#The sad part? I checked his buddies to see if they had a similar fear based expression

[comraderaccoon]

Ok, so went to Target a while back, to check out their Christmas stuff. Went down the ornament aisle and found this guy.

Anxiety

[moon-light-jukebox]

“If you want me to, I will.” [Hotch x Reader]

masterlist

Summary: Reader has worked for Aaron Hotchner for the past 6 months as the babysitter to his son, Jack.

Pairing: Hotch x (Female) Reader

Word Count: 7.4k – she thicc

Category: Smut/Fluff…and some angst because of who I am as a person.

Content Warning:

A/n: We all know that Hotch’s favorite album is the Beatles "White Album." And I have odd choices for songs that I use as lullabies. This idea came into my head and never left. This video of Billie Eillish singing part of the song is the closest to the structure of how I imagined it. Okay, okay, look, I know Roy wasn’t diagnosed until season 10. But I am taking creative liberties because I needed Jack to be younger.

Meaning this would be set around season 7. Hotch would be about 41, Jack is around 7; so, I made Reader around 26, giving them a 15-year age gap. Please don’t check my math. 😌

y/n = your name. y/l/n = your last name. italicized texts are Reader’s thoughts.

-- If you want me to, I will. --

I was disoriented when I woke up. This isn’t my bed, I thought groggily. Wait…this isn’t even my house.

“Y/n,” a deep voice rumbled beside me.

I jackknifed up into a sitting position, eyes wide and my face flushed with embarrassment. “Mr. Hotchner!” I quickly brought my hand up to my cheek to make sure I hadn’t drooled in my sleep. Because that would really be the cherry on top of my embarrassment. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to fall asleep. This is so embarrassing.”

Mr. Hotchner had been crouched down, putting himself level with his living room couch; the same couch he came home and found me sleeping on. In all the months I’d worked for the Hotchner/Brooks family, I’d never seen Mr. Hotchner smile anytime he wasn’t talking to his son, Jack. He always looked incredibly serious and sometimes incredibly sad; but the normal scowl was missing from his face as he looked at me, I noticed, watching him rise to a standing position.

“It’s fine, y/n. It’s after 1 o’clock in the morning.” He shifted, turning to go open the gun safe he kept in the part of the living room where his desk sat. Mr. Hotchner, or Hotch, as he kept telling me to call him, was the Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit with the FBI. Which was just a very fancy way of saying he was a profiler that was in charge of all the other profilers. Some people just look like the jobs they have; Mr. Hotchner was one of those people. “Thank you for staying late, I didn’t think things were going to run this long. I didn’t even know you were here until I called Jessica a few hours ago.”

“Oh, right,” I mumbled as I began to gather my things from the coffee table and put them into my bag. “She called me a little after 4; something happened with her dad, I think.” I zipped my bag shut, standing up quickly. “I didn’t mind helping out, Mr. Hotchner.”

He made a sound that was almost a chuckle. “You don’t have to call me Mr. Hotchner, y/n. I know I’m a lot older than you, but that makes me feel ancient.”

“You’re not that much older than me,” I protested.

He looked incredulous. “Y/n, you’re still in college.”

Well, that stings a bit. “I’m in graduate school,” I said, my voice dampening a little bit. “I’m almost 27.”

Mr. Hotchner blinked at me. “Really? I thought you were younger than that…”

“My age didn’t come up in the numerous background checks you did on me?” I scoffed, immediately wincing as the words flew out of my mouth. “Oh my god, I just keep making this worse.” I slung my bag over my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hotchner. For falling asleep on your couch…and for every moment after that. I’ll just go now.”

"Y/n," he called. "hang on, it's really late, and…I still need to pay you."

Jesus. “It is late, Mr. Hotchner, that’s why I need to head home.” I forced an awkward laugh. “I have class at 9 am.”

He pushed his hands into his pockets, regarding me in a way that made me squirm. I wasn’t used to a person paying attention to me the way Mr. Hotchner did. It didn’t make me uneasy; I just felt like I couldn’t hide anything from him…which made me uneasy. “What classes are you taking this semester?”

I don’t know why it stung so much that he knew virtually nothing about me. I’d worked for him for 6 months; he wasn’t obligated to know anything about me other than how I took care of his son. “I’m actually done with my course work this semester,” I mumbled. “I’m a TA…in a class that starts at 9 am.” It doesn’t matter, you’re just tired. “You-you can just pay me for tonight the next time I’m over. It’s not like you’re gonna stiff me.” I walked over to the door and threw a very quick “goodnight, Mr. Hotchner” over my shoulder before I scurried out.

I missed the quiet “Aaron. You can call me Aaron.”

--

The entire drive home, my thoughts were on Aaron Hotchner. None of this was what I expected when I took this job. I had been in graduate school for 2 years now. I had already gotten my master’s degree and had been accepted into the Ph.D. program. There are many branches of psychology, but I had always been fascinated with cognitive psychology; it seemed only natural that that is what I would pursue in graduate school. Once it became time to focus my interest in preparation for my dissertation, I decided to study the cognitive decay in Alzheimer's patients. We knew that they lost memories, but I wanted to explore how their basic cognitive functions were affected in certain settings.

