#I say this gently because I do understand the Morality Panick of not liking something people insist you should (or liking something people

[harbingerofwhump]

Do people realize that you can. Not enjoy rap music because you just don't generally enjoy it? Y'all know you don't have to try to construct some Progressive Leftist Justification (that really just ends up being racist) for not enjoying it right? The style can just generally... not appeal to you? And that's fine?

[chlorophyllium]

I just finished my reread of book 2 and the little tidbits about Ares are so fascinating such as:

Retrieving his flashlight first when Gregor jump through the Waterway opening because Ares thought 'it would provide some comfort' and apologizing for letting him fall so far knowing Gregor's feelingson falling and flying. I figured many bats would rush to catch their bonds first then get light but Ares does the opposite. Could be since Gregor is an Overlander and Ares knows he is much more sight dependent, could be because he knows Gregor would want look for Boots asap. Either way, the fact that comfort is one of the first things he does is telling.

Ares appearing to a panicking Gregor after hitting the bloodballs and flying him away from Regalia to his and Henry's old hideout. Again, offering comfort upfront. Definitely something he's done Henry, but with his mention of Henry not listening to him and the latter becoming "as hard as stone" after losing his parents, did his bond do the same?

Similarly, he gently reminds Gregor to eat when its just them two in the Labyrinth before they continue. Gregor assumes Boots is dead by this point and this isn't the first time Ares had a bond who lost family. There are also instances in the books where Ares can read what Gregor is thinking and provides reassurance of the situation: "The rats cannot reach her here." "You also freed me from one." "If I were Twitchtip, I would not want you to come back." He's receptive to the grief of others and seems

The supplies in the cave. We know Luxa and Aurora know where the hideout is and more than likely visit Ares there (the supplies might be for Luxa and none of this matters) but a part of me wonders if its Henry's old belongings that Ares didn't toss out after his death. Given that it has been 5-6 months after his death and there are numerous caverns around him in the area, he still returns to the one that he and Henry hid in... it wouldn't surprise me if Ares couldn't bring himself to clear out his former's bonds belongings even after the bat calls it home. He's swallowed by his grief and memories of Henry. He is physically living in it and with his comments about how Henry could have tricked them all, and the way Ares seems to spiral in his thoughts (ex when he and Gregor find the Bane and when their about to be put on trial), he's mentally trapped in his grief as well as socially trapped with the way he is treated. How is he suppose to heal? To move on? (Personally I don't think he was meant to by Regalia and Flier society which... wow)

The irony of bonding for royal blood to provide Ares protection whenever he breaks the rules is the very thing that doomed him.

Ares' little comments after an awkward situation. Making Gregor laugh by saying he's a fast learner or suggesting Gregor choose which of the three tunnels to go down AFTER they already tried the other two. He's unintentionally funny and as a kid I completely missed it but as an adult I was cackling.

Ares admitting he once thought about flying over the Waterway, a massive and near impossible feat among fliers. It fits his wild and rule breaker nature were told about but iirc we don't really see that side of Ares throughout the books. I would love to see what he was like before book 1 especially with that he wanted ROYAL protection for whatever he broke. Ares buddy what were you doing? I guess if you want protection go premium but also baby boy WHAT were you doing? (My guess is he disregarded rules that were morally wrong to him. He was let his traitorous bond die to save the Warrior, which was the right thing to do but not the socially correct thing to do as seen by his trial and isolation)

Book 2 he's quiet, hard to read, thoughtful, gloomy, and self sacrificing, especially after Luxa and Aurora's supposed death. The way he talks about his life as if it means so little is heartbreaking but understandable given the way his been treated. "Its seems a crime to be alive." "How has the world changed so much?" LIKE MY GUY I WANNA GIVE YOU A HUG, ROLL YOU INTO BAT BURRITO, AND LET YOU KNOW HOW LOVED AND WORTH YOU ARE. HE DESERVED THE WORLD SUZANNE.

Some Interesting quotes about Henry and Ares' relationship in book 2.

"Like Henry, you are under the impression that I am a servant."

This is what Ares says to Gregor when Gregor was making demands and trying to order him around. I haven't read book 1 in a while, but I can't recall any standout moments about the ways that Ares and Henry interacted. But this gives a good idea of how it tended to be between them. Henry treated Ares like a servant.

"Henry chose me because I was wild and known to disobey many of the rules of my land. I chose Henry because I was flattered and he was royal and under his protection I knew I could be absolved of many things."

And this is SUCH an interesting insight into Ares and Henry's relationship, tbh. They originally gravitated towards each other for what the other could provide. "I was flattered." That's so... I don't know, superficial? The whole thing is very transactional, as my friend @apple8ees described it.

And also: "It was not all bad. We flew well together and shared many of the same tastes."

The phrasing of 'all bad,' too. The implication that there WAS a lot of bad- likely Henry ordering Ares around like a servant.

Like, their relationship was definitely not the best. That's not to say they weren't close and didn't care about each other- of course they did. But that doesn't mean their interactions will always be healthy.

From the looks of it Henry initially wanted Ares because he was a rebel, and I wouldn't be surprised if it was also because he's very powerful, too. But none of that is about who Ares really is? What he values? Henry wanted a big strong and wild flyer to benefit himself. And Ares wanted the benefits of royal bond. I think that Henry, maybe subconsciously, cared a lot more about what Ares could give to him, than about what he could give to Ares. And it led to that imbalance.

Honestly, it had to have been doomed from the start.

(Makes me wish we had more insight into Aurora and Luxa's relationship- we know they bonded young, but what else? But I imagine it had a lot more to do with a real bond between them than what Ares and Henry had.)

So what is it like for Ares then? To be held back by his grief and the hole left behind by Henry? All while finding a new bond who, eventually, he gets truly close to. Someone who treats him as an equal and friend instead of a servant.

[babytaes]

†hê Ðêmðñ (the beauty of sin)

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: You're a guardian angel who's never been tasked with protecting anyone. Since you've been here since Creation, sitting around in heaven hasn't brought you any rewards. You were looking forward to the day when you'd be assigned a human to look after. When that day finally arrives, things take an unexpected turn when you are assigned to Heeseung, a demon from the underworld.

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: heeseung x female reader

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: angst, suggestive/smut

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 4k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: profanity, smut scenes, bad boy heeseung (lol), 

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖘: click me before reading!

➳ part of the drunk & dazed series

☆ ҉ ◢▅◣

Sin is a spiritual virus that invades the whole being. It makes you morally and spiritually weak. It’s a deadly disease that infects every part of you: your body, your mind, your emotions, and your motives—absolutely everything. Nobody has the strength on their own to overcome its power.

Nobody should ever commit sin, never giving in to their worldly and sinful impulses. It's unjust and wrong. However, what is it about sin that makes it so fascinating and enjoyable?

It gave you joy to see it in his smile or the way his hands caressed your body. What a lovely thing sin is!

Even though some sins are innocent and enjoyable, sometimes regulations are supposed to be broken. Everyone, after all, is a sinner.

“WHAT!?,?” You began to sweat as you worriedly communicated your concerns to your overseer, “You must be mistaken, High Lord.”

“I understand the protocol; angels are supposed to serve as "guardian angels" to beautiful or broken souls on Earth. You know we're expected to look after them and keep an eye on them to make sure they stay on track. With all due respect, ma'am, I don't believe I'm qualified for this position; at the very least, someone of level 10 would be ideal.”

Her cream-colored wings swept her off her feet as she chuckled and waved for you to follow her. You sighed as you flutter up and away with her, trailing behind her, feeling a twitch in yours.

As you eventually caught up to her, dodging angels left and right, you apologized to random angels in your path, uncomfortably smiled at the people you bumped into with your wings.

You retracted your wings closer to you and walked uneasily beside your overseer as you carefully stepped down on the golden road.

Before you could say anything, she quietly took your hand in hers and gently kissed it, assuring you that everything would be alright. As you approached the center of the commotion, you bit your lower lip and remained silent.

Looking around at the community, it warmed your heart to see so many people, young and old, out here. Some you've known since the beginning of time, while others were born only last week. Everyone had gathered to witness the masterpiece that would emerge in an instant.

“You know Y/N I have complete faith in you that this first expedition will be a breeze,” you smiled, looking up at her with excitement and a tinge of fear in your eyes. “We wouldn't have suggested you for the job unless we knew who you really are, and you've earned it.” Don't worry, you were expecting this; now have a look.”

With her finger pointing to the stage forward, you were treated to yet another spectacular show. They're known as the "Grand Turning" in Heaven. This is where a new or seasoned angel has completed his or her training with a human or demon and earned their proper place in the community.

It could be a badge, a ribbon, or something more unique, such as the opportunity to talk with the all-powerful, our God.

Despite the fact that you were assigned to him, you were determined to get those jobs because they were the only way for you to ever get that honor. You weren't going to allow Mr. Unperfect take away that once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Nobody could and will ever be able to make you fail this assignment; you were meticulously prepped. You were taught the correct and only way to do things, and now was your opportunity to shine. You were not going to be a Lucifer, cast from Heaven

“I'll do it,” you said to your supervisor, a smile on your face and confidence in your eyes. She turned to face you and hugged you passionately, rubbing your wings with a motherly devotion.

“I knew you could do it; now it's time to get you ready.”

---

When people have a near-death experience, they always remark that life flashes before their eyes. Unfortunately for angels, it's the contrary; when we're approached with a high-alert danger or warning, it's more of a gentle whisper in our ears. Normally more attentive while traveling to Earth.

The best place to be humans say.. What is with these fickle minded words?

You take a deep breath and turn to face your overseer, who is polishing her wings to ensure that they are kept in order. When having wings, a routine is taught from the beginning to keep them in a good up do. Nobody wants to look simple when you can look stunning.

She took your hand in hers and walked toward the end of the route, issuing some documents to the Pearl City Gate guards. You noticed the circular orb while glancing around.

"How can some humans believe in the world being flat, we literally have an air-like view. To me, it's definitely round.” She chuckled as she pinched your cheeks and turned your puzzled face to her.

“When you get down to earth, you'll see a lot of that, people with a lot of opinions. But what did you learn in your training?”

Standing up and smoothing your wings, you calmly shouted out the words as if they were written on the back of your palm.

“Although humans are the destroyers of their own precious planet, everyone's opinion matters, regardless of race, gender, or identity.”

“Well, not all,” you began scratching your head, “I've seen some harsh individuals in our study books, God should strike them down-“

“Um no ma'am, let us put it aside for the time being and focus on what needs to be done.” She started going over a list of laws and regulations for your descent to Earth. As you gave her a thumbs up, you were attentively listening and mentally bookmarking everything in their designated area.

I believe I have a good understanding of everything, and I think I am prepared.” She offered you a short hug before letting you go, showing her affection for you. You were going to miss her, despite the fact that it was a mutually-surface relationship.

“Last but not least, this ordeal will be different in that people will be able to see you. But if you have to use your wings, the lad is the only one who can see you. When you arrive, he will be waiting for you. My child, best of luck and may God bless you.”

You let go of her and moved toward the road's edge, gripping your bag as you turned to face her and waved farewell as you stepped over the brink.

“Wait a minute, what if-“

When you felt a push from behind, you tumbled off the ledge and spun around in the sky, where you saw a smiling face as you glanced up. They didn't tell you that you'd have to be pushed. As you plunged to Earth, you closed your eyes, terrified. Oh, how nice.

Screaming, you descended into the atmosphere, your narrowed eyes seeing glimpses of land here and there. Not letting up you let your wings cover your whole body as you plopped down onto soft green grass.

You peered out from your wings, gasping for air, and glanced up.

“Oh, Heavens”

His physique was slender, active, and well-groomed, with a trace of bad boy behavior in his scent. The first thing that struck your eye were the rips in his jeans. How could a man-made mistake seem to be so appealing? As you raised your eyes, you noticed tattoos splattered across his arms and up to his neck. His black velvet-like wings fluttering in the breeze, he raised his palm to his hair and stroked through the old curls, deconstructing the pattern they had once formed.

“Did you just pull a Lucifer or was this all planned?” he coughed as he put out his hand to you, taking a good look at you.

Stuttering in your words you quickly got up and patted yourself off and finally looked him in the eyes, noticing his dark eyes.

“Well, that wasn't supposed to happen, I hoped to fly down here and appear more Angel-like, but I think my overseer had other ideas.”

He said, "Ah," with a bored expression on his face.

“My name is Heeseung, and if you don't mind, I assume you don't.” I guess my name is well-known in Heaven. You're probably the fifth Angel who has appeared in the last year to “assist me.” What a load of bullshit; you can't hide what's already there, you know.”

He made a pouty look as he smirked closer to you before covering his hand with his mouth and saying, “oh forgive me, I suppose I have a potty mouth.”

Panicking at this new light, you smiled and coughed loudly and suddenly, “Before you say anything else, I'd want to inform you that I'm not like those angels we don't talk about. I have a holy standard that I adhere to.

He rushed to your face, rolling his eyes at your innocence, and murmured to you, "well see about that little Ms. Purity."

As you moved back and shook your head, spurring out prayers, you tugged the strings of your bag close to you, seeming irritated. Looking up, you noticed him hovering in mid-air with his arms crossed, waiting for you.

“Whether you're coming or not, I'm in the mood for a cup of coffee. Allow me to go fetch you one so that this whole ordeal between us may be over soon and we can both return to our respective worlds.”

You instantly snap open your wings and shot up into the sky, scoffing at his rudeness, and dash by him, racing to the left.

“It's this way, dummy,” he cackled as he immediately shot out. Embarrassed and annoyed, you flipped over to his side and flew alongside him, praying to the Lord for peace as your rage subsided.

“Lord, so help me”

---

 “So, what's on the agenda, Ms. Purity? There are a lot of things I'd want to do with you. You know, if you just ditch this whole act, we might be able to have some fun. He winked at you as he sipped his drink while peering across the table.

You shook your head and chuckled, gagging at his remark, "You must get all the girls, you appear really, what's the word, competent" I'm astonished since I assumed everyone down under was inept.”

He smirked and crossed his legs as he lay startled in his chair, cocking his head to the side. It's not that you were trying to be mean; it's just what you were taught. There are no hard feelings.

“Well, as much as I'd like to keep this delightful little date going, I have a commitment to fulfill. You know, duty calls.” You quickly got up and hurried after him, confused as to where he was going, as he shot up in the air and chuckled, waving farewell to you.

“Wait, Heeseung, you can't just go away like that. We need to figure out how I'm going to find you. You're being impolite by getting up and leaving.” You made yourself look insane since you didn't realize no one could see him. You wouldn't want to be labeled as one of these Earthlings.

You beckoned him down, mentally terrified, “Please can you just come down for a damn second.” Your jaw dropped as you hurriedly covered your mouth. Heeseung's jaw dropped when he appeared in front of you, stunned.

“Gasp, I'm hearing a term I'm sure they don't say in Heaven. Hmm, I suppose the Earth changes people.” He went closer to your ear, his warm arm bouncing on your skin as he giggled, his lips inches away from yours.

“I've already entered my phone number into your phone; you do understand what a phone is, right?” Doesn't matter,  I have to get somewhere, and you can locate me later. Okay, I'll see you later.” He swept up in the air and rushed over to the bridge as he vanished into the horizon, rushing out in a haste once more.

You sat back in the coffee chair, wiped your brow, and focused mentally and spiritually, pleading with the Lord for help and forgiveness. You had a feeling this mission was going to be a disaster.

Whining, you threw your hands in the air and sat face down on the table, groaning as you realized this trek. It's no surprise that these honors are well-deserved; it takes a lot of effort.

You cautiously lifted your head and faced the barista after hearing a soft tap on your table. She smiled at you as she set down a piece of paper. You scowled as you inspected the weird set of paper.

“What a jerk, he didn't just leave me to pay for both drinks.” With a shake of your head, you reached inside your bag and drew out a wallet. Your overseer informed you that many people like flaunting and spending their money, so she provided some for you just in case.

As you cleaned up, you began to mentally map out your route through town, mentally picturing the locations and navigating your way home. As you walked over to the cashier, you handed her some money and thanked her before heading out the door.

At the very least, you landed in a fantastic location. It was in the heart of South Korea, and the city was called Seoul, a wonderful metropolis to be sure. You were taught to master specific languages for specific tasks, so communicating wasn't a problem. Despite the fact that you were new in a strange place, you were determined to make the most of it. The first step was to return home and examine the situation.

How to manage Lee Heeseung. 

Arriving at your small abode was an adventure in itself; it didn't take long for you to connect your GPS and get going. It was actually fairly pleasant and provided a change of scenery to enjoy. It's not quite Heaven, but it's still lovely. When you finally arrive at your destination, you look up to see a little, charming apartment in front of you.

They really went all out for you, and it's very much in your style. You'd felt right at home as soon as you stepped inside, as it was more modern and sophisticated.

To be honest, you had no idea what you were doing, but it felt good to have your own little place to do anything you wanted. You could get used to this, no wonder why humans never leave their house. Who would want to leave when you have everything here. Food, entertainment, and a BALCONY!!

As you finished exploring the apartment and basked in its magnificence, you laughed to yourself as you made your way to the couch, sinking into its coziness as sleep took over your mind and body.

*Crunch, thud, bang*

As you lurched forward, you flew up your wings in defense mode, trying to understand what you'd heard.

“Who's there? I have a weapon, and I'm not afraid to use it.”

When you hear a familiar giggle, you look up and see the attractive intruder. Walking over to you and snatching the pillow from your grasp he took your hand and pulled you over to the island where he had prepared some food.

As you took it all in, you smelt familiar scents and smiled, completely forgetting about it until you were reminded again.

“Wait, what are you doing in my apartment, and how did you get in?”

He began to remove some pots and pans from the stove while he placed some food on a platter, saying, "I have my methods."

“I'm not sure what you eat up there in Heaven, but I'm guessing it's all healthy and nutritious food.” You laughed and shook your hand in disbelief while shaking your head.

“I don’t think out of all places we would be eating so strictly. It's basically whatever you can get your hands on.. It's guaranteed to be better food than what you'll find in Hell.”

Pulling the dish away from him, you began to pick at the fries, popping one into your mouth and savoring the flavor, “not bad.”

He bowed in front of you, wiped the sweets from his brow, and returned to sit next to you, grabbing a dish and feeding himself some. As the night progressed, you told him the rundown for the next three months.

“So, despite the fact that you're definitely one of the worst jerks I've ever encountered. For this to function, we'll need to create certain ground rules.” Aiming a finger between you and him. “I'm not sure whether you've ever had to do anything for anyone else in your life, but it's all about serving people around here, and that's why I accepted this assignment. Even if you don't want to help yourself, I want to help you.”

As Heeseung shuffled around in his chair, avoiding eye contact with you, the atmosphere became tense.

“Harsh, but keep going.”

Smiling you continued as you tried to wrap your head around this complex creature.

“I understand that we are supposed to protect and guide you to do good, but it appears that we have progressed far beyond that, and we need to start at the source of your problem, which is most likely your heart or mind. What's going on in both?

As his words danced across your lips, he smirked and drew you closer to him.

“Now there's a secret.” 

Smirking as your face felt warm, you cocked your head to the side and touched his shoulder before getting up and setting your dish in the sink, cleaning up as piercing eyes stabbed your back.

“I understand what you're thinking, and I've got it all under control.”

He approached you and said, "If you say so," as he put his head against your ear.

2 months later 

Everything was certainly out of hand, and he was to blame. Your strategy not only failed, but it was only a matter of time until your overseer found out. And you didn’t want to end up like the last guy tossed from Heaven.

It wasn't all that bad, but who were you kidding, it was a disaster. It wasn't a major shift; rather, it was a series of modest changes. Things like accidentally cursing or hanging out with him at ungodly hours. You convinced yourself that everything was OK.

He drew you into your room and sat you down while hovering over you, gently caressing your body and kissing you.

You smiled and drew him closer to you, wrapping your legs around his waist and bringing him down on you, closing the distance between you.

Heeseung has been on a mission to damage your "innocent demeanor" for the past two weeks. He intended to show you that it was all a charade and that no one is actually perfect. Despite not knowing what he was going to do, you were up for the challenge. That core part of you didn't take long to succumb to his immoral impulses.

What was the problem as long as you were both happy?

“Heeseung,” you say as he draws you closer to him and unclasps your bra with his free hand. As you slowly rise to assist him, you toss the material to the ground and reach for his sweatpants.

“Someone a little needy, but we are not doing that today. Today is all about pampering my lovely angel. Is it all right?”

Nodding your head, you keep an eye on him as he goes between your legs, halting at the bottom as he eyes your breast and grasps softly as your body adjusts.

“Hurry up,” you grumble as you stare at his sinister grin. As you moan, he places gentle lips along your folds, leaning down to your core. As you twitch under his touch, his finger makes a fast dive between your folds, inciting dampness.

As you whine from the pressure, your eyes flutter shut as he switches his finger out with his tongue, softly licking up your surface.

“mm, close,” you exclaim, your lips wide open as he notices your clit, tongue flicking lustfully against it. As he presses harder on your sensitive region, he laughs as you break apart under his power.

“Oh God, right there.” 

“Please don't involve Him in this.” He hits a place as your high comes crashing down on you, chuckling at your reaction. Heeseung is holding you down and watching you quiver wildly as you release juice, which causes him to swallow it before wiping his mouth. As you fall onto his body, overwhelmed and still sensitive to the sensation, he pulls you up.

He lays your exhausted body next to his and wipes any excess arousal from his mouth before kissing your lips.

You both lay in a comfortable stillness for the remainder of the night, your breathing slowly returning to normal as you sign into his arms.

“Perhaps you're right; we're all just horny, messed-up creatures; I mean, even though what we're doing is completely wrong, it was fun to break the rules. My entire life has been focused on doing the right thing and being this upstanding angel. It's fun to deviate from the norm.” As Heeseung witnessed you erupt in rage, you became agitated.

“You’re cute when you’re mad, also I told you.” You both chuckled as you pushed him to the side before coming to a halt in the middle of your conversation, looking concerned at him.

“However, I leave tomorrow and I don't think I'll be ready to see you off, and this was not in my plan.”

“Shhh, I figured it out; just stick to my plan and we'll both come out on top.”

You sat closer to him, nodding your head and clasping your hand in his as you allowed sleep to take over your body.

As you may know, angels and humans have quite distinct punishments; some humans are never punished for their wrongdoings, whereas angels' actions are usually discovered one way or another.

And you were terrified that they would find out. The person who fell from the edge was not the same person who was returning back and everyone was going to know it. Just not right now, you had to maintain your composure as you approached your overseer.

As you were greeted with the overseer and some guards, you held Heeseung by his chains and whispered something into his ear.

“I see you were having a good time?” You shook your head and looked down, worried. You looked up at her with sad eyes.

“Yes, High Lord, I am aware of my error and what needs to be done in order to be purified once more. I accept complete responsibility for this assignment, but I crack him first, and we have all the secrets we need.”

As he observed you return to the opposite side with the overseer, Heeseung's gaze shifted up in fright. Fearing for his life, he flailed his wings in an attempt to flee.

“What the hell, Y/N, I thought we were on the same team.” How could you betray me in such a way?” You walked over to his trembling body and pushed him down so you were above him, laughing loudly. You patted his shoulder as you cackled.

“And they said angels could be trustworthy. I know what I'm worth, and it has nothing to do with you. Heseeung, please accept my apologies. Get him out of here.” The guards grabbed his chains and dragged him to a chamber across the room from you.

As she began to compliment you on your efforts, the supervisor wrapped her arm around your shoulder.

“I'm proud of you, Y/N, even though you used some terrible techniques. I knew you'd be able to pull it off.”

You grinned joyously and thanked her for her faith in you as you looked up at her face. You cast another peek at Heeseung as she stepped forward, and he winked at you. Smirking before he disappeared into the room you chuckled at his behavior.

