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shipmistress9 · 4 months ago

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Blueberries & chocolate Chips - 04

AN: If this was another kind of story and I was another kind of writer, they would be fighting for longer, the angst and the drama would last for at least a couple of chapters. But as it is, I hate it when there's a misunderstanding between the characters and they're all angry/upset yet it could all be solved by one simple open conversation. Hence, no prolonged fighting.

Once again the biggest thanks to @theoppositequeens for talking me out of my little panic over this chapter. 🥰 You're the best!

. o O o .

Chat history with XR

(Today) I got my results. Are you free this afternoon?

A twisting feeling settled in Violet's guts as she read the message. His message. The first he'd sent after her initial short Hi three days ago. No apology. No explanation.

"What an ass," Rhi snorted as she glanced at where Violet held out her phone to her. "Does he really think you'll jump as soon as he snaps his fingers, just so he can shout at you some more?"

Violet grimaced. "He didn't really shout at me," she murmured, but Rhiannon wasn't listening.

"Honestly, you should let him stew and then reply tonight that you were busy. That asshole doesn't deserve even one more minute of your time after how he treated you at Dylan's."

Violet sighed but didn't even try to correct Rhiannon. Because she was right: Violet had given him no reason to get so angry at her out of nowhere, and he certainly had no right to accuse her of setting things up. If anything, he'd been the one to seduce her

But Rhi was also wrong, and so had Violet been. It hadn't been his fault that the whole pregnancy topic hadn't even crossed her mind when, of course, for most people that would be a valid thing to worry about with a broken condom. And she probably shouldn't have acted so defensive, either, could have told him right away why that wasn't an option. But, well… It wasn't as if she didn't know where her hesitation there had come from.

Fucking Halden…

"And why isn't he just texting you the results?" Rhi continued with her rant. "Why do you need to meet again for that? Unless he needs to pass on further instructions because he managed to infect himself with something nasty. Would serve him right, though, hopefully you didn't catch it then, either. I mean, that hole was pretty small." Yeah, Rhiannon was still pissed, even days later.

Violet let out another sigh, but couldn't even think of a good reply to that. Because even though Violet couldn't feel the same anger as Rhiannon— not anymore— she still wondered.

Why hadn't he texted her earlier? Why hadn't he at least apologised? And why would he want to meet now all of a sudden? No matter what his results stated, he could just tell her and be done with her once and for all. It wasn't as if there was anything else to say.

Not realistically…

A little wistfully, she thought back to the few minutes before she'd shown him that picture in the cafe. He'd seemed almost…happy to see her again. As if he'd been looking forward to it. As if he'd wanted to get back in contact with her.

But even if that had been the case, if he'd been interested in her beyond that one night…well, then their fight had certainly crushed any of those tendencies. Him not texting her earlier had made that clear.

Well, it couldn't be helped now. By now, she was just tired of all this nonsense and just wanted to get it all behind her. The last three days had been…not good. She'd felt empty, the good mood after that night with him having turned sour quickly. Maybe it hadn't been as bad as the weeks before, but it was close. Different in an odd way. Because it wasn't as if she'd broken up with someone again.

Either way… Hopefully, getting his results, getting whatever was still between them off their chests, and then forgetting it all happened would help her move on for good. And next year, she'd have to fake an illness or something for Liam's birthday.

Picking her phone back up and walking back to her room, Violet typed in a reply, ignoring Rhi's on-going rant behind her.

Chat history with XR

i can make that work. 4pm?

That's perfect. I'll meet you by the Dragons, if that's okay?

sure

She let herself fall onto her bed, her arms crossed over her eyes.

Whatever…

. o O o .

The Dragons were the priced centrepiece of Aretia's extensive park right next to Lake Sgaeyl. They were an impressive statue hewn from black and navy-blue marble, depicting two dragons entwined in what could be called an affectionate embrace. According to Liam, they were supposed to represent the unity of the lake and the mountains around them. Or something like that.

Given the location of the city, with the lake and the mountains around it, one would think that the founders of Aretia would have used the flat ground by the lake to build their houses there instead of going the costly and certainly more difficult route of building them into the mountain wall. But as it was, this park with its long winding walkways, the stream running through it, and the many benches, playgrounds, and other activity locations was certainly one of the things that made this city special.

Violet loved spending time here in the spotted shade beneath the tall trees, with birds chirping and bees humming all around, the lake nearby. Everything seemed lighter here, easier. So maybe meeting him here wasn't such a bad idea. She could go stare at the waves once it was over, until she felt better again.

As she approached the central area where the Dragons loomed over everything, she easily spotted him already waiting for her. In the light of the sun, his dark curls seemed like ink, black yet shiny, and his tattoos, on stark display beneath his sleeveless shirt, were even more striking than in the dim light of the club.

Shit, he looked good. Violet didn't want to think like that, not with how things between them would inevitably end in a couple of minutes, but she couldn't help it. That attraction that had been there right from the first moment she'd seen him? Yeah, it was still there, still going strong.

Bracing herself, she forced a neutral expression onto her face as he lifted a hand in greeting.

"Hey, Vi," he said, seemingly equally aiming for a civil tone out here in public. "Thanks for coming on such short notice."

She nodded, forcing a smile. "I didn't have any pressing things to do, so it was no issue."

He nodded, and for the first time ever, the silence between them felt heavy. Awkward.

"Erm, so…" he began, with neither of them looking at the other. "Should we…walk a bit?"

Violet's lips twitched. Why didn't he just tell her what he had to say, whatever bad news his results had brought him, and then leave her in peace? But stupid as it was, she nodded. Nothing good could come from them continuing that fight from the cafe. And yet, she didn't want this to be over.

Pathetic.

They walked in silence. It couldn't have been long, just a minute or so, just until they weren't surrounded by other people anymore, but it felt like an eternity.

"So, erm," he eventually began, clearing his throat. "First things first. My results came in and I'm also clean. So you have nothing to worry about there."

Startled, Violet stopped in her tracks. "You are?" Somehow, this wasn't a scenario she'd allowed herself to hope for. Not just because she didn't want some infection, but also— "Why didn't you simply say so in your text?" Her heart was racing all of a sudden, her eyes flickering up to finally look at him.

He’dd stopped two steps ahead of her, and when he turned, his dark eyes were filled with regret.

"Because…I had to see you." He took a deep breath, his shoulders moving as if they carried a heavy weight. "I wanted to apologise for how awfully I reacted. It wasn't fair of me to pressure you into revealing that, to force you into that situation just because of my own problems."

Violet didn't know what to say. During the last three days, she'd thought of countless scenarios like this. Where Xaden wasn't the asshole he'd turned into at the cafe but was again the version she'd met before, the one she'd had in her bed. The one she'd thought she'd made up in her mind. But in none of those daydreams had she ever planned so far ahead that she needed to come up with a reply.

Taking a deep breath, she crossed her arms in front of her and let her gaze wander around, through the trees to where the sun glittered on the waves in the distance. "Why didn't you text me earlier, then?" she eventually asked, her voice low. Fuck, he could have apologised at any moment during these last three days.

Xaden swallowed. "I…wasn't sure whether you'd even listen," he confessed. "Not after how much I hurt you."

"You didn't…hurt me," she sighed, her mouth tight as she looked at him again.

Xaden grimaced and shook his head. "I saw the pain on your face, Violet. You don't have to coddle me."

Now, her lips tugged into a small pained smile. "I'm not," she huffed, something of a disbelieving laugh mixing itself into her voice. Rhiannon would be horrified by her words. But he'd apologised. That was what she'd hoped for, all she'd wanted to hear. "I was hurt, yes. But not by you. Not directly. Your words…they just brought back some unpleasant memories."

"About your ex?" he guessed, and Violet nodded. "Then I'm sorry about that, too."

With another small smile, she nodded, accepting his apology. But she didn't feel like talking about Halden. Not when, somehow, this… this strange thing between her and Xaden seemed to work out better than she'd dared to hope.

"And I'm sorry, too. I probably could have reacted less evasively, too. Your sudden mood swing just threw me off. What was it that made you react like that?" she asked instead, her feet moving almost on their own as she kept walking down the path he'd chosen. "If…you don't mind me asking, that is."

From the corner of her eye, she saw how his jaw tightened. But a moment later, he scoffed a bitter laugh. "Well, you're not the only one with a shitty ex."

. o O o .

Xaden led her through a part of the park she'd never even know existed. Away from the well-known— and at this time of day somewhat over-crowded— walkways, narrow overgrown paths led to a less cultivated area. And to a tiny clearing right at the lake's bank. It only held a single lonely bench, the dark coat of pain cracked and peeling off, that faced out towards the water, the impressive peak of Mount Tairn in the distance.

Violet paused as she entered the clearing. It felt like she was intruding on private ground somehow, as if this place wasn't meant for just anyone. But when Xaden beckoned her over, she followed him without hesitation and sat down next to him.

Along the way, he'd bought ice cream for both of them— the fancy kind, large portions in a rolled up bubble waffle that came with all kinds of extras. He'd insisted since she didn't get the chance to eat her mini tart the other day, and when he returned with two big portions, with blueberries for her and dark chocolate chips for himself, she couldn't keep herself from smiling a little at the simple domestic gesture. Now, however, with the sudden proximity on that bench, Violet was twice as glad to have something to occupy her hands.

"So, about Cat," he began, but Violet interrupted him quickly.

"You really don't have to tell me," she said, and meant it. "If what she did made you react so strongly, it can't be pleasant to remember."

Xaden threw her a thoughtful look. "I know. And no, it's not. But…I feel like I should tell you. Nothing can excuse how I reacted, but…"

"…but it would still be an explanation?"

He nodded.

Violet took a deep breath and leaned back, waiting. She wasn't sure whether she even wanted to hear what this person had done to him, but she probably should.

"Cat and I got together a little over a year ago," he began, gazing out over the bright blue surface of the lake. "It was…one of those relationships that were bound to happen, if you know what I mean. We've been part of the same social groups for years, our families have been friends since before we were even born. Everyone expected that we'd get together, and eventually, that expectation became too heavy to resist. It wasn't bad, not at first. Comfortable, in a way, to be seen as 'taken' instead of being chased constantly."

Violet threw him a covert look. Yeah, she could understand how someone who looked like him would constantly be swarmed by admirers, even if they didn't know anything else about him. Fuck, had she been any better?

"But it was also clear that it wouldn't last, to me at least," he went on. "I had no feelings for her beyond the tentative comradeship that had developed over the years, and I thought she'd see it the same way. That it was just for the moment, just for convenience, just to appease those who constantly tried to set us up." He let out a harsh breath, almost a growl. "I should have paid better attention."

"I guess she didn't also cheat on you?" Violet hedged, a suspicion settling in her chest like lead.

Xaden huffed another bitter laugh. "No, she didn't. Though I kind of wish she had, that would've been less messy." He winced. "Sorry. I didn't mean to devalue what he did to you."

"I know," Violet cut him off with a small smile. "It's not a competition."

He turned his head to throw her a strange look. "No, it's not." He let out a sigh and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his ice cream long since gone. "But no, she didn't cheat on me. Not in the classical way, at least. But she was way more comfortable with the arrangement between us than I was. And when I was thinking about how to break it off without drawing too much attention, without causing too much of a scandal—" He rolled his eyes."—she was aiming for the opposite."

"She faked a pregnancy?" Violet guessed, feeling sick at that thought.

But Xaden huffed another humourless laugh and shook his head. "No," he said, throwing her a strange look. "Faking a pregnancy wouldn't have given her what she wanted. After a couple of months at the latest, her ruse would have become obvious."

Violet's stomach sank even further.

"She knew that nothing but the real thing would let her keep me, or whatever her hopes were." He scoffed. "So she pulled every string she could to actually get pregnant, knowing that, with my history, I'd never leave her alone with a child."

At that, Violet frowned. Was she supposed to know his history? But another question seemed more pressing to her. "So she actually did nick your condoms?" That certainly would explain why he'd reacted so strongly.

With a heavy sigh, Xaden nodded. "Yeah, she did. Although, on the grand scale, that was by far not the worst she did." His expression turned hard again, angry. "She must have known that I didn't plan to keep our 'relationship' up for long, because she'd started her ruse right from the beginning. Having a timer on her phone to remind her every evening to take the pill when I now know they were only vitamins. Using whatever tricks she could to hide when she had her period and then faked having it at another time so I wouldn't be aware of her cycle. Including leaving the occasional used tampon in my bathroom bin."

Almost despite herself, Violet let out a whistle. "Well, that's dedication."

"You could say that," Xaden snorted. "And it's probably only luck she didn't succeed during the months we were together. And believe me, I made sure she wasn't pregnant after all before leaving her for good. But I only found out when I returned to her flat after just leaving because I'd forgotten my car keys and found her in the process of emptying the used condom from the night before into herself."

"Oh, fuck…" Violet was stunned. Xaden seemed to be a great guy, not counting the incident at the cafe. But that still seemed like an insane move to try and keep someone who clearly never wanted to be with them.

Xaden ducked his head, his knuckles standing out white from how tightly he wrung his own hands. "That about sums it up." He took a deep breath, and after a moment or two, his shoulders visibly relaxed again. "We had a bad fight, it wasn't pretty. I yelled at her and she threw more than just one vase at me. For leading her on and giving her hope only to throw her life into shambles, or something." Grimacing, he shook his head, absentmindedly brushing his thumb over a spot on his arm where a thin silver line was visible. "It's still hard to believe how I misjudged her all this time. And even harder to ignore it whenever I see her again now, acting like the same person she was before, friendly and helpful, generous even. Only to throw me hateful glares when nobody is looking anymore."

"You're still in contact?" Baffled, Violet stared at him. If someone would have played her like that, she'd make sure to stay away from them, as far as she could.

"Inevitably," Xaden shrugged. "Same social circles, remember?"

"And your friends just… accept what she did? And move on as if nothing happened?" How could he willingly spend time with people like that? Surely, Liam wasn't one of them, right? He would never stand for such behaviour.

But Xaden just chuckled, the first at least somewhat happy sound since he'd started his story. "Oh, my friends hate her with a passion. You better not mention her name to Liam, or he might go on a rampage." Yeah, that sounded more like him. "It's just other people, at work and stuff… Not many know or believe the full scope of what she did. Even less care."

"That…sounds absolutely horrible." Violet couldn't take her eyes off him. She felt the urge to place her hand on his arm, to comfort him in any way. But she didn't know where they stood anymore, floating in this weird state between a hook-up and a fight.

"It is how it is," he said, shrugging. Then he turned, the look in his eyes making her freeze with its intensity. "And by now, it's nothing but a bad memory. The biggest harm it did…was how it made me react the other day."

Violet swallowed, and it cost her real effort to take her next breath and tear her eyes away from him. "It really wasn't such a big deal."

"Big enough that you stormed out of the cafe. After I forced you to reveal highly sensitive personal information I had no right to demand from you. I'd say that counts as bad."

With something of a little smile on her face, Violet shook her head. "It wasn't the fact that you made me reveal my infertility that made me leave," she eventually explained in a low voice. "But more the way you reacted in general, how angry you became, that you accused me of setting it up like that. I didn't get how you could jump to such conclusions over something as simple as an accident, without any evidence. That me telling you I wasn't pregnant wouldn't be enough. But after what you just told me, I get it. I'd probably be more than just a little wary, too."

She hoped this explanation would help take the guilt from him. But when she looked back at him when he didn't reply, he just looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, yes, I was hurt. But it was really more because of some things my ex said. The things he did, and why he said he did them. I've come to terms with the fact that I probably won't ever have children a long time ago."

"Whatever he said, he deserves to get punched in the face," he said matter-of-factly, and the image made Violet smirk. Just thinking about how Halden would probably go down at the first contact, howling in fear of his perfect face being damaged, seemed to heal some of the mental bruise his words had left in an instant.

"A long time ago, though? Since when have you known?" he asked, hesitant. "If…you don't mind me asking, that is."

Something like a smile spread across Violet's face at him repeating her own words from before. Was it by chance or was he really that observant? Either way, his thoughtfulness touched something inside her she wasn't sure what to make of.

"It's okay, I don't mind." She took a deep breath, her gaze wandering over the dancing waves. "I had appendicitis as a child, when I was eight or maybe nine years old. It took a while before my siblings brought me to the hospital, my parents had been too busy to notice, as always. But it all went well, and a little while later, I was back home with nothing but a little scar. Or so everyone thought."

"But the infection had spread?" Xaden asked in a low voice, and Violet nodded.

"Down to my Fallopian tubes. The scar tissue of that infection only got discovered when I went to my first check-up after getting my period. It's so severe that basically no egg cell or sperm will ever make it through."

Xaden nodded, as if he, too, had spent hours researching this topic. "That would still leave IVF as an option, though?"

A little puzzled, Violet threw him a quick glance. Did he have some medical degree he hadn't told her about, if he knew about things like blocked Fallopian tubes and in-vitro fertilisation?

The corner of Xaden's mouth lifted into a tiny smile. "Garrick's a gynaecologist, and we've all helped him through his occasional meltdowns when he had to learn for his exams."

Violet didn't remember much about the bear of a man she'd met only briefly in that club. All her attention had been on Xaden, after all. But gynaecologist had definitely not been on her mind. Might be worth keeping in mind, though, if she ever needed a second opinion.

Blinking, she shook her head. "Yeah, IVF would be possible. But…" She huffed a bitter laugh. "Let's be real here for a moment. I won’t ever be able to afford that. So it's a moot point."

She let out a sigh. Halden would have easily been able to pay for an IVF treatment with his father's money. But even when things between them had still been good she'd never even considered asking him about it. Maybe because she'd always known that he wasn't reliable enough. More likely because she'd given up on having children long ago.

When she looked at Xaden again, he had a strange expression on his face, a vertical line between his eyes and his lips parted, as if he was pondering something. But whatever it was, it got interrupted before he could tell her about it, her phone ringing with the buzzing of a bumble bee she'd programmed for Rhiannon.

Chat history with RhiBee

Hey, babe, how are you? Ridoc and I are having a picnic at our usual spot. So in case you need help getting rid of a body, we're at your disposal.

No need for that, I'm fine. I'll meet you there in a few.

Well, Rhi wouldn't be happy that she hadn't bitten Xaden's head off. That she'd let him off the hook at all, and so quickly. But Violet was glad about how it had all played out between them, happy even. At least she didn't need to feel bad about their encounter anymore.

"I've got to go now," she said, standing up from the bench and brushing dust and dried paint off her denims. "My friends are waiting for me."

She hesitated, pondering whether to look at him one last time. Something within her rebelled at the idea of leaving now, of never seeing him again. But that was stupid. They'd cleared up all misunderstandings between them, no need to feel guilty or angry anymore, but that was it.

"Bye, Xaden. It was…nice knowing you. And thanks for trusting me with all that. And for the ice waffle." She smiled at him, not daring to meet his eyes, then turned to leave.

But she barely made it two steps before freezing in place again. Because Xaden had reached for her hand, stopping her, and his touch sizzled through her like an electric charge.

"Violet, wait," he said in a strangely hesitant voice, and when she looked back at him, there was a hint of insecurity in his eyes.

"Yes?" Her heart was beating in her throat as it seemed, her head suddenly dizzy.

"May I…" He swallowed, his hand holding her twitching slightly. "May I text you again?"

Somehow, the sun seemed to come out from behind some clouds at that moment. Or that was how Violet felt, at least, all colours turning a bit brighter and the warmth on her face intensifying. She smiled, a true smile, and nodded. "I'd like that. Very much."

#riorgai #xadenviolet #violet and xaden #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #fanfiction #modern AU #the empyrean

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hellospriggan · 29 days ago

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Enjoyment

I am thinking a lot this week about the value of enjoying things. I'm coming off a bad week or two of mental health (existential dread about the state of the world and what it even means to be human anymore), and a few things these past few days really perked me up, so I want to think about that.

Monday was my & Jarod's thirteenth wedding anniversary. He got me an amazing album-- it was someone I hadn't heard before, but he thought I'd like it, and I instantly loved it. I love music, and it felt so nice that he had heard it and known I'd like it, and that he didn't even try to get me to listen to it beforehand to make sure-- he just went for it. He's always been anxious about getting me things like clothing or jewelry. It was one of the most thoughtful and touching gifts he's ever given me.

Roses! I'm trying to stay off Reddit, but my bestie sends me things from the gardening subreddit pretty often, and I usually end up scrolling through for a little bit. I keep taking screencaps of people's roses. Roses make me absolutely giddy. We are planning some backyard projects, and I am dyyyyyyiiiing for them to be done so that I can finally plant some roses.

Dolls. Every couple of years I go on this obsessive kick about dolls. I once printed out like a fifty page tutorial on sculpting ball jointed dolls from scratch (god, back when there were still written/illustrated instructions instead of YouTube videos, those were the days) but never got around to making one. Or buying any. Anyway.