As part of my program, I was a TA in an intro psych class, and I conducted my research at the hospital connected to the university. That’s where I first met Jessica Brooks. Despite getting a stipend for my teaching assistant work, I had been taking odd jobs to help make ends meet; D.C. wasn't cheap. When I mentioned that I had experience with kids, Jessica had immediately told me that she was needing help caring for her nephew in the wake of her father, Roy's diagnosis. She wanted to keep him at home, which was both admirable and time-consuming.

I wasn’t prepared for the gigantic background check that I was subjected to. I very quickly learned that my potential employer had some power at the FBI. Jessica had raved to him about me, so he agreed to meet with me. When Jessica told me he worked for the FBI, I was expecting a bureaucrat, kind of short, receding hairline, soft from sitting behind a desk all day.

Aaron Hotchner was none of those things. He was a total cliché; he was tall, dark, and handsome. His eyes were such a deep brown they were almost black, his hair was black, and he towered over me. His hand was firm when he shook mine. I initially thought he didn’t like me because of the scowl he wore on his face; now I knew that was just his default expression. I’m pretty sure he invented Resting Bitch Face. I think it was my meeting with Jack that sealed the deal. We had clicked right away. The 7-year-old was impressed by my knowledge of both DC and Marvel comics. I could still remember our first meeting so clearly; when in a move that I now know is so much like his father, he had asked me an interview question of his own.

“What is Spiderman’s middle name?” the boy had asked with a suspicious squint of his eyes.

This kid is poser checking me, I had thought with amusement. “That would depend on which Spiderman you’re referring to. Assuming it’s Peter Parker, his middle name is Benjamin.”

We were best friends after that.

I loved Jack; I really did. And I was paid well enough that he was the only child I babysat for, the rest of my time spent working on my research and plotting my dissertation. It was clear that Aaron Hotchner loved his son, and he felt guilty for not being around more. He was fierce and intimidating any other time, but once he was with his son, his entire face would transform. His smiles came easier, his eyes twinkled, and he didn’t seem so scary anymore.

None of that is why he made me nervous, though. What made me so nervous is the fear that one day I was going to spend enough time with him for him to see the feelings I had so stupidly developed for him.  

--

The very next night, I was hiding in the kitchen floor in Aaron Hotchner’s apartment.

“Ready or not, here I come!” the little voice called out before his feet started stomping loudly across the floor.

From my position behind the kitchen counter, I tried very hard to remain silent, despite my amusement. Jack Hotchner was many wonderful, wonderful things. Sneaky was not one of them. Which is why I wasn’t surprised when I heard his little feet hurry towards me, and I didn’t lose my balance when he turned the corner and launched himself at me. “Oomph!” was the only reasonable sound to make when a tiny human slammed into you.

Jack was delighted. “I FOUND YOU!”

My response was cut off by the sound of the front door opening. Jack was off me in a flash, barreling towards the living room. “Daddy!”

Mr. Hotchner made a similar “oomph” noise when Jack jumped on him, confirming my theory. I rose to my feet quickly, smoothing down my clothes.

“We were playing hide and seek, Daddy!” Jack informed his father. “I found y/n every time! She never found me once!” His chest puffed out with pride, making my face break into a smile.

“You’re just an excellent hider, Jack-attack.”

Mr. Hotchner’s eyes settled on my face then, for just a moment I saw something so sad in those eyes that the breath seized in my lungs.

He cleared his throat, seeming to shake off whatever he was thinking before smiling at his son. “I’m glad you had a good time with, y/n, buddy.”

Jack nodded vigorously. “I helped make dinner!”

“You did?” He questioned in fake astonishment. “When did you make dinner?”

“Tonight!”

Mr. Hotchner looked at me quizzically. “Oh, um, I wasn’t actually supposed to watch Jack tonight…but Jessica called and asked if I could. It was really last minute, and she’d already bought some stuff to make dinner…” I trailed off. “I hope that’s okay. Jesus Christ, y/n. You’re a 26-year-old woman, get it together.

His attention moved from me to his son. "Jack, go get changed into your pj's. It's almost bedtime." When Jack's mouth opened to protest this great injustice, his father went on. "You can tell y/n bye when you're done."

So much for a speedy escape, I thought. Instead, I just smiled at him. "Yep, I'll be right here, little man." Satisfied with this, Jack jumped out of his father's arms and ran towards his room.

“Why did Jessica need you to come over? Did something happen with Roy?” He looked genuinely worried, walking into the kitchen to stand near me.

I reached out and put a hand on his arm without thinking. "Oh, oh god no, nothing like that." Realizing I was touching him, I snatched my hand back like he'd burned me. "Sorry. She…she-um had a date."

His eyebrows rose so high they almost hit his hairline. “A date?” he asked, disbelief dripping from his words.