Everything was going swimmingly, and no one had a clue. I suppose taking over Heaven would be a simple task; if you can blow up the inside, everything will fall apart on its own.

"How could you hide this from all of us?" "Oh God, you underestimated me."

The Beauty of Sin.

☆ ҉ ◢▅◣

➳ Navigate to the Maze

[natsukitakama]

Fluffy alphabet (A, B, C, E, I, J, K, L, N, R, U, and W) Floch edition

Request : Could I please get fluff alphabet (season 4) Floch Forster A, B, C, E, I, J, K, L, N, R, U, and W with fem s/o please?

Author note : I’m sorry for taking so long hope you’ll enjoy this ♡

Warning : Fluffy / Spoiler from season 3 and 4 of Snk

Masterlist

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Before the Shinganshima’s event, he used to take you on a date around the city. He took advantage of his situation in the army and the fact that the survey corps were popular to go to the city. Not only he could show you off but can also act all cocky telling you story about his adventure outside the wall. He talked a lot about himself but most of the time you didn’t mind cause you were quite curious about his life as a soldier and what he saw outside the wall since you never left your « comfort » if we can say that. Now, after the Shinganshima he decided to become a Yeagarist and let’s be honest after that, much to his dismay, he doesn’t have much free time. Which mean that everytime you two could have some quality times, he spends it with you in the comfort of your house, letting you pamper him because he craves your affection. So yeah you have spent a lot of time on your house chilling around. He is very ashamed of that because he wants the best for you. He kept whispering to himself that everything is for your safety and that after reaching his goal he’ll make it up for you.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Honestly ? The way you can keep up with his shit. Floch isn’t an idiot and he knows that he can be a bother, a real dick sometimes, and the way you never were angry at him each time he was being en ass never felt to amaze him. Your calm and kind nature was something he really loves about you, the fact that he doesn’t have to be ashamed for who he is and that he can be natural around because you’ll find a way to make things right so Floch doesn’t end up having troubles. You’re his light, his arch. Now if we’re talking about physical aspect he is into your legs, there is something sexy and cute about it. The flesh, how soft it is, how they feel around his hand or against his cheeks. He is one of those leg’s simp you know ? Every aspect of your legs is attractive to him no matters if you are self-conscious about something, he loves them, deeply and won’t be afraid to put some sense into you each time you’ll say something bad about them. I’m not kidding you’ll be scolded because « your legs can hear you and they’ll feel sad » then proceeds to kiss them to reassure it that they are beautiful.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

I won’t lie he’s not in the top 3 of the best to deal with a panic attack or anything that involve him taking care of you. People might think it’s because he is being selfish as usual and wants all the attention to himself (well he kinda wants it but that’s not the real reason). To be honest he isn’t good in dealing is own insecurity, which could be seen with the way he is acting like a dick. He is not a natural dick, he is always doing it to reassure himself you know ? Like you can’t hurt me if I hurt you first. So yeah since he isn’t capable of controlling his own feelings, he is going to have a hard time dealing with your negative thought. He might even start panicking if he saw to get a huge crisis. After talking with some of his superior and his comrades from the survey corps he’ll learn one or two tricks to help you getting good and finding your breath. After some times, Floch will learn how to calm you whenever you’ll feel the need, he will also become a good reader meaning he’ll know each time you’re not feeling good. Depend on what you need to feel happy, he won’t hesitate to talk shit about his companion if it makes you laugh. It’ll take a long time but Floch would work harder to help you because he cares about you.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Mostly dominant, Floch isn’t the one to talk about his feelings or the one to follow something. I’m not saying that he got trust issues but he went through a lot and his way to cope with everything : his trauma, his fear, his nightmares, his dark thought are to be in control. He needs to be one in charge all the time. It gave him the (fake) sensation of being strong. Now he is not a dictator, if something is bothering you just tell him, I might add that he expects you to say whenever something is bothering you because he can be oblivious. In bed he might be inclined to be a switch and let you have your way with him, when it came to a relationship he kinda needs to feel like he leads, again you don’t really feel like you’re being leaded by someone it’s just the way he talks or his posture that might betray the fact that he is the dominant one. These feelings got stronger after he joined the yeagarist, since he was « close » to Eren most of them believe that he was in charge of everything with Eren so it didn’t help his need of being the leader.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

After a couple of weeks of a relationship, most of people noticed that Floch was more inclined to talk « gently » with them or at least act like he cares about their opinion. People who were close to him also underline that he tends to not be all cocky and instead was getting more and more serious. As if your relationship helped him to grow up as a man you know ? He was more aware of his environment, of his companion, his surrounding. If Erwin gives him the goal of being a good leader, you on the other around help him to be a better human in the sense that he’ll stop being mean. Well let’s be honest. It would be a hard work cause it became a part of his personality but you’re here now. As mentioned earlier, you’re kinda a light for him even more you’re like his arch, his moral guide, your job as his significant other is to tell him when he went beyond the boundaries of someone nonetheless since his attitude is something deeply written in his personality it’s a work for life.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

I’d like to say that he is not jealous at all but let’s be honest he is. Now it’s not something bad where he’ll send someone to follow you and beat up each people that share the same breath as you. But, he is kinda possessive around you and even thought he is trusting you. He can’t help but feels some dark instinct each time someone is trying to get your attention. You were supposed to be attentive to him and only him, why would you give your attention to some deep shit ? He just loves you so much you know ? Also, he is kinda aware that people talked about his back like they’re underlined the fact that you are so nice, so beautiful like you’re way out of his league. They didn’t understand what got you around Floch, to them he wasn’t that interesting and was a huge dick they pity you which bothered him. As I said before, Floch knows that he is being a dick a lot of times and well he became a little bit (a lot) insecure about your relationship and can’t help but be afraid that one day you’ll wake up and leave him for someone better than him. Someone that would provide you the love you deserve because yeah he strongly believed that he is the selfish one in the relationship which is pretty true but he is not bad for you, and has his way to show you that he loves you. You know him, and were aware that if you’re feeling like he is being an ass to you, you can tell him. So yeah maybe he’ll be clingier when you’ll face someone that Floch believe is better than him, maybe he’ll kiss you in front of them to remind them that you belong to him, maybe he’ll be mean to them but he does that because he loves you.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

He is the part of those one who kiss you like it would be their last time. Maybe it’s because he is a part of the survey corps, maybe it’s because of his nightmares or his trauma but each time Floch kiss you it’s passionate, he kisses you deeply holds both of your cheeks or put a hand on your hair the other on your waist to keep you firmly against you. He might even push you against a wall so his body could be full against you, yeah he does it everytime and each time it felt like it would be your last kiss that you’ll share together. Even though he always came back to you, he can’t help but always hold you close as if you might disappear if he doesn’t do it. He is into French kiss even during your first kiss exchange he hasn’t hesitated and put his tongue against yours to taste you because he craves for it, he craves for you. You’re like a drug to him he is addicted to you.

Your first kiss didn’t feel like one, let me explain. You were dating for two weeks and much to your surprise each time you two went on a date he never tried to kiss you even thought it was written on his face that he wanted to do it. But he didn’t because he felt like you should give him the go-ahead, so he waited again and again before you finally gave him the sign he was waiting for. As he was walking you home feeling that today again you wouldn’t exchange a kiss with him except the sweet peck on his cheeks, he was about to leave you when he felt your hand around his wrist holding it. Floch didn’t much, he turned back and without a blink of an eye his lips crashed on yours. His hands naturally found their place on your neck and waist as he was deepened the kiss. It felt as if you two used to be lover because it felt natural and so good to you.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

I wish that he was a little bit more romantic but he doesn’t so as everything he does, it’s a bit blunt. Like when he met you, instantaneous he felt like attracted to you. So when he felt like everything went smoothly between you two (you’re not trying to yell at him punch his face for being mean for no reason), he asked you to go out with him. It was a date but he didn’t present it like this just in case you saw him as a friend and not a potential lover. Those dates who weren’t a date last a couple of weeks actually, each time Floch was trying something. First he brushes his hands against yours to see if you wouldn’t flinch but seeing that you moved your hands against his give him the ego boost he needed. Then, he started to put a hand on your lower back each time you would enter a shop or anything, next Floch will wrap his arm around your waist. Basically two months later you were acting like a couple without actually saying anything, whenever you got the occasion you brought him foods for his job, you would lean against him as he was putting his arm around you. Everyone was now teasing him because he didn’t have the gut to actually confess to you even though you were acting like his damn significant other.

So one night when you two were watching the stars sharing foods you brought earlier, he just holds your hands like he used to but this time, he also put his hand on your chin to move your face so you would face him. And he will just say it looking at you straight in these eyes while you were still eating your cake. You shouldn’t chuckle but you did because obviously he couldn’t wait for you to actually swallow your cake. He thought that everything was over because you were taking time but then you give him a kiss whispering to him that you felt the same so everything went fine.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Most of the time he called you heaven because you’re like heaven for him, he doesn’t call you like that just to tease you it’s also a way of reminding you that you’re helping him so much growing as a man, you’re like his shelter now that he got you by his side he can’t picture a life without you. He tends to call you sweetie or cutie just because your cheeks got warmer and you became flustered.

There’s a particular nickname that he used only when he had to leave for a long mission, those one were he wasn’t sure to be back. During times like those, he called my love he sounds cliché I know but he called you like this each time he got the kiss of your life, both of his would hold your face as he looked at you tenderly. He will remind you that he loves you and will do everything to be back to you because he can’t live without you.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He isn’t the romantic one but he isn’t the worst you know ? He is trying okay. It’s just each time he tries something to act romanticly he had to spoil it by being cocky, teasing you until you’re a mess. And when he is trying his best to bring you something, most of the time he forgot it. I can’t even count how many flowers he got spoiled because he forgot to bring it to you. But when it’s really important like your birthday, Floch will work hard to not only bring you as much as gifts as his wallet can but also to provide you the loveliest party as possible (or date if you want it to be more private). I’ll give him 6/10 like he is not the worst but he needs to work a lot on his romantic gesture.

That’s why when he wants something to be smooth, he asked everyone to give him ideas anything that might help him to please you. He mostly asks Armin because he is a genius and always seemed to think about great idea for a date, he kinda became his ally even though he’s still bitter against him ( you know about Erwin’s case).

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

As mentioned earlier, it’ll take him time to understand you, for being able to read your properly. It’s not like he isn’t empathetic but he already struggled with his own insecurity, fear and trauma so obviously he is not the best to deal with emotion, feelings being down and everything. But if Floch feels like it’s burdening you in any way, he’ll work with you cause he can’t do it on his own. He’ll always ask you to tell him when something is wrong, to at least give him a sign when you feel like something isn’t good when you feel sad, when you are depressed. He got a list of each sign you decided to use to help him getting the signal that he has to be on your side.

After a couple of panic attack/emotional crisis, Floch would become one of the best to read you and prevent any form of bad thought. Insecurity ? Gone even though he is calling you a dumbs for thinking that you are not enough you have to admit that it’s working. Fear ? He’ll kill anyone that might put a finger on you. So I’m going to give him a 7/10 he is a good but he needs help coming from you to help you properly.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

I shouldn’t say it because it was supposed to be a secret, but he stole you cloth. Not to wear it but he is stealing everything that got your scent each time he left for a mission, because he wants to have your smell/warmth with him whenever he is far away from you. It’s silly, it’s cliché and people would make fun of him if they’ll learn about it, but he can’t sleep properly for example if doesn’t have your shirt around him. He might use your t-shirt as a teddy to hold it close to him you know ? He is pretending that you are here with him and that everything is fine. He’ll mostly take your shirt/t-shirt because it’s small and convenient for him to put on his bag. He also got on his wallet a bunch of things that is supposed to remind him of you, like your favorite flower etc. What can I say ? He is a simp.

[forever-rogue]

“we’re just…friends.” “friends don’t do this type of shit!” FRANKIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You asked for some Frankie and you get some angsty Frankie, babeyyy. Did I loosely base this off an experience in my own life? Maybe. But this one has a much better ending. Enjoy!

Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

»»————-　♡　————-««

What was supposed to be a simple shopping trip ended up being a lot more than you had bargained for. You’d gone shopping for Christmas decorations with Frankie, aka your best friend, also aka the love of your life. Except he didn’t know that, and he would never know.

Above all else, he was your best and oldest friend and you didn’t want to lose everything you had with him, and if that meant suppressing your feelings and staying quiet, then you were willing to do. You’d rather have him as just a friend, than nothing at all. And you were sure that he would never like you back. Why would he?

But as you looked around the shelves of the home goods store, chatting away excitedly as you both sipped your hot cocoa, you felt fine, everything was fine. Until he ran into her. His latest girlfriend, aka a girl you just inherently despised, but had no real reason to. She was kind, albeit not a fake way, and friendly, having been more than kind to you on the times you’d met her. She was pretty, fun, and it was easy to see why Frankie had fallen for her; she seemed to make him genuinely happy. Of course she’d chosen today to come to the store at the same time, and he’d greeted and chatted with her for a moments before turning his attention back to you.

You’d tried to pretend everything was fine, in reality it was, and nothing was changed. Something within you had snapped. It had completely broken you were suddenly heartbroken. There was something about the moment, about today, that had you realize just how much you loved him. How much your chest ached at the thought of him, and how you would never having anything more.

And maybe it was time...to let it go. You didn’t want to constantly feel like this, or harbor these jealous feelings any time he’d have a girlfriend, or more. It wasn’t fair to him, or to you. You either laid it all on the table, or you had to walk away. You just knew you couldn’t do it anymore.

“Bee?” Frankie’s soft warm voice reached your ears as you looked at the small little bee ornament displayed on the tree. It had made you smile when you’d seen it initially, especially since that been Frankie’s nickname for you since you were kids, “is everything okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you took your hand away from it and blinked a few times in order to keep your tears at bay before taking a step back. You looked at those eyes, those soft brown eyes, before making a hasty decision, “I, um, I have to go to.”

“What?” he asked, confusion visibly crossing his features, “what do you mean? We just got here and we’ve still got plans-”

“I know, I just remembered that I have to go,” you lied as you tried to offer him a small smile, “I’m so sorry, Frankie.”

“I drove,” he reminded you, “let me give you a ride to wherever you need at least.”

“No, it’s okay,” you had your back to him, a few tears spilling down your cheeks as you kept your back to him, “I’ll get an Uber or something-”

“Bee-”

“Goodbye, Frankie,” you interrupted him before he could go on, rushing out of the small shop as you started to sniffle and cry, not even bothering to hold it back anymore. You knew, the remaining logical part of you knew, that it wasn’t exactly fair to do this to him either without some sort of explanation, but you couldn’t do it. Not right now anyway....maybe one day.

»»————-　♡　————-««

One day had turned into several days and several days into weeks.

You hadn’t meant to let it get this far, but once it started you couldn’t stop it. Days were spent wallowing and crying, feeling sorry for yourself even though you had brought at least part of this yourself.

And Frankie? Poor Frankie. He was seemingly just as distraught as you were. He had called and texted nearly everyday, checking in on you, asking if you were okay, but everything went unanswered. He even came over in the evenings after work and you feigned sleeping or that you weren’t home. He even came by your office and asked about you, but you had politely declined his visit.

You were being a terrible, awful jerk and you knew it. You just couldn’t handle being around him at all right now. It was all too much and not even at the same time. But he was persistent, damn persistent and he wasn’t about to let you walk out of his life. Not without a good reason.

So one evening, after he was off work, he came straight over to your house, sitting down on the porch and waiting for you to get home. He was done waiting for answers. It had caught you so off guard that you panicked and didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t like you could just hide or run away; no, it was time to face you demons.

Swallowing thickly, you climbed out of your car and slowly made your way over to him, offering him the ghost of a smile as he looked at you with red rimmed eyes. Shit. You hadn’t meant to do this to him. He looked just as nervous as you as he clutched a small box in his large hands.

“Frankie, what are you doing here?” you attempted to side step him, but it was no use. He was on his feet in a flash and blocked your way to the door, “Frankie...”

“Why have you been ignoring me?” there was a crack and a shake to his voice as you allowed yourself to meet his eyes, “you ran out on me and then have been ignoring me for three weeks. Bee, what’s wrong? Did I do something?”

“Frankie,” you already felt the warm, familiar sting behind your eyes as you realized this was happening. It had to, after all, at one point or another. There had been no way that Frankie was going to let anything go, “please don’t do this. Not now...”

“Then when?” he asked as you stared at your feet and shrugged, “my best friend, and the best damn thing in my life just walks away and says nothing and you except me to just accept it?”

“I...we’re just friends,” you stated as he avoided looking at his eyes. If there was any time to go ahead and spill it all and pour your heart out, it was now. You took a long breath and steadied yourself, “and I don’t know if I can do that anymore...I don’t know if we can be friends anymore.”

“We’ve been friends for almost thirty years,” he let out a small, bitter laugh, “and you want to just stop? For no reason?”

“I have a reason,” you wiped away the tears that had rolled down your cheeks, warm and salty as ever, “I can’t be just friends with you, Frankie. Friends don’t do this type of shit, all the things we do. How we are, how we seem...it’s not just friends. You and I both know it, and I know you only see me as a friend. And I can’t keep doing it.”

“What do you mean we’re just friends?” he asked softly as you held up your hands in frustration, “please just say what you want to say. I-I’ve been worried sick about you for weeks, at least be honest. And if then you still decide you want nothing to do with me, I’ll respect that.”

“Frankie, I...I’m in love with you,” the words came out surprisingly easy. They’d been on the tip of your tongue, as you always seemed to dance around them, for years. And now they were out, on the line just like your heart, “and I don’t just mean I love you, but I’m in love with you. Actual love.”

“D-do you mean it?”

“Yes,” you nodded slowly, “and that’s why I had to walk away...you deserve happiness Frankie, we all do, and you seem so happy with Ashley, and she seems so kind, but I can’t help but harbor negative feelings for her. Because she has what I want...you. And it’s not fair to you or her or me to feel that way and still hang around. It’s no one’s fault, it’s just the nature of the beast. But I think it’s best if we...just didn’t hang out for a while so I can get my own feelings in check and see if I can be just friends with you.”

“I broke up with Ashley,” he admitted as your jaw dropped and you raised your eye in confusion. He nodded at the the surprise on your face, “the day after you ran out on me.”

“What? Why? You seemed so happy together...”

“She was great,” he admitted softly, “and she was very kind and understanding when I told her I couldn’t be with her anymore. She said she’d kind of felt it coming for a while.”

“Oh. Oh. Why? What happened?” you asked as he was now the one to avoid your eyes.

“Nothing happened so to speak,” he confessed, “she asked if I was in love with you and I said yes. I have been for a long time...she said it was obvious. I don’t know...it just hit me. I’d always known, but something changed that day, and I really knew. I decided it was time to tell you too. I don’t want to spend a single day without you, Honey Bee.”

“Frankie...” you looked up and saw that he was crying now too, his cheeks flushed pink as he waited for you to say something, anything. In his haste, he held up the box to you, which you slowly took and gently unwrapped. Inside was the pretty little bee ornament you’d been eyeing at the shop. You cradled it delicately in your hand as you looked up at him, regretting walking away without a word, regretting almost losing him completely, “it’s the one I was looking at it. You got it for me?”

“Of course,” he slowly reached up and put his hand on your cheek, gently stroking your soft skin, “a little bee for my sweet bee.”

“Do you mean it, Frankie?” you keened into his touch as clutched the bee to your chest, “because I don’t want you to say it unless you really mean it.”

“I do,” he promised gently, “the only thing I regret is not saying it a long time ago.”

“Me too,” you agreed, “I’m sorry for walking away like that ignoring you. I shouldn’t have just left.”

“I wouldn’t have let it go without a fight.”

“Good,” you beamed at him, “I love you, Frankie.”

“I love you, Honey Bee,” the two of you just grinned at each other like fools, “can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“May I kiss you?”

“Please.”

So he did. Finally.

Frankie finally kissed you. And it was everything and then some that you had always wanted and dreamed of.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[trashcanfanfics]

I'm loving this Val's favorite stuff. Can you do something about him drunk confessing after another breakup with Vox?

Honestly, these are making me grow a soft spot for Val, and I'm a lil mad about it cuz I used to hate him so much lol

Btw, I listened to the song "The Moth Pimp (Business as Usual)" by Chroma9 and yoooo. Super good ngl

You were walking down the hallway of the studio, you had gotten a text from one of the other actors that Val was acting unusual but everyone else was too scared to ask him what was going on. So that left you, because everyone knew he wouldn't hurt you or even get mad.

At the door to his office, there was loud music and was that the stench of alcohol? You opened the door to see your boss splayed out over his pink velvet chaise and half of the floor. Not even in the way you'd expect, his upper half was on mostly on the floor while his legs were thrown over the back with his discarded jacket. You look at his bare chest and covered legs. Actually being able to see them now and noticed that he does, in fact, wear pants. Marcene owes you twenty bucks.

"Uh, Boss?" Your voice made his head whip over towards you. The tears in his eyes made you step back out of reflex. His frown deepened.

"Y/n, am I ugly?" Jesus Christ he was drunk. Your gaze went from his position back to his face before you sighed and entered the room fully. The door had a gentle click as it closed.

"That's a matter of preference," you spoke carefully, not knowing if he'd become angry at your response. You couldn't deny that you, yourself, found Valentino attractive, but you're not going to inflate his ego more. Even if he was drunk. There's a chance that he could remember this. Valentino looked contemplative.

"Do you think I'm ugly?" Ah fuck. You sighed and made your way over to him before helping him to sit up properly.

"No." This made a drunken smile spread across his face as he leaned on you. You grunted slightly fro his weight. He wrapped all four arms around you and pulled you into his lap.

"You think I'm sexty?" His breath on your neck caused a blush to bloom across your face. He burped and the butterflies in your stomach were exchanged for disgust. You wiggled out of his grasp and picked up the empty bottles. How much did he drink?

"I never said that." You threw them in the trash before picking up his hat and placing it on his, very cluttered, desk. He really doesn't keep things clean, huh. Out of reflex, and slight nervousness with the situation, you moved the hat to the chair and began to organize the desk.

"Vox broked up with me." The statement made you look up from your task. It's understandable why he'd be drunk, then. You'd originally thought he was daydrinking again. "Said-" he hiccuped "-said that I don' love him anymore."

"Aw, well, sooner or later he'll realize that you do, don't worry." You furrowed your brows as annoyance flooded your system. Vox was such an ass to Val that you lowkey hoped they wouldn't get back together again.

"He's right, though." He put his face in his upper hands as the other two clutched at the chaise. "i don' love him anymore." You raised a brow in confusion.

"Well, good for you, that off and off again stuff is toxic anyways." You blurted it before you could stop yourself. Usually you kept your opinions about Val's relationships to yourself, but occasionally you slip up. He looked up at you with awe.

"Yeah, you're right!" He pointed at you. "He was bad for me! But you know who I think'd be good?" You went back to organizing his desk, humming in question as you finished. The hat was placed back on the desk in a way that didn't disturb the nicely stacked papers.

"Who?" You looked back to him to see him leaning over the desk, placing his lower arms on the desk, ruining your stacks, and the upper ones grabbed your face. It hurt slightly but you ignored it while looking into his solid pink eyes. You just now noticed that his shades were no where to be seen.

"You." You blinked at the word. What. He leaned in with a lovestruck look on his face. You blinked again before pulling back.

"Boss-"

"Val."

"Val, you're drunk." No matter how much you want to feel his lips on yours right now, you won't sacrifice your morals. He was drunk, not in the right headspace. "You could only be saying this because of misplaced feelings after a break up." You pushed him back, but his grip on you was firm.

"I like when you say my name. Say it again?" He leaned back in, looking at your lips. You were panicking, you can't let this go any further...Maybe if you knocked him out?