I was a 90s kid and my biggest toy loves at that age were My Little Pony, Barbie (and all of Mattel's Disney dolls, because it was still Mattel at that point), and stuffed animals. I'm really fortunate in that my parents kept everything-- all of those toys are still safely packed in my dad's attic. I checked on everything a few years ago and was unprepared for how giddy I felt after finding mermaid furniture. There is something about those plastic accessories that transports me. Small and beautiful. Precious.

I think it's valid to be cynical about capitalism, and marketing to children and getting them to constantly want new things, but I think there's also a beauty in recognizing that someone, somewhere, got to live their dream and actually design those dolls and their accessories. Some of them are legit just so beautiful and thoughtfully made. Children need toys, they need books, they deserve for those things to be beautiful and special.

This is all a very long-winded way of getting to the point that I've had a life long appreciation of dolls, and that got kicked into high gear this week. I had this idea of getting a few dolls and modifying them to look like my OCs, to help with posing and drawing. And then. I found one and I audibly gasped aloud because her face made me think of Gideon, as I'm currently rereading Gideon the Ninth, and then that spiraled into "what if I outfitted her to look like Gideon, and also made Harrow" and THAT spiraled into a positively embarrassing amount of time spent on eBay looking at Barbie sized combat boots. And then of course I found other dolls that were gorgeous. Someone save me.

So then last night I was thinking of my various collections, and that I've been confounded about how to display things, and is there a point in collecting if it's just going to live in a box in my dad's attic? It feels a little depressing and wasteful. And for the first time ever, I thought: why does it all have to be out at the same time? What if I had one small shelf, and every month I picked different things to put out on it together? I would be going through my collections, engaging and interacting with them and getting that delicious little dopamine kick. I literally fell asleep making mental lists of potential themes: strawberry, roller skates, cats.

So yeah that's my TED talk about dolls, I'll keep you posted on The Shelf because I'm really excited about this idea. And about Gideon & the midnight hagette.

#thoughts #dolls #roses #music #SoundCloud

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ocpdramblings · 1 year ago

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I keep seeing TikTok talk about crises friends, and I feel like the definition is changing a lot but idk what to think about it.

At first I assumed that it was a friend only in crisis, who only perceived things that happened to them as negative. And to that I’m like, “well I’ve had a friend just like that. And I felt bad for them, because they were my friend”

And then I saw someone define it as “someone who doesn’t listen to your advice and keeps doing the thing that harms them” alright, don’t give them advice anymore. But if you define your friendship as one in which you are validated by your advice being considered, maybe they’re not the right person for you. I’ve had a friend that never listened to my advice. And yknow what? I realized they never wanted advice. Just a place to vent. Sometimes and as long as they checked in with me first to ask a. How I’m doing, or b. Permission to vent, I’d be fine. I’ll even take an apology after the vent bc sometimes meltdowns happen. People shouldn’t be expected to be in control of their emotions 100% of the time.

Well then I saw another comment, about how it’s someone constantly in another state of crisis, needing someone to be on their side completely, and never being there to support you in return. To that I’m a little more mixed. I have and have had friends who’ve had a crisis everyday. I have a lot of empathy (which is kinda overrated) and more importantly, a lot of patience. I love hearing about what’s bothering people, so that I can then ask why it is bothering them. I love knowing people. But there was a time in my life where I had someone that wouldn’t allow for me to not be on their side. And that’d be even if I chose a neutral stance, it was bad. And she never came to me to check in, or to ask about shared hobbies. Only talked to me about the crises. And to that, I’d say, that’s not a friend. Very distinctly not a friend. Now I don’t know if she would have supported me in times of need bc I used to very strictly be a “I don’t go to people when I’m upset”, so jury’s out on that one.

But sometimes I think about my close childhood friend who gave me the most amount of trauma, but who loved me incredibly. I suspect she has borderline, due to events in her youth, the way she reacted to things. As a close friend, trying to support her was difficult. And I think my connection with her is why I’ve developed my OCPD. She always perceived things negatively, she always was between everyone hates me or everyone loves me, always was sensitive to things people would say, hated everybody but couldn’t handle them hating her, etc. And truthfully? She wasn’t a great friend. She was never there for me emotionally, she was angry and hostile towards me several times, she’d make decisions that were hurtful to other people (the only time I ever really spoke my rejection), she was intense and liked hurting people. But oh did she love me. There’s…I have no doubts that she did. Even though she wasn’t there for me, even though she lied and framed me for something. She loved me. Just not in a good way. She was protective of me, incredibly loyal. If somebody said anything bad about me, or even implied it, she was feral on them. She was the first to respond to my triggers, and the first to shield me when somebody would try to trigger them. We had shared hobbies that we liked to talk about.

She is likely one of the contributing factors I have OCPD. She did several things I didn’t approve of. And yet, I cannot hate her at all. She was just a child when those things were done to her. I grew up with her and watched her over time create her coping mechanisms. I can’t hate her. She’s technically my abuser. And I don’t hate her. I just feel bad, and hope that she is well loved today.

It was her birthday a couple days ago. I wanted to reach out. But we haven’t talked in years. I don’t even know what she likes or what her hobbies are. It’d be a disservice to reach out to let her know I still care about her, to have her think about me. It’d also be a disservice to only reach out to her out of some kind of pity.

I’ve loved all my crises friends. I’ve had several. Most of my friends could be labeled crises friends. They’re a little more work, and a little more draining, but I’m already fully spent after interacting with a “normal” person. It’s not much extra effort. What is extra effort, in the face of someone you love?

#my post #personality disorder #cluster c #obsessive compulsive personality disorder #actually ocpd #ocpd #personal #anankastic personality disorder

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having-conniptions · 2 years ago

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I don't know who needs to read this but you have probably made such a big (positive) difference for someone just by being yourself, just by being kind or even just by being there.

Let me tell you a little story that I've been dying to share because it has impacted me so much.

Half a year ago, I changed workplaces as a trainee because the place that I worked at was slowly but surely eroding my self-confidence, my motivation to do the job I love and my will to keep going. There was one coworker in particular who must have felt threatened by me because I was "only" a trainee but she was "only" part-time help. And she had it out for me. She constantly criticized me, patronized me, berated me, scolded me for mistakes I didn't make and regularly raised her voice at me. The person who was in charge of my training didn't do anything about it and also didn't really know how to train me. Other workers jumped in to fill in those responsibilities but unfortunately those were the ones that were barely there due to health problems or part-time or because they just worked in a different part of the building most of the time.

I sat in my car during my lunch break and cried nearly every single day for weeks. I felt like I was just not good enough, like I could never get it right, like I would never learn what I needed to learn.

Now, I hear you asking, where is the feel-good story you promised?

Well, we had an intern. A 17-year old kid. He was suffering as well, probably as much as I was. He also usually didn't work close to me BUT sometimes we got assigned tasks together that we could do without everyone else looking over our shoulders the entire time. Those were the only times we didn't feel judged or scrutinized or looked down on. We took our sweet time completing those tasks, often goofing off until we thought people might suspect we weren't actually working.

One time, he found two huge bottles of bubble liquid (or whatever it's called) while we were working on something in the pretty isolated break room. He opened one and started blowing bubbles. After approximately 15 seconds of "that is definitely not allowed", I grabbed the other bottle and joined in on the fun. The childlike joy I felt in those five minutes that we spent just blowing and breaking bubbles felt like a freshwater spring in the middle of a desert. That kid really saved me a little bit with those bubbles.

Another time, we were supposed to carry old boxes filled with books and photo albums from one floor to another, and we just started looking through the photo albums and showing each other what we found. It was so mundane but wholesome and most of all it gave us a fucking break from everyone else.

Every time we crossed paths during our regular work we'd vent to each other if we had a couple of seconds alone. He noticed that that one coworker was targeting me specifically and I felt so validated. He told me he couldn't bear working there anymore and I let him know he was not alone.

I don't know if this kid (I'm still calling him a kid even though he should be 18 by now) knows how much he saved me just by being there and being a kid and reminding me that in my heart I was also still a kid. And I hope I managed to return the favor even just a little by being there and listening.

We never talked outside of work and I wouldn't say we were friends but we kept each other going. Saved a little bit of each other's sanity.

I got out of there six months ago and shortly after I left his internship ended. I hope he's okay wherever he is now.

You don't have to be a hero in order to save someone. Most of the time it's enough to be kind and to be yourself.

#that experience has changed me forever #just my faith in humanity being restored bit by bit #and let me just say #the kids are all right #even a partying teen living his best wild teenage life had more emotional intelligence than the boomers i worked with #wholesome #true stroy #workplace bullying #bullying cw

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minerva11 · 29 days ago

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i hate all of my friends. why do you treat me like that when you know that i’m the one you’re gonna call when things go wrong?? why do u disrespect me to my face when all i’ve ever done is try to help you and be there for you and be understanding. i’m tired of trying to be a good friend when i can’t even get basic respect in return. why do u treat me like i’m an idiot like yeah i’m sorry i’m kinda airheaded but you don’t have to be so fucking rude and condescending and treat me like i’m just stupid and don’t know anything. i cant bro like i low-key hate all of them, i just hate this stupid state and everyone in it. my only real friend is someone i live hours away from and haven’t seen in over 4 years. and she has her own life and is always busy and it just makes me feel so alone dude. she’s the only one who i feel like actually wants to talk to me about anything, not just about her. she’s the only one who actually listens. i just feel like i can’t talk to anyone and tell them how i really feel. they all expect me to be there for them and listen to them and care about how they feel and give them advice and validate their feelings but then just change the subject whenever i try to talk about anything that doesn’t interest them. like my feelings, or anything else. i feel like such a boring person, i’m literally everyone’s backup friend. i feel like they think i’m tolerable enough to go to when none of their other friends want to listen to them, but not tolerable enough for them to actually truly care about me. it just really makes me feel like shit. it makes me feel like nobody wants me for me, just for what i have to offer. but it still feels like it’s never enough for them. it feels like i’m only around to cater to the needs of other people bro like it’s been like that my whole life. and of course the few people who i actually felt truly loved me for me aren’t in my life anymore, physically at least. i’m such a clown lmfao this always happens. ever since that thing happened a couple months ago, i feel like i can’t trust any of my friends. as if i didn’t have trust issues before, that just made them so much worse. idk maybe it’s just me being stupid. i can’t help but think the worst things about my friends. like i think they’re going to something horrible to me all the time, and it’s always the worst case scenario popping into my head. i always think they’re talking bad about me to other people and secretly making fun of me, i thought one was gonna lace me, and i thought another was gonna jump me with her other friends so i brought a whole ass knife to our meeting spot. idk what’s wrong with me bro like i’ve always been like this but it’s just been so much worse as of recently. idk why i feel like everyone i know is out to get me all the time and the feeling never goes away.

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ego-morior · 2 years ago

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I'm stuck.

God, you would think the feeling would go away once you hit 30 but it will probably take me 30 more years to realize feeling stuck is just something very human that happens to humans.

I've been debating going to therapy recently, just to get a third person point of view on the feelings I harbor. Someone without bias to validate certain things and point out the flaws of others. A different pair of eyes to take a look at all the puzzle pieces I have yet to combine together across the table. Someone with enough experience to point out that there are a few missing edges that I will never recover and that it's okay to stop searching for them. Maybe hearing it out loud from someone else won't hurt as much as when I whisper it to myself in the middle of the night on a random Tuesday.

Something you learn a little later on, is that writing things after a breakdown and not during one, will always be easier to digest on an empty stomach. The rage, sorrow, fear and anguish have simmered down into a stew that isn't bubbling violently over the edges. When it's finally warm enough to sip from without burning your tongue, that is when you should pick up the pen. And that's exactly what I'm choosing to do now, on a cold morning in November.

November 8th, 2023.

I have quietly wept during the past days and loudly sobbed during the past few nights. This is the first morning I don't wake up with a wet pillow and the first time I can drink my coffee and listen to something silly online that has nothing to do with my life. Maybe it's the seasonal depression or the timing of Snapchat memories that has claimed victory to my senses this year. About two weeks ago, I gave up on a love I hadn't heard from in three years. The first year apart, I carried the yearning in the front pocket of every flannel I wore, the second year, I kept it in my purse, far enough where it wasn't part of who I was anymore, but close enough if I ever needed it. The third year, I kept those feelings in a small box in my sock drawer. And now, I have accepted the fact that they have no place in my home or in my life, because the idea of a "maybe one day," has lost it's meaning as time marched forward.

I spoke about him in passing, but I never really emphasized his importance in my growth. Maybe one day, I'll tell you about him, but for now just know, that the person I thought was my other half, was nothing more than a simple tease from the universe. There are several hundreds of articles on how to identify a soulmate or a soul tie. How to know "they're the one" etc. Something silly to give a lost existence some sort of made up trajectory to feel better about yourself for not being able to find a definitive path. But what they don't tell you, is that once your sense of escapism finishes, you feel more lost than before. Because directly afterwards as your feet move forward, your head keeps looking back at what could have been, what might have been, the 'where did they go?'s or the 'what are they doing now's and you don't focus on what's in front of you. The moment you stop looking back, you realize time has continued on and your feet have taken you somewhere you don't recognize.

Here I am, somewhere new, but only mentally and emotionally.

A different man I had a small chapter with, became a father this week. The man I spent almost a decade with, my very first relationship, has purchased a large home on an even larger property with a new wife. A couple of childhood friends have gotten married and made families. Time has moved on, and the frustration I have felt these past days is that everyone seems to have proof that time has moved on. Everybody, except me.

I wondered if maybe I was jealous of them, while I cried and sobbed and screamed uncontrollably this week. I couldn't put into words how every image was a punch in the gut. Some have wondered if maybe I missed my ex, or maybe I wanted to be the third baby-mama of the man who taught me how to love my own body. But I feel nothing towards them in particular and I didn't have the words to explain the anguish I felt to those who tried leaning an ear my way. The emotions felt deeper than just missing or yearning somebody from my past, but the explanations that came out of me only seemed to lean in that direction.

But the pot has finally simmered.

And I can finally put into words what my heart and mind have been begging to express.

I hate that everyone I have known, then and now, has proof that time has moved forward. A new home, a new baby, a new wife in a new place in a new stage in life takes time and energy. These kinds of things don't just happen. I have an apartment, a car, and a small position as a glorified cashier in a store.

I don't have a published book, or a new relationship to flaunt. I don't have a well-paying job or an upcoming vacation I can plan to run away from the feelings I pretend I don't pack in the suitcase I carry with me. The passage of time has always been the antagonist of my life and oddly enough, all it does is its job.

And it does it well, and it does it for everything and everyone else.

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eatmangoesnekkid · 2 years ago

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I have zero stress in my life, with exception that sometimes I do too much to pump up my skinny arms at the gym. This is not hubris or fantasy. I have a lover who honors that I only do what I love, not one day a week, but all days. But this is not about my lover because true love never begins or ends with a lover. This is about my devotion to love. I feel that we get too caught up in the acquisition of love, being chosen by someone and looking for what we can get in return, rather than doing the work to simply embody love as principle, evolving into the kind of person who is actually capable of loving another human soul well, first beginning with ourselves (our cells). Love also includes how we love animals and nature. It's all divine energy accumulating in our cells. I studied love. I studied love as a creative outlet. I studied strangers and couples of all sexualities and ethnicities whom energies resonated as loving. I would study their interactions and banter and fall in love with what I saw. I read simple books on love like Thich Nnat Hahn's "Teachings on Love" over and over again at least 30 times. I listened to songs that only felt like love. I discovered ways to unlock the tension around my heart/breasts and pelvis so that my body could release the archaic contractions and open up wide. I would bathe like love. As a result, it was only a natural next step that I would became a passionate lover. A passionate lover instinctively attracts more truthful love. When we have love, we have creative energy in our lives that we can utilize to help us to create heaven on earth. With more love energy embodied, life will start to feel really good for no reason at all. My way of loving and being in union was re-calibrated from the violent template I saw modeled in my home and community after a terrible breakup, breakdown, and breakthrough into one where loving is habit and self-love is principle. I am consistently spoiled with beautiful things, awakened to the presence of beauty in everyday life most days. I am encouraged to care for myself and do nothing at all, anytime, any day, at any hour. My body is nourished and easily orgasmic to the breeze of a gentle inhale. It is no longer through the spirit of struggle, lack, tension, hustle, and deadlines, but from living the intimate, sensuous, tantric, magnetic arts that I birth a series of bestseller books that will burst hearts into mystical, sensuous, transformative, dewy pieces. I started to visualize a slow regenerative way of life 15 years ago, one that would include travels, naps, and time and space to cook homemade food without rushing, a real life where I adored being offline with ease far more than online. I would talk to nature and ask for guidance and just allow my body to hold a little more of the vision every day as if I was pregnant. I was! I also asked the holy spirit of love to utilize me; to utilize my mind and heightened intuition; to utilize this pelvis, hips, feet, cylindrical breasts, and heart and enhance my flow of energy; to utilize my tongue and warm mouth to sing beauty and write from loveliness; and even these hair follicles to amplify expanded possibilities for us all. Our mission is only valid when it includes evolving and expanding the light, universe energy, and possibilities within other people. I stopped needing to possess this body; I know I cannot be contained by it. I can only serve as a conduit and create some deliciousness from its amplified attributes (as a result) of being utilized by Source energy. Most days my body is more a conduit of divine energy than something that I need to claim full ownership over. We become conduits. This is how God uses us and how we help one another evolve and heal. Even our open-hearted nude bodies can be greatly healing for others. Life loves to fan the flames of our sweltering visions, warmest beliefs, swollen perceptions, and deepest desire frequencies. When you begin to own your mind and what's living in it, you shake loose your potencies. Your potencies are your divine energy. When you access the divine energy of love, your body gets softer. You now feel like love. The pitch/tone of your voice shifts; you now speak like love. You gait ascends; You now walk like love. Your scent evolves; you now smell like love. Your taste buds elevate; you now eat like love. Your relationship to your body, spine, and breathing transforms; you now fuck like love. You are love. Love has always been a noun, you see.

India Ame’ye, Author, Pictured

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xiaq · 4 years ago

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Ok I'm probably not going to say this right but after your last post I have have a question I guess? I don't really like sex and I love the idea of a relationship that doesn't require sex to be happy and healthy. I really relate to the whole not being anxious about taking a shower together or expectations or wahtever that you talked about but I've never experienced it before. Is that something you get from dating a friend? I guess I just want to know how you get to a place like that.

CW for sex talk. Hello friend. Apparently today is the day for Long Ass Ask Answers.

I wish someone had told me this years ago so I’m saying it to you now in case it saves you some angst:

Don’t settle for bad sex.

If you don’t like the sex you’re having, stop. If you don’t like having sex at all—neat! You’ll have so much time for other activities. You do not owe yourself to anyone, under any circumstances, even if you’re socially trained to think you do.

Listen. I took PhD qualifying exams in Feminist theory. And even I had more or less submitted myself to the idea that sex just wasn’t going to be that fun for me and I’d need to learn to deal or be alone.

I admittedly have very little sexual experience, but the experience I had up until my current relationship was lackluster. I wasn’t repulsed by sex, but it was eh at best and painful at worst and I’d never initiated a sexual situation in my life because A. ultra conservative Christian doctrine during your formative years can seriously fuck up your perception of intimacy in general (insert Youth Pastor Voice here: “men enjoy the act of sex, women enjoy the results of sex: children”) and B. I just…would rather do all sorts of other things. Sex was a thing other people wanted from me and if I cared about them I was supposed to provide it.

Objectively, I knew this was wrong. And yet.

Let me lay out some Inarguable Truths for you. Sex should not:

hurt (unless you want it to)

make you uncomfortable

make you feel dread or guilt before or afterward

be used as leverage

be coerced

be treated as a necessity by your partner

I told my current partner at the very beginning of our relationship (when I was trying to convince him that he didn’t actually want to be in a relationship with me) that I didn’t particularly enjoy sex, that I really didn’t like penetrative sex, and I that wasn’t willing to pretend otherwise anymore.

His response: “then we won’t have sex.”

Let me tell you, that threw me for a loop. I was expecting the more typical, “you’d enjoy sex with me” or even “what a waste.”

“Ever?” I asked.

“Ever.”

Well, okay then.

After a couple of weeks, I decided to try anyway. Not because I felt pressured but because I was curious. I thought maybe there would be one of those fanfic/romance novel moments and, suddenly, I’d love sex because I’d found The Right Person. Reader, I did not get my moment. Except for this time, I didn’t feel like I had to just suck it up. So we stopped. We made stir fry and cuddled and talked about the RMS Carpathia and Abraham Lincoln’s assassination (any nerds know what these things have in common?) instead. A+ evening.