I chuckled. “That’s what she told me.”

He walked back into the living room then, leaning back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest as he focused his dark gaze on me. “What about you?”

“…What about me what?”

“Does Jessica ever have to cover for you when you have dates?”

If Aaron Hotchner hadn’t made me so nervous, I might have picked up on how he phrased that question. As it happens, all I could do was fidget under his gaze. “Oh,” I chuckled nervously. “Ah, no. She doesn’t have to do that. I don’t really date.”

That had one of his eyebrows rising, his arms crossing across his chest. "Why?"

Because I want you to crack my back like a glowstick. “Um…you know, it’s hard to find the time.”

Thankfully Jack chose that moment to come barreling out of his room, charging full force at me. “You’re still here!” he exclaimed.

I smiled down at him when his arms wrapped around my hips. I put one hand on the back of his head, the other on his back, giving him a squeeze. “Of course I am! I couldn’t leave without telling you goodbye.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” he mumbled.

My throat worked as a sudden wave of emotion hit me. "Oh, Jack," my voice was thicker than usual when I spoke. "I don't like leaving you either, but you'll see me before you know it. I promise."

Once we had finally pried Jack off me, Mr. Hotchner went to take him to bed. He turned to me when he scooped Jack up in his arms. “Thank you for today.”

“It’s no problem, Mr. Hotchner.”

“You know you don’t have to call me that,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine. “Most people call me Hotch. Or you could call me Aaron.”

I didn't know what to say to that; all I could do was give him an awkward smile. I was gone before he came back into the living room. I didn't want to leave, I never did, but I couldn't risk being alone with…Aaron.

--

The following Thursday night, my phone started ringing just after 11:30. Glancing at it, I saw it was Jessica. “Hey,” I said in greeting.

“Hey, y/n,” she said, sounding frazzled. “I have a huge favor to ask. Dad’s home health nurse had to leave early tonight.” “Is something wrong with Melinda?” I hope not. She’s the sweetest.

“No, I don’t think so. But she needs to go home and there’s no one to sit with Jack. But Aaron isn’t home yet…”

“I’ll be there in 20.”

Which is why I was now in Aaron Hotchner’s apartment after midnight in a pair of shorts that were so short I only ever wore them at home and a t-shirt that I had had for forever. Jessica had sounded so upset when she called, I hadn't even thought to change. She had promised to be back as quick as she could; she said that Mr. Hotchner was flying back from a case, and she didn’t expect him until 5 a.m. at the earliest.

When I first arrived, I had tried to watch TV, my mind too wired to sleep, even though I had class at 9 am in the morning. Sighing, I glanced over at the clock to see it was just after 1:45 in the morning.

“Fuuuuuuck,” I whined out loud. I have to go to sleep; even if it’s just a little nap. I remembered Jessica had left some chamomile tea here for the nights she stayed over to watch Jack. Finding the kettle and the tea itself was no problem; the problem presented itself when I had to get a mug to put the tea in.

I had never considered myself a particularly short person; sure, I had to stretch to get things from time to time, but everybody did that. Looking up into the upper cabinets in the Hotchner house had me reconsidering that. The mugs were on the very top shelf and try as I might, I just couldn’t seem to reach them; my fingers kept grazing over the ceramic.

“Goddamnit,” I mumbled in a huff. What is the point to put mugs way the fuck up there? Some of us are a perfectly normal height…but noooo I have to work for giants. I braced my hands on the countertop as I heaved myself up on to said countertop. Once my knees were in place, I got the offending cup without further problems.

I blame how focused I was on my task for my not hearing the front door open, or the footsteps that followed. Which is why I had a mild heart attack when I heard a voice that sounded highly amused say from behind me, “What are you doing?”

Several things happened all at once, and very quickly. I let out the most embarrassing squeak in all of history, I lost my balance on the counter and the cup fell from my hand. The cup crashed to the floor and shattered. My fate might have been the same but two large hands caught me, gripping my hips from behind. I looked down to see his long fingers wrapping around my waist, gripping me tightly; my difficulty breathing then had nothing to do with how scared I was.  

“I’m sorry,” Aaron said softly, still not releasing me. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, I get it,” I said lightly, attempting to act like I wasn’t going into cardiac arrest because he was touching me. “You’re a very stealthy FBI agent. It was bound to happen.”

He chuckled before his hands pushed my hips so I was twisting around, my legs shifting until I was sitting on the countertop, staring into the same dark eyes I thought about far too often. They weren’t as harsh as they usually were; tonight, they were soft and warm, and they made my pulse race a bit faster.

I moved to get off the counter when the hands that were still on my hips stopped me. “Hang on, let me clean this up first. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Fantastic, I thought, hiding my face in my hands. It seems I was incapable of not making a fool out of myself in front of this man.

He worked quickly while I debated changing my name and fleeing the country; in the next moment, he was standing in front of me again. "What's wrong?"

“Oh, nothing,” I said, not moving my hands. “Just dying of embarrassment.”