"Valentino, let go of me right now." Your voice was harsh enough to make his gaze snap back up to your eyes. He immediately let go at the stern look you gave him. "Thank you." You rubbed your sore cheeks.

"I-I'm sorry, babycakes..." Tears filled his eyes again and it felt like there was a knife twisting in your gut. He looked down at the desk and sniffed. "I just love you a lot...I've been thinking about you nonstop for months now." You stared at him.

"I think you need to take a nap, Bo-Val." You rounded the desk and grabbed his lower right hand, gently leading him back to the chaise. Genlty, you pushed him onto it and got him to lay down on his left side. The music was turned down and the trash bin was picked up from it's place by the desk to be placed next to Val's head in case he needed to throw up. Finally, you threw his coat back over him to act as a blanket. He blinked up at you with the expression of a little kid being put to bed.

"You're too good to me." He yawned and snuggled deeper into the coat. You pat his head and give his forehead a tiny kiss before you realized what you were doing. The blush from earlier made its way back and you rushed out the door to go back home and finish your day off.

~*~

Val woke with a splitting headcahe. What happened? He sat up, holding head in one hand while the other three looked for his phone. Foggy memories swirled in his mind. Y/n coming in and straightening up his desk, their face close to his, his confession. His eyes flew open.

Oh fuck.

[zevexsii]

breaking up w the idv boys 😳 i’m craving sadness (preferably norton, luca, andrew, antonio and joseph?) (i understand if you can’t do them all! ty either way)

a/n: heya nonnie! you really chose violence this time, huh. unfortunately, i had to cut luca and antonio, but i’m thinking about writing theirs soon! in the meantime, i hope you’re pleased with these.

cw: mentions of violence and a hint at alcoholism under the cut

breaking up with andrew, norton, and joseph (gn s/o)

andrew kreiss

andrew can sense the seemingly microscopic changes in your behavior long before you begin to even notice exhibiting them. by the time you work up the guts to tell him how you feel, he’s already drawn away again. andrew’s side of the bed is often empty at night- well, not any more than it used to be, but these days his absence is… colder. there is no hope for the moment he returns to your loving embrace, the warmth and safety have bled from those heavy covers and soft pillows. now, there is only the heavy puddle of apprehension and guilt that grows deeper with every step in the direction of that room.

he knew it would happen, he really did. you’d learn to see him as a monster, like everyone else. andrew blames himself. for being who he is or for tricking you into loving him, he can’t quite tell. somewhere, there is anger. it bubbles uncomfortably, festering in the silence. it will never boil over in front of you, you’ve lost the privilege to understand, even if you wanted to. 

when the tension is too much to bear, you’re the one to let him down, as gently as gentle can be. he tries not to open up in front of you while you explain that things… just aren’t working between the two of you. his fists clench, and his gaze is practically burning holes through his shoes. blood leaks from the place where he’s bitten his bottom lip painfully hard, attempting to lock down all of the horrible, horrible feelings that threaten to erupt out of his control and where everyone can see them.

whatever you do, don’t say that you loved him. the tension- all of those ugly, angry, desperate feelings build in his chest until it feels like he’s going to explode from the pressure. you loved him, but you don’t now? what did he do? how did he ruin it? how did he completely fuck it all up? he knows he did something, he just has to figure out what. maybe then you’ll love him again.  

if you ignore the shake in his shoulders and continue to go on, andrew won’t be able to contain his thoughts any longer. he’ll burst into tears or finally snap at you to stop talking, please, please, just stop, i can’t take it any longer, just say you hate me, spit it out, go, go, go, GO!

andrew is on his hands and knees, pale hands tearing at his paler hair. he’s obviously not in a state to talk, so you listen when he tells you to leave amidst unintelligible mumbles.

when he watches you go, he finally understands that he never deserved this love after all. 

oh, how quickly paradise sours. 

norton campbell

norton notices too. he isn’t stupid. he knows you’re drifting farther and farther away from him. at first he thinks that it’s just his anxiety acting up- you’re not trying to avoid him, right? you’re not spending more time with naib and the other guys to hurt him, you would never do that on purpose. you know how nervous that makes him feel. 

but it doesn’t stop. you don’t curl up to norton under soft sheets and gentle moonlight and whisper that you love him. the old reassurances are growing stale in your absence, replaced by a tightness in nortnon’s chest that grows every day. 

it doesn’t take long for norton to quit reaching out to you. he’s slipped back into his own depressive state, desperately trying to numb out the ache you leave behind. your relationship has ended long before either of you says anything. 

to say that norton’s pissed would be an understatement. he’s mad at himself, mad at you, mad at the world. mainly mad at himself. this wouldn’t be happening if he wasn’t so goddamn complicated. maybe if he wasn’t such a shitty, greedy monster you could still love him. it didn’t matter. there was too much blood on his hands for anyone to love him, let alone consider him deserving of that love.

that rage burns hot in his soul, the same thoughts turning over and over, filling every one of his waking moments. it’s only cold when you face it because you’ve been shut out. he feels betrayed that you don’t trust him enough to take it up with him here and now, he thinks that it’ll hurt less to lose you like that. he’s wrong.

during the final discussion, norton’s barely responsive. reach for his hand and he jerks away as if he’s been burned. don’t touch him.

do your best to understand that you’ve been rejected permanently. you had your chance. now, norton can’t even stand to be in the same room as you, even going as far to have morality points docked for missing matches. his absence is filled with the lingering scent of pine and a whiff of whiskey so strong that it hits like a punch to the gut. 

he wishes you’d been straight up with him. maybe if you’d said it right off the bat, things could be different. but then again, it serves him right for being so difficult. 

joseph desaulniers

joseph is… difficult. he’s already lost what he considered to be the biggest part of himself, and he’ll be damned if he’s going to let that happen again. he has quite the arrogant streak, so he’s not prone to begging for forgiveness or anything of that sort right off the bat. 

what he will do, however, is sit you down for a long chat, like adults. it goes well, as long as the both of you are able to keep your emotions in check. beneath the surface, joseph is in shambles, desperate to keep you by his side. he’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy, and he does his best to convey that. 

when you’re still insistent upon leaving, joseph lashes out, interrupting you with a firm “NO!”. the look of fear on your face as you stumble back melts his momentary anger into a waterfall of panicked horror. this is when he begs you not to go- it isn’t fucking pretty, either. 

joseph ugly cries. a lot. he shrinks in on himself as he sobs; it’s like watching a train wreck, and you don’t know whether to stay and listen to the choking breaths or leave him to his misery. regardless, the last words joseph desaulniers says to you are incoherent apologies and whimpers for you to stay.

he isn’t the helpless, begging, wreck you saw forever, though. joseph has deemed you unworthy of his affections as a result of this… betrayal. you’re ignored outside of matches and targeted to hell and back within, doing his damndest to leave you to bleed out. 

it’s only fair after what you made him suffer through, after all. 

[eliemo]

The Worst Thing in the World

Summary: Everyone knows Virgil needs to be handled a little different. He might not like it, but that’s the way it is, and living with the light sides won’t change that. After all, it’s common sense. Right? 

Notes: So this is a lot longer and sadder than I planned on but i tend to get carried away. All main 6 sides are sympathetic here. 

TWs: Talk of physical violence, implied abuse (past) Sympathetic/morally gray Remus and Janus but Unsympathetic unnamed characters 

Part Two: Getting There

Virgil paused outside the closed door, holding his breath and listening, ensuring everything was silent for what had to be the hundredth time. 

It had taken him an embarrassingly long time to work up the courage to even make it down the hall. 

But everything was quiet. Logan was with Thomas working on the schedule for the week and should be occupied for a while. It was fine. Virgil could slip in and out and no one would ever know. 

He really shouldn’t be pushing his luck like this. They’d been so...so ridiculously nice to him since he’d tried to duck out, and it had been everything he’d wanted for longer than he knew how to say. 

They were welcoming, understanding, and patient. And most of the time, he was able to convince himself it was genuine. That they were all trying. 

And yeah, he knew it wouldn’t always be this good. He was still getting used to all of this, to being a part of things, so they were cutting him some slack. Letting him adjust. Giving him time to get comfortable. 

Honestly, at times it was a bit painfully obvious how hard they were trying, especially considering how far from perfect he’d been despite his best efforts. 

They’d let far too many things go in favor of getting Virgil to relax. Things that never would slide if he’d been around longer. 

 He’d put a clean glass in the wrong cabinet after his first dinner with the light sides, and Patton had only smiled, quickly corrected him, and moved on. 

He’d accidentally spilled his drink on the table, and Roman had just shut down his string of prepared apologies with an almost odd smile before actually offering to clean it up himself. 

(Virgil had, of course, shut the offer down. He knew what they were doing, pretending his mistakes could be overlooked, but it didn’t mean he was useless. He was still trying to be good)

Virgil had even bumped right into Logan the other day, moving too fast through the darkened hallway in his haste to get to his room, causing the logical side to stumble and drop some papers he’d been holding. Virgil hadn’t even gotten a chance to open his mouth before Logan had gracefully picked up the papers, gently told Virgil to slow down, and continued on his way. 

It was...really kind of sweet, once he realized what they were doing. They knew he was wary, knew he wanted this so badly. So they were giving him extra chances, careful to be gentle as he settled in, not wanting him to duck out again. 

But now, weeks later, things had been changing. Not in a bad way, of course. Far from it. Things were just...more comfortable. More familiar. He was actually starting to feel like a part of their family, like maybe he could actually belong, and the others seemed to actually agree, gradually relaxing in his presence. 

Of course, it also meant all those extra chances wouldn’t be handed out freely anymore. He couldn’t expect to get away with things so easily now that he was settled in. 

Which was why he really shouldn’t be sneaking into Logan’s room. 

He was just...he needed something to do. His anxiety had been through the roof since he’d woken up, making him antsy and restless, and with the others busy all day he hadn’t had an outlet since breakfast. 

He’d noticed Logan had been lost in a book for the past few days, rambling on about it a bit once he was finished that morning, and while Virgil couldn’t exactly remember any details, something about the title and general idea had piqued his interest. Or maybe he was just desperate at this point. 

It had been a while since he’d been able to get into a good book, but it usually did help him calm down. 

And of course he could just ask Logan but...he could all too easily picture the logical side mocking the request or turning him down without question, and while Virgil knew it was unrealistic, he couldn’t muster up the courage. 

But it was fine. He knew what the cover looked like, he’d find the book, read it alone in his room, and return it when he got the chance. 

Easy. 

Except...well, that thought went right out the window as soon as he actually stepped inside. In hindsight, he should have seen it coming with how much Logan valued literature. 

He just hadn’t expected Logan’s bookshelf to be so big. 

Jesus, how many books could a guy even read? Logan barely even had any free time as it was. His library took up an entire wall, floor to ceiling, and Virgil didn’t think he’d ever seen so many books in his entire life. It was like something out of the fantasy stories Logan liked to deny enjoying. 

Virgil knew he should turn back. He was still trespassing, and there was no way he’d find the specific book he was looking for in the limited time he had. 

But...maybe the specific book didn’t even matter. He could find something to read, maybe even a few, just to keep him occupied until Logan was distracted in a few days and he could return them. 

He carefully shut the door behind him, waiting a moment like Logan would pop up at any moment, and carefully approached the shelf.

They were all clearly meticulously organized, first by genre, then author in alphabetical order, and Virgil wondered how long it had taken Logan to do. 

He scanned the genres: fiction, nonfiction, historical fiction, sci-fi, textbooks, articles…

There was a brief moment of panic as he ran his finger along some of the book’s spines, frantically wondering if he would even be able to put it back in the right place, and what Logan would do if he found out Virgil had stolen-- 

“Greetings, Virgil.” 

Virgil jumped so hard his shoulder slammed into the edge of the shelf, fear and realization hitting full force as two books toppled over and fell to the ground, leaving behind silence louder than a gunshot. 

Virgil was frozen like a deer in headlights, gaze locked on Logan who was giving the fallen books a quizzical look. 

“Apologies for startling you,” he said, which was not how Virgil was expecting this to start, but it was almost worse than the anger he knew was coming. “I hadn’t expected you to be in here.” 

Virgil tried not to flinch, legs feeling like jello, panicked mind running through endless possibilities of how this was going to go. He’d seen Logan angry, of course, heard him yell, seen him lose himself to frustrated rants. 

It was impossible to know for sure how Logan would handle this, though. Handle him. He would want to discover the best method for a lasting impression, right? He’d probably been waiting to experiment different responses. 

“Virgil?”

“Sorry,” Virgil said quickly, realizing he’d gone silent. “Sorry, I wasn’t...um, I wasn’t stealing. I-I know how it looks but I promise I was gonna bring them back I was just...I-I knew you were busy so…” 

He trailed off, heart sinking when it occurred to him just how guilty he sounded. He was a thief whether he was going to return them or not, and here he was, babbling like a scared child in front of the evidence. 

He swallowed, knowing there was no way out of it. He shouldn’t be trying to make excuses. “S-sorry.” 

He couldn’t meet Logan’s eyes, but he saw the logical side take a cautious step forward. “You were...oh, the books. Virgil, if you were interested in borrowing some reading material you could have simply asked.” 

Virgil did flinch this time, the reminder like a punch to the gut. God, why couldn’t he have just asked. A few seconds of anxiety and a bit of awkwardness would have been worth avoiding this. 

What the hell was wrong with him? How could he sneak around and steal from the people he tried so hard to earn the trust of? 

“I...I know,” he managed. “I just...sorry. I shouldn’t have, um, yeah. I know I shouldn’t have snuck in.” 

“Oh, it’s quite alright,” Logan said, the blood rushing to Virgil’s ears as he came closer, voice nearly drowned out by his own racing heart. “It can hardly be considered sneaking- you do live here. Besides, I’ve read most of these already so you are welcome to--” 

At the moment, all Virgil registered was Logan��s presence now beside him, and the hand moving forward just in the corner of his vision. 

He was moving before he had the chance to even think about it, crumpling to the ground out of Logan’s reach, hands moving to protect his face, hunching his shoulders and waiting for the blow. 

The blow that...that didn’t come. 

“Virgil.” 

Virgil flinched at his voice, biting his tongue to keep from whimpering. He could feel Logan standing above him, annoyed even more now, no doubt. What was he waiting for? 

“Virgil,” he said again, softer this time. “Will you look at me, please?” 

Oh. Oh, of course. Logan wouldn’t want to punish Virgil if he wasn’t sure the anxious side was even aware enough to understand. He wanted Virgil to see what he deserved.

He got that. He understood. 

So he nodded, hating how hard it was, digging his nails into his palm when he felt himself growing dangerously close to hyperventilating. He wouldn’t let himself fall under a panic attack. He wouldn’t hurt Thomas because of this. 

Virgil slowly raised his head, realizing idly that he was shaking. His throat felt tight, eyes burning, and Virgil kind of wished he could just hit himself. 

God, what was wrong with him? He wasn’t going to cry. He couldn’t. He’d known what he was doing, knew all too well what would happen if he fucked it up, and he had (of course he had). 

He deserved this. It was fine. 

He was, however, mildly surprised to find Logan lowered to his level, the logical side crouched down on the balls of his feet, watching Virgil with an almost worried frown. 

“Take some deep breaths, please,” he said. “I was only going to help you pick the books up off the floor. I apologize if I moved too quickly.” 

Virgil shook his head, clenching his jaw to keep the teas at bay, not even sure how he was supposed to respond to that. Why the hell was Logan apologizing? 

“It’s...it’s whatever,” he managed. “Sorry for, uh, you know. F-freaking out like...like that.” 

“It’s quite alright.”

Virgil took a shaky breath, realizing Logan’s silence was probably him waiting to make sure he wasn’t about to send Virgil over the edge in any way that could affect Thomas.

His heart was in no way slowing, dread and apprehension rising unbearably but...but the waiting was only going to make it worse, the anticipation sickening. Best to get it over with. 

“Alright,” he said, almost impressed with how steady his voice came out. “I’m ready.” 

Virgil expected something to happen right then and there. He was less than prepared for the hesitation followed by...nothing? 

“Ready?” Logan echoed. “Ready for...what?” 

Virgil forced himself the shrug, still not able to quite reach Logan’s eyes, struggling to maintain nonchalance he didn’t feel in the slightest.

“I don’t know,” he muttered. “However, uh...however you wanted to do it, I guess. Whatever you’re gonna do.” 

A beat of silence and Virgil remained tense, bracing himself, willing himself to relax and take it. But all that happened was Logan awkwardly clearing his throat, leaning back on his heels. 

“Well,” he said. “I...had only planned on replacing the fallen books and assisting you in picking out some things to read.” 

Virgil nodded, blinking furiously to push back tears fighting to break through. “Ok? Uh, you mean...before or-or after?” 

“I’m...I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Logan admitted, incredibly out of character. “Have I missed something? What...exactly do you believe is happening?” 

Virgil wasn't exactly sure why that mattered. Was this...was this part of it? Making sure he understood? 

“Uhm, I-I broke into your room? I mean...I know I shouldn’t have taken your stuff without asking. I know...I know that’s not ok. I’m sorry.” 

He saw Logan tilt his head slightly, frown deepening. “It really is not an issue, Virgil. My books aren’t exactly locked away. I would only prefer you ask next time so I do not end up startling you, but you’re reacting as if I--” 

He stopped himself, and Virgil saw the moment realization dawned, something in Logan’s expression hardening. 

Oh. Of course. Logan hadn’t been sure Virgil would know something like this was coming. 

But he did, of course. He understood, as much as he hated it. He was anxiety, there wasn’t any other way to handle him. There wasn’t a choice. 

“Ah,” Logan said, softer than before. “I see.” 

Virgil nodded again, heart still racing so fast he thought Logan might be able to hear it, glad that now they could at least get it over with. 

But Logan still wasn’t moving, still talking in that achingly gentle voice. “Virgil, I have no intention of harming you in any way. I’m not even remotely upset with you.” 

And that...that didn’t make any sense. Virgil had literally just gone into someone else’s room without permission, and Logan had just said he’d prefer to be asked so why--?

Unless...unless he was being given another chance. Again. Another chance he didn’t deserve in favor of over the top friendliness. 

“Don’t,” he said, before he could even consider stopping himself. “Don’t keep doing this, Logan, please I...it’s ok, you guys don’t have to keep pretending. I know you’re angry, I know--” 

“I’m not angry,” Logan interrupted, firm but somehow still gentle, and Virgil shrank back. “I believe we have a larger issue to discuss as a group but for now please understand that I am not angry with you. And even if I was, I would never intentionally bring you any harm. I know for a fact the others would not either.” 

Virgil shook his head, hating all of this, hating feeling small and pitied, hated delaying the inevitable like things could work any other way. 

He hated the treacherous, nagging hope in his chest. 

“But they will,” he insisted. “You all will, I know you're just...waiting to make sure I won’t leave again but I won’t. I know it's how it works, ok? It’s fine.” 

The lie tasted like acid on his tongue. But some of it was true, at least. He wouldn’t try to leave again. He was finally feeling like a part of things. And if he was good, well...maybe that could last. 

Logan was silent for a long moment, and Virgil was just beginning to think he’d finally managed to convince him to set the pity aside when he was speaking again.

“Virgil, do you think you could accompany me to the commons? I believe it is imperative to discuss this with the others.” 

Virgil froze, realizing he may have just made a simple situation worse by raising his voice. Did Logan really need to get everyone? It was bad enough that just Logan was upset with him but all of them...

But he knew better than to risk any further anger by arguing. And Logan was carefully offering a hand, palm up, no sudden movements or pain when Virgil hesitantly took it and was helped to his feet, so maybe...maybe Logan wasn’t actually angry. 

Not right now, at least. 

Logan led them down the hallway to the living room, Virgil unable to stop his trembling the entire time, legs a bit unsteady and weak. He almost wished the short walk took longer, dread building up in his gut the closer he got like a man being led to the gallows. 

He had to remind himself to breathe when he saw both Patton and Roman already there, lounging casually, all smiles amid easy conversation. 

Logan cleared his throat, Virgil left to shift awkwardly beside him, the other two sides immediately glancing up with bright, welcoming smiles. 

Virgil felt guilt twist in his gut at having to ruin that. 

“I believe,” Logan started. “That we need to have a...family meeting, as Patton might call it. There’s been a bit of a miscommunication that needs clearing up.” 

“Everything alright?” Roman asked as Patton, cheerful as ever, waved them both over. Logan didn’t answer, and Virgil was too busy staring at the ground to think of a reply. 

He ended up being seated on the couch beside Roman, Patton sitting across from him and Logan standing at the arm of the couch. For a moment nobody spoke, Roman and Patton clearly at a loss. 

“Virgil,” Logan prompted. “Would you mind telling the others what happened from your point of view?” 

Virgil’s eyes widened, head snapping up to look at Logan with something almost like betrayal, and any hope he’d had that this was going to be forgiven without consequences suddenly vanished. 

But Logan was quick to reassure him, hand moving to rest against Virgil’s clenched fist. “I assure you, nothing about my previous statements will change. I only want to ensure they have all the context.” 

Virgil shakily nodded, like he had any choice in the matter, trying not to wince when his voice came out small and breathy when he finally spoke. 

“I...I went into Logan’s room,” he admitted, waiting for yelling that never came. “While he was with Thomas. I-I was looking for something to read but-but I was going to give it back, I promise, I wasn’t stealing I was just too anxious to ask, so I--” 

“Wait,” Roman interjected, curiosity turning to something close to amusement. “That’s all you did? I steal from Logan all the time!” 

Logan blinked. “You what?” 

“Kiddos,” Patton chided, unable to help the small smile on his lips. “Now we usually don’t go into people’s rooms without asking but I’m sure Logan understood. What’s this all about?” 

Virgil suddenly had absolutely no idea how to respond, this entire conversation now taking a much different turn than he’d expected. 

What the hell was happening? Was this...part of it? It sure felt like he was being punished, but Patton’s smile was as genuine as ever. 

Logan leaned forward, furrowing his brow. 

“Virgil can you tell us what you believe is going to happen to you? What you thought was happening when I found you?” 

Virgil, far too lost to do anything but comply blindly, couldn’t understand why Patton and Roman suddenly looked so confused. 

“I was...I was going to be punished, right?” He didn’t understand the purpose of making him explain something everyone already knew. “I mean, Logan said he wasn’t mad so I guess I’m getting another chance but any other time I would’ve--” 

“Wait a minute, what?” It was Roman’s turn to sound baffled, all his attention now focused solely on Virgil. “Punished? What do you mean, like- like grounding you? You aren’t a child, Virge.” 

“I do not think that’s what he meant.” 

“But he...Logan, he--” 

“Virgil believed,” Logan cut him off, sounding more hesitant than Virgil had ever heard him. “That some type of...physical punishment was inevitable. At least, that is what I gathered.”  

“You think we’re going to hit you?” Patton’s voice, verging on frantic, easily overpowered the others. “Over this? Over anything?” 

Virgil flinched back against the couch, desperately trying to figure out what he’d done wrong, how he’d managed to make this so much worse than it was just five minutes ago. 

“I don’t...I'm sorry?” 

“We’re not going to punish you, kiddo,” he said, the word ‘punish’ almost spat out like something sour. “We’d never do that to you! Never.” 

And oh, that was Patton, trying so hard to be kind, even when he was so visibly furious. Looking out for all of them to the end. Careful not to let Virgil’s emotions affect Thomas. 

“You guys don’t have to keep doing this.” 

Patton blinked, trying and failing to get Virgil to meet his eyes. “Keep doing what, kiddo?” 

“I’m not gonna duck out again,” he said, the smile he offered meant to be reassuring but he was certain it was wobbly and frail. “I-I like it here. With you guys. You don’t need to keep...cutting me all this slack. I know I keep messing up and I know if this is going to...work I have to be--” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

Roman’s language wasn’t even corrected, Patton hardly acknowledging the outburst at all, but the moral side looked somehow just as furious. 