A week later, he came to me, and after spending a surfeit of time qualifying what he was about to say with assurances that he didn’t expect anything from me, etc., etc. he told me he’d done some research because he was concerned there was an underlying issue causing my pain/discomfort. I hadn’t ever thought to ask my doctor because, at my pap/annual exam each year, they’d say my downstairs parts looked fine and send me on my way. Surely they would have said something? But I made an appointment with an OB and I brought a list of questions.

Did you know that endometriosis can make penetrative sex hella painful? Did you know that, if you have an autoimmune disease, even if you’re managing it well, you might deal with significant inflammation the week before your period, which can also make sex hella painful? Did you know that if you’re a small human you might just have a lower cervix which can (surprise) make sex hella painful? Did you know that there are things you can do to at least somewhat ameliorate these issues? Did you know that, when you stop viewing sex as an uncomfortable thing you have to provide and instead view it as an optional activity where you have full autonomy, you suddenly stop feeling guilt and dread at the very concept of physical intimacy and can actually, maybe, enjoy it? I do now. I didn’t for 15 years.

Do not settle for bad sex. Because if someone isn’t willing to sort out why you’re uncomfortable, and how to change your approach to intimacy to fix it, they’re probably not a good partner for you. If you simply don’t want sex and your partner insists on it, they’re probably not a good partner for you. There is a whole spectrum of reasons why you might not enjoy sex and I obviously can’t speak to all of them but Please. Learn from my mistakes. When you start drawing hard lines you're going to make progress, one way or another. Don’t let anyone convince you that you’re broken or undesirable if you’re not interested in sex. That’s a them problem, not a you problem.

I arrived to the place I'm at in my current relationship because I advocated for myself and said I wasn't willing to do something that made me uncomfortable. And my partner, who views me as a three-dimensional human being with more to offer the world than my body, immediately validated my feelings and agreed not to push my boundaries. Was the fact that we were friends for years helpful there? Sure. Because I already implicitly trusted him. But the important thing here is to know your limits and be willing to stick up for yourself. If you're explicit about your desires, it's easier to find the folks who are a good fit for fulfilling those desires.

#sexuality #asexual #aspec #sex talk #mylife #personal shit #answered asks #B #intimacy

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kaitsawamura · 4 years ago

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would you like to stay forever?

SUMMARY⎮ Sparring with Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro in his private gym at his home doesn't seem like a bad idea if you don't count the fact that you really, really like him.

STATS⎮ minors do not interact, 18+ ⎮ Rating: M (for mature) ⎮ WC: 5525 ⎮ Pairing: Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader ⎮ Tags: Aged Up Character(s), Friends to Lovers, Sparring, Smut, Fluff, Age/Experience Gap (if you really squint) ⎮ AO3

NOTES⎮ Thanks to @spacelabrathor for listening to me scream about this and to @some-kindofgnome for fueling my Kiri fever dreams. Yes, that title is based on a Mulan quote. This whole fic was based on THIS POST and Kirishima seemed like the perfect character for this pwp. Hope y'all enjoy! (Also please for the love of God, click on the banner to see in HD if you’re on mobile, it looks so much better lol)

It was Saturday and even though you’re on your way to becoming a Pro Hero, you can think of several things you’d rather be doing with your one day off than going to Kirishima Eijiro’s house to spar. But here you are pulling into his driveway, going over combat moves in your head as if your life depended on it. They weren’t really serving their purpose which was to distract yourself. Kiri had offered up his personal gym, encouraged you to stop by with one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck as if he was nervous.

A couple of his friends had already taken him up on the offer. You were the only one he’d offered who hadn’t come over yet. He had texted you a couple of weeks later saying he was starting to take it personally… and then immediately texted with a laughing emoji just to clarify he was only giving you a hard time. It brings a smile to your face now as you remember it. Yesterday he had also clarified it would just be the two of you if you were self-conscious sparring in front of other people. You’d have the whole place to yourselves. Like that should mean something. Which it did. It does , you realize with butterflies growing in your stomach. Kiri doesn’t need to know that though.

The two of you had been toeing around something since you had been hired at Fatgum’s Agency a year ago. Neither of you had made a move. Kirishima, the Red Riot, was a big Pro Hero and while you took pride in your quirk, it didn’t hold a coin to some of the others you’d come in contact with. It had surprised you when Toyomitsu had brought you on. But he had mumbled something about “liking your spunk” and that he thought a teleportation quirk would be a useful one to add to his agency. The first day you had shown up, Kiri had immediately caught your eye. Not for the obvious reasons. Obvious reasons being the fact that he was climbing the Pro Hero charts or the fact that he had a dynamically interesting quirk or that at twenty-five he was already built like a brickhouse.

Those were all valid reasons, yes, but what had pulled you in was his smile and his genuine interest in you outside of your quirk. But he was just like that you had quickly discovered. He knew everyone’s coffee order and what they liked for lunch. He knew when to push and when to back off. He knew when to talk and when to listen , knew when he still had a lesson to learn. The kids flocked to him. Even now you’re still entirely convinced that’s actually his quirk, getting people to like him. It’s not a difficult thing to do though.

Your brain stutters back to the present when a text notification pings from your cell phone as you sit in Kiri’s driveway, picking at non-existent lint on your gym shorts. The cute ones you’re still convincing yourself were your only clean pair and that’s the only reason you wore them.

KIRI : i saw u pull up, u gonna come in or what 😂

Had he been waiting for you to get there? You tapped out a quick response, one that hid the little flip in your stomach at the thought: creeper, you were watching for me lmao

Response bubbles immediately flash on your phone screen but you’re angling out of your car and shutting the door before he can reply.

Somehow, this house fits Kiri perfectly. It isn’t big. You had seen pictures of other top-ranking Pros’ houses. Enji Todoroki’s house, for example, was fucking ridiculous. But even without a massive floor plan, Kiri’s house is nicer than any you’d been in for some time. Clean, straight lines and lots of windows. In fact, you can see straight through the floor-to-ceiling windows out to his backyard when you reach the front door. Is that a pool ? Kiri had tons of fun showing pictures at the agency; it was a well-deserved investment for his already multiple years of service as a Pro. The pictures hadn’t done the place justice though.

Kiri comes to the door, throwing it wide open with a huge grin that shows off his sharp teeth. You ignore the way your mouth goes dry as he drags you in, babbling on like an excited little kid at you actually coming.

“I really thought you were gonna back out! I mean, that would have been fine, of course. I just can’t see the point of having the whole place to myself all the time.” He’s irresistibly cute, walking around showing you the living room and the kitchen and pointing out to the backyard where, yes, there is indeed a pool. “You can come over any time and use that too if you want!” You thank him, warmth pooling in your stomach at how incredibly nice he is.

“Uh, we should probably get in the gym. I have… stuff to do later,” you finish lamely. You don’t have anything to do later but very quickly you’re realizing how far out of your depth you are here. The familiar beginnings of the head over heels fall is washing over you in steady waves. But you’re coworkers and the thought of coming to work every day and having to see his adorable face and not doing anything about it is almost making you nauseous.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just down the hallway,” he rumbles, leading the way and you follow trying and failing miserably to calm the nerves flashing through your veins. You’re here alone with Kiri , the man you’ve been crushing on since you’d started working with him a year ago. And now your stupid brain isn’t just thinking about what it would feel like to run your tongue along his teeth or how his hands would feel between your legs. No, your stupid brain is thinking about what Kiri looks like when he first opens his eyes in the morning.

Your one-track mind is not getting any help, especially when Kiri walks through the doorway of the gym addition and immediately proceeds to pull his shirt up and over his shoulders and tosses it to the side. Shit. His back muscles ripple with the movement and when he turns to face you, it’s heart-wrenchingly obvious that he has no idea the effect he’s having on you. He has to know . Doesn’t he? From your end, it seems wildly obvious that someone as good-looking as him should know .

You glance around, eternally grateful for the fact that the gym is also attractive. Floor to ceiling windows span two of the walls here as well and there’s a large set of French doors leading out to the yard. You find yourself actually in awe when you get a better look at the landscaping. It’s so green . There’s a small patch of lawn but the rest is just artfully arranged native flora and fauna. Violets, tulips. Huge hosta plants. And cherry trees heavy with their signature sakura blossoms.

“Kiri, it’s beautiful!” He comes to stand beside you, looking out the French doors as well.

“You like it? I guess it is pretty nice, huh?” You glance up at him, your chest expanding on a lurch looking at his smile. You’d never noticed before but he has a light dusting of freckles across his nose.

“Yeah, really nice.” You look out again, letting the silence grow until it feels like the most comfortable thing in the world. After what seems like an eternity Kiri clears his throat, rocking back on the balls of his feet. “What are you thinking for today?” The question leaves your lips and you’re immediately regretting it; your stomach flips again when Kiri looks at you like you’re prey.

“Close combat, hand-to-hand combat. You did mention a while ago you wanted to strengthen that, right?” You throw your head back, rolling your eyes, and groan. The two of you make your way to the center of the mat.

“Yeah, I mean, I’d be scared to take me on too,” Kiri says, large hands on even larger hips. He isn’t as tall as some of the other heroes at six foot three inches but he’s wide , thick. You know for a fact you couldn’t wrap your arms around his waist and have your hands meet. He’s wearing the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen. The sharpened points of his canines are out and on prominent display. Famous last words you think as a snarl erupts on your face.

“I’m not scared , Kiri. I just don’t want to wear you out . You’re a Pro Hero. You’re on the job a lot more than I am. Plus, you’re getting kind of old. Is that a little gray I see coming in?” Kiri bares his teeth even more but it’s not lost on you that he quickly reaches up to rake his fingers through his hair. There isn’t any gray, obviously , but the thought has Red Riot distracted. Distracted enough that when you plant your feet and your fist connects with his face, your knuckles hit skin and not the reinforced rock of his quirk.

“ Shit.” Kiri takes a step back, reaching up to cradle his jaw. His tongue swipes out to lick at the blood on his bottom lip. His vermillion eyes find yours and if you didn’t work with him on a regular basis, you would have felt fear at this moment. You know he wouldn’t hurt you but even now, a thrill races through your veins like electricity. He looks as if he’s going to devour you. You take your own step back, readying your quirk, reaching out to it as your fists hold their position in front of your body. A dark chuckle spills from his chest as Kiri calls on his own quirk.

Now it was your turn to be distracted; you had always been fascinated by Kiri’s quirk, the way his body looked when it hardened up. The ripples of muscle still visible under the toughened skin. The divots and ridges and how they mapped their way across his shoulders and chest and abdomen. You knew how it felt to the touch in fake combat. The Fatgum heroes all took pride in maintaining a healthy routine; sparring was a common workout that was previously done at a local public gym. You wonder absently what it would feel like to touch him slow and at the moment. When you could give extra attention with extra time.

Kiri closes the space between the two of you at the moment your mind strays and you barely are able to teleport out of the way to avoid him crashing into you. You try to take a swipe at him as you materialize from in front of him to behind but this time he’s ready for you and he’s using his quirk. Instead of moving out of the way, he plants his feet and allows your punch to hit. Pain radiates up through your fingers and wrist. It always irritated you that you had to prepare yourself to strike Kiri when he was using his quirk. Otherwise, you’d be in for a whole lot of hurt every time you landed a punch.

Teleportation is a pretty handy quirk. It gives you a pretty good advantage the more you work on your close combat skills. The trick with Kiri was to keep going at him until he ran out of energy. You hadn’t gotten to that point yet; your quirk had its limits as well. You were only two years out of UA, Kiri was out by seven. His strength was already fairly unmatched; sparring with him was always good practice. You relish the thought of the day you can win a sparring session without tapping out. It surges through you like pure energy.

You teleport to stand in front of him again, shifting your weight into your hips and up through your right hook. This time your fist connects with Kiri’s side and he lets out a small grunt. Your fingers don’t hurt so bad this time and by the time Kiri is retaliating, you jump back a few feet. He hmms, a sound that reverberates from his chest.

“That’s all well and good but how do you expect to do anything if you jump that far away?” He lunges forward at a running start, leaping at the last second, sending his gloved fist into your stomach. You were fast, but still not always fast enough. You double over, the air rushing from your lungs and your pre-workout protein smoothie threatening to exit back the way it went in. Sweat is already beading on your brow and sliding under your tank top. You take a few breaths through your nose when an idea pops into your head; you stay bent over. “Hey, I didn’t hit you that hard. You good?”

Kiri comes to stand in front of you, leaving him vulnerable. He can’t see your smirk until it’s too late. You wail on him, using some of the basic combos he’s taught you before today. Satisfaction rolls through you when he actually takes a step back. But then he puts his arms up in front of him, clenching his abdomen and bending inward to protect his core. He drops just a fraction and before you realize what’s happening, he’s swiping his leg out to push through yours. You watch in slow motion as you see his laughing face then the ceiling of the gym as you flip and land on your back.

If you thought you were out of breath before… “Fuuu-.” It’s a wheeze that feels like it’s ripping your chest open. You’re seeing stars. Kiri stands over you, hands on his hips again. You stare at his face; the hero has his hair pulled back into a bun. You snort, rolling your eyes. Why does he still look so fucking good? The sweat has caused some of the pieces falling out of his hair tie to curl. His hair has curl to it? You’ve never noticed before, considering he always gels it into spikes. You like the curl. “Are you--are you gonna help me up, or what?” It was still painful to talk.

Kiri tilts his head to the side, just slightly, and crosses his arms. “I’m thinking not. Last time I let down my guard you got those good combos in.” You stare in stunned silence, sitting up so you’re supported by your elbows. Kiri shifts slightly and if you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s backing up to… get a better view.

“Is that any way to treat your student, Red Riot?” You know you get under his skin when he clicks his tongue against his teeth and holds out a hand with a begrudging eye roll. He pulls you up with ease, quickly enough that you almost lose your balance, swaying into his space. You look up, eyes moving back and forth between his.

He draws in a breath and drags his bottom lip between his teeth. “First of all,” he says as he places his hands on your upper arms, “I’m not your teacher. I’m not that much older than you. Secondly,” he mutters as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, “our relationship isn’t that formal is it?” He’s so fucking close. This is getting dangerous. Dangerous because Kiri is within kissing distance. Dangerous because this gentle side of him is making you lose more breath than falling on your ass. Dangerous because the thought of Kiri taking you on the floor right now is almost too much to bear.

So you fall back on what you’re here to do. Fight. You flash him a wicked smile before rallying your quirk and teleporting a few feet away. His hand is still raised in mid-air and when his head whips to look in your direction, his crimson eyes are narrowed and his nostrils are flared. He laughs and rolls his neck, dancing on his toes.

“Okay. I see. I’m not gonna go easy on you, you know?” You snort and put your fists up in front of you again.

“As if you were going easy on me before, Kiri. Bring it on.” He smiles, the sharp points of his teeth enough to make your thoughts swerve again before you bring them under control. “Bring it on,” you whisper more to yourself as you brace for the fight.

Two hours later, you feel the strain in your muscles. Your quirk is running low on reserves and you know you won’t be able to use it much more. Kiri looks like he hasn’t wasted a breath but you can see he’s getting tired in the way his feet don’t move as sharply. And if the length of time he’s using his quirk is any indication to his state of mind, you know the two of you will be calling it a day soon. But you’re also both stubborn. And you’re dying to get one more good move in on him.

The cockiness the two of you had at the beginning of the sparring session hasn’t gone away but has burned hot into determination. No more smiles, only clear-headed concentration. The two of you are an arm's length from each other, throwing various punches and switching quickly between using your quirks and not. You’re breathing hard, sweat gathering at your brow as you throw another right hook that Kiri easily blocks.

“Get out of your head. You can be too predictable sometimes.” He doesn’t mean for it to come across as rude but the words strike a match to a guttering fire. You bare your own teeth at Kiri even though they aren’t sharp and probably don’t look nearly as threatening but it helps you feel powerful nonetheless. You drop without a second thought, lowering to your palms and sweeping your leg out in front of you in a wide arc. A grin spreads across your face when your calf meets Kiri’s ankle. He’s too physically dense for this move to work if he had seen it coming. But he doesn’t. And his solid 220 pounds of muscle falls hard.

You allow yourself the satisfaction of the moment for only a split second; Kiri’s recovery time is much shorter than yours so it isn’t long before he’s scrambling forward. He goes straight for your wrists to subdue you but with a smirk, you realize in his haste he’s put himself in the perfect position for you to possibly gain the upper hand. You scoot up away from him just enough to drag his arm forward and swing your legs around his neck. Then you elevate your hips and lock your core.

It’s over from there as you squeeze with every last ounce of strength left in your body. It doesn’t take long for him to tap out. You release as soon as you feel his loose hand tap your arm; he collapses over you and you’re too tired to move away or push him off. Now his breathing is rough and you feel a surge of pride. You reach up and place your hand on his head where his bun has come undone; he’s so heavy but it doesn’t feel bad. In fact, the feel of Kirishima resting his head and upper chest on your stomach is feeling nothing short of good . He’s still between your legs and suddenly the air is crackling with a new kind of energy when you gently comb your fingers through his hair.

He rises up, his hands on either side of you. His hips rest between your legs; the mingled heat radiating from both of you is almost more than you can take but there is no way you’re going to move anywhere. He leans forward, so close you can see the flecks of burnt orange in his eyes. If you moved forward just a little, you could close that space between you. He leans down more, his mouth right next to the shell of your ear.

“Maybe not always predictable. You did good today. Probably some of the best fighting I’ve seen from you so far. Keep it up.” He grunts, a shift of his hips allowing the curve of his cock to brush against your clothed sex through his gym shorts. He stiffens in what you think might be embarrassment. “Shit, sorry, let me just, uh--” The stuttering mess he becomes right before your eyes makes something lurch in your chest; you reach for his face without thinking.

“Kiri,” you whisper, rolling your own hips against his. His cheeks are burning a shade of red almost as vibrant as his hair. You bring up your other hand, holding his face between them and bringing him down to settle over you once more. Your lips meet his; he seems to war with himself for just a moment. A suspended second in time. But then he gives in, slipping his tongue against yours in a delicious sliding vision of what’s coming.

He reaches between you to slip his hand under your tank top; his hand is big and nearly encompasses your side. But it’s warm and gentle. Gentle. Who would have guessed that Red Riot could be so fucking gentle? But he is and when his hand moves lower to slide below the hem of your shorts, you give yourself to him with no reservations. His middle finger passes through the mess of your sex; a hissed breath rattles through his chest as your back arches on a ragged groan.

“ Shit. You’re so wet .” He slides his finger back and forth, gathering your slick on the thick digit. He takes his hand away and you mewl. “Can I?” He asks breathlessly as he hooks his hands on the hem of your shorts. You nod, eyes half-lidded. He pulls them down along with your underwear and the way he looks at you, at what’s between your legs, you don’t even have the wherewithal to feel self-conscious. Adoration. It’s the only word you can think of and it makes you wonder if you’d made a mistake waiting so long.

He’s on his knees when he takes your legs and drapes them on either side of his hips; this time he doesn’t hesitate in slipping his finger into your cunt. You nearly see stars just from that and if one finger is any indication, you’re in for it. Slowly, he adds another, his hand pumping into you in a steady rhythm. You’re grabbing for the ground, grabbing for him as a strangled noise pushes from your throat. He reaches out with his other hand to splay it across your sternum and it’s the only thing anchoring you as he adds the third finger before scooting down to put his mouth on your clit.

“ Kiri,” you keen, shoving your hips into his touch, frantically scrabbling for his wrist that’s on your chest just to have something to hold on to. He’s done this before, he’s had to. He’s too good. Too fucking good. Already there’s coiling in your gut as incomprehensible words tumble from your mouth. “Shit. Shit. Kiri I’m--I’m gonna--” He rumbles approvingly against your clit; the vibrations send you closer and closer to the edge and when it crests, your back arches near pain as you cry out, your voice echoing in the gym. It’s deep, roaring through all of your limbs but Kiri keeps going, fingers still pumping, tongue still swirling around your sensitive nub.

Another orgasm breaks over you sharp and quick and the overstimulation has your legs quaking as your arousal gushes over Kiri’s hand and tongue. But then he’s moving again, and you’re blearily aware that he’s shoving his own shorts and boxers past his hips to free his cock. You stare as it bounces back to sit near the planes of his stomach; it’s already leaking steadily with precum. Kiri looks back at you and when your eyes meet, you dart your tongue out between your lips to wet them. Another time, maybe.

Kiri leans forward to lift you up and the closer you get you can barely see any red in his eyes; his pupils are blown, his nostrils flared as he lifts you like you weigh nothing . He could snap you like a twig. But he won’t. You know without a doubt this is the safest you’ve ever felt, even as he lowers you slowly over his cock and it does feel like you’re being split .