Aaron actually laughed at that, moving closer to stand between my thighs, his hands coming to rest on the countertop on either side of my hips. “Why are you embarrassed?”

I dropped my hands then. “Because this is becoming a pattern! First, I fell asleep on your couch, then I almost fell off your counter and cracked my head like an egg.” I bit my lip, shifting under his gaze. “I’m sorry and thank you for catching me.”

“I didn’t mind,” he said softly.

He still had that soft look on his face, but he was smiling too like he was enjoying my embarrassment. He probably is. I had never been this close to him before. I didn’t know his eyes weren’t just one flat color of brown, but that lighter shades of brown whirled throughout. I had never felt the heat of his body before, but now I was so close I could smell him. Why does he have to smell good? I whined internally. If he just stunk, I could get over this.

This was exactly why I tried very hard to stay as far away from him as possible because I lost the ability to think clearly whenever I was with him. I couldn't stop my eyes from moving down to his lips. I was eye level with him from my position on the counter; all I had to do to brush my lips across his was lean forward, so that’s exactly what I did. His body stiffened slightly at the first touch of my lips to his. I pulled back, ready to apologize when his hand wrapped around the back of my head and pulled me back to him. There was nothing soft about this kiss. His free hand gripped my thigh, my hands held on to his shirt, trying to pull him closer. My tongue brushed against his mouth before he sucked on the tip of it, causing me to shudder. He took a step forward as his tongue twirled around mine. I could feel him when he settled against me; he was hard, and I found myself shifting my hips to rub against him.

The shrill ringing of his phone broke us apart suddenly. He was panting, his cheeks were slightly flushed. I thought I heard him let out a “fuck” under his breath as he reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone.

“Hey Jessica,” he answered.

Now that our moment was broken, I felt very self-conscious. What the fuck did I just do?! He is my boss. He is Jack’s dad. Aaron took a step back and I slid off the counter. This turned out to be a very bad idea on my part; my body brushed down the front of his, causing me to bite my lip to silence the moan that threatened to escape.

“Yeah, I landed a little while ago,” he said as I left the kitchen.

WhatthefuckWhatthefuck. I heard him end the call with Jessica before he quickly walked into the living room. A look of relief washed over his face when he saw me. “I thought you’d try to slip away.”

“I thought about it,” I told him honestly.

“Listen, y/n, about that in the kitchen,” he began.

I held up my hands. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Hotchner. I don’t know why I did that; I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” I was giving him an out because I couldn’t handle hearing the rejection I knew was coming. “I just…I guess we got caught up in the moment? And you’re really tired, I’m sure. I’m so sorry.” I was rambling now. “If you don’t want me to watch Jack anymore-“

“Y/n, no,” he interrupted. “No, this…you’re right, it was just a heat of the moment thing. It happens. I’m sorry I lost myself for a moment.” He cleared his throat, his face still set in softness. “Jack loves you. He doesn’t need to suffer for any more of my mistakes.”

Mistakes. The word hollowed me out and left me cold. I just nodded. “Right,” I said in what I hoped was an even tone. “Just a mistake. I should get going. It’s really late.”

Which is how I found myself driving home at almost 3 in the morning with tears running down my cheeks. A mistake.

--

Things went back to normal after that night. I continued to avoid Aaron Hotchner at all costs and he…did whatever he did. I tried to hide the hurt whenever I did happen to see him, but it was so hard when I could still feel the tingle from his lips on mine.

A few days after the “mistake,” I was babysitting Jack again. He’d went to bed at his normal 8:30 and all was quiet. I decided to do some TA work while I waited for Mr. Hotchner to come home. I was halfway through grading an essay when I heard the first noise come from Jack’s room. Lifting my fingers from the keys of my computer, I waited to see if I heard another sound. I didn’t have to wait long; not even a minute passed before I heard a strained cry. Jumping up, I hurried down the hall to Jack’s bedroom.

Cracking the door open I called, “Jack-attack? Are you okay, little man?” I didn’t see him right away; he had hidden under his covers and curled up into a little ball. “Hey, Jack. It’s just y/n.” I sat down on the edge of his bed. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

I saw the lump under the blankets start to move hesitantly before I saw his brown hair peak out of the blanket near his pillow. His eyes were wide and with the light shining in from the hall, I could see tears gleam in them. “Oh, buddy,” I cooed. “Did you have a bad dream?”

The boy nodded. “Yeah…there was a bad man…and my daddy didn’t come save me.”

I felt my breath seize in my chest. Jessica had told me a brief version of what happened to Jack's mother a few years ago. "Jack, you know your dad would always do whatever he had to do to come to save you." I shifted my position on the bed until I was sitting beside him. "He'd never let anything bad happen to you." Jack started inching closer to me. I held out my arms and smiled when he lunged for me; I wrapped him in a tight hug, rubbing circles on his back.

“My dad just isn’t home a lot anymore. He has a lot of work to do,” he mumbled into my shirt.  