And there it was, genuine fear and panic returning with a vengeance, the sudden knowledge that he’d probably done irreversible damage in an effort to reassure them. 

“Kiddo you...what is it that you think you’ve done wrong? You’re not...oh my god, you’re not talking about the little things, are you? Spills or- or misplacing something or...or…” 

“I- yeah?” Because what else would he be talking about? “I’ve been...I’ve been trying to be good, so I-I don’t think I’ve done anything else to--” 

“Is that how you think we handle things?” Roman was rigid beside him, his fury overwhelming, and Virgil hoped one of them would hurry up and just knock him unconscious. “So, what? If Logan drops something am I just supposed to hit him?” 

“Roman,” Logan said, sounding oddly choked. “Please.” 

And oh. Oh. The realization hit like a punch to the gut, and Virgil realized all at once why they were so upset with him. He hadn’t done anything wrong, it was just a stupid misunderstanding. 

Oh, god. 

“No!” He insisted, voice a little stronger in his desperation for them to understand their mistake. “No, of course not! That’s not...guys, that's not what I meant.” 

The tension in the room dropped a bit, Prince relaxing just slightly, but three pairs of eyes were still watching, painfully concerned. 

“Sorry, I’m so sorry I didn’t realize you thought that,” Virgil continued, a little lightheaded. “Not you guys, never you guys. Obviously not, you all wouldn’t...you shouldn’t be punished like that. Ever. I promise I was just talking about me.” 

He expected relief, understanding, and hopefully to just get this whole thing over with so they could hurry up and go back to normal. 

But apparently he’d only managed to make everyone even more distressed. Logan and Roman’s eyes had gone wide and Patton...Patton had tears streaming down his face. 

“Why would you think that?” It was quiet, barely a whisper, but Virgil had never heard Patton sound so furious, so cold and lifeless. 

“I...I don’t know why you’re--” 

“Virgil why would you think that?” Patton was standing now, taking a step away from the couch with a hand moving to cover his mouth. Logan reached for his shoulder, only to be quickly shrugged off. 

“Patton, please attempt to calm down.” 

“But he...he said...why, Virge? Why just you?” 

Virgil blinked, fighting to swallow past the lump in his throat, still hopelessly lost to what he’d managed to do wrong. Did they...not know? Even Logan? Wasn’t it just...common sense? 

“It’s...because it’s me?” he offered weakly. “I-I’m anxiety. I tend to- to mess things up, guys. I have to be, you know, dealt with differently so it doesn't affect Thomas as much, right?”

He was met only with deafening silence, before Logan cleared his throat, looking for once like he wasn’t entirely sure what he should be saying. 

“That hardly seems logical,” he said, no malice behind it. “How would punishing you more severely do anything but succeed in making your mental state worse?” 

“I...I don’t know. But it works. It makes me more...cautious. You guys haven’t really had to deal with me and my fuck ups before but now that I’m here you’ll have to...I just uh, figured you knew this, I guess. I thought everyone did.” 

“No,” Roman said, hardly audible at all. “We didn’t.” 

Oh. Well...at least it was out now. Virgil may not like it, but he knew getting hurt sometimes was necessary. If it made their lives better, it was worth it in the long run. 

But still…

The thought that if he’d only known, realized sooner that their willingness to let things go and love him unconditionally really was genuine, he could have maybe lived without the fear of punishment for the first time in so long. 

So much for that. All he’d done now was manage to make them angry, and he honestly wasn’t even sure what he’d done to make them all so upset.  

“Who told you that?” Roman asked, Virgil wincing despite himself. “Was it...if it was my brother--” 

“It wasn’t,” Virgil said, not really sure if that was the answer Roman wanted, but it was the truth. Remus and Janus had never been the ones to use any sort of physical violence on him, though Virgil never had any doubt that they could. “It was the others. I...they told me...I really thought you guys knew.” 

Now, looking at it from a suddenly concerning perspective, he wasn’t even sure Remus or Janus had known. 

“Sorry,” Virgil said to the silence, not even sure why anymore. “It wasn’t always that bad. That’s why I asked Logan, I wasn’t sure how you guys...uh, planned on doing it but apparently you didn’t even know you had to so we can--” 

And suddenly Patton was gone, stalking through the kitchen doorway, practically leaving behind a visible trail of utter fury as he went, and Logan was following with one last worried glance over his shoulder. 

Oh god, they were both mad. He’d managed to upset everyone, ruin everything in one conversation, and he couldn’t even apologize properly because he still didn’t know what he’d done wrong. 

He’d just been trying to tell them it was ok, that there was no other way to deal with him, that it really wasn’t that big of a deal. He hated it, sure. It terrified him. He wanted so badly for it to stop but it couldn’t, it…

It couldn’t. Could it? 

He felt Roman shift on the couch, probably to hurry and follow the others into the kitchen to get away from the mess on the couch they’d accidentally welcomed into their family. 

Before he could stop himself Virgil was reaching forward, grabbing Roman’s sleeve with a weak, trembling hand. 

“Please.” And there was absolutely no point in trying to hide the unsteady wobble of his voice. “Will you...I-I just don’t know what I did wrong.” 

“Oh, Virgil.” 

When Prince moved, there was a split second of blind panic where Virgil thought he was being attacked. But it faded as soon as he registered strong arms around him, pulling him against Roman’s chest, and Virgil immediately burst into tears. 

Roman was shushing him gently, holding him tight but somehow not uncomfortably confining, running his fingers through Virgil’s hair as he muttered quiet reassurances. 

Virgil could only sob into his chest, overtaken by hiccuping gasps that left him dizzy and weak and unable to stop. 

And yet he was distantly aware that through his tears he hadn’t stopped his string of endless apologies, the desperate words falling without his permission. 

“You’re alright, darling,” Roman said, impossibly soft. “You’re alright. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“I-I ma-made him mad,” he insisted, breath catching on nearly every word as he tried in vain to calm down enough to speak properly. “Patton, I-I...h-he was mad, he’s upset and he’s...he’ll--” 

“Patton isn’t angry,” Roman said. “He’s just a little upset. But not at you! You haven’t done anything.” 

“But I…” he paused, aware enough to consider the words before he said them, how utterly unfair and selfish they were. But maybe…

“I don’t want you guys to hurt me.” 

“We would never,” Roman said, holding tighter without hesitation. “I know you won’t believe this right away, and you’ll need to hear it from the others too, but just listen to me for now, ok?” 

Roman pulled back, but only slightly. Virgil could still feel the Prince's heart beneath his own shaking fingers, and the creative side carefully cupped Virgil’s face in his hands. 

“Nobody will ever hurt you again, Virgil. Nobody. I know we’ve only recently become friends, but I swear to you, for the rest of your life, you never have to be afraid of that again. Not from me, not from the others. Not from anyone.” 

Virgil struggled to breathe, chest aching, lungs screaming for air, but the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. “But they...you have to th-they said--” 

“They were lying,” Princey said, with so much venom Virgil had to forcibly remind himself that Roman wasn’t angry with him. “You heard Logan, it doesn’t make sense. No one should...you didn’t deserve that, Virge.” 

But...but he’d...all this time he’d just…

“Patton will you please--” 

“No, Logan! I can’t I- did you hear him?” 

Patton and Logan were still in the next room over, and Virgil could now just make out the two of them standing at the threshold. He forced himself not to whimper at the obvious anger that came from both of them, but didn’t stop himself from clutching at Roman tighter, beyond grateful when Princey did the same. 

“I did,” Logan said. “I was standing right there. But Patton--” 

“How could they…god, how could they just--?” 

“Patton.” Logan hadn’t yelled, not exactly, but it was loud and stern enough to quiet the other’s rant. “I know. I understand that you’re upset- we all are. But right now Virgil thinks you’re upset with him.” 

Virgil’s breath hitched in the sudden silence that followed, doing his best to focus instead on Roman’s breathing, feeling the Prince move to rub along Virgil’s back, still hushing and whispering quiet reassurances. 

He cringed when he heard a tiny gasp followed quickly by two pairs of footsteps making their way towards the couch, and he wondered just how far Roman would have to go to keep his promise. 

“Oh, baby I’m so sorry.” That was Patton’s voice right above him, soft and sad and...and no longer quite so angry. “Honey...can you look at me please?” 

Virgil tensed, reluctantly moving his head away from Roman’s chest, face burning as he let the others see his tear stained face, heart clenching when he realized Patton wasn’t much better off.  

“Sorry,” Virgil whispered, guided more on frantic instinct than anything else. “Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Patton reached forward, slow and nonthreatening, lacing his fingers with Virgil’s. “I’m sorry. I’m not angry with you, kiddo. Nobody’s gonna hurt you. We would never do that.” 

And god, Virgil wanted so badly to believe that, to hold onto every word, every sympathetic gaze, everything that was so clearly real love rather than pity and never let it go. 

He wanted to feel safe with them. He wanted it more than anything. 

But...but they had all been angry. He’d seen it just moments ago, heard the unmistakable fury in their voices. 

And maybe he’d spoken aloud without realizing, or maybe Logan was just exceptionally good at reading him, because suddenly the logical side was crouched beside Patton, carefully meeting Virgil’s watery eyes. 

“We were not angry at you,” he said slowly. “We’re only angry at whoever thought it was alright to hurt you. Who made you think you could ever deserve it.” 

 “But I…” he didn’t know why he was arguing, why he was frantically searching for reasons to destroy something he wanted to desperately. He settled for the only reason he’d ever really been given. “I’m anxiety.” 

“You do represent Thomas’s fears, yes,” Logan said. “As well as many other fundamental functions.”  

“That doesn’t make you bad, kiddo,” Patton chimed in.  “We love you. All of you. We’re all gonna mess up sometimes, and that’s ok. Mistakes are part of being human.” 

“Well technically we are not human,” Logan pointed out, earning an exasperated sigh from Roman. “But Patton’s point still stands. Each and every one of us will make mistakes. That is, of course, why we have each other. Not to punish, but to assist each other.” 

And that...wow, that sounded good. Impossibly good. God, how did he manage to surround himself with the kindest people in the universe? 

“But what if I…” he swallowed, trying to figure out how to phrase his worries. “If I do something wrong, like...like really bad--” 

“Then we will discuss it as a group,” Logan said. “And work together to determine what happened and how to fix it without any lasting negative effects. Not just for Thomas, but for all of us.” 

“Indeed!” Roman agreed with his usual flair, reaching around to lightly squeeze Patton and Virgil’s intertwined fingers. “And if any of the others attempt to bring you harm again, they’ll have to get through me first!” 

“All of us,” Patton said, wiping his eyes with his free hand and flashing Princey a grateful smile. “We won’t let that happen to you again.” 

Virgil shrugged, overwhelmed, aware the gesture did nothing to mask the emotion in his eyes. “It’s...it’s really ok, you guys. They aren’t like you, they were just...doing what they thought they had to.” 

Logan frowned, averting his gaze. “Unlikely.” 

“That doesn’t make it ok,” Patton said before Virgil could question exactly what that meant. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “And we can see it left you really afraid, kiddo.” 

“I-I guess. Yeah.” 

“Sometimes talking about traumatic experiences can be the first step to moving past them,” Logan said. “And we will, of course, be willing to listen and help however we can.” 

Virgil... didn’t really want to talk about. He still wasn't quite able to wrap his head around the fact that it wasn’t a necessity, never actually had been, a part of him still wholly convinced this was some kind of cruel, awful trick. 

But...but Logan was looking at him with such gentle earnestness, Roman and Patton both nodding and smiling in gentle encouragement, those doubts were quickly being pushed to the side. At least for now. 

They all looked so eager to help, Virgil couldn’t bring himself to shut them down the way his panicked brain, so used to isolation, was screaming at him to do. 

And besides, maybe it could help. Maybe talking would help him come to terms with...whatever it really was that had happened. 

But not right now. He wasn't sure he could handle anything else. 

“Maybe,” he said after a moment. “Just, uh...not now. I don’t...I mean, i-if that’s ok, I don’t think I’m...ready.” 

“Of course, sweetie,” Patton said, not sounding disappointed in the slightest, only understanding and patient. “Whenever you’re ready. You can come to us in your own time.” 

“Is there...anything we can do for you now?” Roman asked. “Anything to make you feel better?” 

“I guess, uh-” he paused, wondering if it was too much, too selfish a thing to ask. “Maybe just...stay here for a bit? All of us? Only if- if you aren’t busy, obviously, it’s ok if you are, I just thought maybe--” 

“I think that is an excellent suggestion, Virgil,” Logan said. “Having some company will do you good.” 

Patton practically squealed, squeezing Virgil’s hand before hurrying to his feet,  blinding smile on his face. “Ooh! We can make some snacks and bring some blankets over! Be right back!” 

Virgil was carefully maneuvered (probably a bit overly careful, like he was glass that could shatter at any moment) so he was now comfortably pressed against Logan’s side, Roman hurrying to follow Patton with promises to return in seconds, departing with a kiss to Virgil’s forehead. 

Virgil was almost surprised when Logan’s arm moved to wrap around his shoulders, keeping him close, almost as protective and warm as Roman. He’d have thought Logan would be more averse to physical content. 

He’d never been so glad to be mistaken, basking in the warmth like it was a sunlit room. 

Virgil took a breath, breathing a bit easier now. “I really am sorry. I probably...really freaked you out, huh?” 

“No apologies necessary,” Logan said. “I believe it’s safe to say you were much more...err, freaked out, as you would say.” 

Virgil smiled, relaxing into his hold, but there was still something heavy sitting in his chest, nagging at him to voice it aloud. 

“I feel like an idiot.” 

“You shouldn’t.” 

“But I do.” He didn’t move, terrified he’d lose his nerve without the warmth at his side. “I...it was stupid. All of this. I actually thought that...I still don’t really think that this can work. Without...doing all that when I screw up. I want to but it’s...I thought there wasn’t any other way.” 

“There is no reason for you to be held to a different standard than anyone else,” Logan said, slow and careful. “We plan only on treating you as an equal. As someone we care very much for.” 

“I should have known,” he muttered. “You guys are r-really...really great. I shouldn’t have accused you of that.” 

There was a beat of silence that stretched on just a moment too long, and any other time Virgil might have taken that as a perfectly reasonable excuse to begin panicking all over again. 

But with Logan’s protective hold still firmly around him, the easy warmth in his chest that lingered from everyone’s kind words...he couldn’t find it in him to be particularly worried over Logan taking a moment to think. 

“You did not accuse us of anything,” the logical side said, continuing before Virgil could argue. “You reacted to what you assumed to be normal, no one can fault you for that. You’ve been taught to have a very particular mindset. As...upsetting as it is, your reaction was perfectly logical based on the information you had.” 

Logan’s arm moved, just for a moment, to reach around and squeeze Virgil’s hand, just like Patton and Roman had done, just another reminder of newfound safety. 

“What we need to do now,” Logan said. “Is work on making sure you never feel that way again.” 

Virgil nodded against him, finding that, at least for the moment,  his want to believe, to be safe and welcomed, was enough to outweigh the storm of doubt in his racing mind. 

“Ok,” he said, glancing up just in time to see Logan’s relieved smile, loosening his hold as Roman and Patton hurried back to the living room. “Thank you.” 

As the four of them settled down and rearranged themselves, there was an all too familiar burning in Virgil’s eyes, a tight twisting in his chest. But this time, it wasn’t from panic or fear.

This time, if he cried from this feeling, from being content and accepted, it might not be the worst thing in the world. 

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

Five times Mcgonogall had to deal with the Marauders being dumbasses about feelings and the one time one of them had it all figured out (alternatively titled: Slytherins may be morally challenged but at least they’re not as thick as warthogs)

1) James [Two Birds - Regina Spektor]

Mcgonogall gets woken up at four in the morning by a panicking James Potter in fourth year. She opens the door only a crack and he shoves his way in before she can even invite him in (which she still hadn’t fully decided she was going to do at all). He plops himself down in her chair, slams his hands down on her desk, and says, “So I kissed Sirius.”

Mcgonogall raises an eyebrow. James flushes bright red and starts sputtering out an explanation, “No, Minnie, you don’t understand, he’s my best friend, I love him, he’s brilliant, I think I wanna snog him for the rest of my life but he’s a fucking boy, Minnie -” Mcgonogall holds up her hand. James shuts his mouth.

“Mr. Potter,” she starts. “I have watched you and Mr. Black dance around each other for years. There is no doubt in my mind that the two of you were meant to find each other, in whatever way. The fact that you are both boys is irrelevant.” James takes a moment to absorb this, then squeaks, “Then why do I still like girls?”

Mcgonogall sighs. “You can like both, Jamie. It doesn’t have to be one or the other.” James blushes. “Oh,” he says, and then, “Lily Evans is really pretty.”

Mcgonogall sighs again. “I’m aware you think so, Mr. Potter. I’m also aware she’s dating Severus Snape.” James’ pink cheeks pale again, and he looks down. “Oh,” he says again, and then, “Should I kiss Sirius again, Miss?” Mcgonogall shrugs.

“You should do whatever makes you happy,” she answers, holding open the door. “Now off to bed with you, Mr. Potter. There’s only so many hours til the morning.” James considers this for a moment, then nods slowly, walking over and standing in the doorway.

“Mr. Potter?” She asks at his hesitation, and he suddenly turns and wraps his arms around her waist, burying his face in her robes. “Thanks, Minnie,” he mumbles, and she brushes a shocked hand once through his curls before he pulls back with a blush and runs off down the hall.

As soon as Mcgonogall’s closed the door, Severus pokes his head out from her study.

“Gryffindors, amiright?” He says, cracking a smile, and she raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

“I am a Gryffindor, Mr. Snape.” Severus just raises an eyebrow right back.

Mcgonogall sighs, lifting her skirts and heading back to her study. “But yes, yes, I suppose you’re right. Now, the next step of becoming an Animagus is…”

2) Peter [Soldier, Poet, King - The Oh Hellos]

Peter’s serving a detention with Mcgonogall when she notices he’s been quiet. Instead of “accidentally” messing up his tasks in the funniest ways he can muster, he’s simply doing his work quietly. He’s not even muttering to himself or singing. So, being the awesome person she is, she asks him what’s wrong.

Peter shrugs, not answering. She waits. A minute passes and he sighs, looking up at her with glassy eyes. “I don’t think my friends care about me.”

Mcgonogall wrinkles her nose. “What on earth gives you that idea?” She asks, and Peter shrugs, ducking his head down again. “Mr. Pettigrew. Why do you think your friends don’t care about you?”

Peter exhales heavily, but looks back up and answers. “Because they’re not here! Because I’m just their scapegoat! Because I’m not smart like Remus or charming like Sirius or brave like James or funny like all of them, I’m just the roommate they think they need to include. I’m - I’m expendable.” He spits the last word, throwing down the book he was about to put away and stomping towards the door.

Calmly, Mcgonogall says, “You’re an idiot, Peter.”

Peter freezes, turning around with a flushed face. “What?” He asks, and Mcgonogall sighs.

“I have seen many a clique in all my years of teaching. I know what real friendship looks like and I know the lack of it just the same. I know how to tell when one person cares about another and when to intervene. I know when true friends have been made. And you, Mr. Pettigrew, are one of the most beloved students I have ever had the fortune to meet. Most notably by those three boys you think are constantly leaving you behind, when really they’re always looking over their shoulders to check if you’re still there.”

Peter flushes red. He ducks his head, but not before she sees his smile. “Thanks, Professor,” he mutters, and she nods once, sharply, and waves her hand in dismissal.

“Report back tomorrow for your next detention. And bring those blithering idiots with you.” Peter beams, skipping out the door with a wave.

As soon as Peter’s left, Mcgonogall spins her chair to the side and looks down at Severus, sitting on the floor beside her desk with his legs splayed out in front of him and his nose buried in a book.

“So?” She asks. “What do you think? Gryffindor stupidity or Marauder stupidity?”

Severus snorts. “Honestly? Both. I mean, at least he has friends.” He turns a page and then freezes, suddenly realizing what he’s just admitted. He looks up at her and blinks owlishly, to which Mcgonogall waves a hand in dismissal.

“Nonsense. You have Miss Evans. And me, of course.”

Severus blushes. “Lily’s been distant, lately - wait, did you just say we’re friends?”

Mcgonogall raises her eyebrow. “Well you did always get on well with Gryffindors.”

Severus blinks. Then his eyes start to glisten and he smiles into his book. “Oh. Thanks.”

Mcgonogall pats his head and kisses it just for a single second as she stands and passes by him into her study. She’ll have to tell Albus about this at teatime.

3) Remus [Into The Open Air - Julie Fowlis]

A knock comes to Mcgonogall’s door over Christmas break in fifth year. It’s so late even she isn’t really awake, but she walks over anyway, grumbling as she steps over Severus’ sleeping form, curled on the floor over some books.

“Yes?”

She opens the door to a rumpled Remus Lupin, on the verge of tears and yet ever so polite as he manages to choke out, “May I speak with you, please?”

The last word is barely out of his mouth before he’s crying. He tries to cover his face as she puts a hand on his back and gently guides him inside, helping him settle into the chair in front of her desk. She Accios him some tissues and a mug of cocoa, and he sniffles out a thank you, desperately trying to get himself under control as he weeps.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he finally manages. “I know it’s late, I just -” Mcgonogall holds up a hand to stop him.

“Mr. Lupin,” she says. “When a student of mine shows up at my door in tears, the time is not my first concern.” Remus flushes, ducking his head to his lap. He sniffs, then makes to stand.

“Well. Thank you. I’d, um, best be going now -”

“Remus.”

Remus freezes. “As I have never seen you cry before, forgive me if I’m hesitant to let you leave without hearing your reason for doing so.” Remus sniffs again. He stays still for a moment before sighing, wilting back into the chair. He takes a deep breath, then rasps, “I’m in love with Sirius.”

For a moment, there is only silence. Then, Mcgonogall clears her throat. “I see,” she says, slowly. “May I ask when exactly you came to this conclusion?”

Remus’ face nearly crumples again, but he catches it at the last minute, hands fidgeting in his lap as he mumbles, “Um - fuck. Uh, third year? Maybe? Ish?”

Mcgonogall’s eyes widen. Without an excuse to keep talking, Remus collapses back into tears. Mcgonogall watches him for a moment before murmuring, “This is about Sirius and James.”

Remus flinches. Mcgonogall shoves the tissue box towards him again and he sniffles, taking one.

“Yeah,” he finally says. “I was, um. I was trying to deal with it, y’know, on my own, but there’s only so much of watching the love of my fucking life make out with my best friend that I can take and so I - I kind of thought I’d talk to you because I don’t really have any other friends and I’d rather nobody know because I don’t want them to fucking pity me, I hate when people pity me, but I, um - anyway, I came here now because they’re on break and they won’t ask so many questions about why I was here cause they won’t know and I just -”

He rambles on, but Mcgonogall can’t much process what he’s saying, as half of it is in Welsh seemingly without Remus’ knowledge and all she can think about is every single interaction Remus and Sirius have ever had in front of her and how - wow, oh Merlin, she really should’ve seen that, huh?

“That must suck,” she interrupts his rambling with, unable to stop herself before the words escape, and Remus shuts his mouth with a snap and then nods, wincing and blinking back more tears.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s not fun,” he says softly. “Anyway, um, I - I know I can’t do anything about it, okay?” She raises an eyebrow and Remus flushes, ducking his head again. “I know that they love each other and they’re happy and I would be a pretty selfish person if I decided to ruin all of that for no reason other than my stupid fucking feelings. Besides, it’s not like I could make Sirius love me anyways, so it’d all just be a gigantic waste of time.”

Mcgonogall hums. “But?”