“ Fuuuck…” You wrap your legs around him, your mouth dropped open, your hands gripping his shoulders. You try not to dig your nails in but it’s almost impossible with how you’re being filled. You knew Kiri was big but this was almost too much. His forehead drops to yours as he pants. But he’s not moving, won’t move until you tell him to. It makes your heart ache and your cunt floods, drunk on the affection thrumming through your veins. You roll your hips experimentally and the friction is bliss. “Oh fuck, ohfuck.” You move again, pushing yourself up and back down, listening to the hitch in his breathing. “ Kiri, please, ” you whisper. Those words… they’re enough.

Kirishima grips you by the hips, his fingers splayed and digging into the flesh; it’ll leave bruises and the knowledge cracks through you like electricity. Let him leave marks. Let him leave them everywhere. He’s moving you up and down his cock, grunting, mumbling. “Tell me, Kiri, tell me.” His eyes meet yours again and his own mouth drops open.

“Fuck, you’re so good. S’ tight. Jesus, I-- ” Kiri moves his hands from your hips to support you as he lays you down on the floor of the gym. The idea should be questionable but it’s not, it’s fucking not and you can’t concentrate on any other thoughts when Kiri grabs your wrists and pins them gently above your head with one hand while the other comes back to your hip. He thrusts into you at a brutal pace but… it feels like home and you think in that moment as your cunt begins to seize around his cock that you would give up forever to continue touching him.

“Yes, Kiri, yes. Right there, right--shit yesyes yes. ” He pistons up, the veins of his cock rubbing just right and when he releases the grip on your hands, they’re moving to wrap around him on instinct. He’s planting kisses along your jaw, mouthing up to your lips and back down to graze his teeth over your pulse point. “Do it, fuckin’ do it, let them know ‘m yours, ” you slur and when he bites down you crash over the edge on a groan that’s really more of a scream. Everything goes black but you're cradling him to you as his movements become more erratic. The snapping of his hips is getting sloppier by the second and a steady growl punches from his lungs with each breath. “Cum, Kirishima, cum inside me.”

He’s never heard those words before and it lights a fire in his veins. His head is buzzing and then he can’t hear anything as his cock releases and he’s spurting searing hot ropes of cum into your cunt. He goes until you’ve milked every last drop from him and he’d be lying if he said his world didn't suddenly feel whole. Finally, his body settles and his chest drops to yours. Everything slowly bleeds back into focus and somehow, everything seems more colorful than it did moments before. You’re still clinging to him.

“Kiri. Kiri, babe, I can’t breathe,” you say and he slowly rises, taking in your blissed-out expression. Your eyes can barely stay open, your cheeks are flushed. He backs up to see his handiwork on display, hyper-focused on the trail of the mingling cum dripping from the mess of your sex. But you’re smiling. Lazy and tired, completely at ease. “Wanna take a shower?” When you nod he doesn’t hesitate in standing to kick his underwear and shorts the rest of the way off his legs and then he’s grabbing you, scooping you into his arms and against his chest. He pads out of the gym and across the hall to his bathroom where he deposits you on your feet, only after he’s sure you can stand and only long enough to turn the shower head-on.

He puts his hand under the water, waiting for it to get warm. Steam billows from behind the glass door when he’s turning back to you to remove your tank top and your sports bra. Thank god you chose the front-closure one today; you didn’t think either one of you wanted to struggle to get one up over your head right now. When your breasts spill out of the high-impact fabric, you notice with tender amusement that his cock is half-hard again. His eyes go dark again and he leans in for a kiss. But it's slow and sweet.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful," he whispers. He ignores his arousal, ushering you into the stream of water. Your care is the only thing that matters to him right now. The heat slides across your body, and when Kirishima steps up behind you and begins soaping up your shoulders, it feels like heaven .

You take turns washing each other until you’re both blissed out in a different kind of way and the only thing either one of you can think about is sleep. But the afterglow is fading and doubt is creeping in. When you step out of the water, you stand awkwardly as Kiri hands you a towel. “You okay?” He’s actually concerned and you can’t put your finger on why you’re so fucking grateful for it.

“Yea, just tired. I should, uh, probably get going.” Kiri freezes and you think you’ve said something wrong, already crossed a line. Your brain is like a broken record as the stomach-curdling image of having to see him at the agency flashes across your eyes in vivid detail. But then he’s stepping into your space and pulling you in for a hug. A hug.

“Don’t go,” he whispers into the crown of your head and it has you smiling like an idiot against his chest. His skin smells clean and warm with a hint of spice. You bury your face further in as you nod against him. Then he’s leading you to his room, to the king-sized bed. He peels back the comforter and the white sheets and pulls you in beside him. Your back is against him and he hooks his foot around your ankles, bringing you even closer.

He doesn’t say anything more, just lets out a huge sigh as he wraps his arm around you. The last thing you notice before your eyes flutter shut is how your heartbeats are thumping at the same steady rhythm.

Late afternoon sunlight slants in Kirishima’s bedroom window, creating interesting patterns across his blanket. It’s pushed towards the end of the bed, your legs intertwined and tangled in the sheets. He’s still dozing, his breathing not quite that of someone sleeping but not of a person fully awake. You reach out to cup his cheek, stroke above his eyebrows, caress his lips with your thumb. A contented sigh leaves his chest as he grabs your hand and kisses your wrist. His eyes are open now and he watches you. You smile at him, snuggling closer, not wanting the moment to end.

“Hey,” he says quietly, suddenly serious. “I just want you to know, I don’t do this all the time. I mean, I’ve been with other people before but I don’t… I don’t really hook up .” Things start clicking into place as you realize what he’s trying to get across. He just fucked you stupid in his personal gym and somehow he looks bashful. And because you love it, you’re not going to help him along. You just watch, biting your lip to keep from giggling. “I just. I guess what I’m trying to say is I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. And normally I would have wined and dined you first but... Well. Here we are. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

That’s the last straw; your laughter comes bubbling out of you and Kiri is leaning back to look at you with a quizzical expression on his face. “Is something funny?” That just makes you laugh a little harder but the confused look he’s wearing has you leaning in to press your lips against his.

“I’ve liked you from the first day I met you, Kiri. I’ll one-up your offer and tell you that I might like to stay forever.” A grin rips across his face and your heart blooms with warmth and affection. The world seems full of possibilities but none of them matter except for the possibility laying right in front of you.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima eijiro #kirishima eijirou #pro hero kirishima #red riot #kirishima smut #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #kaitsuki writes #oh my god i had such brain block #writing this one #because i get too in my head writing smut #BUT i hope everyone still enjoys #we stan kiri in this house

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funkymbtifiction · 3 years ago

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Hi charity I have a question I’m hoping you can help me with. I’m trying to figure out and understand the different types of integration. I know that when I personally make my best decisions they’re made with gut instinct and not overthinking and not over filling. But most of the time my decisions are made by my feelings then I go to my thought process which confuses me more and then I go back to my feelings which become frustration and then I finally just make a gut decision out of being fed up. So I’m just curious if your best decisions are with a certain ’triad for example mine would be the gut but that’s not my natural reaction to make those decisions, does that indicate that you are one of the types that has a gut integration as a number. For example for moving to 1 of integration as the gut triad. Or does it say the opposite where you really a gut type that needs to listen more to your gut?

Gut instinct connected to over-thinking means you are likely either a core 9 or a 6, since that’s literally what both of them are – 6 with a 9 fix is bouncing around, frequently changing their mind, unable to settle, relating to something and then leaping up again to reconsider it the next day (ahem, I know this from personal experience, aka, my own typing journey within MBTI…). When making decisions, there is polling people (what do you think?), followed by arguing with those options and then doing what your gut says to do, so I would think based on this (and our frequent previous interactions) that you are a 6 with a strong secondary 9.

For me, as a 6w7, I think deep down, I always KNOW the decision I should make, but I still want a consensus and for others to validate it. To use a sad example, I knew when my senior cat was dying a couple of years ago. I just… knew. It was time to put her down. But I called my parents, and had them come by to look at her, so that I could show them how much she had gone downhill (she was no longer eating, and had not used the litter box in a while). It was like my 6 needed to be told “it’s okay to do this, it’s the right thing to do even if it’s painful,” when I really just… knew regardless. I needed that from them, for them to agree with me, and then I spent an agonizing night second-guessing it even after we set up the appointment for the next day. I felt awful about it, what if I am wrong, what if I can nurse her along, what if this is an overreaction, what if I am killing her for no reason? My gut knew it was time, but my head wasn’t willing to accept it. That’s what it’s like being a 6. Knowing what the right thing to do is deep down (your inner connection to 9, a withdrawn type; withdrawn types trust their inner resources and decisions), even though on a more superficial level, you are seeking external validation or encouragement or needing someone else to agree with you about it, so that you feel more secure in making a decision that isn’t “bad” or going to ruin your life. Whenever I’ve trusted my gut (when things should happen, who I should/shouldn't get involved with, what decision to make), I have not been wrong… but it takes me longer to get there than it should, because of all the 6 validation-seeking (here’s what I think, do you agree?; then arguing with people, testing them, challenging them, and finally, doing what I wanted to do in the first place).

Integration toward 9 for the 6 means learning to trust instinct (my gut) and make decisions without asking for feedback or approval, in the belief that whatever decision you make is not going to be earth-shattering if it's the wrong one (you will simply cope with the negative consequences if there are any) and in being firm, without going back and forth and changing your mind several times.

#question #enneagram #enneagram 6

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babymetaldoll · 5 years ago

Text

So happy together (Spencer Reid / Reader)

Summary: Spencer bumps into an old annoying classmate, who brags about his perfect family, and Reader decides to pretend to be Spencer’s wife to shut him up.

Warnings: As fluffy as you can get

Word count: 2,3K

Part II

Masterlist

It wasn’t strange that Spencer and (Y/N) spent their free time together when they weren’t on a case. Their job at the BAU left them just a few weekends off, and though they were all day on each other’s faces at work, they loved going out whenever the opportunity arose.

It might have been related to the fact they were best friends.

Also to the fact they were in love, but neither of them had still said a word about it.

Years had passed. Years. Morgan and Penelope were going nuts waiting for them to confess their feelings, but though they had literally pushed them together - once they were “accidentally” locked in a supply closet of the BAU for two hours- nothing had happened yet.

Even Hotch was annoyed. He was happy Spencer had someone he loved around him, but all Aaron wanted to tell him was:

- “You have to act on your feelings before it’s too late, ‘cos you never know what will happen tomorrow, not just in this job, but in life. Take what makes you happy and keep it close”.

Of course, the day he tried to talk to Reid, all Hotch managed to say was: “Tell (Y/N) wheels up in thirty” and that was it, but he was planning on giving the kid a speech about love, as soon as he got a chance.

Then again, when did he have time to do anything besides work?

It was Saturday, and Spencer was taking a calm walk in a park with (Y/N). She had promised Mrs. Sanders from 307B she was going to take Lizzy - her five years old corgi - out to play for a while, ‘cos it was making the old woman insane. Mrs. Sanders was the only neighbor (Y/N) actually talked to…. mostly ‘cos she was never long enough in her house to meet the rest of them. (Y/N) took her dog for walks as often as she could, and the old lady always baked her brownies and cookies for her “and her boyfriend”

- “Your boyfriend is too skinny, take him these and tell him you made them for him, men love when a woman cooks for them”- the old lady smiled and gave (Y/N) a tray with freshly made cookies- “And tell him to cut his hair, he looks scruffy”.

(Y/N) never told her otherwise, a part of her loved the idea of Spencer being her boyfriend…. and besides, it would be rude to break an old woman’s heart. Right?

- “Do you want an ice cream?”- Reid asked her and took her from her thoughts.

- “Yes! I need sugar ‘cos I’m so tired I’m gonna fall asleep standing here”- Lizzy barked at them and left her ball on the ground- “You on the other hand, never get tired, do you?”- the young woman threw the ball.

- “Go fetch, baby!!”

Spencer walked to the ice cream truck and got her a chocolate chip cookie dough cone - he didn’t even need to ask- and a mint chocolate chip for himself. He stared at her playing with Lizzy and for a second, he imagined she was actually his girlfriend, and they were spending their day off together, walking their dog, eating ice cream, holding hands. It was perfect in his mind.

- “Here”- he gave her her cone and smiled. (Y/N) was about to thank him when a stranger’s voice stopped her.

- “Spencer!! long time no see! how are you?”- a man stood next to them, he was maybe five years older than them, tall, good looking, he was carrying a little girl in his arms, and holding a woman’s hand tight. She was pregnant and smiling happily. It was the portrait of a perfect family.

- “Carl, hey, hello, how are you?”- Reid was surprised to see him, it had been years since he had seen his old classmate, and he could have lived a long happy life if he hadn’t seen him again.

Carl wasn’t really nice. He wasn’t mean, or a bully, or anything like that. He was just… an asshole sometimes. He was always bragging about everything he had: grades, cars, girls, anything you might think of. Spencer always thought it was because he needed to be validated over and over again as an alfa male, which wasn’t really his problem. But still, after hearing him for years when he was younger, Reid had enough of him.

- “It’s so weird to find you here, I thought you would still have your nose buried in books like you always did on weekends!”- Carl laughed at his own joke, and Reid just nodded, with an awkward smile.

- “No, I… sometimes I go out now”- that was all he managed to say

- “This is my wife, Andrea, and our little angel, Anna, she is three… and Carl Jr is on his way”

- “Nice to meet you”- Spencer waved and couldn’t even introduce (Y/N), ‘cos Carl continued talking.

- “Can you believe I got married? I always said I was never going to settle down and here I am! with a happy family! you should come and visit us! We just bought this fantastic house outside town, with a big yard and lots of space for the kids to run and play!”

(Y/N) stared at Carl and bit her tongue. She had heard about him a lot in the last few years. Spencer told her all about the classmate who kept telling him about the dates he had with the girls he wanted to ask out. And all the fun he had at the parties he wasn’t invited to. And how he managed to always make him feel smaller, though he didn’t actually mean to. Sometimes people can’t help being assholes.

- “And who is your friend?”- the assumption (Y/N) was his friend and not his girlfriend (although it was actually accurate, that was another problem) made Reid’s blood boil. Why couldn’t he have a pretty girlfriend too?

- “Hi! I’m (Y/N), Spencer’s wife”- she waved and smiled- “Sorry I can’t shake your hand”- she added and showed them the dog toy she was holding, and the ice cream cone.

- “Come here Lizzy! come here!”- the dog sat next to her and (Y/N) pet her sweetly.

- “Wife! man! I never thought you had it in you”- Carl didn’t realize he was an ass, he didn’t mean to, but that didn’t stop him.

Spencer just smiled, and in what seemed to be the boldest move he had ever made, he wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s waist and moved her a little closer to him.

- “Yes, we’ve been married for two years already”- she added, resting her head against his arm, feeling her stomach tighten. Spencer’s perfume was all around her, and she loved it. Besides, the fact he was now holding her close was killing her. Literally, she could feel she was about to have a heart attack, and it was completely worth it. It took her a few seconds to realize her ice cream was melting in her hands.

- “Shit!”- she jumped and moved from her “husband” to clean herself.

- “Here”- Carl’s wife handed her some baby wipes and looked at her hands for a second- “Did you lose your ring?”- shit, Andrea was nosy and annoying, just like her hubby.

- “I usually won’t wear it playing with the dog, or at work”- lies came out of (Y/N)’s lips as easy as breathing- “You know… we are both FBI, and you don’t know when someone might actually take advantage of any kind of information they have about you”

- “FBI? you?”- Spencer looked at Carl and sighed. Right, he wasn’t done teasing him yet.

- “Yes, I’ve been working at the BAU for the last couple of years, profiling serial killers”- Reid made it sound like it wasn’t a big deal, and (Y/N) decided it was time to brag a little.

- “Honey, don’t be so modest, you are the best profiler, we are the only team with a Doctor in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering”- and Reid blushed- “Besides, you joined the FBI when you were 22 years old”- (Y/N) smiled and looked at Carl- “Did you know he is the youngest SSA the bureau had ever have? there was no psychological exam or test the FBI could put in front of him he could not ace inside of an hour”

Carl looked at Reid and nodded, trying to find something to say.

- “That’s great, I’ve got my own law firm by the way, in case you ever get in trouble”- he joked and looked at (Y/N)- “Or in case you want to divorce him ‘cos he ignores you over books”

- “I could never! did you know he has saved around 352 lives in the last two years? he actually got the FBI Medal for Meritorious Achievement a few months ago… I am so proud”- (Y/N) leaned in and kissed Spencer’s cheek. He looked at her blushing and just smiled.

- “You look adorable”- Andrea finally said- “It’s like you just started dating!”

- “Well, we have to go”- Carl didn’t manage being overshadowed very well- “It was very nice to see you, Spencer”

- “Same! take care, nice to meet you, Andrea”- Reid waved and smiled. (Y/N) did the same and kept eating her ice cream.

- “I hate him”- she whispered as soon as they were far enough not to listen- “I’m so glad we didn’t invite them to our wedding”- Reid laughed and shook his head

- “You didn’t have to do that”

- “Nah, I wanted to”- she really did- “He was being a jerk, just like you told me he was”

- “He doesn’t mean to… I think”

- “Well, he got what he deserved”- (Y/N) felt Spencer’s eyes on her, looking at her in adoration.

- “Thank you, buttercup”- and she giggled

- “You are very welcome, honey bunny…”- and the silence seemed to last for ages until Lizzy started barking.

(Y/N) smiled and looked away from him, knowing she was blushing. She really loved that nickname, and he didn’t call her by it as often as she would like. She grabbed the dog toy from the ground and threw it to Lizzy, who ran immediately.

- “Mrs. Sanders made you cookies”- she said after a few minutes- “But she said I had to tell you I baked them for you, ‘cos that what’s girlfriend’s do to get men’s hearts”- Reid’s cheeks were still red, and those words didn’t make it better- “But considering we are already married, I guess I don’t have to do that anymore”.

They both laughed and then, stayed quiet again. Reid could hear Rossi’s voice yelling in the back of his head “Ask the girl out, for crying out loud”, but he couldn’t even open his mouth, petrified.

(Y/N) finished her ice cream, watching Lizzy playing with other dogs, and sighed. They were standing side by side, both looking ahead.

- “We should head back”

- “Doyouwannagooutwithme?”

The slur of words was so fast, not even Spencer understood what he had just said. But (Y/N) did. She stood next to him feeling her knees shaking, as well as her hands. It had happened. It had finally happened. In her head, she was screaming “YES, OF COURSE I WANT TO”, but her lips weren’t moving, and Reid was starting to panic. Maybe Morgan was wrong, and (Y/N) did like him that way. Maybe he had just ruined the best friendship he had ever had. Shit! what had he done.

- “I mean, I understand if you…”- but she didn’t let him finish

- “Yes, I do”- that was really all she could process. And he didn’t know what to say next. There was no random fact to kill the silence, they would always have a lot to talk about, but that time they were speechless.

- “Tomorrow?”- he managed to whisper

- “Ok”- she nodded as the two of them kept looking at Lizzy

- “I’ll pick you up for dinner”- Spencer’s voice was so soft he was scared it was going to shake and embarrass him (he was already embarrassed, but he didn’t want to make it worst).

- “Sounds good”- (Y/N) slowly turned her head and looked at him, nearly holding her breath. Her best friend finally asked her out. The best friend she had been in love with for years had just asked her out on a date. And all she managed to say was:

- “So… do you want a cookie?”

- “Sure…”- he nodded and smiled. (Y/N) called Lizzy and put on her leash. Gave Spencer the paper bag with homemade cookies she carried in her purse and smiled.

- “Did you know Christmas cookies date back to Medieval Europe?”- and there it was, Spencer’s random fact of the day, just on time to kill the silence when they were about to reach (Y/N)’s apartment.

- “Really?”

- “Yeah, the traditional Christmas flavors, like cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger, became very popular, and those are exactly the same spices medieval cooks would have used in their cookies ages ago”

- “I love Christmas cookies”

- “I know”- he smiled and looked at her- You bake them all year long

- “I can’t help it, they are too good”- she giggled and stood outside her building door. They just stared and smiled, Lizzy trying to get (Y/N)’s attention rubbing her head against her leg.

- “I’ll see you tomorrow then”- Spencer blushed at the hint of their date and (Y/N) nodded

- “See you tomorrow”- and neither of them moved. Lizzy barked again and forced (Y/N) to wave and open the door. Spencer just stood there for a second, staring at the empty space in front of him where (Y/N) was standing a few seconds ago, and suddenly, it all sank in.

- “What the fuck did I just do?”