“Your dad would be home if he could, Jack.” I couldn’t quite keep the sadness out of my voice. It wasn’t fair to either Jack or his dad that he had to be away so much.

“I know,” the little boy whispered. “I just miss him sometimes.”

“Do you want to call him?” I offered. “I don’t think he’d mind.”

Jack just shook his head. “No, it’s okay.” He turned his face up to look at me. “Will you stay with me?”

I moved so he lay beside me with my left arm still squeezed around him. “Of course, bud.” I scooted down the bed so I was reclining instead of sitting straight up, pulling the cover-up over him again. "Do you want me to read you another story?"  

He just shuffled under his covers, looking at me with the bashful innocence of childhood. “Can you sing to me until I fall asleep?”

I wasn’t the biggest fan of singing in front of people, but how could I turn this little face down? I just nodded. “Do you have any requests?”

“Nope,” he answered with a little grin on his face.

Unfortunately, at that moment every single lullaby I had ever know left my head. I couldn’t think of a single traditional lullaby. So, I decided to improvise. I started singing slower songs I knew, some of them might not have been appropriate for a 7-year-old’s lullaby, but I don’t think Jack cared that much.

He was almost out, drifting on the edge between deep sleep and awake. My arm was still around his shoulder, he was still snuggled to my side. I decided one more song would be enough, which meant I pulled out my second Beatles song of the night.

“Who knows how long I’ve loved you?

You know I love you still.

Will I wait a lonely lifetime?

If you want me to, I will.

For if I ever saw-“

I glanced up, immediately sensing there was someone else in the room. To my horror, Jack’s father was standing in the doorway, staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face. I swallowed nervously, then I turned to press a kiss against Jack’s soft forehead before I gently detangled myself from him. I straightened my clothes that to my further embarrassment had shifted around because I was laying with a wiggly child, then, attempting to keep my face impassive, I walked to the door, moving around his father as I exited.

Mr. Hotchner walked into the room and checked on his son, while I moved into the living room to gather my things. I wonder if he just left the money by the door, I mused. If he did, I could just make a dash for the door. I mean, if he didn’t, he could always just pay me next time. Sadly, my plans were escape were foiled yet again by the man in question entering the room.

"Sorry," I muttered. "I know he was up past his bedtime. I put him down at 8, but he had a nightmare." I was babbling, not meeting his eyes, my gaze very intently focused on my bag. "He asked me to stay with him until he fell asleep…" I finally looked up, shrugged, and said, "He's very hard to say no to."

“You don’t have to apologize for being nice to my son, y/n,” he said softly. “That’s one of my favorite songs on the White Album, you know.”

I hadn’t known that. “Mr. Hotch-“

He took a step towards me before I finished speaking. “Y/n, please, I can barely handle this as it is. Please call me Aaron.”

I just blinked up at him. “So, ‘Hotch’ is off the table now?”

That had a soft smile curving his lips upward. "That was a limited-time deal. You should have been quicker." I saw his hand rise up slowly, so slowly that I would have had time to move away…but I just couldn’t. He brushed my hair back from my face, his eyes were two pools of black in the dim light, they were swirling with something that made my stomach flutter.

“Aaron,” I breathed, having no idea what I was going to say.

He let out a soft sigh, turning his eyes upwards. When he brought them back down to mine, his hand slid from its place near my ear to cradle the back of my head. His eyes searched mine for a moment before his shoulders dropped slightly. “Fuck it,” he muttered before he leaned down and sealed his lips over mine.

I might have thought this kiss would be questioning or unsure, but there was nothing unsure about it. Aaron kissed me like he was starving for me. His teeth caught my bottom lip and tugged as he pulled away. “It wasn’t a mistake,” he breathed before bringing his lips more firmly against mine.

My hands began to move over his body; one of my hands grabbed his tie and used it to pull him closer to me, the other reached up to brush against the short, soft hair on the back of his neck. “It wasn’t?” I questioned when we broke away for air.

Aaron’s lips moved across my cheek, leaving soft kisses until he reached my ear. “No, sweet girl, it wasn’t.” His mouth moved down to my neck; his kisses turning into bites that were sure to become brushes. I didn’t care, I needed him. My hands moved to his shirt, quickly trying to undo all the buttons.

His hands moved down to the waist of my jeans, deftly flicking the button open before sliding the zipper down. “Is this what you want?” he asked as his hand touched my lower stomach, his fingers brushing over the elastic band of my panties.

“Yes,” I said, still working to free him from his shirt. “I want this so much.”

The fingers of his free hand rose up to tap my chin, forcing my eyes up until I met his gaze. "I want to hear you say my name again." His other hand lifted from my stomach to slide over the flair of my hip until he was gripping my ass. "Whenever I laid in bed that night after I had you pressed against me in my kitchen when I stroked my cock, I thought about you moaning my name.” The hand that was on my chin pulled away, skimming down my body until he was grabbing the other side of my ass. “So, say it. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you, Aaron.” So, so much.