Remus’ shoulders slump and he buries his face in his hands. “But,” he mumbles, “sometimes I just hate them for it. Because why should they get to be so fucking happy? Because why do I have to be so fucking miserable? Because I don’t know what I did to deserve all the shit I’ve been through, but clearly I did something. Because… because…” He pauses, a last, single tear falling down his cheek like a shooting star. “Because I’m a half-blood queer werewolf covered in ugly scars who will never be able to find a steady job or afford a comfortable home and I’ve spent a lot of time questioning whether it was even worth it to keep going but I always thought of him, y’know? Because if he was still there I’d be okay. But he’s… he’s not gonna be, because he and James are gonna get married and they’re gonna have like fifty million kids and they’re gonna move away and I’m just gonna be here, a homeless werewolf whoring himself out to get by because I’ll just never fucking have anything better.”

They are quiet for a very long time. Finally, Mcgonogall takes a deep breath and reaches forward to grasp his hand.

“You will always have me,” she says solemnly, looking into his sad, sad eyes. “You will always have a home here, with me. I can’t promise you Sirius or children or even a job, but I can promise that you will always be loved by me.”

Remus cracks a small smile. His eyes are still dead, but she can see the tiniest spark amid the embers. “Thanks, Minnie,” he whispers, and stands. “Goodnight.”

Mcgonogall nods, watching him leave. “Goodnight, Mr. Lupin. Come back any time.”

“Sirius loves him back, you know.”

Mcgonogall turns her head towards her bedroom, where a sleepy, frumpled Severus holds himself up against the door with a hand, his hair sticking up all over the place.

“Oh?” She says, and he shrugs, trudging over to her desk and picking up Remus’ unfinished hot cocoa and chugging it down.

“Yeah,” he rasps, wiping at his mouth. “Not that he knows it yet, but. ‘S kinda hard to miss, those two.”

Mcgonogall nods, slowly. She asks, “And how would you know this, Severus?”

Severus flushes, shrugging. “The way he looks at him.” Mcgonogall raises her eyebrow.

“What about it?”

Severus goes from pink to red, mumbling into the mug in his hands. “It’s the same way Lily looks at me and James,” he murmurs. “And the same way James looks at her. Well, her and…”

He ducks his head, pursing his lips. Mcgonogall lowers one eyebrow and raises the other. “Her and…?”

“Me,” Severus answers, soft. “The way James looks at her and me.”

Mcgonogall is quiet for a moment. Finally she hums, standing from her chair and heading back towards her study.

“You’d best be on your way, Mr. Snape,” she says. “You’ve not slept in a bed in nearly a week.” Severus nods, still flushed, and escapes into the hallway with only three of her books hidden under his cloak.

4) Lily [Touch The Sky - Julie Fowlis]

Mcgonogall is in the middle of a critical lesson to her first years when the doors of her classroom burst open and Lily storms in, her eyes steely as she stares Mcgonogall down. “A moment, Professor, if you please?” She says, and Mcgonogall raises an eyebrow.

“I am teaching a class, Miss Evans -” Lily’s eye twitches. At the sight, Mcgonogall’s brow furrows, and she sighs. “Very well. I expect nine inches on the importance of intent when transfiguring an object next class - oh, and your best attempt at doodling a giraffe while you’re at it.”

The students all file out with nervous glances towards Lily and Mcgonogall. When the last one trickles out, Mcgonogall waves her hand and shuts all the doors with an impressive display of wandless magic before raising her eyebrow and nodding towards the chair in front of her desk. “Well, Miss Evans? What did you need to speak with me so badly about that you felt the need to completely derail an incredibly important introductory lesson to my first years?”

Lily collapses into the chair and sinks into herself, shaking her head and burying her face in her hands. Mcgonogall sighs. “Miss Evans -”

“Don’t call me that,” Lily rasps. “Don’t call me that, I’m not - I’m not a Miss.”

Mcgonogall raises an eyebrow. “What are you, then?” She asks carefully, and Lily sighs. After a moment of useless fidgeting, Lily says, “Mr. I’m a Mr.”

Mcgonogall nods slowly, considering this. “Well then, Mr. Evans,” she drawls, “will that be all?”

Lily flushes bright red, then shakes his head. “Um, I - I’m a boy, right? And it’s weird for a boy to be called Lily, right? That’s weird, right?”

Mcgononall purses her lips, lacing her fingers together in front of her. Lily watches her anxiously. “I don’t think it’s weird at all, actually,” she finally answers, and Lily lets out a loud breath of air.

“Oh,” he says, curling in on himself. “So if I still wanna be called Lily, that’s - that’s okay? I can do that?” Mcgonogall nods.

“You can be called whatever you like, Lily,” she says. “Mr. Evans. Whatever you like.” Lily smiles for a moment, flushing happily, before frowning again.

“But what about Severus?” He asks in a small voice. “What will he think of his girlfriend being his boyfriend?”

Mcgonogall leans back in her chair, considering this. She glances down at the empty spot next to her, where Severus would be if he were not in class this morning. She purses her lips and carefully answers, “I think that if Severus truly loves you, which all evidence points to, then he will not stop for such an insignificant revelation.”

Lily grins down at his lap, cheeks pinkening, and nods. “Thank you, Professor,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry for interrupting your lesson.”

Mcgonogall waves away his concern as he stands and heads for the door. “No matter. You can make it up to me with tea on Sunday. Oh, and Lily, dear?”

Lily looks up, hand on the door, and smiles. “Yes?”

Mcgonogall smirks. “I daresay Mr. Potter will not mind either.”

Lily turns the color of his hair and nods spastically before disappearing into the fray of students just dismissed.

“Lily cut his hair today,” Severus greets her with when he arrives that afternoon, weighed down by the tons of books in his arms. He dumps them on a nearby desk and makes his way over to her desk, picking up a quill and some parchment and settling in the chair across from her. “It’s all short and frayed and soft. He looks handsome.”

Mcgonogall hums. “Did you tell him that?” She asks as she summons them some tea, smiling at the way Severus hisses when it hits his tongue (he’s always had a bad habit of forgetting to blow before sipping).

“Of course I did,” he says, still scribbling. “He’s my boyfriend. It’s my job to make him happy, and if sweet compliments that make my teeth rot are what make him happy, then fuck my embarrassment, I guess.” Mcgonogall nods, pleased.

“What a gentleman you are,” she drawls, then takes a sip of her tea and asks, “What are you writing?” Severus freezes, then looks up at her with wide eyes.

“Just a list,” he finally says softly. “Of all the things I want to do before this war kills me.”

Alarmed, Mcgonogall coughs, beating her chest lightly as she sets her tea down. “You will not die in this war, Severus,” she says, her hands shaking. “None of you will.”

Severus shrugs and answers quietly, “With all due respect, Professor, we’re all going to die in this war, whether it be now or later.”

Mcgonogall feels her eyes sting with tears but pushes them back, shaking her head. “No,” she rasps. “No, none of you will die in this war. It will be finished before you leave the confines of this school.” Severus smiles sadly at her, shaking his head as he returns to his list.

“Sorry, ma’am. But half of my House have already sworn their loyalty to Voldemort, and soon enough others will be forced into it. Myself, Regulus, and Sirius among them.” Mcgonogall draws in a sharp breath. Quick as a whip, she tears the list from Severus’ hand and throws him a new parchment.

“Here,” she says. “Make a new list. Names of everyone you know with that wretched Mark, and anyone who’s thinking of it. I don’t care what House, you let me know. You bring me that list when it’s finished and I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of you, Severus. All of you.”

Severus stares for a moment, dark eyes unseeing, before ducking his head to the parchment, writing slower than before. Clear names begin to come into view: Sirius Potter. Regulus Black. Lucius Malfoy. Bellatrix Black. Narcissa Black. Mulciber, Avery, Dolohov… The list goes on and on until finally Severus finishes with a final flourish of his trembling hand, Severus Snape.

He then hands the list to Mcgonogall, who smiles thinly. “Thank you, Severus,” she murmurs, and he smiles wryly.

“Thank you, Professor,” he answers, and leaves in a hurry, forgetting his books on the way out.

5) Sirius [First Man - Camila Cabello]

Mcgonogall is making her rounds around the castle one night in sixth year when she hears the sound of someone crying. She wanders until she finds the source of the noise - Sirius Potter, his knees pulled to his chest as he stares into the Mirror of Erised.

Mcgonogall drinks him in - his bruised eyes, his sunken cheeks, his shaking hands - and murmurs, “Mr. Potter, it’s late.” Sirius flinches. He stands in a hurry and brushes himself off, wiping at his eyes as he pushes past her.

“Of course, Professor. I’ll just be heading to bed now -”

She grasps his arm, making him pause. He bites his lip, and she swallows.

“You’ll do no such thing,” she murmurs, as gently as she can. “Come with me, Mr. Potter.” He winces again, but follows her soundlessly, hunched over like he’s trying to make himself as small as possible. When they reach her classroom, she moves wordlessly to her desk and settles in her chair, gesturing to the chair in front of her as Sirius closes the door behind him hesitantly. “Please sit, Mr. Potter,” she says, and Sirius flinches so violently this time she worries he might snap in half.

“Don’t call me that,” he hisses, and for a moment she’s transported back to that conversation with Lily all those months ago. “Don’t call me that, please. I… I don’t deserve it.”

Mcgonogall raises an eyebrow. “You don’t deserve to be called by your own name?” She asks, and Sirius withers like a dying flower into the chair in front of her.

“No,” he finally says, softly. “It’s not my name, Professor. That name belongs to my ex-boyfriend. My name is Black.”

Mcgonogall’s other eyebrow raises in surprise. She hums. “Ex-boyfriend?”

Sirius shrugs, wrapping his arms around himself. “After I hurt Moony - Remus, Jamie socked me in the jaw and told me I wasn’t a Marauder anymore. Was caught makin’ out with Evans and Snivellus soon enough anyway. He hasn’t spoken to me in months - I can take a hint, Professor. I may be a stupid, dumb, moronic piece of shit that doesn’t deserve to live, but if there’s one thing I know, it’s how to tell when somebody stops loving me.”

Mcgonogall feels her heart break open in her chest and stems it with white hot rage - for Remus, for James, for Severus, and, despite everything, for Sirius.

“You are not dumb, or stupid, or moronic,” she says slowly, lacing her fingers together in front of her. “And you’re certainly not a piece of shit. Impulsive and reckless at times, yes, but you’re not worthless. Trust me, Sirius, I’ve met worthless people, and they are nothing like you. Your life means something.”

Sirius laughs. Mcgonogall has never heard such an unhappy sound in her life.

“With all due respect, Professor, I’m the worst fuck-up anyone’s seen in generations,” he snarks. “I’m the disowned disgrace of the Black family who fucks boys and wears dresses and falls in love with poncy tossers and half-blood werewolves whose deepest secrets I give away like a fucking Death Eater spy. I’m the most worthless kind of person there is.”

Mcgonogall pushes her chair back, stands, and makes quick strides around the desk and over to Sirius, pulling him against her chest.

“You are beautiful,” she whispers, right into his ear. “You are smart. You are kind. You are brave. You are selfless. You are funny. You are brilliant. But above all, Sirius, you are good.” Feeling him start to tremble against her, her robes beginning to dampen, she musters up a smile, feeling her own tears well up as she runs her fingers through his hair.

“You are my favorite student, Sirius Padfoot Potter Lupin,” she whispers as he sobs. “You are James Potter’s favorite person, and Regulus Black’s favorite brother. You are Remus Lupin’s favorite friend and you are everyone’s favorite Gryffindor. You are one of the best souls in this world and we would all be devastated to lose you.”

Sirius sniffles against her chest. “Really?” He blubbers, and she kisses the top of his head.

“Really,” she answers, and he laughs into her robes. He mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like I love you and she says, “What was that?”

Flushing, he pulls back, shaking his head and wiping away his tears. “Thank you, Minnie,” he says shyly, and she nods, smiling and squeezing his hand.

“Anytime, love. Would you like me to walk you back to your dorm or do you think you can do it yourself?” She asks, and Sirius shrugs when the door creaks open and Remus Lupin pokes his head through with a soft, “Padfoot? Are you in there?”

Sirius’ eyes widen and his tear-streaked face lights up like the sun as he bounds down the steps and over to Remus, skidding to a stop just before he reaches him. “Here, Remus,” he murmurs, and Remus smiles, running a fond hand through Sirius’ silky dark hair.

“Come on then, Siri,” he says softly. “Time for bed.” Sirius blushes, leaning in just a bit, and Remus grins, engulfing him in a hug and pecking his cheek before pulling back to grab his hand. “I’ve got it from here, Professor,” he says to Mcgonogall with a polite nod. “You have a good night, Miss.”

Mcgonogall smiles and nods back, watching her boys disappear out the door and into the night before sighing to herself and drawing her robes tighter around her to block the wind as she heads, finally, to bed.

In the morning, she wakes up to Severus already in her classroom, making himself busy at  one of the desks. She blearily makes them a few cups of tea before settling across from him, taking in the disorganized array of cauldrons, ingredients, and notes in front of him.

“What’s all this then?” She asks, taking a sip of her tea and then wincing at the sheer sweetness from overpoured sugar, and Severus shrugs.

“Trying to make a potion out of wolfsbane,” he answers, voice soft. “Thought it might be able to prevent transformations.”

Mcgonogall raises an eyebrow. “My, my. A difficult task indeed. May I ask why?” Severus shrugs again, his nose buried in the notebook he’s scribbling in.

“To help Remus, of course,” he says, as if it were obvious, as if they’ve been friends for years. Mcgonogall nods, humming, and takes another sip of her disgusting tea.

“Your new interest is Mr. Lupin is certainly… kind,” she says, and Severus finally looks up at her, eyes wide and dark but so, so light.

“He’s nice,” he murmurs. “That’s all.”

And Mcgonogall suspects that there is far, far more reason than that, but it’s far too early and she’s far too tired to even begin picking apart the peculiar behaviors of one Severus Snape Evans Potter, so instead she simply nods and plonks her head down in her arms, allowing herself to be lulled to sleep by the sound of rustling notebook pages, cracking bezoars and Severus’ out-of-tune humming of Beatles songs.

1) Regulus [Learn Me Right - Birdy, Mumford & Sons]

A few hours before his graduation, Regulus shows up at Mcgonogall’s door, the smallest of smiles settled on his face. “Good morning, Professor,” he says, and she sighs.

“You graduate in three hours, Mr. Black,” she says tiredly. “What could you possibly need my help with now?”

Regulus gives her an amused smile, tracing his fingers along the desks of his brothers and friends as he walks through the rows he’s sat in for so many years. “Nothing,” he answers finally, looking towards her. “I came to deliver this.”

He hands her a light blue card decorated in fluttering rainbow butterflies that reads, You have been cordially invited to the wedding of Remus Moony Lupin and Sirius Padfoot Potter on the 21st of June. At the bottom is a hastily scrawled note in two different hands, We hope you can make it. We love you, Minnie! Thank you for everything! Thank you, Minnie.

Mcgonogall clutches the invitation in surprise and looks up at Regulus with the breathless question, “Really?” Regulus just smiles, nodding.

“Yup,” he says in that slow drawl of his. “Severus and Lily and James have been talking about it too, so you can expect to see another one of those soon.” Mcgonogall smiles, blinking back tears.

“And you?” She asks, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. “What will you do, Mr. Black?”

Regulus shakes his head and bites his lip, looking up at her with twinkling eyes and a sparkling grin. “It’s Mr. Lupin now,” he answers, “and I have no bloody idea.”

Mcgonogall laughs aloud, drawing him into a hug and kissing the top of his head. She sends him off with a wave and well-wishes.

Six years later, there’s a knock on her door. Summer has barely started but most of the castle is empty anyhow, with students having been sent home and most teachers taking their vacations now. With the war having been over for years now and the fight for werewolf rights making serious headway, Professor Mcgonogall does not receive many visitors. So she only expects Dumbledore when she opens the door, but instead there’s Severus, grinning and holding the hand of a fluffy-haired, green-eyed toddler with a lightning birthmark on his forehead.

“Hi, Professor,” he says, waving his free hand. She catches the glint of a wedding ring and tears up, smiling as she draws him in for a hug.

“Who’s this?” She asks, bending down to shake the little boy’s hand. Severus grins.

“This is Harry,” he says. “Harry Evans. My son.”

Mcgonogall looks up at him in shock. He shrugs, and suddenly she’s beaming, hugging him close again. “I’m so happy for you,” she whispers, and Severus squeezes her tight.

“I owe it all to you, Minnie,” he murmurs back, and kisses her cheek as she pulls back. After a moment of just smiling at each other, he says, “I have a few hours free to catch up, if you want? Tea?” Mcgonogall beams.

“But of course,” she teases, offering her arm. Severus takes it, laughing, and closes the door behind them with a few simple words of warning: “I feel I should mention, you can also expect untimely visits from six other Marauder children.” Mcgonogall looks at him, shakes her head, and sighs.

“Just as well,” she answers, and Severus laughs, joy shaking his bones. “But you owe me so much tea.” Severus winks.

“I’ve got the literal and figurative kind whenever you’re free,” he answers, and Mcgonogall smiles.

Severus announces his relationship with Lily and James by dragging them in by the hand one morning and shouting, “I got it, Professor!”

[izzabeean]

Chapter 6 : Taking Care

SUMMARY

It's all about timing.

pairing : ushjima x f!reader / oikawa x f!reader / iwaizumi x f!reader

genre : angst + fluff

word count : 3,194

content : profanity, references to alcohol, slightly suggestive nsfw

tags :  alternate universe - college/university, post-break up, friends to lovers, pining, slow burn

a/n : I’m sorry if the chapter seems rushed! I’m just very eager with what I have in store. Ahaha, I still hope you like it!! Also, PS, kinda just proof read it once.

Will try to post every Thursday evening PST, if not latest by Friday.

masterlist

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The rest of the night feels like a blur, you feel like your head is barely in it, as the high from the cigarette mixes with the alcohol. All the fear from before dissipates quickly and the next thing you know you’re not standing in a dark alley, but slumped over in the booth of a grungy dinner.

You don’t recall the walk over, only the feeling of Iwaizumi’s arm wrapped around your waist, guiding you down the street away from the nightclub. The warmth of his touch still lingers and you wish the walk was longer so you could have him next to you; he made you feel safe and calm.

The daydream is quickly interrupted by the strong ache in your wrist that not even the alcohol can suppress. You're still trying to process what just happened in your earlier encounter, but find yourself wishing you hadn’t gone out at all. 

Despite the beginning of the evening being enjoyable, you were left with a feeling of disappointment, mostly in yourself, you’ve never actually been someone to go out or drink copious amounts of alcohol to the point you couldn’t walk on your own. That wasn’t you. But you did feel the need to reevaluate your morals and put them to a pause to post an image merely for the fact of saying fuck you to Ushijima. Your intentions weren’t necessarily a positive one: to go out with friends and take your mind off things. It was more like: go out with friends and forget the ingrained image of Ushijima and his new side piece.

“Oikawa should be here soon,” Iwaizumi says, pushing a glass of water towards you.

You huff as the server comes over to your table, placing down a plate of fries in front of you and a burger in front of Iwaizumi.

“I didn’t order this,” you address.

“I did for you,” Iwaizumi booms, sliding the basket closer to you while thanking the employee who looks like they’ve dealt with too many annoying customers including you. “Drink your water.”

“Why?” you whine, pouting your lips at him.

“You’re dehydrated,” he explains. “Don’t fight me on this.” 

You get it, you’re being taken care of, but he’s already done enough, but you don’t know why you’re here when he could’ve just taken you home.

The bell from the diners door opening echoes across the restaurant as you spot a panicked Oikawa rushing in towards your booth. He stands there gazing down at you, exhaling deeply with an apprehensive look on his face. You've never seen him this way before; today has definitely been a whirlwind. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” Oikawa gazes down below studying your behavior recognizing you’ve definitely had one too many. 

“Some creep tried to pick her up outside in the alley,” Iwaizumi says.

“What? Why were you outside?” Oikawa’s eyes grow wide as you blink at him slowly trying to register the words he spoke.

“It was too hot,” you groan, dropping your head into your arms crossed on the table, closing your eyes. You're tired and ready to sleep feeling the effects of the alcohol come to play.

Oikawa sighs, “I better take her home.”

"I'll call a cab," Iwaizumi says getting up from the booth to cover the tab. 

Oikawa scooches into the booth beside you noting that you seem a bit distraught with your brows furrowed and messy hair covering your face, almost like you’re trying to take back the excessive consumption of shots. Slowly he leans over, reaching for your hair to tuck it behind your ear.

The tips of his fingers gently graze your face as the all too familiar gesture causes you to believe you must be dreaming. 

Wakkun? you think. But it can’t be.

Your eyes shoot open to see it's just Oikawa. You definitely drank too much. 

"Sorry, did I scare you?" He says pulling his hand away while his cheeks slowly appear rosy.

"No," you reply, closing your eyes and turning your head away from him. 

------

You wanted to say no, but your slightly fuzzy head delayed your reaction and soon Iwaizumi was walking away in the opposite direction as the cab pulled into the street driving away. 

Beside you, Oikawa sits looking out the window and the taste of regret fills your mouth as you spite yourself for not asking Iwaizumi to bring you home. 

Oikawa, take her home, echoes in your mind as Iwaizumi bids farewell. You wanted him to take care of you but instead, you were stuck with Oikawa who wouldn't even answer your call when you needed him. 

Oikawa’s heart clenches as you silently sit beside him looking out the window. The silence in the vehicle is slightly awkward but the hum of the radio buzzes in the background giving the atmosphere some white noise.

He fucked up. He made you drink too much and now you're mad at him. Maybe he can make up for it by taking care of you. Luckily the drive wasn't too far from the diner or this car ride would have seemed longer. 

Arriving at your apartment, Oikawa practically has to drag you out in order to get you moving at a reasonable pace. He wasn't your level of intoxication but he definitely had a good buzz going, enough to help him edge off the irritation coursing through him with your cold shoulder attitude 

As you walk towards the building, the crisp air bites you through your clothing as your exhale curls and condenses into the atmosphere in front of you. The sudden craving for a smoke fills your senses and your mind is put at ease as you imagine the flavor of toxins and liquor coating your lips. 

“I’m sorry,” Oikawa mumbles, barely audible to the human ear. 

“What?” you ask and without noticing where you’re walking, stumble off the curb landing awkwardly on your foot. Oikawa reacts quickly and catches you in his arms before you take the tumble to the ground.

“Fuck,” you grunt. 

“Are you ok?” Oikawa asks. 

You put weight on your foot, feeling no sign of severe pain then nod your head, “Yeah, I can walk.”

Oikawa let’s go and you continue down the walkway to the staircase with a bit of a limp. The stairs you climb every day seem timid and easy to bear with but as you place all your weight on your injured foot, a surge of aching shoots up your leg making the climb seemingly more unpleasant. 

“Are you sure?” he questions.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” you reassure.

But by the fact you stuttered on your word, he doesn’t believe you. With a sigh, he crouches down beside you. “Get on.”

You can't believe what you're seeing in front of you and hesitate at the request. 

"We going to be here all night? Get on," he snaps. 

It's not quite something you want to do right now, being a bit bitter still. But from the exhaustion and intoxication you feel, you don’t have the energy to argue and crawl onto his back wrapping your arms around his neck. He tucks his arms under your thighs and stands up continuing to walk.

“Sorry if I didn’t answer your calls,” he says clearing his throat. His words are serious like he means it. “I’m also sorry about Ushijima.”

You squeeze Oikawa tighter at the sound of Ushijima’s name, it stings.

You’re well aware that Oikawa isn’t a fan of Ushijima, no matter how many times you tried to convince Oikawa otherwise, he was too stubborn to change his opinion. Maybe there was a reason why, you could ask him, but you weren’t ready for the answer. You appreciate the illusion you had created in your head of Ushijima, even if it was slightly broken.

“You deserve so much better,” he adds.

Strange, you think, normally he’s not as pushy to talk to you about this sort of stuff, but maybe he actually was worried, maybe he did want to make things better and help you.