#Spencer reid #matthew Gray Gubler #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #david rossi #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #fluff #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #dr spencer reid #babymetaldoll writes

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gubler-me-up · 5 years ago

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Old Friends, Old Habits (MGG Request)

Request: Can u write a cute smutty fic about mgg pls? Like seeing eachother for the first time in a while or something. Thanks! Love ya xx

A/N: Thanks for the request, anon! I know, I know, I said Thursday it would be published, but I was out and about my apologies. I stayed up until nearly 6 in the morning to get this out I’m actually so drained i’ll be in bed until 3 in the afternoon LOL that being said I hope it was worth the wait!

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content warning: Oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, unprotected sex

Word count: 2.1k

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

“Y/N?”

You heard a familiar voice call out. You had been walking the streets of LA by yourself the whole day. You didn’t know anyone from there. You were only down there for a quick business trip. That voice though. The last time you heard that voice was a few years ago after seeing each other at a bar in New York. The rest was history.

You turned around and saw Matthew as he stood there in surprise. He looked delighted to see you after so long though. You two had become friends in university, but hadn’t seen much of each other after graduation besides that night at the bar.

“Well, isn’t it the superstar himself,” you said as you leaned in for a hug.

He grabbed you up in his arms and hugged you tight. His touch hadn’t changed in all these years. The last time he held you this close was in his hotel room as he gave you a hug and kiss goodbye in the morning.

He chuckled. “Superstar’s an overstatement. From the looks of it you’re doing big things since the last time we spoke.”

“Yeah, I finally moved from New York to Illinois and got a job at this company that pays me well enough now,” you said.

“See, I knew since NYU you’d do big things,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. “Ugh, you’re too modest for your own good sometimes, Matt. If your face isn’t in a magazine, it’s on T.V. or on the silver screen.”

He laughed as he continued to stare dangerously at you. You could tell he was reminiscing about the last time you two had bumped into each other. A friendly meet up with a few too many drinks which led the two of you to an intense make-out session in the back corner of the bar. A few more drinks after that led to Matthew ramming you from behind so hard in the washroom stall you thought your back was gonna break.

“Well, I’m not too much of a star to blow you off. How about I take you to dinner tonight? Only if you’re not too busy for me,” he said.

You giggled. “How could I ever be too busy for the Matthew Gray Gubler? That would be a crime if I ever saw one.”

“For someone who took business, you sure have a knack for the dramatics, Y/N. Maybe we can star side by side in a project one day.”

“I don’t know, I don’t feel like upstaging you like that.”

He laughed. “You can upstage me on any show as long as you don’t stand me up tonight. We can go to Bestia. I know how much you love Italian food.”

“Aw, you remember that? You’re too sweet.”

He smiled as he leaned in to hug you. You took that as a sign of him having to go. You were glad you could see him again later on. The innocent-seeming hug took a turn when you heard him whisper in your ear.

“I remember every inch of you.”

As you two split from the hug you could feel your heart race with excitement just by those few words he whispered. What made it even better was he had such a casual look on his face while you looked at him dangerously. The night portion of your chance meeting would definitely be an interesting one.

————

Dinner had been going well for both of you. There was an extensive amount of catching up to do especially on your end. He wanted to know everything that had happened in your life in the past few years. You were more than happy to fill him in. Everything you shared with him you could tell he was proud of your accomplishments. You had to admit the both of you had come a long way since your university days.

He was still the same goof as you remembered him to be. Extremely hilarious and sweet wrapped in a perfect bow that was his physical form. You could still remember the feeling of his chest as you rubbed your hands up and down it the last time you encountered each other. Your mind couldn’t help rewinding that moment over and over again in your mind.

“Oh my God, do you hear that?” Matthew said.

You quickly snapped out of your thoughts. You were trying to figure out what he was talking about, but then you heard it. A big smile formed on your face.

“Is this Sublime playing?” You asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, it’s Doin’ Time. Remember in our freshman year of college we discovered Sublime and would just vibe to it?”

You laughed. “How could I forget? The easier days of procrastinating our homework and listening to music.”

“I wish we could still do that,” he said.

“Well, we kinda are. We’re putting off work to eat some pasta and vibe to Sublime,” you pointed out.

He smiled. “I guess that’s true. Doesn’t feel as good lazing around in your 30’s as it does at 18.”

“Nonsense, lazing around feels good at any age. If I could be laying in my bed every day with a margarita at my bedside I’d be content.”

“Make that two.”

You raised your eyebrow. “You’d be in the bed with me?”

“Of course. I’d be by your side more often if you were in LA.”

“Ugh, you know how much I hate LA.”

“I think I could change your mind about LA.”

“Oh? You sound so sure of yourself. I’d like to know how you’d make LA appealing.”

“Well, it’s beautiful.”

“Beauty? That’s all LA has? Beauty?”

“Well, yeah. I’m here, so it adds to the beauty of it all.”

You both burst out laughing. You had to admit he made a valid point. LA might not be your first choice to move to, but definitely a place you’d visit more often since Matthew made it worth it.

“Is there a second point?” You asked.

“Well, if you were down here we could do so many things together,” he said.

“Like?” You asked.

“Anything and everything.”

You placed your elbow on the table and placed your chin in your palm. You were interested in what he exactly meant by “anything and everything.” You decided it was the perfect time to see if you were the only one thinking about the last time you two meant. By his look early on in the day when you two bumped into each other you’d say he definitely still had it on his mind.

“What do you exactly mean by anything and everything?” You asked.

A smirk spread across his face. He licked his lips as he looked to his left before he looked back at you. You could see in his eyes he had something in mind. You looked over to where he looked and saw a hallway leading to the washrooms. At the end of the hall was the family washroom. It was confirmed, he in fact had thought about your hook up years ago.

“How about I show you?”

Before you could say another word he had gotten up from his seat and started to walk towards the washroom. You watched as he made his way to the washroom. He looked back at you before he entered and gestured you to come. You obeyed like a dog as you quickly walked towards him. He smiled as he opened the door for you. When he closed the door behind himself it was a matter of seconds before he grabbed your face and embraced you in a long, sensual kiss.

You broke away from the kiss and looked him in his lustful eyes. You smiled as your hands made their way to his belt buckle. He bit his lips before letting out a small laugh. He knew how eager your hands could get whenever he was near.

“Are you gonna show me why Illinois’s worth it?” He asked.

You giggled. “I’m gonna show you why I’m worth it.”

Without saying another word you dropped to your knees and pulled down his pants along with his underwear. As soon as you saw his dick you didn’t hesitate to put your mouth on it as you bobbed your head back and forth. He let out the most satisfied moan you’d ever heard from a guy. You were glad you still had power over him. You placed your hand on his dick and started moving it up and down his shaft.

“You’re too good, Y/N,” he said as he placed his hand on your head.

You moaned around his dick as you continued to bob your head on it. You forgot how exhausting it could be blowing him because he was a mouthful. The feeling of his dick in your mouth was worth it though. Every single inch of it.

He started to push your head for you so you let him take control. He pushed your head as close as possible to the shaft and held you there. You gagged as you looked up at him happily. He looked down at you happy you were enjoying yourself. He pulled your head off his dick and helped you off the ground.

“I wasn’t finished,” you said.

He leaned in and kissed you. “I’m supposed to be the one trying to convince you why you should come down to LA, remember?”

You laughed as you two embraced in another kiss. His kisses could be reason enough to move states. He didn’t even need to have sex to convince you, but you were glad it was leading to just that. He led you over to the mirror and stood behind you. He kissed down your neck as his hands found their way up your dress. You let out a desperate moan as you felt his hand rub your already soaked underwear.

“I didn’t know you were this excited,” he said.

“I’d be crazy not to be,” you said.

You then felt him move your underwear to the side and placed two fingers inside of you. You let out nonstop moans as he slowly moved in and out of you, watching you in the mirror as your face contorted in pleasure. In the mirror you saw him smiling to himself as he gave you a light bite on your neck. Those canine of his were a hot, dangerous force.

“You ready for the main reason you should be in LA?” He asked.

You smiled. “Been ready.”

You then felt his dick enter you. You instantly fell limp as the sensation overpowered any sense you had left. He made sure you felt every inch of his dick, so you knew what you were missing. Very devious of him, but he was doing a good job of convincing you.

“How’s that convincing you?” He whispered in your ear.

You moaned something incoherent and total gibberish as he continued to gently fuck you. He smiled at your answer though, satisfied you didn’t even have a straight answer for him any longer. He went back to kissing your neck as you continued to moan for him. You started to feel as if he wanted to fuck you slow, so he could save this moment in case he didn’t see you for another few years after this.

Soon you felt his hand rub your clit. Your eyes rolled to the back and your head fell back as you enjoyed the stimulation. His other hand was fondling your breast. He continued to run gentle kisses down your neck the whole time. This was the image of what heaven must be like. You could feel sweet butterflies running through you and knew it was time for you to meet your end.

“Matthew,” you moaned.

He just continued to do what he was already doing. You knew he knew you were about to cum. He wanted you to. His actions were almost demanding you to. So, you did. You let out a few breathy moans as your body seized as your orgasm ran through you. That’s when he started to pump his dick in you a bit faster. He moved his hand from your clit and placed it on your neglected breast. He soon came himself as he roughly grabbed your breasts as he did.

He pulled out, but didn’t move from his position behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder as he looked at your flushed expression in the mirror. You smiled at him as he stared at you with a smirk.

“So, LA doesn’t seem so bad after all. Maybe I’ll move down in a few years or so,” you joked.

He chuckled. “I’ll help you move. Just don’t make me wait forever again.”

“I’ll try my best, superstar.”

—–

MASTERLIST

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morerelatableautisticcontentblog · 3 years ago

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My Top 5 Signs of an Undiagnosed Autistic

My perspective three years after my initial discovery

By: Rachel Bushman

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders is the tool that clinicians use to made diagnoses in the United States. When the DSM-V was released, in 2013, many changes fell into place. Asperger’s was no longer a valid diagnostic term. Functioning labels were removed. The criteria now allows for knowledgeable clinicians to more easily spot atypical presentation of Autism.

There is a generation or two of adults who were not diagnosed in the 80s and 90s as Autistic, because the criteria was rather rigid. I am 38 years old and I definitely am part of that missing generation of undiscovered/undiagnosed turned late diagnosed Autistics. I figured out I was Autistic at 35 years old, after struggling for a couple of years with my mental health.

The experiences that I will list here are not comprehensive, they are merely tidbits and highlights. Nor do they serve as medical advice. Not everyone who does these things are Autistic. Not everyone who doesn’t do them are in the clear and not Autistic. The criteria is a rubric, with a kaleidoscope of signs and symptoms and behaviors, that line up to form a very clear image, much more like a telescope than a kaleidoscope once all the lens align!

One of the first examples, that should have probably tipped us off years ago is having a hard time knowing when to end conversations. My family jokes about how long phone conversations with me can last and that they do not answer if they know they do not have time set aside to talk. They know they have to be very clear with me the conversation needs to end.

Funnily, enough it is the same for in person gatherings, too. I never know when is the “cool” time to show up to a party. I have no idea how to be casually late. I usually show up 15 minutes early, help set up or cook. Then, I usually stay entirely too long and have cleared a table and loaded the dishwasher and washed some pans. It is easier for me if I have things to do that keep me flitting around the party to eventually find a fellow odd duck, than to sit in one spot and show my weird all at once to new people!

My second example comes from my teen years. One time in high school, my friend asked me how long I had a crush on this guy I just finished having a conversation with. I looked at her like she was crazy. I had no crush on him. She insisted I was flirting with him. I responded, “Uhhhh… I talk like that with everyone.” She paused and thought a moment. Then, admitted that was true. I talk the same everywhere I go.To further this second example, I remember a time I was at grocery store with my best friend of many, many decades. I talked with the people in line behind us while we waited for the person in front of me to have their groceries scanned and while they checked out. After we left the store, my friend asked me who those people were and how long I knew them and was kind of sad I didn’t introduce her to someone I knew so well. I laughed. I told her I knew just as long as she did. We had just met in line standing there.People tend to have strong feelings about celebrities. All it took to start that conversation was inquire how they felt about something notable happening on the front of one of the glossy magazines in front of us. It makes for lively banter, but doesn’t have much substance beyond that. I tend to be quite cordial when I mask. I smile a lot and listen well and ask probing questions and mirror and can pick up any slack in the conversation with some well rehearsed and amusing antidotes. Unfortunately, sometimes, I miss cues that interaction is over or disinteresting to the other party and mistake it for a dip in conversation. I have gotten better over time, but it’s sometimes hard to fretter out.These examples fall under the DSM-V that states, “Deficits in social-emotional reciprocity, ranging, for example, from abnormal social approach and failure of normal back-and-forth conversation; to reduced sharing of interests, emotions, or affect; to failure to initiate or respond to social interactions.”My third example is learning and researching in and of itself is my special interest. I am constantly collecting information. I easily sit on my phone or in front of my computer for hours learning about a new method of teaching math, infant sleep, how to start a blog, how to create a sales funnel, or what happened to Entwives. I will do this to the exclusion of using the bathroom and eating. I will often look up and realize it’s 3 pm and I haven’t eaten a thing that day! If the links, studies, and “blurbs” about special interests in my Color Note app were physical objects, I would be a high level hoarder.

This is under the DSM-V criteria, “Highly restricted, fixated interests that are abnormal in intensity or focus (e.g., strong attachment to or preoccupation with unusual objects, excessively circumscribed or perseverative interests).”My final two examples come from the following: “Hyper- or hyporeactivity to sensory input or unusual interest in sensory aspects of the environment (e.g. apparent indifference to pain/temperature, adverse response to specific sounds or textures, excessive smelling or touching of objects, visual fascination with lights or movement)”The fourth thing that resonated with me when looking over the DSM-V was is if I am standing, I am swaying. Kind of like you do when holding a baby. But, always. I don’t sit still either. I prefer to sit cross cross apple sauce, with my feet behind my knees because they are always cold and I love the pressure! I am always rocking or moving side to side in chairs that allow for that. I recently got a swivel rocking chair and it’s my favorite thing in the house, right now! If I am not moving, I start to feel agitated and dysregulated.

My final tip off is that I scratch and pick my scalp until it bleeds. Especially, when I was younger and would get a pimple on my scalp. It would take weeks to heal, because I would pick it daily. No one noticed this, because my hair was almost always shoulder length. They never saw my scalp. It feels nice to scratch my scalp and is something I still do to this day, absently without thinking, if I am feeling overwhelming and stressed. It helps me calm down.

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Don't forget to check out More Relatable Autistic Content at~

/// Tumblr // Facebook // Twitter // Tee Public // Open Sea ///

#actually autistic #neurodiverse stuff #neurodivergent #women writers #adhd #autistic pride #female writers #actuallyautistic #adult adhd #autistic life

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maybedefinitely404 · 5 years ago

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Day 29: Prinxiety/Loceit (pt 4)

Aaaand, part 4, the finale!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 29: You have a telepathic link with your soulmate until the two of you meet.

Content warnings: discussion of conversion therapy/after effects, PTSD, food mentions, anxiety/panic attacks, internalized homophobia, mentions of the foster system/abuse (mental, emotional, neglect, past eating disorder), minor self harm/blood, mentions of dissociating.

Word count: 5.1k

Despite Roman’s claims that being around other people would only distract him, and he didn’t want to have to walk to the library every time he had homework, Patton’s constant pleading eventually broke him down. Now, much to his roommate’s delight, they spent every night in the middle of the study floor in the library, and Roman found that he actually looked forward to it. Sometimes someone he knew would walk by, and give him a valid reason to take a short break, and having other people around somehow motivated him to work harder. He was starting to understand the appeal of the place.

Now, Patton and him were spending their afternoon there between classes, both working on their own projects and sharing a bag of popcorn twists. It was the only oil soaked snack that didn’t leave much residue on their fingers. Roman was deep in thought, struggling to remember an especially flowery Shakespeare monologue for a mock audition next week, when Patton kicked his leg under the table.

“What, Pat?” He took another moment to finish the sentence before he tore his eyes away from the book, surprised at his roommate’s barely contained excitement.

“You’ve been humming for half an hour!”

He hadn’t even noticed. He tended to do it a lot without realizing; humming along to his soulmate’s music. Ever since he’d come back almost a year ago, an occurrence he’d never had explained but held onto with fondness, Roman’s heart jumped every time his music played. It was just like old times, their old system immediately reinstated, and more than once he’d found himself singing along to the melodies in his head. Patton knew this, and could probably tell by the genre whether Roman was listening to his soulmate’s songs, or just had his own earworm.

“No, no, no, I like your humming! That’s not the point!”

“Then what’s the-”

“The guy behind you has his earbuds loud enough to hear!”

Roman strained his ears, and yes, he could barely hear the music coming from behind him. He definitely hadn’t noticed before, too deep in thought to notice something so trivial. But Patton was always on high alert, never able to keep his mind on one thing at a time.

“Okay, but what does that ha-”

“You’ve been humming the same songs as he’s been listening to for half an hour, Ro! I think he’s your soulmate!”

Roman’s eyes widened and he spun around, effectively dropping his book onto the ground. Yeah, if he concentrated, he could tell that the song in his head was the same as the one just audible through the other’s earbuds.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive!”

That’s all the convincing Roman needed. He jumped to his feet and rounded the other table so he was face to face with the stranger and knocked on the table a couple times. When he made eye contact, he thought he saw fear in the other’s face, but that couldn’t be right. Roman was not intimidating. The man at the table reached up to pop out one of his earbuds.

“Hello lovely, I have a question for you,” Roman purred, dropping onto his elbows on the table.

“I- I don’t-”

Apparently that counted as a meeting, because in that moment, the music in Roman’s head faded into nothingness. And he could tell it wasn’t just the music being paused. He was left with a neutral emptiness he hadn’t felt in a long time, a silence that was rare, and an innate knowledge that it had happened: their link was no longer necessary and had dissipated. Roman grinned wide, barely concealing a squeal.

“You’re my soulmate!”

He didn’t know what reaction he was expecting, but he sure as hell hadn’t expected the man at the table to get up and sprint out of the building at full speed.

“Stay here, Ro,” Patton was suddenly at his side, laying a hand on his bicep, “I’ll go after him. I don’t know what just happened but I don’t want it to happen again.”

Patton scooped up the other man’s things from the table and jogged out the library door.

-----

Virgil didn’t know where he was going; he hadn’t planned on running out of the library. Dammit, he hadn’t planned to run into his soulmate. And he knew that was his soulmate, and not just some weird coincidence. Because the moment they’d locked eyes, it was as if something in his mind had snapped, like a rubber band that had always been there but the pressure was so constant he didn’t notice it there until it was gone. Their bond had snapped; it was no longer necessary, because he’d met his soulmate.

He recognized the guy, just barely. They were in the same first year math class, a course often taken by upperclassmen (probably like his soulmate) because they’d put off getting a math credit until their final years. Logan had warned Virgil of that when he was choosing his first year courses, and so he was safely getting it out of the way so he could focus on his major in the coming years.

His breathing was choppy and strained as he tried to calm down his panic attack, dropping onto the ground under a large tree. He couldn’t keep running lest he collapse and draw more attention to himself, and that was far worse than anything he could imagine. Fighting the urge to scratch at his skin, he buried his head in his hoodie clad arms, fumbling with one hand to free his phone from his pocket.

It’s actually a guy, it’s a guy, he’s gay, wrong wrong wrong-

No, not wrong. It’s not wrong.

Yes it is, it’s going to hurt, you’re going to hurt, wrong wrONG WRONG!

His hands were shaking far too hard to text but he tried anyways, begging Janus to come pick him up early. Logan wouldn’t be done work for another couple hours, and usually Virgil would be fine just doing homework until his dad was ready to drive them home, but he didn’t think he’d be able to handle being on campus much longer.

“Hey, kiddo?”

Virgil’s head jerked up just as he clicked send, fighting every urge in his body to bolt again. It wasn’t the guy… his soulmate… but someone else he hadn’t met before, panting.

“Heya, my name’s Patton! You ran out without your stuff, so I brought it!”

Oh, he was holding his backpack, and his folder under one arm. Virgil was just trying to encourage his legs to move, to stand so he could take his things, when the stranger dropped into the grass in front of him. He flinched.

“Here ya go,” He pushed it towards him like a child trying to coax out a scared cat, “I’m so sorry me and Ro scared you. He just gets over excited sometimes. I promise he’s actually very gentle.”

Virgil stared, pulling in a halting breath.

“The guy who ran up to you, that’s Roman. I’m his roommate, by the way. I’m Patton. Did I introduce myself? Doesn’t matter. I’m a third year psychology major. Roman’s in third year too, music and theatre major.”

He should probably introduce himself too, but his hands were frozen, clamped around his phone, and he found his voice wasn’t cooperating. That didn’t deter the other dude, though.