His hands moved to the backs of my thighs, then he lifted me up his body, startling me. Jesus Christ, how strong is this guy? I threw my arms around his neck as he started walking us down towards his bedroom. A giggle escaped my lips. “I could have walked, you know.”

We had already entered his room; he tossed me gently on the bed before he turned to close and lock the door. He walked to stand at the side of his bed, his eyes devouring me. “I couldn’t give you a chance to sneak away again, sweet girl.” Aaron pulled off his tie before he finished unbuttoning his shirt, shedding it on the floor.

Fuck. Fuck, he’s hot. I pulled my own shirt over my head, and his body was on top of me before it even left my hands. Aaron's mouth moved down to my collarbones, his hand slipped behind my back to unhook my bra. Once the straps were down my arms, Aaron lifted himself up on his arms to toss it away, his eyes running over my body. "You're so beautiful," he said softly like it wasn't the sweetest compliment I'd ever been paid. He leaned over again, his lips skimming down to my chest before he wrapped his lips around one of my nipples.

“Fuck, Aaron,” I moaned.

He gave my nipple a flick with his tongue before he lifted his head. “Ssh, sweet girl. You have to be quiet. Can you do that?” He kissed his way over to my other breast. “I can’t do this if you won’t be quiet.”

“I can be quiet,” I whispered right before I bit my lip to smother my moan at the feeling of his mouth on me. “Maybe.”

His breath puffed against my skin when he laughed at me. My hands threaded through his hair when he brought his face back up to mine. My mouth opened eagerly for him, my tongue slicking over his while I tried to grind my body against him. Aaron was smiling when he broke the kiss, shifting up onto his knees. “Well, I appreciate you trying to be quiet at any rate,” he teased.

My response died in my throat when his fingers yanked my jeans off my legs, bringing my panties with them. I was totally bare in front of him. His eyes raked down my body in a way that would make me self-conscious with anyone else. How could I ever be self-conscious with a man who looked at me like I was the most beautiful thing in the world?

But when he started to kiss further down my body, I grabbed his arm, attempting to pull him back up to kiss me. “Aaron,” I whispered.

He pressed a soft kiss to my collarbone. “What’s wrong, beautiful?”

“You don’t…you don’t have to do…that,” I mumbled, feeling my face heat up.

Aaron braced himself on his arms and stared down at me. Enlightenment dawned on his face a second later. He leaned down to kiss me softly. “Do you not want me to?”

I bit my lip, feeling more flustered. “It’s just…I’ve never…and I know that guys don’t really like-.“ My words were cut off when he placed another kiss to my lips, still incredibly soft, but with more force than before.

"If it makes you uncomfortable, I won't," he said quietly. "But I can assure you, I can't think of anything more I'd rather do than lick your pussy until you cum all over my face." He skimmed his lips over my cheek to my ear. "And once you've come down, I want to slide my cock inside you and feel how soft and wet you are." His kisses moved down to my neck, his mouth sucking on my pulse point. "Then I want to fuck you until you're whimpering against my lips to make you cum again.”

I felt my core throb at his words. No one had ever said anything like that to me before. He lifted his gaze when he got back to my breast, flicking my nipple with his tongue. “Is that what you want too, sweet girl?”

I have never wanted anything more, I thought; but I was so far gone that all I could do was nod.

He gave me a soft smile, moving down the bed further to settle between my thighs, pulling them further apart. I felt a kiss pressed to one thigh, then the other. His hot breath washed over the part of me that was already so wet for him. “You’re beautiful here too,” he murmured before he pressed a kiss to my clit. I lifted my hips at the sensation, causing him to chuckle and move his hands to wrap around my thighs, his arms anchoring me in place. A second later I understood why he braced my hips. The second he flattened his tongue and licked the length of my pussy, my hips started moving involuntarily and my fingers tangled in his hair.

I felt a puff of air against me when he laughed again, and it made me smile. I didn’t expect Aaron Hotchner to be fun…or dirty in bed. All thought immediately left my head when he parted me with his tongue, dipping into my entrance before spearing his tongue into me. I felt the vibration when he moaned against me. "You taste so fucking good, y/n," he said, his voice still hushed. Giving my entrance one last lick, he moved up to my clit.

He spent time moving his tongue around me, learning what made me squirm. When he started fluttering his tongue quickly over my clit my hands started tugging on his hair and my thighs tried to snap together.

“Aaron,” I whined, attempting to rock my hips against his mouth.

I think he understood what I needed better than I did. His left hand released my thigh and moved down to my heat, just below his mouth. I felt his fingers brush over me before he pushed on inside me, causing my back to arch off the bed. “Aaron, Aaron, fuck.” He added a second finger, pumping them in a rhythm that complimented the movements of his mouth.

I wasn't prepared for when his lips closed around my clit, sucking lightly, while his fingers started to curl inside of me. “Oh my God," I moaned out, louder than I should have. "Aaron, I'm going to cum." I started pulling on his hair so hard it must have hurt, but he just moaned against me, never slowing his pace. "Aaron, fuck, please. I think…I-I-“

My words broke off as the band inside of me snapped, my pussy clamping down on his fingers and my back arching off of the bed, my mouth hanging open in a silent scream.