“Thanks...”

Reaching your apartment door, Oikawa sets you down as you fumble for your keys in your purse. Inside it is dark and empty, you haven’t been back since the beginning of the day and the aura feels absolutely depressing. 

He pauses before walking in, it had been so long since he last was here. 

You continue down the hall stumbling into your room where you flop onto your bed, too tired to change; it’s been a long night, and you didn’t want to think about how you were going to feel in the morning. 

Walking into your room, it’s messier than he imagined, compared to how organized you are with school, this feels like he was walking into your personal space, one you didn’t show to very many people from the start.

Stepping in further, Oikawa turns his head seeing a picture of Ushijima and you sitting on your desk. You looked so happy with your arms wrapped around Ushijima’s neck and his arms wrapped around your waist. The image didn’t sit well with him, especially after Ushijima’s betrayal, but Oikawa wasn’t very surprised. He couldn’t understand why he felt much more relieved due to Ushijima being out of your life. Perhaps it was because he now had ample opportunities to spend time with you, almost as if you coming to him for comfort was the only thing he wanted from the start.

Then a loud thump causes Oikawa to turn around noticing you're not on the bed anymore.

“What are you doing?” He shrills rushing to your side to pull you back up. 

"Ouch," you cry holding your wrist while tears starting to form in your eyes. “Ice! Please!”

"O-okay, hold on," Oikawa urges while getting up.

You're still sitting on the ground trying to ignore the pain but it just feels never-ending. Oikawa’s not gone long, but it feels like forever.

"Here," he says, taking a seat on the ground and slowly rests the bag of ice wrapped in a towel on your wrist. 

He’s close. You've never seen him this close before. Undoubtedly, he’s handsome just based on the amount of attention he acquires from other girls, but this is different. You’ve never noticed how beautiful he was. His long lashes, the curtains to his opalescent eyes. His creamy complexion radiating under the moon-lit bedroom. 

Oikawa looks up studying the distress in your face. "Is it helping?"

“Y-yes, thank you,” you croak. The relief is uncanny, but you can’t take your eyes off how breath-taking he is.

Oikawa looks up at you and meets your gaze only inches away from each other.

“What?” he says. “Do I have something on my face?”

You let out a laugh which only half-heartedly reassures him as he wipes his face with his shoulder. “You’re fine, you’re fine!” you assure. 

Giving you a pout he leans back away from you as you take over applying the ice to your wrist. 

A few minutes pass as you look up at the ceiling observing the soft city lights spilling through the curtains. You want to be impulsive and self-destructive at once. You desire to be out of this severe and prolonged fall into remorse. 

“Tōru... Would you date me?"

You couldn’t believe you said it aloud, but you believe the liquid courage (that could've helped before) expressed your honest thoughts.

Oikawa scans you as you lean your back against your bed. The gleam in your eyes seems weaker like you were stuck in your thoughts and couldn’t find a way to get out. 

The question is starling. Of course, you’d always been friends, but when he first met you, he did think you were pretty cute. He wants to say it, but he’s worried his words will come out too strong. But he thinks in your state, maybe you won’t remember tomorrow. All he wishes is that he could take all the pain away from you, he just didn’t know how. He couldn't articulate it in words.

“Who wouldn't want to?” he asks.

"Ushijima,” you mumble. The words are dry and heartbreaking.

Oikawa's mouth opens at your confession, but no words come out. 

You painfully laugh at the sight. “It’s alright. I know there’s nothing you can say.”

That’s right, there’s nothing he can say that will help mend your broken heart and it made him feel absolutely helpless. 

“This is never how I thought things were supposed to go,” you add. “Honestly, it’s kinda fucked up how he just did that out of nowhere. And I don’t want to hear you say ‘I told you so’ or ‘that’s something he’d do’ because he wouldn’t. Why does it matter anyway?”

You felt like you unloaded more than what you bargained for, but it’s been on your mind all day and you just needed to let it out.

“Of course it matters! What kind of shitty person do you have to be to break-up with you?” Oikawa feels his heart skip as the words leave his mouth, worried that your reaction will be to just get mad and throw something at him. 

Instead, you just stare at him, wide-eyed pressing your lips together. You can feel yourself starting to sober up now. The comment gives you a warm feeling in your chest that seems incredibly unbearable. The tender caress of his words sends shivers down your spine. There was this unexplained comfort that you never knew you could feel from him.

"You need to rest now," Oikawa murmurs. “It’s getting late.”

Oikawa stands up reaching his hand out for you to grab it to lift you off the floor.

“Can you stay?” you breathe quietly. “I don’t want to be alone.”

He looks into your lost and lonely eyes, basically begging him to stay beside you.  It felt criminal if he was going to leave you by yourself in this state. 

Oikawa sighs. “Alright.”

On that note, you start to lift your shirt up.

"Whoa, Y/N," he chokes a bit on his words, startled you’re undressing in front of him and shelters his eyes.

“I didn’t ask you to look!”

He merely shakes his head while keeping his back to you. In any other situation, a girl would be undressing in front of him for other reasons, this time though, it's seemingly complicated. It seems you’re a little bit bolder when you’re drunk and he’s not going to lie to him, but he kind of likes it.

“Ok, you can turn around,” you announce.

Oikawa turns around and sees you tucked in bed, you pat the empty space beside you welcoming him to join. Taking off his jacket, he rests it on the chair tucked into your desk while keeping the rest of his clothes on. As he’s about to climb into bed, you stop him.

“Ew, not in those jeans,” you huff.

"Huh?" Oikawa replies.

"You sat in public places … took public transportation…. Just stay on your side of the bed but take them off," you argue.

Oikawa is getting mixed signals but realizes you just want him to be comfortable and turns away to take off his trousers. He climbs into the bed wearing his t-shirt and boxers.

The silence makes him feel like he’s drowning as he becomes hyper-fixated on the fact he’s lying next to you in your bed. As a matter of fact, he didn't know if he was even able to fall asleep. He watches you drift to sleep hearing your breathing deepen as your shoulders slowly rise and fall.

He is unable to decide where to go from here as his entire body shudders at how peaceful you looked.

------

You bury yourself deeper under the covers, not wanting to leave the warmth of your bed from a long night. Keeping your eyes closed you stretch your body and feel a figure pressed up behind you. You don’t move a muscle as the sound of deep breathing inhales and exhales. 

As you slowly open your eyes you realize you are in your apartment, it’s morning and the heavy breather beside you must be Ushijima. Quietly, you relish in the feel of his solid and warm body, trying to readjust, moving your hips a little. Then you feel his body press against your back. Before you can think too much about it, you roll your hips closer and against him. You can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck and you want more.

You slowly move to adjust your back flush against him and you both lie there neither moving or speaking, only a desperate attempt at self-control. Then you notice his breathing isn’t heavy anymore. Neither of you speaks.

You slowly turn to give your routine ‘good morning’ kiss, but as you look over your shoulder, it takes you a second to register it’s Oikawa. His eyes are open and he’s looking right back at you.

You bolt upright in bed, hands covering your face in embarrassment. “What are you doing!!!”

“I could ask you the same thing!” he purrs.

There's a heavy silence between you, both of you seemingly frozen in place. You feel your cheeks start to warm as you avoid looking at him at all. You’re afraid to ask as your mind runs laps on what happened last, last night. You remember everything, but once you got home, you just remember passing out. “Did we...” 

“Have sex?” Oikawa smirks. He keeps the answer from you for too long and it’s driving you insane. You felt in complete agony as he hummed giving your question some thought. 

“I don’t believe so,” he turns around to go back to sleep.

Embarrassment strikes you again as you realize you are wearing a big t-shirt without a bra and your underwear and you slink away deeper into the covers. You feel horrified with your outburst and mumble, “Sorry…”

Oikawa is about to tease you a bit to lighten the mood but as he opens his mouth you interrupt, “I thought you were someone else…”

He freezes at your sudden confession.

“I--I thought you were Ushijima,” you quietly sob, as you recoil under the covers, even more, trying to make yourself small enough thinking you could perhaps disappear.

"Oh," he replies, looking to the window where the morning sun tries to trickle in through the closed curtain. Sitting up in bed, he stretches his arms out and swinging his legs out of bed. His feet hit the ground noticing it’s damp and cold.

“Y/N, is your place always this cold? ” he whines, lifting his feet up and noticing it make a tiny splash as he lets it back down. His eyes flash open seeing a very low film of water trickling around your bed. He turns to you and violently shakes you away.

“What!” you groan.

“Did you leave the water running somewhere?”

Quickly you sit up, wondering if he’s messing with you again. And looks down at the floor seeing it coated in water.

“Fuck!” you get out of bed and look around to notice your entire apartment flooded. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

[honey-dewey]

Two

Frankie Morales/Reader

Word Count: 2,691

Warnings: Depressed Frankie, big angst with lots of hurt/comfort

Short A/N: Inspired by the ‘Sleeping at Last’ song titled “Two.” It is not necessary to listen to the song, but it does help. 

Frankie has a very bad day and somehow winds up at his best friend’s house. When he walks through the door, he’s met with their voice, singing something soft and comforting. Of course, when they see him in the state he’s in, they start to sing something else. Something that truly exposes every emotion in the room. 

Frankie rarely had very bad days. 

Sure, he had days where everything sucked and he just wanted to crawl under the covers and hide, but those were simple dime a dozen bad days. He had one of those every few weeks, and he knew how to deal with them. A cup of coffee and a phone call usually did the trick to shake away the brain fog. 

However, every so often, about once every five or six months, shit just went sideways for Frankie. His bad days were ten times worse than they should be. Everything broke until he wasn’t sure if anything would be okay ever again. 

Today was one of those days. 

In reality, he should’ve seen it coming. The past week had been absolute garbage. He’d gotten into trouble at his job on Monday and was now on permanent watch for a month, one of his best friends had broken their leg at midnight on Tuesday and he’d been in the hospital until three in the morning that night, he’d been getting less and less sleep until his nights were just as long as his days, and the boys were all busy this weekend and they’d have to skip movie night.

In retrospect, it was the perfect recipe for a very bad day. 

When he’d woken up to dismally grey weather and a raging migraine on Friday, he decided the universe was definitely out to get him. 

He just barely managed to drag himself through work, simply sitting there with his head low and his back bent as he did his repetitive job, the glare off the computer doing no favors for his pounding head. He didn’t even really react when his boss reprimanded him for mixing up the files. He just took the slap on the wrist with an increasingly heavy heart and headed silently out to his car. 

He ended up in a tailspin when he left work that night, going from place to place and just sitting in his truck upon arriving, numb until he managed to put his foot on the pedal and drive off. It wasn’t until he passed your townhouse three times that he actually managed to put the car in park in your driveway and slowly walk up to your front door. 

When you’d gotten your own house, Frankie was the first and only one to get a spare key. A spare key he now shoved into the lock and turned, hearing the door unlock. He stepped into the entryway, dropping his keys on their hook and shuffling out of his boots. He may be horribly depressed, but he wasn’t uncivilized.

“Frankie?” Your voice echoed from upstairs, soft music playing in the background that you’d been singing along to. He almost recognized the song, some cheery holiday tune you listened to all year long. “Frankie, is that you?” 

Frankie didn’t say anything. He simply stood in your tiny entryway, numb and quiet. He didn’t have the energy to respond, or to walk up the stairs to see you. He merely waited, watery eyes focused on the rapidly blurring carpet on your stairs. 

“Frankie?” You repeated, stopping in your singing when he remained silent. “You okay down there?” 

Your mismatched footsteps did little to break him out of his own head, the cast covered in signatures slowing you down as you came down the stairs and stood in front of Frankie. You were wearing old red pj pants with white polka dots and an oversized Fleetwood Mac shirt that you’d definitely stolen from him at one point. “Oh Frankie,” you murmured, slowly tracing your hands over his cheeks. “Bad day?” 

“Very,” Frankie choked out, leaning into your touch. He knew he looked awful, his face sunken and pale from lack of regular food and the significantly low amount of sleep he’d been getting. You made a small noise of sympathy, taking his hands. 

“Let’s go upstairs,” you said softly, pulling Frankie along as you headed into the kitchen. You knew, in this state, that Frankie was pliant, his brain shut off entirely as he lost himself in his own depression. It hurt your heart to see him focus so hard on walking up the stairs, his brows furrowed as he put everything he had into lifting his feet and slowly shuffling upwards. It was so unlike that active and cheery Frankie you knew so dearly. 

The music changed when you two reached the kitchen, and your eyes brightened as you got an idea. You grabbed your phone, keeping a firm hand wrapped around Frankie’s hand. As you scrolled, you kicked a chair out with your good foot and put your phone on the table so you could urge Frankie to sit down. Continuing to flick through your playlist, you finally found just the right song and hit play. 

“Sweetheart, you look a little tired, when did you last eat?” You sang softly along with the music, snapping Frankie out of his thoughts. You’d sang this to your cousins when they’d been sick and to Santi when he’d been panicking over a minor surgery he needed. It was a lullaby you sang to the boys when they couldn’t sleep after getting too drunk and it had slowly morphed into a genuine comfort. However, Frankie had never heard the first word be ‘sweetheart.’ You always said ‘Dear boys’ or ‘dear heart.’ 

“Come in and make yourself right at home, stay as long as you need.” You continued, handing Frankie a slice of pizza off a tray resting on the counter. It was still warm, but not hot, just the way he liked it. He looked down at it, a sudden horrible hunger consuming his stomach as he finally realized he’d been neglecting food all day. 

You sat at the table with him as he ate the pizza, slowly singing more of the song until Frankie was entirely relaxed into your kitchen chair. “Tell me, is something wrong? If something's wrong, you can count on me. You know I'll take my heart clean apart if it helps yours beat.” 

He felt something hit his hand, looking down and seeing a tear. Which was the moment he realized he was crying. Immediately, you stood, wrapping Frankie in a hug and allowing him to bury his head into your chest and finally, for the first time all day, let out every emotion he was feeling.

“It's okay if you can't find the words. Let me take your coat, and this weight off of your shoulders,” you sang gently, taking Frankie’s hat off and resting it on the table. You carded through his hair, swaying slightly as he cried into your shirt. 

Frankie pulled away, wiping his eyes and looking up at you. You smiled, scratching his scruff and putting your hands on his cheeks, the coolness of your fingertips positively burning his skin. 

“Like a force to be reckoned with, a mighty ocean or a gentle kiss. I will love you with every single thing I have,” you sang, moving your hands and pressing kisses into the patches in his facial hair. “Like a tidal wave, I'll make a mess. Or calm waters, if that serves you best. I will love you without any strings attached.” 

Frankie froze. He’d never heard this bit of the song before. “What?” 

You stopped, not bothering to pause the music that kept playing without you singing another line. “Oh Fish, darling, you’re a mess. Are you okay?” 

Frankie nodded, slowly putting a shaking hand on your shoulder. The return of the nickname caused a hole in his chest to open, keening softly until you asked what was wrong. 

“Fish,” he whispered out, beyond the lump of tears that seemed to be choking him. 

You nodded, understanding every word he managed to pack into that one trembling syllable. 

“Okay Frankie,” you said, pouring all the love you could muster into his name. “It’s okay. I hear you.” 

You smiled, poking his nose and gently urging him to his feet after a minute. “C’mon Frankie. You need sleep.” 

He was limp putty in your hands as you slowly tugged him up the stairs once more, going as slow as he needed to. You opened your bedroom door and guided him to the bed, gently kissing his hairline. 

“I’ll be right back,” you promised, pulling away. “Just gonna go set something up, okay?” 

Frankie nodded, watching you go with blurring vision. He desperately wanted to call you back, to feel your arms around his body and let himself sink into you, losing every aspect of himself.

The sound of running water and your mismatched footsteps snapped Frankie out of his immediate misery. He lifted his head and watched you return to him, holding out your hands. 

“I love you,” you said with a smile, pulling Frankie to his feet. “But you smell and you’re covered in sweat.” 

He followed you into the bathroom, where your bathtub was already filling, a layer of bubbles sitting on top of the rippling water. The entire bathroom smelled familiar, and Frankie realized, watching you crouch down to grab something from your bathroom cabinet, that you’d used your favorite lavender honey soap. The one you saved for special occasions. 

“Do you want help?” You asked, straightening and smoothing a hand over the edge of Frankie’s shirt sleeve. He nodded, a tiny bit of embarrassment pooling in his stomach. Not because he was nervous about you seeing him naked, because you’d already seen him naked multiple times and he’d stopped being ashamed a while ago. He just hated that he had to ask for help undressing, like he was a toddler unable to care for themself. 

You, however, simply took the bottom edge of his shirt and lifted it, carefully folding the shirt once it was off and placing it on the bathroom counter. His pants followed, then his underwear and socks, until you were holding his hands and keeping him balanced as he stepped into the tub. 

The water was perfectly warm, surrounding Frankie and giving him life as he sunk lower. You smiled, seeing his muscles finally relax somewhat. “Will you be okay if I go grab a cup of water for you?” 

Frankie nodded, watching you turn the water off and walk out of the bathroom, leaving the door open so he could hear you going down the stairs and filling a cup with water. You came back up as quickly as you could, soft music following you and growing louder as you got closer. 

You set the water down on the counter, next to the folded clothes. Along with the cup, you put your phone down, still playing that gentle music. 

“C’mere,” you murmured to Frankie, slowly dragging a stool over and sitting at the back of the tub. “C’mon honey, come here.” 

He moved without thinking, shifting in the water until he was in front of you, entirely vulnerable to your actions. 

Those actions being you lifting a worn out plastic cup and slowly pouring the warm water over Frankie’s head. One hand moved to his forehead, shielding his face from the water. He leaned backwards, head tipping towards you. His eyes closed as you continued, rhythmically soaking his hair until you deemed it okay for shampoo. 

Which was when Frankie really melted. 

You smiled, watching every tiny movement he made as you massaged shampoo into his hair. His entire body went limp, softly saying things that weren’t English as you kept going, if only to help relax him. 

After shampoo came the conditioner, which he didn’t fight you over. Usually, he just washed his hair and kept going, not bothering to do anything fancy to it. But under your firm fingers, he let you do whatever you wanted. 

Finally, you were done, leaving Frankie with a bar of his favorite soap and a small kiss on the forehead. 

“I’ll be back, okay?” You said softly, holding his face in your hands. 

Frankie hummed, still not ready for solid words in a language you’d understand yet. You smiled, kissing the tip of his nose and walking out, leaving him to wash his body on his own. 

It was a laborious task for him at the moment, but by the time you’d returned, he had done it, and you rewarded him with ample praise as you drained the tub and helped him out. 

“Think you can dry yourself off?” You asked, holding out a towel. 

Frankie shrugged, looking down at the old towel you were offering. “Ayudame?” 

You smiled. Over the years, Frankie and Santiago had been teaching you some Spanish, just in case, but mostly for fun. You knew the basics, and it was enough to know what Frankie needed right now. “Okay. Come closer honey.” 

Frankie grinned slightly at the nickname, and your heart swelled upon seeing his smile. “How do you say that in Spanish?” You asked, starting to towel him dry. 

“El cariño.” 

You nodded, tapping his shoulder and nudging Frankie lower so you could reach his hair. “El cariño,” you repeated softly, running your fingers through his hair and making it stick up. You smiled, handing him the towel. “Think you can do the rest?” 

Frankie nodded, so you left him alone to grab some spare clothes. Digging out an old ass shirt that no longer had a legible logo and a pair of sweatpants, you headed back into the bathroom, seeing Frankie already in his underwear. 

“Here we are,” you said, holding out the sweatpants. “Can you get it?” 

Again, Frankie nodded, slowly putting his pants on. When you held his shirt out, he looked at you with pleading eyes, and you helped him slide it on. 

“I think it’s time for bed,” you said, taking Frankie’s hand and guiding him to your bed. “Left or right?” 

Frankie got into the bed, immediately sliding to the left side. You crawled into the bed as well, turning the lights out and letting the moon filtering through the slats in your blinds illuminate Frankie’s exhausted form. 

He made a small noise, spurring you to scoot closer, until he was firmly cuddled up to your chest. You scratched through his damp hair, pressing kisses into his warm skin. You knew that tomorrow you’d have the usual Frankie back. Cheerful and goofy and simply a best friend. But tonight, right now, you got cuddly and broken Frankie. The Frankie who needed to be praised and held and slowly put back together again. The Frankie who needed a lover. 

“I love you Frankie,” you murmured, looking down at the top of his head. “I love you so much.” 

“Yo también te amo, cariño,” Frankie mumbled, his half asleep voice gliding over you and giving you chills. 

The next morning was nothing like you expected. 

You woke up to the warmth of Frankie’s arms around you, cuddled up to him, head resting on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat and feel his chest rising and falling with gentle, half-asleep breaths. Rolling over and sitting up with the intent to check the time, you squeaked as Frankie pulled you back into his chest. 

“Five more minutes, cariño,” he mumbled, eyes still closed as he chased another moment of sleep. 

You sighed. “You get another five Fish. I want coffee.” 

Frankie opened his eyes, showing heartbreaking betrayal. “Stay?” 

You were a sucker for that look, so you took a deep breath and hunkered down for another five minutes. 

Which turned into half an hour of mindless cuddling, but that was okay. 

“Hey Frankie,” you mumbled at one point, once the sun had fully risen and was painting your bedsheets with waves of golden light. “Did you mean it last night?” 

“Yeah.” Frankie propped himself up on his elbow, looking at you. “Did you?” 

You sat up, reaching out to grab his face and kiss him, morning breath and all. 

“Yeah. I did.” 

Needless to say, Frankie’s bad days may have been terrible and numbing and so desolate he thought he had no one to turn to. But he didn’t. He had you. He would always have you.

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

An Itsy Bitsy Nightmare

Title: An Itsy Bitsy Nightmare

Summary: Anxiety isn’t a monster, he isn’t. He may not be as brave or as smart as the others, but he’s a good guy. He protects Thomas, telling him to watch out for shadow demons in his closet and to not touch hot ovens. That’s good...right?

Pairings: brotherly prinixety

Word-Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Deaging, Nightmare, Panic, Crying, Hurt/Comfort

Part of the Tiny Virge AU, taking place directly after Tiny Terror. Requested by @theeternalspace and a dear anon. 

-

Anxiety feels safe. It’s a weird feeling for Anxiety--complacency isn’t something he often engages in. He is Anxiety--a big grown-up word that means worrying and fretting over possible dangers. His job is to make sure Thomas is safe. So rarely does he feel safe himself. Not when he has to stay alert for any bad things coming Thomas’ way. 

So as much as he feels safe, he also feels anxious by it. He doesn’t know what to make of Creativity’s new make-believe game. Creativity’s always liked pretending to be grown-ups. He plays house with Morality lots of times. But there’s a big difference between pretending and shapeshifting--at least in Anxiety’s book.

 Shapeshifting scares him. If good guys like princes can do it, so can bad guys. And that’s bad! How is he supposed to keep Thomas safe if he doesn’t know who the bad guys are?

He also doesn’t understand the rules of this new game. The prince is being super nice to him. Making a blanket fort, giving him Zola, telling him stories about King Arthur--all of it. Is Creativity pretending to be the Dad? No, that’s always Morality’s role. Maybe he’s trying to be like one of Thomas’ older brothers. Like when they have to watch over him when Mom and Dad are away.

Despite his confusion, Anxiety doesn’t want to question him. Creativity sometimes forgets to explain things. He thinks everyone already knows the rules and if they don’t, he gets upset. The last thing Anxiety wants is for Creativity to be upset with him! 

So Anxiety stays quiet. He listens to Creativity’s stories, trying hard to keep his eyes open. He doesn’t want to fall asleep. He wants to stay awake and for this game to last forever.

“Sir Gawain rides on his noble steed, on his way to face the nasty green knight. He fights all sorts of monsters on his way there like--” Creativity’s mouth twists, his thinking face hard at work, “--like Anxiety!” 