“Here, I wrote out both of our numbers. Roman feels super bad for scaring you, so you can take your time, if you want.” He delicately placed a ripped piece of notebook paper on the backpack between them, “His is the first one. But I put mine in there too, so you can text me if you want to talk. The more friends, the better.”

Virgil’s phone buzzed, alerting him of Janus’ response.

“I’ll let you be, okay? Remember to text!” With an exuberant wave, he dashed back to the library. Virgil read Janus’ panicked message, asking what had happened, in a bit of a daze. His dad agreed to come get him, so he stuffed the paper into his pocket and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

-----

Janus had asked him not to go into his room when he was so worked up, instead giving him free reign of the living room while the older restarted the dinner he’d abandoned in favor of picking his son up. He’d turned on the TV for Virgil, changing the channel to a nature documentary, given Virgil his favorite weighted blanket, and left him with strict orders to call him if he started spiraling or needed a hug.

The distraction had worked for a while, the soothing voice of the narrator almost lulling him to sleep, until his racing brain had come to the conclusion that this was the worst thing to ever happen in the history of ever and that he was going to die alone. He’d been a little hopeful that his soulmate would be a girl, to somewhat appease his trauma, but life was never that easy. A part of him had also been a little miffed about that hope, because as much as he liked to pretend, he had a preference for boys. A big preference. And his soulmate was cute.

“Everything okay, Virgil?” Janus called through the pass through window into the kitchen, taking his eyes off his food preparation to watch his son’s pacing.

“Yup!” He lied, picking and scratching at the skin of his hands out of his dad’s view. The pain settled him a little, giving him something he could control, but he knew he’d get a figurative slap on the wrist for it later. A concerned slap, not an angry one. Maybe more of ‘a cuddle on the couch and wrap the little patches of broken skin and an update with his counsellor’. So not really a slap. At all. As it usually went.

Everything was wrong. What kind of shit first impression had he given his soulmate? Getting up and running away like an actual child? And that was only part of it. He was damaged goods, a broken person, who needed more help and reassurance than any other person. How could he explain to his soulmate that he was the cause of his problems without making him feel guilty? That wasn’t the life the man had signed up for, wasn’t the soulmate burden he’d wanted. He would want someone easy, someone who wouldn’t have panic attacks when they got shocked by a door knob, who didn’t stop eating when they were scared, who pressed pause on life when he woke up in a dissociating headspace. He couldn’t say that to him. He’d lost everything, that vague musical connection to an invisible soulmate, that had given him a subtle hope. It had been a quiet illusion, a promise that he’d be fine if it were never fulfilled. Knowing there was someone out there, providing him music, had been enough. But now…

“Virgil, hold these for me.”

When had Logan gotten home? He put his hands out obediently, clenching the fingers over the ice cubes placed in each palm. The sensation startled him and sent a shiver up his spine.

“Four, seven, eight. Ready?”

He followed the breathing pattern eagerly, feeling the curls of anxiety in his stomach slowly settle into butterflies. When he was breathing normally, an overwhelming sense of dizziness almost knocked him over. Logan took his arm and led him to the couch.

The next moment, Janus was kneeling in front of him, rubbing disinfectant into his few bloody scratches, the melting water dripping through his fingers and onto the carpet.

“I should have noticed,” he murmured as he stuck a couple bandaids onto each hand, refusing to meet Virgil’s eyes.

“Don’t blame yourself, Janus. I don’t think it was happening for too long,” Logan assured, running a hand down Virgil’s spine. “Did this have to do with the reason you left school early today?”

Virgil nodded.

“Are you nonverbal?”

“No,” he choked, clearing his throat, “Just dry throat.”

“I got it,” Janus leapt to his feet and hurried to the kitchen.

With a heavy sigh, Virgil leaned into Logan’s side, the hand on his back traveling to wrap around his shoulder comfortingly. The last drops of the ice cube hit the carpet, and he dried his hands off on his jeans. “I met my soulmate today.”

“I see,” Logan said. For the umpteenth time, Virgil was beyond grateful that Logan was an expert at masking reactions. It made difficult conversations easier.

“It’s a guy.”

“How did that go?”

“I ran out of the library and had a panic attack. His roommate brought me my stuff and gave me their numbers. I made an idiot out of myself.”

Logan was quiet, giving Virgil a little squeeze. A water glass was pressed into his hands and Virgil downed the whole thing, passing it back to Janus, who placed it on the coffee table.

“I think… I think I’m magnifying. Maybe.” He described his thoughts that led to his spiral as quickly as possible, feeling slightly pleased when Logan agreed with his hypothesis.

“You are definitely magnifying. Good job for recognizing that, Virgil. You don’t even know him, much less what he thought of your interaction.”

“What’s our next step?” Janus spoke up, resting a hand on Virgil’s knee and rubbing it with his thumb.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Can you sleep on it, and message him tomorrow?”

Virgil thought about for a second before shaking his head even harder, “No. I have class with him tomorrow, and we’re getting a study guide for a test. I can not miss it. But what if he comes up to me, or wants to talk, and I embarrass myself again, and-”

His dads both hushed him at the same time and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes against Logan’s side. “What do I do?”

“You could message him tonight,” Janus drawled.

“Are you crazy?” He shrieked, “No! What would I even say? ‘Hey, you freaked me out today, sorry for running like a lunatic’?!”

“Why not explain the cause for your hasty escape?” Logan piped in.

“That’s way too much to load onto him as a first conversation.”

“Not all the gory details, just a vague explanation. That’s how I started talking to Logan,” Janus stated, adjusting his position on the floor. “If he’s your soulmate, Virge, he’ll be okay to deal with this. It’ll come out eventually, and if something else happens, it will be nice for him to have some context.”

Virgil groaned. “I hate when you make sense.”

“We can help you construct an adequate message.” Logan squeezed him again, meeting Janus’ eyes with a small smile.

“Fine.” Virgil snarled, pulling out his phone and the two numbers, typing the first one into his ‘new contact’ list. “Okay, what do I say?”

-----

V: Hey, I’m Virgil. We met earlier today. In a manner of speaking.

R: OMG, hi! I’m Roman. I am SO sorry for startling you!

V: It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.

R: I still feel bad DX

“He feels bad, what do I do?!”

“I would suggest explaining the reason you ran off to ease his concerns.”

“Me too. But ask first, and don’t give more details than you’re comfortable with.”

V: Can I be brutally honest for just a second?

R: Should I be nervous? Haha go ahead!

V: I was forced into conversion therapy about a year back, and I still carry a lot of the trauma with me. That’s why I ran. It was just gut instinct.

“He’s not responding, oh god, he’s going to block me, why isn’t he responding?!”

“I assume this news would take a moment to process. Focus on your breathing, Virgil. Don’t magnify.”

“You also sent it, like, ten seconds ago.”

R: Holy shit, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry.

“...That’s not what I expected.”

“This is a regular reaction from a human being with even a lick of common sense, Virgil.”

“Seconded.”

V: It’s okay, I have a really great support system now.

R: That’s good. I’ve never experienced anything like that, so I can only imagine how hard that was.

R: I don’t expect you to answer if you don’t want to or don’t know, so please don’t feel pressured, but do you know what kind of soulbond we have? Is it platonic?

“Shit, fuck, who do I answer that?”

“With the truth, I’d imagine. Do you have an answer to his question?”

“Remember what I told you, kid. Your own pace.”

“Logan, if I explain it, can you put it into words? Please?”

V: I’m not averse to a possible romantic relationship in the future, but at the moment I am still learning to become comfortable with myself, as I have negative connections to that part of my identity that can become problematic if not properly worked through at my own pace.

R: Give me a couple seconds to decode that

V: My dad wrote it, he’s a prof. I have both of them helping me not freak out right now.

R: You might want to date one day, but you need to take it slow because of your trauma.

V: Uhm… yeah. I could have said it like that.

R: Is talking to me upsetting you? We can always talk another time.

V: No, I’m okay.

R: Okay, then as far as I’m concerned, we move at your pace. That’s not an issue for me at all.

“I… oh. He’s… wow.”

“I agree with your sentiment.”

“I like this boy already.”

“DAD!”

R: Your dad’s a prof?

V: One of them is. He teaches at our school, Prof Sanders. 4th year chemistry?

R: Oh shit. I’m in his class.

V: Lol he thinks he knows you

R: You have two dads?

V: Yep

R: That’s so cool. I’d really love to meet them.

V: Wow, we met today and you’re already wanting to meet my parents?

R: Heeey, I want to meet them as a FRIEND.

V: My dad says after the semester’s over, you’re free to come by

One at a time, Virgil’s dads left him on the couch with an ear to ear grin, Janus to reheat dinner and Logan following him just so he could cling to his husband's waist as he moved around the kitchen. Neither of them wanted to disturb the little bubble their son was in.

-----

In the weeks following, they’d started to sit together in the one class they shared. Virgil had begun to join him and Patton on their nightly library study sessions, and after some more gentle convincing, had given in to sitting with their whole friend group during meals at the cafeteria. He was growing more comfortable with Roman, no doubt about that.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t fighting off an anxiety attack as he waited by the door to get picked up for their first outing alone.

He kept checking his phone and glancing out the peephole as Janus ran calming fingers through his hair. Virgil leaned into the touch instinctively, consciously slowing his breathing as Janus hummed. Logan was watching him from the entrance to the hall, leaning on the kitchen door frame. There wasn’t much he could do, but dammit if he wasn’t going to watch his son go off on the most anxiety inducing situation of all of their lives.

“You’ll be okay, kid,” Janus muttered, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “You’ve been friends with him for a while now, and he said there were no expectations. You’re in total control here.”

“What if I have a flashback, or a panic attack, or go nonverbal or something? He’s going to freak the fuck out and then all the work will be for noth-”

Logan spoke up. “You’re worried about things that may not even happen. And besides, haven’t you spoken to Roman about these things already?”

“A bit. Not in detail,” he whispered.

“I would suggest you do so, today if possible. It will make any possible situations that arise easier and less jarring to deal with.”

Virgil looked up at Janus, a pleading look in his eyes.

“He’s right, kid. The sooner you get it out of the way, the better.”

There was a knock at the door and Virgil nearly jumped out of his skin. To his disdain, Janus backed away until he was next to Logan, gesturing at the door with a small smile. Virgil growled out a curse and opened the door, the scowl on his face melting into a sickeningly authentic smile.

“How’s my favorite emo? Hi Mr. Sanders, hey Prof.”

“Hello.”

“Salutations.”

“Your favorite emo?” Virgil snarked, pulling on his jacket. It wasn’t cold, not in the slightest, but he’d rather have the extra layer.

“You’re the only emo I know, so the choice is easy.”

“By process of elimination, doesn’t that also imply I’m your least favorite emo too?”

“Don’t start this again, Mr. Son-of-a-professor.”

“I’ll start it if I want to!”

The door closed behind them with one final wave to his parents, and the house was quiet. Janus leaned into Logan’s waiting arms, resting his head on the other’s collar bone.

“He’s all grown up.”

“That he is, my love.”

-----

Virgil smirked as Roman set out a large cliche picnic blanket, gesturing for him to sit. He did, crossing his legs and leaning on his knees as the other began to unload the basket.

“Okay, so for sandwiches, I have turkey, peanut butter and jelly, and ham. Patton made me bring apple slices because he’s a dad, but I’m sure we can convince the ducks to eat them.”

To prove his point, a group of ducks paddled out from under a weeping willow half submerged in the creek.

“I like apples,” Virgil defended, grabbing a slice from the open container and shoving the whole thing in his mouth. “How many people were you intending to feed with that much food?”

Roman pouted from behind a container of potato salad. “I had to show off my food skills, duh.”

“You made that?” Virgil asked with raised eyebrows as Roman set out a tin of mini quiches and a smaller one stacked with brownies and cookies.

“The cookies were Patton’s, but he insisted I take some. And I would have bought more, but…” He tipped the basket towards Virgil, revealing the bottom absolutely filled with different canned drinks and water bottles. “I didn’t know what you wanted to drink.”

Virgil actually did laugh as he stretched forward to snag a Doctor Pepper, taking another apple slice as he sat back.

“Do you have a sandwich preference?” Roman asked, choosing a Sprite for himself.

“Turkey looks good.” Virgil said before his choice paralysis could come into play, breathing a sigh of relief as Roman handed one of the sandwiches to him. The less stress he added to his own life, the better.

Roman had been right to bring an assortment of food, because dammit, he was a really good chef. Virgil was nervous to try a quiche, since he’d never had them before and the texture was odd to him, but Roman assured that if he didn’t like it, he’d eat it instead. Apparently he wasn’t eeked out by germs. After a nibble though, Virgil ate almost half the tin. Who knew cold eggs could be good? Roman took the ham sandwich, and they split the PB&J. The ducks were more than pleased to be given Roman’s half of the apple slices but Virgil refused to share, since fresh fruits were still a treat after a life of preserves. The younger wasn’t a huge fan of the potato salad, so Roman eagerly finished it, seemingly more excited to move onto the desserts but not wanting to leave any leftovers.

They were just finishing up the frankly absurd amount of cookies and brownies when Roman broke their casual bickering, chasing a chocolate chip bite with a long swig of Sprite and tossing another apple to their swarm of awaiting ducks.

“So, tell me a bit about yourself, Virge.”

“What do you want to know?” Virgil replied, leaning back on his hands.

“Anything, really. Childhood, siblings, favorite color, darkest fear.”

“Quite a spectrum, there.” There was a lot he could talk about, but he felt it might be better to get the bigger things out of the way. Janus was sort of the leading expert on this kind of thing, so his advice had probably been sound. He brushed his hands together to get the crumbs off them as he spoke, “Okay, so I grew up in the foster system.”

Roman tried to hide his wince. “Ouch. I’ve heard a lot of bad things.”

“It’s fucked,” Virgil drawled, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn, “I spent most of my time in a group home, though, because I was called ‘difficult’. No one wanted to deal with my ass.”

“Why?”

“Mmm, ran away, didn’t listen, talked back, antagonized any biological kids.”

“So like, a normal teenager?” The last apple slice was sacrificed to the feathered hoard.

Virgil snorted, “Yeah, but I came with a receipt. And I kind of liked the group home more.”

“How many kids were in the home?”

“Never more than fifteen. It was a big home. But they circulated, and I was like a housecat. Never gone for more than a month.”

“Jeez,” Roman sighed, taking a sip of his soda.

“My foster homes weren’t better.”

“Oh?” It was a subtle encouragement to keep talking, but now it was getting into territory that Virgil liked to avoid.

“One of my foster houses was really neglectful, forgot to give us food, didn’t let us do laundry, that kind of stuff. Gave me a wicked ED. I was twelve.”

Roman grimaced.

“My next one was more emotionally and mentally manipulative. I was kind of made into a babysitter for their younger bio kids. I had to get them ready for school, make them dinner, just basically be a parent. After I ran away from them, they started having trouble placing me. I was older, had a shitty record, kind of a left over. I mean, I deserved it. I was a dick.”

“You were a kid, Virgil.”

“A kid who chose to make his own life harder.” He shrugged, “That’s why I was placed into… that home. They were a last resort place for other ‘trouble kids’.”

Virgil took a deep breath and, with Janus’ words in his mind, began to explain his attempted conversion; the slip of tongue that led to the placement, the verbal abuse, food deprivation, electroshock therapy, the snuck antipsychotics, forced isolation, ending with the day the wife had called the police behind her husband’s back out of guilt and he was rescued.

Roman was quiet for a long minute after he finished talking, staring entranced at the can in his hands. The ducks had dispersed during Virgil’s story, upset at the lack of food.

“I…”

Virgil waited for him to get up and leave, to say with false apologies that he didn’t think they would work out, that the connection was wrong. Because who would want to deal with him, his stupid trauma? But the man next to him didn’t move except to breathe, and Virgil took that as an invitation to continue, his tone quieter.

“I was super out of it for a while. Honestly, I don’t remember the rescue, or like a solid month after that, except for snippets here and there. The drugs were fucky. And then my social worker, god bless her heart, found Janus and Logan. Janus was in CT too for a while when he was younger, so they took me in. Took a long time, but I opened up to them, but by then I was eighteen. They still insisted on adopting me, though, and there’s absolutely no convincing Logan once he’s made his mind up, so… they did.” He waved his hands around a little.

“Three months,” Roman blurted out of nowhere, making Virgil flinch.

“What?”

“Were you in ther-... CT for three months?”

“Two and a bit, why?” The moment it was out of his mouth, he realized the implications, and his heart froze.

“You were gone for three months. I thought you died, or… I don’t even know.” Roman looked like he was about to cry, watching Virgil imploringly. Him going MIA must have affected his soulmate more than he’d thought.

“Two months of CT, and then another one before I got a new phone. I’m…” All the guilt he’d felt at the time came rushing back, the reminder of his soulmate’s music dwindling to almost nothing and him being helpless, “I’m sorry. Shit, I’m so sorry. That must have been…”

“No, Virgil, you don’t get to apologize. That was not your fault.” He reached out a hand as if to grab Virgil’s and immediately pulled back, wringing his fingers instead. “Sorry, my choice of comforting is physical. But I won’t.”

“Thank you,” Virgil choked out, running his hands through his hair.

“Can you look at me?”

He did, taking a shuddering breath. He was moments away from a panic attack and he was not looking forward to that disaster.

“You were being- quite literally- tortured for months. You were abused in ways that shouldn’t be legal, and you came out the other side stronger. Frankly, I’m amazed at your perseverance. You’re amazing.”

Simultaneously, Virgil felt a hot blush rise to his ears, and a sharp jolt run through his arms into his chest. He jerked violently, tipping over his own soda onto the grass.

“Shit, did I say something wrong?” Roman gasped, reaching over to pluck up the can before it could spill more. It was already half empty, thank goodness.

“No, I just… do that. Sometimes. From… CT. Kind of like ghost shocks, I guess.” Why couldn’t the ground just open up and swallow him whole, he wondered. He hadn’t done that jerk thing in front of anyone in so long. The last time had been in front of his now-parents, and they’d quickly grown used to it. He’d grown used to their own contact very soon and his twitches had stopped after he was accustomed to it, but it had never been directed towards him, and he had a feeling he’d need time to stop his impulse reactions.

“And me calling you amazing…”

“Triggered them. It’s an exposure thing though, so I’ll just need to get used to it. Don’t blame yourself.” He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes until bright white flashes of light burst into his vision. Suddenly, he was exhausted.

“Do you want me to drive you home?” Roman asked, already packing up their picnic basket. Virgil nodded, his social meter drained, and all ability to be a civil person was quickly deteriorating. His therapist said that would also begin to heal after a while.

Roman was an absolute angel though, letting the silence linger so Virgil could cradle his slowly growing headache, even opening the door of his car like a perfect gentleman. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Virgil rested his head against the seat and let a tiny smile tug at his lips. It would be a long process to retrain his brain (in theory, he was okay with being in a relationship with a man, but actually doing it? Infinitely harder), but for once, he was actually looking forward to the process.

Would you guys like a collection of one shots surrounding Virgil’s gradual warming up to his new family, a decent mix of angst and fluff? I have some ideas.

Thanks for reading! Now, a taglist.

@sapphic-satan

@anxious-logic

@wigsnatchedhoteltrivago

@extraintrovertedalien

@punk-academian-witch

@ray-does-stuff

@chimneychimney

@i-cant-find-a-good-username

@falsemood

@wtf-casper

@cpmansion

@killjoyjay

@fandomfan315

@anxious-darkwolf

@eternalmoonlight19

@winterwynd

@espepspes

@ironwoman359

@willowaudreykeyes

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@im-an-anxious-wreck

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@wyvern-tales

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@bullet-tothefeels

@mostlikelytokillyouwithaspoon

@lovelivingmydreams

@sarcasmremovedsoul

@crofterskinnie

@blissbiscuit

@baka-monarch

@lostspacecat

@green-call

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #loceit #logan sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #sanderssides #sanderssidesau #sanderssidesfanfiction #sanders sides #sanders sides au #sanders sides fanfiction #ts soulmate au

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honey-hippie-harper · 4 years ago

Text

Infrangible

AFGHSAGHJS THIS IS SO LATE IS NOT EVEN FUNNY ANYMORE LMAO

In my defense, I stopped being a person long ago and now, in all the ways except physical, I happen to be a potato. BUT ANYWAY :’) This is for the Renegades Ship Week hosted by @greasicookies <3 (Thanks again!), for day 5, which is Maxpie. The prompt is “secrets”! <3

I had a tough time writing this because I’m going through a lot of stuff rn :’) still, I hope you can enjoy it x’ddd.

Tag list: @healing-winston-pratt @obsidianfr3sk @the-wee-woo-rita and afsghagshja @all-weather-is-bad (because this is a very...me fic lol and I think you’re already used to my sad attempt at humor haahahaah i’M SORRY AGSHJAKL) AND @lackadae because agshjs I made a reference to one of your drawings, hon :’) (I promise once again, to catch up with your content once I feel better afsghjak).