Aaron slowed his motions, slowly bringing me through the orgasm and back down to Earth. With one final kiss to my thigh, he rose and moved up my body until his face was hovering over mine. His lips were shiny with my arousal, they also looked a little swollen, but more importantly, they were smirking at me.

I’ll give him that one. Reaching up I cradled his jaw in my hands, bringing his mouth down to mine. I tasted myself on his lips and tongue when he licked into my mouth. Despite the powerful orgasm he had just given me, I was still desperate for him. I broke away from his mouth. “Aaron, I need you.”

He pressed another kiss to my lips before he lifted up and stood at the side of the bed, undoing the buckle of his belt. My eyes were fixed on his movements, watching as he unbuttoned his slacks and slid them down his legs. His cock was a thick pipe outlined in his underwear. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband before he spoke again. "I'll give you everything you need, greedy girl." Aaron pushed his underwear down, his cock springing free before he climbed back on the bed.

He was so much thicker than I expected he would be. I moved my hand down to wrap my fingers around him, pumping his length. He let out a groan and lowered his forehead to mine. “Baby,” he muttered. “I…fuck. I have to get a condom.”

“Aaron,” I whined. “I want to feel you inside me. I’m on birth control. Please?” The thought of anything separating me from this man was abhorrent to me in that moment.

I saw his willpower crumble. “Are you sure?”

So sure. “Please,” I begged lifting my head to kiss him. “I want you to fuck me.”

With a groan that I will remember for the rest of my life, he shifted his hips forwarded, allowing my hands to guide him to my entrance. Aaron kissed me then, slowly and deeply has he started to push inside me. My hand flew away from his cock, both my arms wrapping around his body to pull him closer to me. I felt my nails digging into his back.

Aaron broke our kiss with another soft moan that sounded like my name. “I knew you’d feel like this,” he whispered, pressing deeper inside me. “I knew your pussy would be this fucking tight, this fucking hot, and so fucking soft." He started moving in and out of my pussy, going in a little further each time. “You still have to be quiet, sweet girl.”

“I’m trying,” I moaned, my pussy already starting to flutter around him when he finally pushed all the way inside of me. “Aaron, fucking Christ.” I felt him everywhere, and I somehow still craved more.

He grabbed my thigh, pulling if further up his side, allowing himself to sink deeper inside of me. “I know, sweet girl. I know.” He started a slow pace, pulling almost all the way out of me before slamming back inside me.

My head was thrashing against the pillows, my teeth digging into my bottom lip. “Aaron, I need you to fuck me harder. Please.”

He groaned at my words, placing a sloppy kiss to my mouth before pulling back. He pulled one of my legs up until it was over his shoulder, the other still wrapped around his waist, and then he started to move faster inside of me.

I braced one hand against the headboard as he pounded into me. “Oh my god, Aaron,” my voice was a low whimper as I looked down to see his cock sliding in and out of me. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Baby, I want you to reach down and rub your clit for me while I fuck your tight little pussy.” His pace started to speed up as he spoke. “Can you do that for me?” He groaned when I complied, the stimulation to my clit causing my pussy to flutter around him. “Good girl.”

My fingers began to work frantically. “Don’t stop, Aaron. Don’t stop,” I begged. “I’m so close.”

“I know, sweet girl, I can feel you. Your pussy feels so good squeezing around my cock. You’re going to make me cum.” His thrusts were starting to get choppier, one of his hands braced on the top of the headboard while the other held my leg on his shoulder. “Do you want me to cum inside your pretty pussy, sweet girl?” He groaned loudly when my walls clenched around him. “It feels like you like the idea of that, don’t you baby?”

My fingers continued their pace, my head thrashing, my body trembling. “Yes. Fuck, Aaron. Please cum inside of me. Please.”

Aaron felt it first and acted quickly; his hand moved from my leg to cover my mouth. “That’s it, cum for me, baby.”

I thought my orgasm earlier tonight was powerful. It was nothing compared to how I felt when I came around his cock, only to feel him find his own release a moment after.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, y/n,” he breathed, giving a last few jerks inside of my body, pushing against the fluttering aftershocks of my orgasm. He rolled off me, careful not to drop all of his weight on top of me. To my relief, he quickly gathered me in his arm, pulling me against his body, pressing a soft kiss to my sweaty forehead.

My ear was pressed against his chest, allowing me to hear his heartbeat slowdown from its frantic pace and his breathing even out. I turned my head and pressed a kiss to his chest while his hand continued to stroke my back.

“That…that was amazing,” I said, looking up at him. “If I knew you had that in you, I wouldn’t have run out of the room every time I was alone with you.”

He laughed softly, his eyes sparkling. “Well, at least you’ll know for next time.”