The prince points a finger into his stomach. Anxiety whose eyes blink rapidly as his heart clashes loudly like thunder in his ribcage.

“Me?” He squeaks, so lost and confused, “but--but I’m not a monster!”

Anxiety isn’t a monster, he isn’t. He may not be as brave or as smart as the others, but he’s a good guy. He protects Thomas, telling him to watch out for shadow demons in his closet and to not touch hot ovens. That’s good...right?

 “Yes you are!” Creativity cries, spreading his hands out wide, “You’re a wicked, atrocious monster and nobody likes you!”

Anxiety shrinks backwards, hitting the edge of the blanket fort. Run, he needs to run away. But he finds himself entangled in the blankets like a fly trapped in a spiderweb. It destroys the blanket fort in the process. He’s ruined it. Just like all the other times he’s ruined Creativity’s make-believe games.

“I’m sorry--please, I’ll be good!” Anxiety begs as the prince looms high above him, sword in hand.

“It’s okay, Anxiety,” Creativity says with a thin, crooked smile, “I’ll take care of Thomas for you.”

The sword plunges downwards and Virgil screams. He throws his arms in front of him uselessly to protect himself. They made contact with something solid. Not the sharp sting of a steel sword. Something warm, something firm yet gentle.

“Hey. Shhh, it’s okay.” Princey’s voice speaks, causing Anxiety to thrash against his grip more.

“Get away! Don’t huRT ME!” Anxiety screeches, flinching from the sound of his own voice. No, no, no. This is bad. How can he prove to Creativity he isn’t a monster when his voice echoes like that? It’s weird and wrong and not normal! 

Anxiety trembles, tugging at tufts of his hair. He can’t breath right, it comes out funny in strained huffs of air. Not enough. Anxiety is going to die--which is bad, because who’s gonna take care of Thomas? It can’t be Princey, because Princey doesn’t look before he leaps. Morality’s too nice and Logic is sometimes too curious for his own good. Even if they don’t like him much, he has to be there for them. He just has to!

“The itsy bitsy spider comes up the waterspout,” A voice sings, startling Anxiety out of his panicked reverie, “Down came the rain and washed the spider out.”

Creativity is...singing. He’s the one singing. But why? Why isn’t he attacking Anxiety? He sneaks a glance upwards, shocked to see Creativity sitting a few feet away. Not scared. The only trembles of fear is coming from Anxiety himself. The blanket-fort surrounds them, undestroyed. The soft glow of the fairy-lights twinkle up above. 

“Out comes the sun and dries up all the rain,” Creativity continues to sing, his eyes briefly meeting Anxiety. There isn’t any anger or disgust dancing in them. There’s an emotion Anxiety can’t identify. That should scare him, but it doesn’t. Not when it reminds him of freshly-baked cookies, the kind that melts in your mouth. Because this Princey is good. The Princey from moments before isn’t real--just a horrid, horrid nightmare.

Despite all their arguing, Princey would never point a sword at him. Never.

Hesitatingly, he joins in on the next line. A smile grows on Princey’s face at that. A real, genuine one. “And the itsy bitsy spider climbed up the spout again.”

There’s a beat of silence. And then, before Anxiety is aware of what he’s doing, he flings himself into Creativity’s arms. He lets out a surprised grunt, but he still cocoons Anxiety close to his chest. Anxiety tries really hard not to cry as he sniffles and gasps for breath. 

“Shhh it’s okay to cry, let it out little fright-ling.” Princey tells him, stroking his hair. 

“I can’t!” Anxiety shrieks, shaking his head vigorously. He’s already cried once earlier. He can’t cry again, that’ll just make him a crybaby.

“Whyever not?”

“B-because!” 

“You know even the bravest of heroes have a good cry now and then.” “They do?” Anxiety asks, “E-ev-even you?”

“Of course,” Creativity says, “great heaving buckets of tears, even.”

Anxiety tries imagining Creativity crying like that. A waterfall of tears streaming down his face like a cartoon. It makes him laugh a little. He also cries. So much so it feels like he’s used up all the tears inside his little body. Creativity rocks him gently, reminding Anxiety of the way Thomas’ mother would comfort him after a nightmare.

“Good,” Creativity tells him, rubbing circles into his back, “you’re doing a good job, Anx.”

It doesn’t feel like he’s doing a good job. The globs of tears are all wet and sticky on his face. He can’t stop hiccuping either. Princey’s words do, however, make him feel better.

“You’re so much nicer when you’re bigger.” Anxiety whispers, clutching onto Creativity’s sash with a fierce grip. He doesn’t mean for those words to come out; it just happens.

Creativity doesn’t say anything other than to hug him tighter in response. 

[yourneighborhooddisaster]

Ravenous

Touch Starved Patton! I haven’t actually written stuff like this before, and I guess it could be read shippy, but it can also be read completely platonic. I would say warnings, sympathetic janus and remus, but they’re blessings. 

Warnings: touch starvation, angst, hurt/comfort (kinda), not everybody really gets along but that’s okay

Comments and constructive criticism are appreciated!!! Reblogs are cherished!! Also I’m just really excited I was able to stick to a deadline!

Fic under the cut. Please ask to be tagged! I’d be honored. Also you are always able to be removed from the taglist if you read something you don’t like or is triggering!!! I won’t be offended!

@genderfluidmoma @emiisanxious (that’s what you meant right? if not sorry)

All of the sides had needs.

They weren’t people. They were fully aware that they were all a fraction of a person, and they all cared for Thomas very much. They didn’t envy being a person, especially through all the wild stuff that was going on in the world right now. Technically, the sides didn’t need to eat, or sleep, even though it was possible for them to do so, as long as it was imagination food or during the night when Thomas was already asleep. But they did have needs.

Everyone was fully aware of Roman’s needs. Stimuli. Some sort of creative fuel. Even watching a documentary with Logan and Thomas could help him if he was in a particularly bad block. That’s part of the reason he loved Disney so much, and Patton always made sure they had time to watch a cartoon before bed when Roman was feeling down.

Logan’s primary need was obvious, although he hated to admit that he needed things, insisting it was to help Thomas. It did help Thomas, but not as much as it helped Logan. Logan needed structure and rules. It made a lot of sense. So sometimes when Patton noticed Logan’s smiles becoming tight, or when Patton felt he might not be listening to him enough, he would grin and ask what was on the schedule for that day.

Virgil was under a lot of stress lately, and that was because, as much as a lot of social interaction could overwhelm him, Virgil needed positive interactions with Thomas’s friends. Patton suspected that the sides may also be in that category, but he didn’t quite know, so he didn’t want to assume. He would often bug Thomas to call or text Joan, knowing Virgil wasn’t the best at bringing his own issues up.

Janus was tricky. Patton’s first instinct would be that Janus needed Thomas to take care of himself, but they all needed that, and Janus hadn’t seemed to suffer more than the others when Thomas missed the callback. Patton didn’t know Janus too well, but he knew him enough to finally understand that he was a little like Logan. Janus needed to be listened to. So if Roman and Janus had fought and Janus was sulking, Patton would insist that Janus pick a movie to watch with him. (And if Roman slunk out to watch Hamilton with them, well, two birds with one stone, right?)

Remus should have been a difficult one, and Patton would never admit that he had known right away. But Remus was simple. Patton didn’t really understand Remus’s thought process, and he probably never would, at least not all the way. But Patton understood Roman’s, and he wasn’t oblivious, no matter how much he was portrayed that way. Remus needed attention. He needed time, he needed the sides, he needed Thomas, and most of all, he needed to talk. So when Patton was up for it (and even sometimes when he really wasn’t), he would invite Remus to bake with him, as it was something they both, surprisingly, enjoyed, and something they both, unsurprisingly, were terrible at.

All of the sides had needs.

Patton wished he didn’t.

His was simple. Predictable. Expected, even. But it was just… so embarrassing. Because Patton needed physical touch, and didn’t that sound clingy and awful. Of course he could try to play it off, and he did. He was just happy pappy Patton, soft cuddly Patton, just your Dad Patton trying to give you a hug, kiddo! He felt so guilty all the time. And it hurt even more now that he was trying not to repress his negative emotions, because when he did admit he was feeling sad, everyone treated him as if he was made of glass. He dreaded when they asked him if he wanted to be alone, because no, he absolutely did NOT. And he says yes anyway. He wants to be normal, so why wouldn’t he? He knew none of the other sides wanted - needed this. It was okay though. He could always get in at least a hug or a high five in a day.

Until now.

Patton slumped against his door. He hadn’t been touched all day. He was frighteningly cold, but he didn’t want to go get a blanket. He had lent all of his to Virgil after he had a panic attack, and he wasn’t going to ask for them back. He wasn’t heartless. 

“Thanks Pat, but… could I please be alone for a while?” The words rang in his ears, nearly deafening, though their speaker was quiet and polite. And Virgil was being polite, he had phrased it in the kindest way possible. It was just something wrong with Patton. He shook his head, tears finally rolling down his cheeks. He put on his hoodie to help with the cold, but it didn’t help with the hunger clawing right below his skin. Logan was reading, Roman was editing a video with Thomas, Remus would probably just make him feel worse. And he didn’t want Janus to sense all the lies he’d been telling. The most accessible of the sides was Logan, but Logan would hardly appreciate the interruption, especially as Patton wouldn’t be able to explain exactly why he was interrupting.

He was going to have a long night.

>><<

Patton hummed softly as he flipped some pancakes. He had managed not to burn them this time, even though the shapes were not really circles. Pancakes were easy. At least, he was better at making pancakes than anything else.

Logan’s better at it though. 

Patton shook away the thought. It made sense that Logan would be better at something as adult and precise as cooking. Baking was where Logan was in need of help. Measurements usually fluctuated more in baking. Though Patton wasn’t really good at that either. He was usually a disaster in the kitchen, probably because he represented Thomas’s inner child, which was why he wasn’t offended when Logan declined the offer of pancakes, instead going to the commons to help Thomas schedule the day. Well, maybe a little offended. But not much. Logan had been under stress lately too, as quarantine tended to blur all the days together. So Patton dug into his pancakes himself, covering up all potential mistakes by drowning it in cheap quality maple syrup.

“Ooh, did you make pancakes, Patty-cake?” Remus all but bounced into the room. Patton put on a wide beam and nodded. Remus was still wearing his pajama pants and was shirtless, though he was definitely a morning person, so it was likely he’d already been up for a few hours. “I want some!” Patton laughed at that, pointing at a plate right next to the stove.

“The hot ones are over there, and make sure to tell me if you want anymore. If we do end up making more though, you’re on egg duty.” Remus half pouted, even as he shoveled pancakes onto his plate.

“But I like it when you get the shells in. It makes it crunchy.” Patton huffed, pretending to be offended. “Oh come on Patton, you know I compli-meant it!” Patton stifled a giggle, though a little unsuccessfully.

“Oh, that was bad even for me…” Remus shrugged, utterly unashamed. A lock of hair fell into Patton’s face, and he instinctively brushed it away, not really noticing his sticky fingers making a shiny trail up his cheek.

But he noticed when his fingers were replaced by something else.

Patton froze, his face hotter than the pan on the stove. (He should turn that off, his brain registered dumbly, but he was too much in shock to care if the mindscape could burn down.) Remus was clearly satisfied, grossly swirling his sticky sweet spit in his mouth. Tears pricked at Patton’s eyes, and he knew he was being stupid. Remus was lewd and touchy with everyone. He wasn’t special, and Remus certainly didn’t need this like he did. Remus just loved to be loud and obnoxious and throw everyone off.

Then why’d it feel so intimate and wonderful?

Why would he want such a gross touch?

“What’s got you so nervous Mr. Moral Compass?” Remus was watching him with a self satisfied smirk. “Did I do something to upset you?” That should have been reassuring, that Remus was happy and just his normal self. If everyone was happy, Patton would be happy, because he had no reason to be sad. No reason at all…

Patton broke out into loud ugly sobs. Crumpling to the floor, he was vaguely aware of Remus panicking, and no, he really didn’t want to burden him, and it just became worse when more people ran into the room. He couldn’t hear anything over the rush of blood in his ears, and blurry tears distorted his vision and fogged up his glasses, which were slowly sliding off his nose. But then two hands gently grabbed his wrists, and they didn’t let go, and his wrists were burning but all he could think was more, more, more. And then a hand landed on his shoulder, but it was much too hesitant. Another hand over his heart, and that seemed to do it ever so slowly. The tears stopped and his breathing slowed.

But he may have preferred the rush of blood in his ears to the stressed silence. He made a move to wipe at his eyes only to find his hands still restrained. A blur of yellow - Janus - removed his glasses, cleaned them, and wiped the excess tears away before placing them gently back on his face. He was surrounded by faces, but only Logan and Virgil were touching him, and he felt so, so clingy, because this definitely wasn’t enough even though he should be grateful they were even still touching him. Thomas looked terrified. Patton dropped his head in shame and guilt.

“I’m-”

“Don’t,” Roman replied quickly, already knowing what Patton was about to say. “You have nothing to apologize for. My brother, on the other hand-” “No!” Remus was still looking panicked on the sidelines, and what Roman would’ve said next would have everything even worse. “It’s not his fault, he didn’t do anything.” Patton squirmed, his whole body on fire. Virgil made a move to retract his hand from Patton’s chest. And Patton. WHIMPERED, SO EMBARRASSINGLY LOUD. Virgil froze. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, of course you guys don’t have to touch me if you don’t want-”

“Patton.” Janus spoke calmly and slowly, as if he was trying to understand something. “So the problem is you want people to touch you, and you aren’t getting that attention you need, correct?” Patton nodded, biting his lip bloody so he wouldn’t make such a weak, embarrassing little noise again. All heads swiveled towards Janus, but he simply, albeit hesitantly, took off his gloves and cape and moved closer. Virgil and Roman glared defiantly at him, but one look from Patton and they stepped aside, and Logan gently released his hands, leaving Patton nearly about to cry again about the loss of contact. “I know this normally would be a little… inappropriate, considering our only newfound truce, but…” Janus spread his arms open wide. It was preposterous. Why would Patton hug Janus, even with their agreements? A ridiculous notion. (Now he was starting to sound like Logan.)

Patton jumped into the other’s arms.

He was suffocating, choking on air and new tears but he buried his head into the all encompassing warmth around him. Six arms squeezed him so tight and so close he felt like he was in a vacuum, but he didn’t mind at all. After a few minutes it started to get to be too much, but Patton didn’t want to ever let go at the same time, and he was just so confused. Janus seemed to sense this and he broke away. His hands were still holding Patton’s forearms.

“Hey, you’re not going to feel that bad ever again, okay? We won’t let that happen,” Janus murmured soothingly, and Patton shakily nodded because he didn’t even care if it was all a lie because it was so pretty and it felt so good. “Do you want to hear about what that was or would you rather just come watch a movie?”

“You know?” Janus nodded at Remus.

“Wait, how come you know and I don’t?” Logan was rather flustered and panicked looking. They all were, Patton realized.

“It’s touch starvation. Patton’s been lying to himself about it for a long time. He has a crucial need for physical touch.” Virgil inhaled sharply, and Roman glanced over Patton, but refused to quite meet his eyes. Logan gasped.

“I’m so sorry, Patton.” Patton blinked at the sudden and quick apology from Logan, who always struggled with admitting he was in the wrong. “I didn’t realize that by limiting my physical affection towards you I was harming you in any way. Can I… can I do anything to fix my behavior?” Patton smiled sadly.

“It’s okay Lo, I know you guys don’t really need it like I do. We’re sides, not people. You wouldn’t have assumed I was affected by things like that.”

“What - what did I do?” Remus asked tentatively. “I mean, I know I was being gross and all, but I touched you. I’m a very touchy person. So what happened to make you all snotty?” He immediately winced at his own wording, but Patton knew this was rather gentle for him.

“I just… I guess I couldn’t handle that you were only doing it to get a rise out of me… And it’s kinda started to burn when I get touched because I feel so cold the rest of the time.”

“Overstimulation,” Logan supplied helpfully. Patton nodded, and their conversation lapsed into silence. Then Thomas walked towards Patton, Janus helping him to his feet and guiding him into Thomas’s arms. He was exhausted but even the much looser two armed hug sent his heart and skin and mind spiraling into fireworks. They settled onto the couch.

“We got you, okay Pat? We’ll be more careful from now on.” 

And Virgil would just have to trust that Patton understood, because before he replied, Thomas and Patton had fallen fast asleep.

[snaketherapy]

For the writing thing, LAMP with "If any of you wake them up I will throw you off the top of a 10 story building.", with hurt/comfort? And maybe Logan being the one comforted, but it's ok if he's not. :)

Hurt/comfort coming right up! I do have a soft spot for Logan angst anyways.

LAMP: Just Need a Hug

Patton sighed as he passed by the dark blue door in the mind palace. The door seemed like it was.... duller today and that made the right brain side worry. He quickly walked back to the door and grabbed the handle, twisting it to see if it was locked. And it was no surprise when it was. “Lolo, sweetie? Everything ok?” The moral trait asked quietly, one of his hands going to fidget with the sleeves of his cardigan. When no reply was heard Patton started to panic more. Even when Logan was feeling satisfactory, he would at least answer. The morality trait quickly ran into the living room, where his other two boyfriends were critiquing a Disney movie.

When Patton entered Virgil was immediately on his feet. He thought he could sense something was off but didn’t pay much mind to it but now, it was the only thing his mind was focused on. Roman, also seeing Patton’s worried expression, stood up as well. The two rushed over to their panicking boyfriend, who naturally just ran into Virgil’s outstretched arms. “What’s wrong dearest?” Roman asked worriedly, one hand rubbing soothing circles into the moral traits back. “L-Lo... He’s not answering and-“ Patton cut himself off, he didn’t think he could finish the sentence without starting to cry. The two understood why Patton was so worried, the two hadn’t been sailing through smooth waters lately.

After calming Patton down a bit more, the three walked back through the halls and... to the now almost grey door. Roman rushed over to the door and pounded on it worriedly. “Logan, starlight, open up!” He called out sweetly besides the dread that was pumping through his body. The halls went silent for a few minutes until a small ‘p”w-what?” was heard beside the locked door. “Hey L, could you open your door up for us? We can’t sink up when it’s locked.” Virgil said softly but loud enough to be heard from inside the logical sides room. They heard no noise from the room for a few seconds before some shuffling and a small ‘click!’ was heard.

Patton sighed out of relief and Roman gently opened up the door, squinting through the dark room. There was basically no light and the air in the room was almost suffocating to the three other sides. Virgil walked over to the wall, his hand running around the surface before he found the light switch and turned it on. The shock that the light revealed made Patton take back his sigh of relief.

Logan was sitting at his desk, head rested on the wooden table with red scratch marks along his arms and even though the three couldn’t actually see them currently, they knew there were more on his neck. “Logan...” Virgil muttered before rushing over to crouch beside Logan’s chair to take his hands in his own. Logan lifted his head up a little, startled at the sudden contact as it had brought him back from his thoughts. He winced inwardly, he just needed to get his boyfriends out before his room took an emotional hit on one of them instead of him. Roman’s eyes widened at the bags under the logical sides eyes, they were worst than the princes when he overworked himself in a creative block. Logan tried to speak but his throat was scratched and soar, so all that came out was a clearly pained whisper. “W-What?”

The three almost felt their hearts shatter at the sound of their loves voice. It was a sound they usually loved and they never wanted to hear it so strained and soar. Virgil slipped his hands from Logan’s to instead place them on the logical sides cheeks. Logan met Virgil’s eyes for a second before he looked away due to the worry in Virgil’s eyes. Roman and Patton walked over, Patton gently taking Logan’s glasses off as the prince went to retrieve a blanket. The anxious side hummed softly as he gently ran his thumbs under the bags that could rival his that shouldn’t but were resting beneath Logan’s eyes. Logan couldn’t help but lean into the touch. He would have to admit, the gentle touch of someone he loved felt refreshing.

Roman walked over, a blanket in his arms. He gently passed it to Patton and Virgil smirked, knowing what Roman was going to do. As the princely side wasn’t in Logan’s sight range, he decided a sneak attack would be the best move. In a swift motion, Roman swooped Logan into his arms with a sly smirk. Logan was spooked for a second before he started giggling softly as Roman spun him around in his arms. “Off to the living room we go!” The prince exclaimed, walking out of the suffocating room with the other two following behind quickly.

It had been a few hours after they had saved Logan from his room and all four of the core sides were cuddled on the couch. With a documentary in the background, three of the sides managed to soothe the workaholic enough to get him to sleep. And they for sure won’t waking him up unless absolutely necessary.

Remy and Janus had made a bet that they shouldn’t have. It was well known through out the mindscape that the twins were VERY competitive, especially when it came to games like tag and hide and seek. And Janus decided since he was the literal trait deceit, he would be a good opponent for the intrusive twin. He also thought it would be a good idea to drag Remy along as well, as the trait was known for disappearing for certain amounts of time. But turns out, it wasn’t such a good idea. They had tried every hiding spot but Remus was always so close to finding him, the two hiders barely escaping from his attempts to find them. Thus, they ran into the living room for refuge. It seemed like the obvious spot so Remus would think not to check there as he knows Janus likes to trick others and pick the more difficult spots, but not this time.

This was also a mistake. A glare from a certain raccoon-like side had stopped the two right in there tracks. Janus was used to Virgil’s glares by now but this one had a certain protective flare, which sent a shiver down the scaly sides spine. “Uh- what’s with the look babes?” Remy questioned, his foot tapping impatiently. He wanted to get out of there quickly before they were found out but he felt as if he took another step he would get a minor to major injury.

“Kiddo’s, I suggest you be quiet because if you wake Logie up I will throw you off a ten-story building.” Patton said sweetly, batting his eyes at the two with his usual sugar-sweet smile.

Just then Remus walked into the room and Janus quickly silenced him before he could say anything. Patton almost never threatened anyone and when he did, it was best to take it seriously. “Ah, understandable. Cya babes.” Remy dismissed himself with a wave of his hand before turning on his heel and booking it out of there. Janus quickly followed, dragging Remus by the hand.

“Jeez patty-cake, I’ve never seen Janus so shaken up.” Roman hummed, running his hands gently through the sleeping sides hair. “Oh, I hope I didn’t scare him too much.” Patton chuckled in reply, looking over to where Remy, Remus and Janus where standing moments ago nervously. “They deserved it.” “Stormcloud, I appreciate your input but they didn’t even do anythi-“ “They could’ve woke Logan up. I take that as a personal threat.”

Roman sighed fondly, knowing he wouldn’t get the last word in the playful argument. Patton leaned against the purple-wearing side with a smile. “Well he didn’t wake up, so that’s a good thing.”

[siennahrobek]

Working with Obi-Wan Kenobi’s grand padawan was…different. He had heard a lot about Skywalker and Kenobi as a team through many forms – propaganda, gossip, billboards, reports, victories, losses, campaigns. They were a popular topic. They seemed to pull off some of the most insane mission parameters and come out alive from fighting varying horrifying villains and Separatists, darksiders and Sith.

Feemor quickly figured out Ahsoka was quite a bit like Anakin Skywalker. Which sounded awful, now, knowing what he had done and what he had become, but he had meant it in a better way. At least, nothing that extreme. She was fast paced and protective with a strong sense of justice and a decent moral compass. She didn’t seem to understand some of the intricacies of governments, politics and the war effort, she cared about the people. She seemed to go back and forth between cynicism and belief in people. It was an interesting combination.

He wondered if Obi-Wan could help her smooth out some of those more high-strung tendencies.

Then again, Feemor didn’t really know Obi-Wan very well either.

