she whispers.
Scarlett nods faintly. “Yeah. Let her sleep.”
Rose settles back down, quieter now. Scarlett’s attention shifts back to you. Up close, it’s even clearer.
The exhaustion. The way your face has softened now that you’re not holding it all together. The tension that never really leaves your shoulders,even now.
She exhales slowly. Then moves. Careful. Slow.
She adjusts the throw blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over you and the kids both, tucking it lightly around your side where Cosmo is pressed in. You don’t stir.
Your head tilts slightly as she does, slipping just enough that it would be uncomfortable in a few minutes. Scarlett hesitates for half a second. Then gentlyshe shifts closer.
Her hand comes up to steady your head, guiding it carefully until it rests against her shoulder instead of the couch.
You make a small sound. Barely there. But you don’t wake.
Instead, you lean. Just a little. Like your body trusts it more than your mind ever would. Scarlett stills for a second at that. Then relaxes.
Her arm settles loosely around your shoulders ,not pulling you in, not trapping you. Just there. Enough that if you shift, you won’t fall. The movie keeps playing quietly in the background.
She doesn’t watch it. Her gaze stays on you.
Every now and then, your breathing hitches slightly, like your body hasn’t quite figured out how to fully rest yet.
Each time, her hand moves light, slow rubbing gently over your arm. Grounding. Consistent.
There’s no rush to move you. No thought of waking you up to send you home right away.
Not like this. Not when you finally look like you’re getting something close to real rest.
After a while, Rose drifts off too, curled into your side. Cosmo is already out, small breaths warm against your sleeve. Scarlett lets out a quiet breath, looking at the three of you tangled together on the couch.
“…Yeah,” she murmurs under her breath, more to herself than anyone else. “You’re not going anywhere like this.”
Her hand moves again, brushing lightly over your hair this time, careful not to wake you. You shift closer without meaning to. And this time, she doesn’t hesitate.
Her arm tightens just slightly around you, steady and warm, keeping you there. Keeping you safe. And for once, you don’t wake up.
Me in my wattpad comments: No you can't kidnap Hermes! He'll bite you, AND NOT IN THE GOOD WAY
Me in my Ao3 comments: Look, the memories are literally gonna kill Ody(There's like 2 outcomes to him staying mortal and regaining the memories how he is now- 1. psych ward because it's too much for his human little brain, or 2. braindeath)(Hermes has actually seen both results and doesn't wanna see either again, HENCE)
These are things I have actually said XD
My kid(IrLhermes) needs to stop trying to kidnap Hermes lol
AO3 has the ability to turn off comments, moderate comments, restrict comments to logged in users only, or let anyone comment on your story. Most other fanfiction hosting websites do not allow comments to be turned off and in the case of some (wattpad) highly encourage comments even on individual paragraphs.
Over on reddit, someone said it is an unwritten rule of fanfiction that you should never leave a negative or critical comment on a story. This was countered most strongly by many arguments. Despite many people asserting that their stance was the one truth and that there was no debate on the topic - there was a lot of debate about what criticism even is and where the line should be for if giving concrit is alright.
So give this some thought:
Assuming an author chose to leave comments open and unmoderated, is it acceptable to give constructive criticism on a work of fanfiction?
Yes, and some purely critical comments are fine so long as they aren't rude.
Yes, constructive criticism is fine.
If the author doesn't state that they don't want concrit, it's fine. (opt-out)
If an author says the do accept concrit it is fine. (opt-in)
If they welcome concrit and you are mostly positive, it's fine.
It is never alright to criticize a fan work because it isn't made for you.
It isn't alright to criticize a fan work even if you also praise the fanwork.
It is never alright to criticize a fanwork because it discourages writers.
You should only leave positive comments on fan works.
IDK just show me poll results.
Voting ended onMay 31, 2023
If you have tea to spill, examples or an argument you want to make, please do. I have some that go both ways, but I'm going to wait for a few responses so I don't pre-empt the results. I'm not going to vote myself for a while, either, so I won't know which way the poll is leaning when I do pour my tea. I tried to cover all the flavors of debate I've seen in the many "definitive" posts I have read here and on reddit. Please reblog for a wider sample!