And that’s it. I hope you like it <3

When Max turned nine, he reached the conclusion that everybody forgot their early years at some point. Before, Adrian had already explained to him that wasn’t quite true, because he misunderstood Max’s statement and thought he was feeling bad about himself for not being able to recall certain things. He told him that, unlike what he thought –which was false because that’s not what Max meant- people usually couldn’t store those memories from when they were younger than three.

“Some people do.” He said. “But it’s normal if you don’t remember anything from when you were…I don’t know. Two.”

“Do you remember anything from when you were two?” Max asked him.

From the other side of the glass, Adrian scrunched up his nose. And then, obviously, he saw himself in the need to adjust his glasses.

“I’m not quite sure whether I was two or not. But I do know I was younger than five.” He started. “There was a small canal on the way to the apartment. When it rained, it would grow a lot. It didn’t have big torrents or anything, but it did grow a lot. The water usually went higher than my ankles. But the thing was…that every time it grew, it became infested with turtles.”

He paused for a second.

“I really liked turtles.” He continued, shrugging. “My mother used to let me walk down to the water, as long as she was right behind me, obviously; one day, when we were coming back from the city, she stopped to attend a call. I got too impatient and went down alone when she wasn’t looking. The next thing I remember is that, just when I was getting up after catching a turtle, I felt her tugging me by the back of my shirt. The turtle fell on its shell.”

At that point, Max realized he had been staring at how he kept on fidgeting with his pen instead of looking him in the eye, but he continued doing so, because he didn’t like it when Adrian’s voice turned that serious.

“…She had never screamed at me like that.” He said, as if he were talking to himself and then, to erase the tension, he tried to scoff. “I don’t remember what she said, but I remember that she said it so loud I told her she was scaring the turtle. Then I started crying. Like, a lot. I think she was terrified too.”

In the end, everything turned too quiet for his liking, and Max did something his dad had advised him to do for times like these, when he just didn’t know what came next: Improvise.

“I didn’t know you liked turtles.”

“…Well, I did. I really liked turtles when I was younger.”

Max had seen a couple of turtles in his life, but not as many as Adrian had seen, he supposed, because Max had never stepped outside, except when he was a baby.

Which was exactly the point.

He didn’t have memories from when he was a baby, or a toddler. Most of the people who had come to talk to him had said they remembered events that were either too sad (like Adrian) or meaningful in their lives. Max didn’t have anything like that. In fact, his first –very blurry- memory was standing on the edge of the quarantine, with his hands pressed against the crystal, and then licking it.

According to his dads, he was between three and four (“He was three, Simon. What are you talking about?” “He was born in November.” “It wasn’t November yet.” “We had just celebrated his birthday. He was four.” “HE WASN’T FOUR, SIMON! HE WAS THREE! THREE! We were celebrating that his quarantine had just been built!” “IT WAS THE SAME EVENT, HUGH!”) and Aunt Tamaya, plus the both of them, were in the hallway. For some reason, the fact that his eyes were so huge (they were still big. But they were bigger when he was a baby) came off as odd to Tamaya. And the moment they made eye contact, he licked the glass.

Nobody knew why. Not even himself. The adults remembered it better than he did, of course, but none of them had ever been able to guess the reasoning behind it. They often expressed Max had been a very strange baby, mostly because of his lack of social skills. It’s not like he had chosen that, and it’s not like his fathers would’ve allowed it to happen if they had had any other option. But Max wasn’t willing to stand there and pretend that he knew what he was doing, either.

Most of the time, he didn’t.

He barely held any memories of the nurses that had ever been in charge of his care, but, for obvious reasons, he remembered Dad. It was always easier to remember the person who had taken care of you the most, he supposed. And Max knew, among a lot of things, that it wasn’t his other dad’s fault. Though, sometimes, he couldn’t help but blame him.

Again, he didn’t know why, but there were those days, when he needed he the most, where a voice inside of his head told him that, if Simon loved him enough, he would just sacrifice his powers to be with him. His powers weren’t that useful for combat anyway.

“Okay, but that’s kinda mean.” Adrian told him the first time he opened up about it, the night before he attended the Trials to choose the members of his patrolling team. “Pops might not have combat powers, but they’re as important as the rest of the members’. That’s why they work so well as a team, you know? Every power can be extremely helpful during a battle, as long as you know how to use it.”

Max wasn’t doing anything in particular that day. Nothing besides listening to Adrian and sitting on the floor , at least.

“But if every power is useful…” He said, tilting his head to the side. “…Why are you allowed to reject certain aspirants?”

Adrian frowned a little, not in the sense that he looked angry at Max. Rather, he was confused by the question and was trying to word the answer in a way that sounded rational.

“Because…” He gulped and clicked his tongue. “…Like I said…uhm…the Council is an extremely good team. They’ve been doing this for a while. Us, the patrolling leaders are…allowed to reject certain prodigies because we don’t have as much experience as them. And…we might not know how to use somebody’s powers, and that’s very dangerous. We don’t want people dying, do we?”

When he said that, something clicked inside Max’s brain, and he nodded in automatic. Obviously, a few years ago, a non-prodigy teacher had taught him how to read, and the moment Adrian notified him it was his year to be in the Trials, he managed to read the manual and the rules for the event, from a booklet and a pamphlet (respectively) he had asked his dad to bring for him. He didn’t get much new information, different from the one he heard on TV or the one presented in the posters. However, amongst the rules, there was a section that talked about banned powers, which contained only two categories:

-Complete telekinesis.

-Stardust modelling.

“Yeah.” Dad told him. He was bathing him in the quarantine’s bathroom (Of course. Where else?). “Stardust catchers…which….are able to model stardust, are extremely dangerous and there’s not much research about them. Nobody really knows how they work, and it would be pretty difficult for us to… handle a prodigy like that.”

“Like me.”

Dad had always had a pretty specific routine he had to follow when bathing him. If he missed or misplaced a step, he acted like would explode or something. Also, Max didn’t understand why, but ever since he started growing thicker hair, Dad became pretty strict on the fact they should take care of it so it would grow healthy. Hence why they had a full hair routine that they did in the bathtub. That day, the statement caught him so off-guard he grabbed the wrong bottle, and then, when he realized it, he was already pouring the dense liquid (that looked more like a paste to him) on Max’s head. Cursing under his breath, he placed his other hand in the middle so it would fall over his palm, washed Max’s head and started the routine all over again, before changing the subject:

“About complete telekinesis…there’s obviously a lot of research about that power. We know how to manage with that. But telekinetic prodigies are not …very accepted in our society. They’re pointed at…Frowned upon. In the worst of cases, other prodigies hunt them down and then kill them.”

In that moment, Max came to the conclusion that all that changing the subject thing had been in vain.

Because, from his part, the answer was exactly the same:

“Like me.”

And Dad didn’t like that, for he started scratching his scalp harder, accidentally.

“No. It’s nothing like you.” He said. “You’re not like that, Max. Society hates telekinesis because some evil dude decided to use his powers, his telekinesis, for awful reasons and stained prodigy’s names. You’re not like that. You’re not abusive, or selfish or evil. And I don’t want to hear you comparing yourself to him ever again. Understood?”

To this day, that was the most aggressive form of validation someone had ever given him, but Max took it anyway, because he trusted Dad, and if he had said something like that, then there had to be a clear reason behind it.

“Understood.” He whispered.

And he tried, he really tried, to believe it. But, like many other things, no matter how hard Max tried, he was still severely confused. Not that he didn’t know about the Age of Anarchy, or the parties involved in the Age of Anarchy.

The quarantine, needless to say, could get pretty boring most of the time. Max had to do a lot of things to kill time, and some of those activities involved reading books that children shouldn’t be reading. He did read some children’s books, but then he would find himself looking through history articles and books, and reading the chapters that interested him the most. For instance, he was confident he knew about the Age of Anarchy, but one thing was knowing about it, and another, different thing, was having an opinion about in regards to it.

Max didn’t know if he had something to say about the topic. If he did, it was a very incomplete idea, and it was very likely he wouldn’t be able to phrase it correctly.

The group of people Max talked the most to were adults, and those adults, especially the ones who had experienced the Age of Anarchy and somehow managed to make it out alive, refused to talk about it. As for the few children he had talked to…

Well, about them…

Long story short, they had lives.

They all had lives outside of a glass, unlike Max. Maybe they weren’t the most interesting of lives, but at least they for sure had to be more interesting than his’. They didn’t have a pre-established schedule, where a designated person would come in to feed him or extract blood samples from his body, to then take them to the laboratory. They didn’t have to hear a total of seven alarms to remind him what he had to do: Wake up and get dressed, have breakfast and brush his teeth, enter the virtual sessions with his teachers, take a shower, have his blood samples taken, start doing his homework –if he had any- and do whatever he wanted once he was finished, have dinner, brush his teeth and go to bed, and then start all over again.

That moment, when he had spare time, would be the same one normal kids used to go out with their friends, like Adrian did. To go to the park and get themselves a scarily huge wound at the center of their knee. To live. To breathe air. To do…literally anything that wasn’t this.

Because Max was different from the many children he hadn’t yet gotten the opportunity to meet or talk to, because, obviously, they wouldn’t want to spend the whole day hanging out with a person…like him.

The only way Max could see two out of the three people in his family was through a crystal wall. And he couldn’t kiss them, he couldn’t touch them… sometimes he even wondered if he knew how their voices sounded, because, after all, Dad’s voice sounded the tiniest bit different once he crossed that infamous glass door.

He couldn’t walk through the streets of Gatlon, because, for starters, he didn’t know them. And if he dared to go out there, he would get killed on spot for having accidentally neutralized a prodigy who didn’t want to be neutralized.

Other kids had nannies whom they complained about when their parents couldn’t look after them (at least that’s the kind of things he saw on the TV shows he watched) but Max had patrol units that would move from one corner of the room to another, ready to attack anyone who came closer than necessary to him, because the only one who could take care of him in person, was Hugh.

Other kids could go out freely, without being scared of anything at all. They could get hurt while having fun with their friends and family. They could laugh until they cried with them. They could hug them, sleep in the same bed as them. They could walk their pets, go on road trips, go to amusement stores, water parks…

They could experience the current world; watch all the new events that were happening every day, in first hand.

They didn’t have to read about the past, or the people from the past to keep themselves entertained. They didn’t have the need to do that. At all.

They were living the lives Max couldn’t have, because he was too dangerous for that.

And obviously, that’s why he couldn’t just…go around asking other kids about what was their favorite bug, their favorite planet…or their opinions about Ace Anarchy, and if Pops (Simon) saying “Alec, with an A as in Abusive Swine” made them laugh.

Besides, he hadn’t even met that many kids his age. Or kids, for that matter.

He was aware Adrian wasn’t exactly a grown up, but he wasn’t a kid either, so, he usually didn’t make it into that list.

In fact, just like the banned powers in that manual, there were only two kids in Max’s list of acquaintances.

Aunt Tamaya’s first baby was born without powers, when Max was like four years old, and his dads were way too excited about it (Weird thing to brag about out loud, honestly, because all the recruits in the Headquarters were betting ridiculous amounts of money on which powers the Thunderbaby would have –Max could hear them- and one day they just heard The Dread Warden storming into the hallway, euphorically screaming “GUESS WHAT, MY LITTLE CHERUB BABY? YOUR COUSIN IS ABSOLUTELY FREAKING POWERLESS!”), for they thought Max would finally be able to have a friend who was more or less his age. Dad was the one who brought him in, two weeks after he was born. He was still tiny, red and chubby, and wrapped in his three different blankets that way, he looked like a bloated marshmallow.

Aunt Tamaya, her husband, Pops, Adrian, Aunt Kasumi and Uncle Evander were outside (as always) waiting to see what happened…and, it was extremely odd for Max to admit it, but he couldn’t remember much about that moment, even though he was already older than three. There was, however, a video taken by Uncle Evander where, if you narrowed your eyes hard enough, you could see the moment Max burst into tears right after kissing the baby’s cheek.

Neil was his friend.

At least, Max considered him to be his friend. Still, they had an age gap of four whole years, and a part of him was waiting until he was a little older so they could be on the same page. Because sometimes, when Neil couldn’t comprehend something semi-important that Max had just said, things could get pretty awkward, because there were occasions when, if Neil got too frustrated over anything, he would start crying, and his sobs often summoned his mother all the way from across the building. She never particularly tried to put the blame on Max. In fact, she hadn’t even glared at him not once, ever.

But she did choose to take him with her, into her office, or ask Adrian to babysit him while he calmed down. Afterwards, he usually didn’t come back to the quarantine.

“It’s not your fault, Max.” Pops would tell him, always. “It’s just that…Neil...he’s younger than you. There are things that might be…easy to you, but that are super complicated to him. And you might be able to do things that he can’t, and he can’t understand why he can’t, so he gets super confused and angry and that’s why he cries and Tamaya has to come and comfort him.”

“That, and because she’s like a...very freaky bird mom who hears her children cry and comes around with her super sonic enhanced sense of hea—“

“Hugh, don’t be rude.”

Every time they had that discussion in front of him, Max could never understand why Pops said Dad was being rude. He was right, to a certain extent. Aunt Tamaya was just…being a mom.

And that’s what moms did.

At least, that’s what Max had read and seen on TV because families like his’ were…super rare to find in his cartoons or favorite books. In fact, the times when he had seen himself represented in any of the things were so few that, for the longest time, Max had this weird, messed up idea that biological men could give birth. He thought that Adrian, apart from the fact that he was the closest to him, looked more similar to Simon, and that had to mean he had given birth to him, while Hugh had been the one to give birth to Max.

One year, when Max was six, they finished Lady Indomitable’s gigantic golden statue, placed downtown. It was late June, and though the city had previously looked covered in colors, that day it just looked…white and golden. That’s the best way Max could find to put it into words.

According to Max’s weather application, the heat was unbearable that day (good thing he couldn’t feel anything because the temperature in the quarantine was always regulated) yet, according to what he was seeing in one of his screens, a great percentage of the citizens of Gatlon were marching in the streets carrying floating lanterns, headed towards downtown where the event was being held.

The Council was standing in front of the covered statue. All of them except Blacklight, who had stayed to take care of the Headquarters, and Max could see him from where he was. They gave a speech about Lady Indomitable together, and as they started revealing the statue, Tsunami sang a song that was supposed to be one of Lady Indomitable’s favorite ones, and that Max was too young to recognize (he supposed). In his opinion, it was a cute event, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t utterly confused the moment he saw Adrian taking one step ahead to be the first one to let go of his floating lantern, which was different from the other ones, because his’ was bigger, and it had a big “I”. Besides, people waited a couple of seconds until it was stable above their heads to let go of their own floating lanterns.

It still looked cute to him, but now it looked weird as well. So he got up from his chair, and walked towards the edge, pressing his hands against the glass. He hoped that would be enough to magically catch Evander’s attention, who was, at the moment, using his chair as a swing, as he typed a number in his computer, copying it from his calculator and eating from his salad every now and then. Obviously, Max’s telepathic call wasn’t enough, and he had to knock on the glass a couple of times, loudly. Even then, Uncle Evander didn’t look up in his direction.

But he did hear him, because he did respond.

“It’s not gonna work, Maximus. I’m not getting you out.”

As a side note, Max considered telling him his full name was Maximilian and not Maximus, because that was way before he realized it was a nickname. Nevertheless, he just let it pass, for the simple reason he had better things to ask. That’s why he proceeded to knock again, instead of speaking.

“What is it?”

“I wanna ask you something.”

Evander tried to steady himself in the chair without falling on his back, and once he succeeded, he came closer to the quarantine, with his arms over his hips.

“Why is Adrian doing that?” He asked, just because he wasn’t able to find another way to phrase it, while pointing at the screen behind him; Evander narrowed his eyes following his finger, as if he hadn’t been watching the event himself from a livestream on his phone. A few seconds later, he seemed to realize what he was talking about, and bit his upper lip, before pouting barely a little.

Then, he clicked his tongue.

“Because that’s his mom. And today’s her birthday.”

And it’s not that Max was insensitive enough not to recognize that it was very sad, but at the same time those single words were enough to make the idea he had of his life fall apart. All the things he thought he had already managed to understand felt fake and incorrect, and it was so fast it almost made him feel dizzy.

“She’s not his mom.” He declared.

Evander opened his eyes very widely and, next thing he knew, was that, for some reason, he looked nervous. Which, to say the least, was very…unlike Evander. He was usually super…confident, and, in Dad’s words: “He walks with his back too straight for a person who says some dumb shit every time he opens his mouth”.

At that moment, his back wasn’t straight at all, and he kept on wiping the sweat off his palms in the suit.

“…I mean…she’s not…alive anymore. But… that doesn’t mean that…”

“Noooo. I didn’t mean that.” Max cut him off. “She’s not her mom, because Adrian already has a mom.”

He stopped suddenly. Max could almost see his brain working at full speed, trying to process the data he had just received. Then, he blinked, arching his eyebrow.

“Who’s…who’s his mom?” He asked, getting closer to the crystal, and crouching down to be at Max’s height (Evander was almost too tall for his own sake). “Do Simon or Hugh…?”

“No. I mean she’s not his mom because Simon’s his mom.” Max stated, confident enough to move a mountain with his raw determination and his bare hands, which, needless to say, did nothing but make Evander even more confused.

Not that Max couldn’t understand why.

He was a brand new, redeemed person now.

But back then he wasn’t.

“…Simon is what, you said?”

“Adrian’s mom.” Max reaffirmed.

Still bewildered, Evander gawked. Perhaps he understood where that confusion was coming from but, at the same time, maybe he was too disturbed to ask for additional information. Max didn’t know which one of the two would make him feel more embarrassed, especially taking into account the next thing Evander said:

“That is the weirdest shit somebody has ever said to me, and I’ve talked to the Puppeteer an unhealthy amount of times.”

He wasn’t the one who explained to him the way his own family worked. On the contrary, he immediately told his dads about it, and next time the both of them came to talk to him, they tried to make him understand the concept of homosexual couples.

And they failed.

Miserably.

And he was using that term, because after that talk, Max went through life for a while saying that his ethnicity was Gay, because both of his dads were gay. Over and over again, they tried to correct him, but nothing seemed to work, and Max kept on spreading the information that he was gay (something he didn’t know yet) until Aunt Kasumi decided to intervene and, for his birthday, she got him a children’s book called All in Rainbow, which, according to the information in the first page, was actually a translation from a Latin American book written by two lesbians (one of them non-binary) and illustrated by the same woman who had made the Anarchists’ and the Renegades’ graphic novels and was also a Latina.

That book was something similar to a gay encyclopedia. It was narrated by this girl named Phoenix, because it followed her throughout her school and her daily life, where she came across different people and families. After every short story, there was an informative section explaining everything in regards to the new person’s identity, including their flag, the meaning of said flag, and the explanation of certain terms. Max really enjoyed it, and, in fact, he ended up going through it more than once. When he tried to persuade Adrian into reading it too, he admitted he already had, when he was younger, and proceeded to make a comment about how pretty the name “Phoenix” was.

It was only then that Max was able to understand how his own family worked, and how freaking inept he had sounded when he decided it was a great idea to use it as an ethnicity.

That book was, in fact, the cue for all the grown ups in his life to start buying books for him, which he was grateful for, except for the one that he, ironically enough, had gotten from Uncle Evander. Sure, he appreciated that he had spent money on that, but Max didn’t appreciate the fact that the plot was about a dog that was sent away to a school for dogs but made everyone believe he was in jail so he could escape. The drawings were cute, but he just couldn’t find the moral of the story and he didn’t like that.

His dads, from their part, got him a book about two frogs that, at least to Max, acted as if they were a couple; Aunt Tamaya was the one of the short books without drawings.

As for Aunt Kasumi…she usually brought a lot of educational books; every time she overheard him expressing something that was making him confused, she brought him a book about it, including that time she heard him asking Ruby Tucker “So, are you always bleeding?” completely out of context.

Max supposed that it had a lot to do with the fact that Aunt Kasumi was in charge of Child Services, and she spent a lot of time with children, especially because she liked to volunteer in orphanages, having been in one herself when she was a little girl. She usually moved in prodigy orphanages, for she was one to know the poor conditions they sometimes presented.

And…to say the least, she wasn’t a woman of many words. She was very reserved with everything she did. And, besides, it was none of Max’s business. After all, he was just a kid.

But, in this case, it kind of involved him.

Kind of.

For the simple reason that there were two names in the list of people his age Max had talked to. The first one was Neil (who wasn’t even his age. He was just close to that) and the second one…

The second one involved Aunt Kasumi.