Feemor and Ahsoka spent most of the evacuation helping groups of people and shuttling themselves back and forth with supplies. A few recovering 501st and a of couple Coruscant Guard had joined them on one of the trips. They had lost Rex quickly into the evacuation, before even their first trip back to Ahsoka’s ship. Luckily Feemor had spotted what had happened with him and had to quickly explain to a near panicking Ahsoka that he had simply helped a padawan carry a trooper to the medical bay for surgery when she noticed his absence. He was probably still there.

***

“Are you going to take a shuttle to Obi-Wan’s venator?” Feemor asked quietly. It was their first trip back to the 332nd venator, their shuttle piled full of supplies, clothes and other resources. A few soldiers came along with them, although huddled in the back with one another. Some of them were a little too scared to be hanging around Jedi at this point. It wouldn’t be long before everyone was packed onto the ships of Obi-Wan’s forces, ready to flee away from their brainwashed friends and the Sith wanting them dead for no other reason than existing.

“I want to,” Ahsoka replied after a hesitation. She didn’t look at him. She was piloting, Feemor had gotten the impression she wouldn’t have led him pilot, even if he had tried. “I want to see him. I want him to tell me everything is going to be okay. I have so many questions. I want him to have the answers,” she paused and glanced down. “I know he won’t.”

Feemor didn’t reply, just kept his eyes on her, soft and understanding. What did one say to that?

Ahsoka just looked up into the stars once again, determined driven into her expression. “But I should stay with the 332nd. They have been burned enough by the jedi.”

He wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, as it seemed that the 332nd, although betrayed by Skywalker by brainwashing their brothers, had been, at the very least, kept away from that horrible end. Skywalker was only one jedi. What other jedi could they have been burned by?

“Will you?” her voice was quiet and a bit sudden after the stretched silence.

“Maybe,” Feemor shrugged. “Even if I don’t the first time, it isn’t a long trip to Kamino. I need to talk to him, at some point, but I don’t think there will be a good time any moment soon,” he admitted.

The young togruta glanced at him. “You haven’t taken the moment in, what? Thirty years? You never know when you will lose the chance forever. Do it quickly, Master. Before it is too late and one of you is gone.”

***

Rex jogged up to them and silently helped pack up their shuttle. He hadn’t said a word until Feemor had tried to strike up a conversation on the ride over to the 332ndship but Rex kept his answers to a bare minimum, mostly one-word answers. His hands were nearly shaking.

“I saw General Kenobi,” Rex barely muttered out while in the cockpit with Ahsoka and Feemor. The latter figured he was probably talking with her. “He seemed mostly uninjured. It was a little hard to tell because his robes were so dirty. He was wearing his old armor.”

It was the most Feemor had heard Rex speak at that point.

“Is that so. What did you talk about?” Ahsoka’s voice was almost disconnected, like she was talking through a machine. She didn’t sound interested even though Feemor was fairly certain she was.

She didn’t meet his eyes but that didn’t stop the captain from staring at her. He chose his words carefully. “Feelings, mostly.”

“Did you talk about… you know…”

Rex paused and looked away. “Some. You should probably talk about it with him yourself. I think it would do both of you some good.”

Feemor suspected they could make one more trip after this before the evacuation was complete. The end of the conversation was clear.

***

They had done several trips back and forth but this last one, was alone with only supplies in their cargo bay. They had brought up a few clones but not many, most had wanted to stay with the rest of the 501st, many of which still recovering from short surgeries.

He didn’t know how the conversation came up, but he knew why. Ahsoka cared a lot about the clones, especially those under her command. It hurt her, he imagined, watching the ones she worked personally with be brainwashed by her former master. Perhaps it was that reason that she latched onto them instead of the betrayal of her old master. Feemor had his only issues with his teacher, but they paled in comparison to hers. His master just threw him away and got himself killed by a Sith. Hers became one.

She talked, rather ranted, about the unfairness of what was happening with her friends. With Commander Appo and all of the other 501st members that she cared so much about. She talked about the blindness and cowardice of the jedi, just leaving and abandoning them to the fate of a droid, to be used by the Empire for whatever means.

Feemor tried to gently remind her that the jedi were trying to save the helpless and their children. That the jedi do not currently have the numbers or the resources or a plan to rescue them all at this time.

“The jedi will come back for them,” he promised at the end, quiet and gentle. He knew it to be true, the Jedi would come back for the clones, for anyone who needed them. It was a part of their identity, to help those who couldn’t help themselves. But it was even more poignant for the clones, he knew. The Jedi would itch to help them, unwilling to leave their friends to such a fate.

“They didn’t for me.”

Her voice was strained and angry but so quiet, Feemor nearly doesn’t hear her. He understands abandonment. His own master had repudiated for something that not only wasn’t Feemor’s fault, but also something he never had any control over. It never had anything to do with him specifically, it was Xanatos who had ruined it all. And Qui-Gon’s love for Xanatos had just torn the older master apart even more.

He did not remind her that the Jedi did ask her to return.

She was just upset and mixing her feelings, much like any teenager who had been wronged, would.

“They’re just trying to survive, Ahsoka,” Feemor replied, instead. “We cannot help the clones if we are all dead.”

Ahsoka had stopped talking and stared out at the venators they passed, peacefully and ignorantly sweeping the planet, orbiting in a protective barrier, waiting for an attack that would probably never come. Her gaze had settled on one, just a little out of the way, further than the others out in the open space before she turned the controls, sharply curving them towards the ship, instead of away from it.

“Ahsoka, what are you doing?” Feemor asked warily.

The teenager didn’t answer. Instead, she turned the ship even tighter and then straightened out towards the unfamiliar venator.

“Ahsoka!” he yelped. “That is not the ship we want!”

She continued to hold her silence and no matter what Feemor says or does, she continues to fly their shuttle right toward the docking area of the larger venator. She even used the Force to push him nearly out of the chair when he tried to stop her.

“You are going to get us killed,” he hissed. “I’m sure plenty, if not all, of the Coruscant Guards have had their chips activated!”

Swallowing hand, she slowed down, now far too close to turn back now, clicking in comm codes and landing on the outskirts of the bay with a heavy thunk. The Jedi master stared at her, eyes wide.

“We need to get out of here,” he tried again but the togruta female just stood, stone faced and determined. “The rest of the Jedi are going to be leaving soon and we need to be with the 332nd so we can keep up with them.”

“We are going to take this ship,” Ahsoka announced, her tone giving no room for debate. She stood up and grabbed her sabers, marching away. Feemor sighed, running his hands along his face. This was going to be something else.

The clones, so engrossed in their chip activation, had not even noticed the unscheduled landing of an unfamiliar shuttle.

It didn’t stop Feemor from hesitating when they snuck off the ship. As they snuck down the ramp, out of sight, he glanced around. A partially crashed into the wall was a Jedi Delta-7 Interceptor, complete with a dead jedi inside, the bubble that usually encased them in the cockpit broken apart in shards. Neither of them recognized her but she was easily identified as a jedi, even from a distance. She had been shot several times; her chest riddled with blaster shots. Her gorget armor piece had helped her survive, at least until she had got to her ship, but she hadn’t gotten any farther. The engine had been shot out. Feemor hoped she died on impact; he didn’t know if her killers would have had granted her a quick death from bleeding out.

Ahsoka snarled. Feemor looked and felt sick.

A couple of the nonclone natborn officers were laughing on the balcony. The hum and although dulling light were easily distinguishable and identifiable as a lightsaber, whirling and flying through the air. They had taken her lightsaber. They had taken it and were playing with it like it was some kind of toy.

“It’s not even that they don’t care,” Ahsoka choked out, nearly in tears. “They are happy,they are glad, we are being killed off.”

Feemor noticed her use of the term we. It continued.

“We are being killed and they are celebrating…they love that we are dying, leaving our bodies to rot without care, where we are cut down. Distracting us, our ways, playing with part of our souls like children while they murder our children.”

She just cried silently.

“Come on, Ahsoka. Let’s find a place to hide and make a plan.”

***

The two of them snuck through the halls, barely keeping out of sight of the clones. With nothing in their minds, it was easy to keep their attention away. They didn’t want to see anyone – they didn’t see anyone so using a brief signal in the Force to look away was easy to the both of them.

They hid in a few closets, taking down several key troopers throughout some of the ship during their way to the bridge, stripping them of weapons and communications and giving them heavy sleep suggestions. They would be out for hours at the very least. They had talked about a plan, to take the bridge and use the natborn officers to take over the ship. Lock them all in the bridge, including Feemor and Ahsoka, which would keep the clones out but still safe. The plan hadn’t gotten much further than that.

Nearing the bridge, Feemor had pulled Ahsoka into a supply closet as several officers had passed by. To their infinite luck, the officers had stopped nearby to speak to one another, forcing the two jedi to stay in the closet until they were done with their conversation and passed out of sight.

“Master Obi-Wan will like you,” Ahsoka declared, confidently. Her voice was hushed and subdued, but it did nothing to take away from the sentiment.

“You think so?” A welcome topic for Feemor, to be sure.

“I dragged you into something random and unexpected and dangerous. You tried to talk me out of it but then, eventually, just went with it and helped me,” Ahsoka explained. “Just trust me on this one.”

***

“I kind of prefer them this way,” one of the officers noted, watching as lines of clone troopers marched, perfect and silent, down the hall. “They don’t talk, pretending to be men. They just do what they are told.”

“Without complaint,” another snickered, giving one of the clones a shove. The man sprawled to the ground, helmet smashing into the floor. He just got up and kept walking again. No one had even flinched.

Both of the officers laughed.

Ahsoka nearly burst out from their hiding place around the corner, but Feemor held her back. They were close but they couldn’t give away their position yet. It would surely get them killed.

He pulled her away, towards the bridge. They were so close.

As they got nearer, Feemor and Ahsoka dipped into an empty room to prepare. “Three guards, all clones,” Feemor reported, taking a glance in the direction. He pulled back as Ahsoka’s lightsaber snapped in her hands, unignited.

“I’m faster,” Ahsoka noted. It was true of course, if only because she was so much younger than him, but he was rather amused at her assumption of his lack of speed. He wasn’t lacking, as he had noted to himself, the only thing she had on him in terms of that was youth. “You handle the guards with sleep suggestions, and I’ll start clearing a path in the bridge.”

Feemor actually found it a tad entertaining and a bit insulting as well that she had to clarify the sleep suggestion part, as if she thought he was going to purposefully murder a couple of brainwashed clones. “We need some of them alive, Ahsoka,” he shot back.

She turned to stare at him momentarily. “Yeah. Yeah. I know.”

Taking the bridge wasn’t difficult. They didn’t see it coming and were completely unprepared for an assault by two jedi. Ahsoka had taken out the communications officer first – all of the bridge had been quickly replaced with natborns, unsurprisingly – and had nearly taken off his limbs. In the end, it hadn’t mattered. He was dead.

A few of the officers did end up dead, mostly due to Feemor and Ahsoka reflecting blaster bolts back at them. The rest had surrendered fairly quickly. Upon ordering communications throughout the ship to be blocked, Ahsoka worked on the technology part of the controls of the ship, while Feemor cuffed and herded their hostages away from said controls.

“Alright,” Feemor smiled, something wicked and cold. “This is how things are going to go. We are the leaders on the ship now. You will stay here for the duration of your stay. You will not communicate with anyone – not that you could anyways – and if you somehow do, upon someone figuring out what has happened because of it, bad things will happen. You will not let any of the clones on the bridge or tell them that we are here. Do you understand the rules?”

Everyone was rather hesitant, shooting him horrible looks but they nodded.

“Fantastic. Then, we can move along,” he turned and walked towards Ahsoka, keeping a blatant eye on their prisoners.

“Ah, Ahsoka?” he questioned. “This was great and all but now we have at least hundreds of brainwashed clones aboard. What are we going to be doing with them?”

Ahsoka just shrugged. “For now, nothing.”

Ahsoka walked towards the holotable in the middle of the bridge, Feemor trailing behind her uncertainly. She clicked in a comm code and Feemor shifted uncomfortably on the other side of the table. He couldn’t believe they had taken the ship. Keeping it, that was going to be another story. He had no idea what she had in mind; what she was going to do with this entire ship full of brainwashed clones. It wasn’t like the two of them could just take them down or something.

Jesse and Echo, if Feemor remembered correctly, popped up on the table in the blue holoform. “Commander!” Echo greeted, easily. “We were expecting you back hours ago! Is everything okay?”

“Just fine, Echo,” Ahsoka nodded, seriously. “Any word on General Kenobi’s ships and the other Jedi around?”

“Leaving quite soon sir,” Jesse responded this time. “The last couple of ships have left the planet. They will be leaving for Kamino promptly. Rex said he is going to stay with the… with the rest of the 501st, Appo isn’t doing so well.”

“We actually suggested it,” Echo butted in. The look on their faces were pained and mournful. Jesse struggled to speak again but once he started, his voice got stronger.

“What about you, where are you?”

“When are you coming?”

Ahsoka paused and took a deep breath. Feemor watched, carefully. “You go on to Kamino without us, boys,” she started.

The other two began to protest, rather vehemently. “Never sir!”

“You really think we would leave without you?”

Ahsoka nearly let out a laugh but settled for a smirk. “Don’t worry. I will meet you on our next destination. Master Feemor and I…. well, we found ourselves another ride.

[jaskiersbeloved]

the (not so) calm before the storm

summary: He was the Prince! But was he really?

authors note: This is my first fic for the Sanders Sides fandom so I am acyually pretty nervous about how this one went. But I hope you liked it!

Come and yell at me, if you want!

spoilers from “putting others first”!

Read on AO3

The wind was blowing hard outside the window. The rain was pouring even harder, almost muffling the sound of the soft piano melody that was filling the room.

In the middle of it there was a bed. A bed, that could easily fit in two grown men. It was a bed, that would certainly be worthy of a ...

"Prince" scoffed Roman.

He was sitting just at the very edge of it. In his hands was the red sash that he would so proudly wore everyday. But not today. Not after everything that has happened.

Patton... Could be wrong. De... JANUS was a person who was worthy of trust, of all things sacred! The literal embodiment of lies!

Careful Roman. If it weren't for the moustache I wouldn't know who the evil twin is.

Roman squeezed his eyes tighter, feeling the tears that began to once again fall down from his face.

Let's move on to something we're both familiar with, Roman. Mistakes.

He has made a mistake. A huge mistake that had cost Thomas his happiness...

... and mental health points.

Roman groaned, falling back on the bed. Since he has sunk out, the snake's voice couldn't leave his head.

He hated Dec... Janus. Hated him so much. For manipulating him from the get go, for bringing up his confidence just to crush it down, but most of all...

For sounding so RIGHT.

Roman wiped his face angrily with his sleeve and looked at his sash.

To most people it was just a simple accessory. A decoration, a pop of colour that would stand out from his white robes. Not so quite for Roman. He always thought of it as a clear sign of his prince-like status. And what are the main principles of being a prince?

To be just. Kind. Approachable. Morally good. Selfless. Brave. Strong. Noble. Loved by everyone.

Am I worthy to still be the Prince that Thomas wants me to be? Roman wondered, nervously ruffing his hair.

He tried to be just during the trail. He tried so much. But it looked like it wasn't enough. He hated to admit that, but Janus was right. The decision he made that day served literally no-one. Especially not Thomas.

Kind? No, definitely no. He laughed at Janus' name. Roman mentally cringed at the memory of it. That wasn't kind, but cruel. And it was the same mistake that he did with... Right, next.

Approachable. Yes, that he still was. If Thomas or the others needed him he would still appear, no matter how he would feel.

He couldn't help but scoff. The ugly feeling inside of him, that appeared during the video grew stronger, making him feel cold.

Wasn't the whole point of the video to also take care of one's mental health before helping others? And what was his advice worth anyway? It's not like anyone would listen to him...

Morally good. No. They did talk about it a LOT today. If he'd spared it one more thought he would explode.

Selfless. He tried to be. He tried to be so hard that he actually hurt everyone.

Roman jumped at the realization.

He has hurt Thomas. The very person he has sworn to protect. He did that. His actions did that.

The feeling grew stronger.

The creative side clutched the sash tighter, looking at it, as it would hold the explanations, reassurances he needed. He started to breathe quicker, as he continued down the list.

Brave and strong. Yeah, in the Imagination he was. But that's all it was. Imagination. It was relatively easy to fight with the dragon witch, because he knew he was ought to win. There was simply no other option. But in the real life? During the confrontation with any other of the sides? He would lash out out of fear of being mistaken. That isn't real strength. The imaginary battles served absolutely no one if they didn't pay off in real life. They were purposeless.

The tears fell again, staining the sash. The only sound that was coming to Roman has been his own frantic breathing. He couldn't stop thinking.

Noble.

I was actually impressed with you. You made such a NOBLE sacrifice.

Frustrated he covered his ears.

"Get out of my head!" he yelled, choking on his tears.

Loved by everyone.

We love you.

No.

No they don't.

And that's when the tame broke. Roman curled inside himself, crying. He dropped the sash and clutched his hair in a death grip.

What is right? What is good? What is kind? What is just?

He's the prince, for god's sake! He should know!

But he didn't. He didn't. And that terrified him.

Suddenly he felt like he couldn't breathe. Absolutely no air was entering his lungs. He started to choke.

Instinctively he brought a hand over his chest, as he fought, he fought for one gulp of air to enter, so he could stop choking, but he couldn't, he couldn't, he...

Suddenly a hand landed on his shoulder. Startled he tore his eyes from his knees and looked up... Right into Virgil's worried glance.

"Ro," he said gently "calm down. Everything's okay."

It's not! Can't he see?!

Seeing as he started to choke again, Virgil swiftly tore Roman's hand from his clammy chest to his warm one.

"Roman" he said, without breaking the eye contact. "Breathe. Just like I do now. In." Under his fingers, Roman could feel how Virgil's chest rose and heard how the anxious side slowly drew his breath through his nose. He tried to mimic that, but the movement caused him only to cough.

Vigil sent him a weak smile.

"Try again" he prompted, with a still gentle voice.

Seeing his earnest glance Roman tried again. This time no coughing. The precious, precious air, finally filled his lungs. He closed his eyes.

"Out" he heard Virgil saying. He did just that.

They sat there, just breathing, until Roman felt calmer. But then the shame came. Suddenly he felt very stupid. Some prince he was, to break down just like that!

He tried to scoot himself back, but Virgil's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Ro?"

That damn tone again.

Virgil was never THAT gentle. What has Roman even done to deserve that?! He has hurt Virgil in the past, so what on Cinderella's glass slipper has he done to deserve that?!

"W- what..." he managed to croak and then coughed. His throat was dry. Probably because of all of that needless panicking. "What are you doing here?" he finally said, avoiding Virgil's eyes.

He heard a sigh.

"Well... I kinda heard what has happened and sensed that you're anxious so..."

Roman shook his head in a silent disbelief. So Virgil knew what happened. Why was he with him? Shouldn't he... Take care of Patton? He was much more important than him.

"I don't need pity" he muttered. The hand on his shoulder gripped him a bit tighter.

"I don't pity you, Princey" He couldn't help but flinch at the familiar nickname. Princey. Yeah. Sure.

If Virgil noticed the flinch he didn't mention it. He seemingly decided to just continue.

"I actually wanted to tell you something."

Roman completely froze. He felt his anxiety spike. He clutched helplessly at the cover of the bed, waiting.

"There is but one essential justice which cements society, and one law which enables justice. This law is the right reason, which is the true rule of all commandments and prohibitions. Whoever neglects this law, whether written or unwritten, is necessarily unjust and wicked."

Roman blinked and dared to look at Virgil. He anxiously run his hand through his hair.

"I don't understand" he whispered, looking at the other side with glassy eyes. Virgil looked like he wanted to chuckle, but thought the better of it.

"What I mean is, Sir Singalot" he began, scooting closer to Roman. The creative side felt himself relax, a little bit. "Is that you had a right reason when you chose to decide to go to the wedding. You heard us all, and..." he chewed on his lip. "...and even though we all... Pressured you, you did what you thought was best for Thomas. You did that, because you felt it was okay. You didn't do that just to spite someone. You couldn't have predicted what would happen. No-one could. Beating yourself over that won't do you any good, trust me."

Roman sighed. Deeply.

"You see, I kinda know that" he said, again avoiding looking at Virgil. "But also... It's not why I am so upset."

"Is it because of Deceit?" he heard Virgil say. He scoffed, staring at the wall in front of him.

"Of course it is" he muttered angrily.

Because Roman would make ya sick.

His brother's voice rang in his head. Roman pressed his lips, trying to stop his tears from falling.

Silence fell over the two of them.

I wouldn't know who the evil twin is.

If Patton can be wrong... Then whose to say that Roman actually is the good twin? He had listed all of the principles of the prince and... And he couldn't fit in almost any of them! Whose to say that Remus of all people didn't have all of those in him? Maybe he should take the wheel? Maybe Roman should simply...

"Virgil?" he whispered.

"Hm?"

"How did you duck out?"

Virgil immediately sat up.

"What?" he asked. Roman winced, hearing how terrified his voice sounded. Great. He's on a good way to hurt yet another person.

"How did you duck out?" he repeated, quietly this time.

He felt as Virgil hands turned his head, so that he could face him. And he immediately wished he didn't.

Virgil looked... Worried. Terrified out of his mind. And above all of that he looked...

Great Roman. You did it. You managed to hurt the last person in this fucking household!

"Roman" Virgil said, his voice actually wavering, full of emotions. What emotions, Roman couldn't say.

"You... You don't actually..." Roman hung his head, feeling the tears welling in his eyes yet again.

"Roman" Virgil repeated with a panicky note in his voice. "Promise me, promise you don't..."

"I DON'T KNOW!" he snapped, breaking from Virgil's hold. Angry tears started to fall down from his face. "I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO! Patton can be wrong Virgil! And it was HIM that said I'm the good one! But if he's wrong then whose to say I am not bad?! If Deciet's a good guy now, then everything's... Everyone can be bad! I can be bad!" he yelled.

Virgil just started blankly at him, clearly at loss as to what to do. Roman laughed hysterically. At that moment, what he said hit him with a full force of it.

I can be the bad one.

He slumped down on the bed.

"I can be the bad one" he repeated with an empty voice. And then he covered his eyes and started to openly weep.

Just a moment later he felt a pair of arms pulling him in. His head fell on a chest and be couldn't do anything other than just clutch to the fabric of the black hoodie and cry his eyes out. He felt as Virgil started to gently rock them, trying to calm him down.

He didn't know how long they stayed like that. It honestly didn't matter to him. But at the end of it he just felt... Numb. Numb and so, so tired, mostly because of the crying. Virgil was still holding him, gently stroking his back, which made Roman kind of sleepy. He closed his eyes. Just for a second, he thought to himself. They've just established that it's actually good to be selfish anyway and...

He drifted off.

Virgil sighed, as he felt Roman relaxing.

Logan actually filled him in earlier, and what the logical side didn't tell him, a very worried Patton did. And Virgil. Was. Furious.

Not only Janus was accepted. But he also made Roman and Patton feel like absolute shit. So he went to Roman's room. Patton told him, that he actually wanted to do it, but Virgil just gritted through his teeth, that maybe it's best he'd do it.

As it turned out, it was the right thing to do. Virgil honestly didn't want to think how the conversation would have gone if Patton were the one who would tried to comfort Roman. Fuck, he himself wasn't sure if he actually did a better job, but at least Roman was resting.

He carefully untangled himself from the Prince and as quietly as he could tucked him in.

Leaving the bed he noticed a red cloth lying on the floor. He took it and covered his mouth to muffle to gasp that escaped him when he noticed it was actually Roman's sash. How bad did Roman feel to just abandon one of his favourite accessories like that?

Virgil didn't know. But that was a conversation for another day. Roman needed to rest.

So he folded the sash and laid it on the nightstand, feeling absolutely tired. They had to fix that. Fast.

As he was about to leave when a realization struck him. He turned around and looked at Roman's sleeping form.

How did you duck out?

Promise me...

Roman didn't promise.