Just like people were able to overhear his conversations through the quarantine, Max was able to overhear the conversations they were having on the outside, especially when he was trying to do it on purpose.

Every time he was too bored, in other words.

Some of the things older people said were confusing, but, over time, Max had learned to store that information, so he could comprehend it better in the future. He didn’t know at what level that was healthy, yet he still did it because, literally, he didn’t have anything better to do.

During extremely busy days, the Council chose to spend the night in the Headquarters, just in case, and while they could sleep in the common room, if Pops was too insistent on wanting to be close to the quarantine, they slept in the hallway.

In Max’s hallway.

Of course, Dad would sleep with him inside the quarantine but, in order to make it feel more like a pajama party, they slept close to the edge of the “room” (if it could be called that way), so close to the Councils’ inflatable beds, they could’ve touched them if there hadn’t been a wall in between.

When they were sleeping in that hallway, there wasn’t a patrol looking over Max, because they were the patrol and, every two hours, they changed turns to stay awake. All of them except Dad, who stayed the entire night with Max. The others often got up and started walking around the quarantine according to their ages. That is, Aunt Tamaya went first, followed by Pops, then Aunt Kasumi, and Uncle Evander at the end. However, since it wasn’t like they were too used to having many hours of sleep, Kasumi and Evander usually got up at the same time and patrolled together.

That night, Max was having trouble sleeping. Dad was hugging him, which made him feel very comfortable, but, at the same time, before he wrapped his arms around him, he had been moving way too much, and that had made Max feel uneasy, because a part of him, though he knew it was highly possible it wasn’t true, was feeding the annoying worm at the back of his brain that told him he was the one making Dad uneasy. That Dad was moving and couldn’t sleep because he didn’t want to be anywhere near him. Perhaps he would’ve preferred to be with Pops. Perhaps he would’ve preferred to be with Adrian, even. Anyone but Max.

Which, again, he knew things…weren’t like that. But that little, nameless, uninvited worm was always telling him that, over and over again, determined to repeat those awful words until they made so much noise they made him cry.

And even then, when he was already crying, the worm ate deeper into his brain and told him to stop because, in the end, who was he crying for anyway?

Who was he crying for, if nobody was here to see or hear him?

That night, of course, he didn’t cry, for the simple reason that…well, he did have somebody who would hear him cry, and maybe comfort him like Aunt Tamaya comforted Neil when he was crying…

But he didn’t want Dad to do that.

Not today.

Not because he were mad at him, but because he feared that, if he did, then Dad would be the one who would get mad.

Besides, that night he got extremely busy trying to overhear the conversation between Kasumi and Evander who, the moment they got up, started talking as they walked, first at a volume so low their voices could’ve been considered murmurs, but then, with every second, the issue started escalating.

And it wasn’t that they were arguing, it was that they weren’t exactly happy with each other, nor did they seem to manage to get to a mutual agreement.

Max felt like that time he was watching a movie with his earphones on, and instead of paying attention to the plot, he kept trying to identify which sounds were dominant in his left ear, and which ones were dominant in his right ear, because Uncle Evander and Aunt Kasumi were walking around the quarantine, and the echoes of their voices were floating right behind them, making it almost impossible for Max to decipher their messages word by word.

At least, until they stopped in front of him. That is, very close to the inflatable mattresses, too. And with just one eye open, he was able to tell Aunt Kasumi wasn’t amused, with her arms so tight across her chest that way, and with Uncle Evander standing more straight than necessary (because, yes, Dad was right about that...sometimes... because Max had read somewhere that tall people had to be really careful with their posture to avoid spine deformities or have less complications when they were older) waving his –as Aunt Tamaya would’ve called them- Hot Cheeto fingers right in front of her face, in a way so aggressive she sometimes had to lean backwards not to get one of her eyes poked out.

“…and it won’t look good for the organization. It won’t look good, Kasumi. You know why?”

“Yes, Vandy. I know why. I already knew before, yet you took the time to explain it to me another seven times. I mean, thank you, I guess, but—“

“If I kept on explaining it to you, it’s because I didn’t…and I don’t know what’s not clicking.”

“What do you mean with what’s not clicking?” And she tilted her head to the side. “…Are you still talking to me?”

“Don’t play dumb, Kasumi. Especially not in front of me, because I know you.”

“Right. But I still don’t get what you’re referring to. What’s not clicking about what, exactly?”

Evander laughed in a way Max would’ve just…understood if she had decided to punch him in the face so he would stop.

“We’re a big organization, Kasumi. People talk.”

“Of course that people talk. I mean, our citizens support our cause and our government system. In fact, statistically, more than half of the population do, but sometimes there are things that… are for their own good but they will refuse to understand and accept them anyway. And that’s normal. We might be the law, but we can’t control how the masses think, you know?”

“For their own good, you say. Beneficial.”

“Exactly.”

“Beneficial for who, if you’d be so kind?” Evander laughed again. “As far as I understand, we’re talking about one single problem, from a single person. It won’t bring anything beneficial, as you call it, for our organization, or for our system…if anything, it will damage it and make us lose credibility.”

“…Why?”

As a response, he started flapping his arms around, as if he were trying to point at something invisible. Or at something that wasn’t really there.

And this time, Aunt Kasumi didn’t try to pretend she was seeing it, and remained silent until Evander realized he would have to make himself understood.

“Because…” He clenched his fists, sighing loudly, almost like he was certain he was right and Aunt Kasumi wasn’t. “Our policy. Remember that? You know, a thing that actually exists and you helped write?”

She didn’t respond.

“Our policy as Renegades, it’s that we shall keep our people safe, and that includes prodigy and non-prodigy citizens. We shall preserve their lives no matter the cost, and create a safe environment where all can coexist and protect each other. That means that no prodigy individual with questionable reasons is to be allowed to cross that gate and disturb the peace or, worse, put somebody’s life at risk.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Yes, you should be, because we wrote it, for fuck’s sake.”

“Evander, please. There’s no need to curse or—“

“…But you know what that means? It means that we can’t just…go against that policy and expect our citizens, our recruits, even, to still take us seriously.”

“Oh, but I’m following that policy because, as you might remember, we also pledged to assist anyone whose life was at risk, and people who, day by day, have to live under very vulnerable circumstances. It is our job to intervene and take them to a safer place, where their quality of life can improve, isn’t it?”

“It is, but that applies for people who aren’t dangerous to society.”

At that point, Max had both his eyes open, and he was seeing the scene more clearly.

In fact, everything was so clear, that he was able to read the confusion in Aunt Kasumi’s expression, even before she said:

“…This is a kid we’re talking about.”

“She is dangerous.”

“She’s not dangerous, Evander. She's a kid. Sure, her behavior has caused her to go bouncing from orphanage to orphanage like a rubber ball but that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t be helped, that doesn’t mean we should just turn our backs at her, and that doesn’t mean she’s dangerous.”

“You know damn well her behavior’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Well, I am, because that’s the only thing that should concern us at the moment.”

“No, it’s not?”

“It is. Because she’s a kid…and, honestly, Vandy…” Aunt Kasumi sighed. “… I know we were raised thinking life is war, but… the truth is, people are not born evil. Or dangerous, for that matter. Take your time and think about it, and you can talk to me again once you’ve calmed down, because you must be pretty much aware I don't appreciate this tone. Besides, it’s not like this little argument is going to stop me anyway.” She shrugged.

“…after all, I already talked to Hugh.”

“…And what did he say?”

“It’s not my place to tell you that. Ask him.”

Max never knew whether he had taken that suggestion or not but, knowing Evander, he just assumed he hadn’t. And, to be honest, he never asked Dad about it either. He just stood and watched how everything proceeded to go down and chaos unleashed.

Though, he had to admit, unlike what had happened with other “big” events, this one specific chaos was rather discrete. A kind of well-kept secret.

In fact, the only explicit hint that something would happen in the next few days, was the little disturbance caused by Team Frostbite (it was always Team Frostbite. Max had no idea why everyone was so…willing to put up with their…issues so much, and without hesitation) when it was their turn to patrol around the quarantine and Evander came around, holding his notepad, and muttered something to them.

“Whom?!” Genissa Clark, Frostbite, snapped immediately.

Evander frowned and, judging by the way his moustache moved, he also pouted, before turning at Mack Baxter, Aftershock, to start talking to him instead.

“Do you have any idea of what she’s talking about?” He clicked his tongue. “Like…okay, nevermind…”

When Max looked up, he saw the exact moment when Evander realized he was listening to the conversation, so he lowered his tone once again. Yet, Max was still able to see the million ways in which Genissa Clark's face contorted and, in the end, the first second Evander shut his mouth, she declared:

“We’re not available for that. Perhaps that task should be assigned to Team Sketch or Team Peregrine. They’re always lollygagging around, it’s about time they get some real responsibi—“

“That’s a no, then. Alright. Thanks for your cooperation, Team Frostbite. Or, lack of, more likely. Do better next time, okay?”

If Max wanted to be honest with himself, it hadn’t taken him much time to realize he wasn’t fond of any of the members in Team Frostbite. Or Frostbite herself. In fact, he considered her to be almost insufferable, and, again, he couldn’t quite understand why they were allowed to boss everybody around. To a certain extent, they reminded him of the popular kids (who were also bullies) in every movie he had ever watched. They weren’t nice. Not even likeable.

Maybe Max was just very specific on the type of people he liked.

Or maybe he liked everyone and their mom, except Team Frostbite, because he didn’t know any better than that, while at the same time he knew better than liking Team Frostbite.

But he didn’t know better than liking Margaret White, because…well…

She hadn’t done anything particularly awful for him to have an opinion as strong as Uncle Evander’s about her.

She came on a Friday.

Not that she exclusively came to talk to him.

She, in fact, arrived alongside Aunt Kasumi, who was wearing her civilian clothes –High-waisted jeans and a baby blue shirt, damp with sweat because it was hot outside- and kept leaving her car key on every table that came across her, before coming back to it to grab them.

At first, Max wasn’t able to see Margaret very well, mostly because he was distracted with his online classes, and she was taken straight to Dad’s office, along with Adrian’s entire team. And though Max didn’t see much, he was able to catch a glimpse on how Adrian kept on trying to grab her hand, and she insisted on pulling away.

At some point, he had read about that too.

The Renegades accepted recruits from ages 14 and up, talking about patrolling. However, they had a child protection program, where, basically, they assisted orphan prodigy children with behavioral issues or, though only few people liked to admit it, potential to be a part of the organization when they were older. Adrian didn’t like it and, strangely enough, out of everyone, Evander didn’t like it either. Nevertheless, Evander was one to get more aggressive when it came to child recruitment, which, thankfully, wasn’t common at all.

In fact, those cases were so rare, that they referred to them as “exceptions”. After all, children were not allowed into the Trials. As far as Max knew, they weren’t placed in patrol units. On the contrary, they were given small positions in the organization, and their paychecks were directed to their respective savings account, something that Pops was in charge of. However, they could use that money for their personal needs or something they wanted to buy, as the few children recruits resided in orphanages around Gatlon and went back there after their shift was over. Max supposed that sometimes their caretakers refused to buy them something because it wasn’t good for their health and it must be very satisfying to tell them it was their money (That’s what Adrian always did when Dad refused to buy something for him).

(That, or he went and asked Pops for that same thing).

Usually, they could have cash withdrawals just by presenting their Renegade Recruit ID because, obviously, they didn’t have an official ID yet.

And not only that. The children recruits were assigned a patrol unit with older members to look after them, or help them with anything they needed. Taking into account the conversation he had overheard, he supposed that duty had fallen on Adrian’s team (A theory that was later confirmed to be true by Adrian himself).

They were never left unsupervised, just like Max.

The day Margaret arrived, for a couple of minutes, maybe hours, Max was submerged in his own little world, and in the assignment his last teacher had told him to do. It was just him, his colored pencils, his paper sheets, his notes, his head, his hands, and the miniature planet Earth that his quarantine supposed, against the real world that he had never stepped on.

But every now and then, a little piece of the unknown, mysterious real world came running to his encounter and talked to him, sometimes in the most sudden, unsolicited way.

Sometimes it was Dad opening the door without calling. Sometimes it was Adrian pressing a new drawing against the crystal. Sometimes it was Pops, making a little “Psst” sound to get his attention.

Sometimes it was three little knocks, and the girl that was producing them with her knuckles.

Back then, Margaret’s hair was longer, to the point where she could tie it in a high ponytail, decorated with a blue bow, which combined with his orphanage uniform: A white polo, with the institution’s symbol by the right side of her chest, beneath a cobalt blue skirt with suspenders, long white socks and black scholar shoes.

He saw her and recognized she was real the first time, but Max still gave himself a couple of seconds to grasp the fact that she was really there.

Well, not there-there.

That she was there, as in, through the glass.

And she was calling him, even if she wasn’t saying anything. In fact, she was just there, eating from a chocolate bar with puffed rice. Her free hand was still over the glass.

And she was waiting.

So, he figured he didn’t want to keep her waiting anymore, and leaving his task and his tools behind, Max walked in her direction. And like it always happened, he stopped right before bumping his forehead against the hard, translucent surface.

Margaret took another bite from her chocolate, with an arched eyebrow, but she said nothing. From afar, Max hadn’t been able to really appreciate her features, but now that he was closer, he realized she was taller than him; her small, brown eyes were making her lashes look bigger; her black hair looked thicker and he was able to conclude that her skin tone was more or less like Pops’, maybe a little darker. She had a mark over her cheek, and at first Max thought it was a mole or a birthmark…until, of course, he realized that moles weren’t (or, at least, shouldn’t be) purple, and realized it was a bruise.

He didn’t ask her about it. Adrian had once told him that there were people who might not want to talk about their bruises or open wounds, not because the stories behind them were painful to tell, but because they were too embarrassing and telling embarrassing stories was an inconvenience.

“…well… now that I think about it…” He said right after. “…That’s not it. No. Not really. Sometimes your wounds’ backstories are painful. Or sometimes…you just want to keep them a secret, you know? And secrets are…sort of important.”

He believed every word.

Hence why, instead of saying something too nosy about that bruise, a little slowly at first, Max started lifting his hand up, until he reached the spot where Margaret’s was, and pressed his palm there. When she stared at his palm in confusion, Max clarified:

“Hugh five. You know?" Max giggled a little." As in… the Captain? Hugh? ...No?"

She didn’t laugh. And that was odd because Adrian would’ve.

Margaret wasn’t Adrian, sadly. And, it seemed to be, she hadn’t had an older sibling to tell her that some things just…weren’t adequate as icebreakers to start a conversation. Because, like Adrian had said, there were certain things other people might not want to talk about.

“Are you sick?” She directly asked.

Max was still “pressing” his hand against hers.

Gulping hard, he felt his throat boiling hot, almost as if it were growing blisters.

“No.” He said in a hoarse voice. “Why?”

Not pulling away either, Margaret said:

“The other day, Sister Malinda brought a very tiny baby into the orphanage. They were so small they had to take them to the medical wing.” She took another bite from her chocolate, and kept on speaking with her mouth full. “I sneaked out of my room to see them, and they were inside this little glass box that helped keeping them alive. Sister Tam told me so.”

Max kept quiet for a while. He would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t have a little curiosity about the name, but Margaret solved everything that had to be solved even if he didn’t ask her to.

“Sister Tam was named after Thunderbird. She’s younger than the other nuns.”

He guessed so.

Aunt Tamaya’s real name had been revealed to the general public on the 13th year into the Age of Anarchy, when she reappeared after being away for months thanks to an accident that involved Queen Bee and a cliff or something like that (Max couldn’t quite understand it, and Aunt Tamaya couldn’t remember much about it either. If she did, then she just didn’t desire to talk about it). It wasn’t a fun anecdote or anything like that but, according to his dads, the name Tamaya topped the lists for the most female-assigned names for at least a year, and the same thing happened in the 20th year into the Age of Anarchy...however, by the time she was buried, the world didn’t know Lady Indomitable’s real name, and for an entire month, people used Regina instead of Georgia. When Max asked why, Dad answered that, when attending public events, Lady Indomitable used to wear a pair of shiny golden R-shaped earrings that caused everybody in Gatlon to develop mass hysteria and made themselves believe that those Rs meant Regina, when in reality, according to Lady Indomitable herself, one of them meant “Rawles”, and the other “Renegade”. In fact, Oscar Silva (Smokescreen, one of the members of Adrian’s team) had once said that one of his cousins, who lived in Mexico, had been named Renata Regina (Though nobody knew what the heck that first name was, and Oscar had a really peculiar way to pronounce Regina) because she was born a few days after Lady Indomitable’s decease.

“I knew that.” Max lied.

“Sure, buddy. I bet you did.” Margaret chuckled. And there, Max realized she thought she was too clever.

Which, he didn’t doubt she was. He wasn’t in the position to state that. At least, not yet.

But what he was in the position to state, was that, if she thought herself to be clever, then it was his opportunity to think of himself as clever too. After all, he had been reading his whole life because he didn’t have anything else to do.

If Margaret was clever, then so was he.

“You’re talking about an incubator.” He said.

Margaret looked up out of a sudden (Max hoped she hadn’t gotten dizzy). He could still see the chocolate, that at this point should’ve been mush, stored in the inside of her right cheek.

“Uh?” She asked, struggling to keep her mouth closed.

Max gulped, and tapped the surface with his fingers.

“The thing where they put the little baby. It’s called an incubator. That’s where they put pre-term babies, because they’re not ready to survive outside of their mother’s womb. Sometimes their lungs don’t work on their own, sometimes their hearts are too fast or too slow…”

“You look too old to be a baby.” She observed. “Are your powers something related to that? Like, are you a baby who doesn’t look like a baby?”

For a second, Max thought about quoting Evander that time he had boldly stated that Simon was Adrian’s mom, but he didn’t because he wasn’t in the mood to curse.

“…No. First, this is not an incubator. And second, I’m a kid.” He answered. “I’m not a baby.”

“Then why are you here?”

The short answer was that, honestly, that was none of her business. And the even shorter answer, was:

“I can’t tell you. It’s a secret. And secrets are sort of important.”

“A secret.” She repeated, as if tasting the word. “…You don’t look like you want to be here. Are you allowed to come out?”

The short answer was still that it was none of her business. But, if he wanted to be honest, for some reason, he didn’t want to give that answer. Because, to be fair, she would find out on her own sooner or later. Because, yes, people talked, and while his dads were kind of secretive about him, everyone in the headquarters knew him. Her being clueless was just a temporary event that would vanish into thin air in a blink.

And, for some reason, he wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.

Maybe tell her something that wasn’t real. Maybe… tell her something that wasn’t necessarily true but that he wanted it to be. Maybe something that was more interesting than what he was, in reality; maybe something that would make the worm in his brain go away for two weeks.

"I can't get out." He finally decided. "Because this glass is infrangible."

Then, he knocked on it three times.

"See?"

Margaret tilted her hair to the side, looking like a cat.

"What does that word mean?"

And dumb as it sounded, Max felt a twinge in his stomach along with a violent wave of pride. Because, even if it was hard for him to admit it, he was hoping she would ask that.

He wanted her to ask that.

"It means you can't break it."

Margaret's eyes seemed bigger. But just as she was separating her lips to speak, somebody behind her cleared their throat.

That's when Max spotted Aunt Kasumi leaned against a wall with her arms crossed. When Margaret looked over her shoulder, she found her there too. But while Max waved at her, Margaret remained inexpressive.

"You're very far from the restroom, Maggie." Kasumi said, in a serious tone. Afterwards, she massaged her temples.

"Please, darling. Just… help me here, okay? We have to go back to the office."

And she didn't seem mad, but rather disappointed.

When it came to Aunt Kasumi, that was enough. Max knew that, and Margaret knew that too. That's why they both removed their hands from the glass, and Margaret started going away.

However, before she was too far, Max asked:

"Why are you here?"

And Margaret turned around, smiling.

"If you're not telling me, I'm not telling you." She sentenced. Then, she proceeded to imitate his voice as she said:

"It's a secret."

And for a while, obviously, it remained that way. A secret. But it wasn't long before they both knew everything they needed to know.

Margaret was integrated into the janitorial team, but, for a while, people talked about her and her powers, and Max couldn’t help but remember what Dad had told him in the bathtub, and the conversation between Evander and Kasumi.

Yet, more than scared, Max felt… something he didn't know what it was. In fact, he wasn't scared of her. More likely, a part of him felt that he knew what it was like to be her, because maybe they weren't that different after all.

People were scared of them both.

But he wasn't scared of her. No, not really.

He hoped she wasn’t scared of him either.

Maybe they could've been very good friends, even through the infrangible glass that kept him from getting pointed at, frowned upon or killed.

#renegades trilogy #marissa meyer #Dawnie writes #renegades ship week #margaret white #magpie #max everthart-westwood #the bandit

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