My thoughts sobered at his words. Next time

“Hey,” he said, his hand cupping the side of my face. “No, don’t go away. I just got you.” He kissed my forehead again, then the tip of my nose, then both of my eyelids, before he tilted my face up further so he could press a kiss to my lips. “We’ll figure this out. We have to. I care too much about you to let you go.”

“I care about you too,” I replied, snuggling against his chest, my eyes suddenly feeling heavy.

I was almost asleep when I heard his voice rumble again. “Will you sing Beatles songs to me when I can’t sleep too?” His voice was sleepy and teasing.

I smiled into the darkness, not bothering to open my eyes. “If you want me to, I will.”

--

Permanent Taglist: @rachelxwayne​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @sickeninglyshoujo @justagirllookingforherplace​ @nanocoool​

[etherealluminescence]

Shdjdjjddjjs okay but, more buff cat hcs when ?? But seriously, i know it probably counts as crack hc but i enjoyed it way to much i cant get it out of my head anymore, i havent laught so much in a while now sjdjchdj. I sure hope the buff cat saga will continue !!

You know what? I’ll give you some buff cat content now. 😤 my school work can wait. And trust me, the buff cat saga WILL continue. I just tend to work on requests first rather than my own wants haha.

I’m really happy you like buff cat! Buff cat is my life now. Constantly haunted by buff cat. Maybe one day I’ll introduce a girlfriend or friends for buff cat too 🤔

Maybe I’ll do a background about buff cat and how they met MC?? And why buff cat is so attached to MC? I don’t know. 👉👈 maybe if someone requests, otherwise I’ll just do whatever I feel like in the moment.

Anyone can also feel free to request any buff cat scenarios!! If not I’ll think of some up. THIS IS SO LONG IM SORRY. I WROTE THIS LIKE 1 HOUR OR SOMETHING STRAIGHT AHA.

The boys react to buff cat teaching you

Lucifer

Lucifer had noticed your grades were improving recently, and wanted to take you out to eat for working so hard to both keep up with your class.

When he came to your room, he saw a scene that honestly shouldn’t of surprised him, but did anyways.

You were sitting at your desk, books sprawled across the entire surface area of it. On top of a book pile was buff cat, wearing a pair of glasses, and he was using a pointer to show you important parts you should remember.

He watched in awe as you two never exchanged any words, but you were scribbling down definitions and important notes, while buff cat turned the pages and reviewed your work.

He’s gotten fairly use to buff cat cooking, cleaning, intimidating others, but he has never seen buff cat act like a teacher before, it was sort of new, and he even had a teacher outfit.

He swears that he never sees you buying these outfits, or that people in the devildom actually sell muscular cat clothing.

Buff Cat is the first to break the silence, looking over at Lucifer and positioning his pointer at Lucifer’s head, and then to in front of your desk.

You were still focused on your studying, knowing that you were steadily improving. Buff Cat got out a notepad from one of your desk drawers, and wrote “Leave what you require on this note, I am instructing MC right now, and when we are done tutoring I will give this note to them.”

Lucifer ended up having to take a rain check on taking you out to eat, and learned that your cat has really advanced vocabulary.

Mammon

He was failing the majority of his classes, and ended up asking you for help. You were his best shot, and you seemed to be passing all of your classes with flying colours.

You said you were happy to help him! Except that someone else was actually helping you study. They were a very efficient teacher.

He was relieved to hear that you’d introduce your teacher to him, until he found out it was that fucking demon spawn from hell.

He screeched so hard and ran out of the room, crying like a girl. “aAAAAaaaaAAAH”

Mammon is terrified of buff cat, and now you’re telling him this cat has the intelligence of a genius? You came to the devildom like a few months ago how is this cat tutoring you and making you pass your classes with ease??

He swears your cat is trying to plot for world domination or something. Will NEVER ask you to study with him again.

Leviathan

You walked into Levi’s room trying to find buff cat. It was a Sunday, which was typically a boys night out between them, but it was getting pretty late and you need to study.

There was a test tomorrow on devildom history, and you wanted to review one more time with buff cat, as to make sure you’ll do well on it.

“Mr. Kitty, are you here?” You called out, as soon as you said that Buff Cat paused the game and ran up to you. Levi was slightly annoyed as Buff Cat was beating a hard level for him, but he is your cat above all else.

You smiled as Buff Cat greeted you, and apologised for interrupting them. You explained to Levi how you wanted to review for the test, and if it wasn’t an issue could he spare around 20 minutes?

Levi huffed and agreed and called you a normie, and was about to pick up his switch when your words finally set in.

You put down the book you were carrying and got out a pencil, and took a piece of paper out of the book. You began writing down all of the important stuff on the paper while Buff Cat watched over your shoulder.

When you were finished, he went into the book with you and showed you a couple things you’ve missed or had forgotten, and then got you to write it down three times each as to remember. He even wrote a few essay questions for you which you got.

Levi was impressed. Not only did Buff Cat seem to know the whole devildom history by heart, he knew the exact pages and lines, and even how to write.

He didn’t really care as long as Buff Cat beats the hard level for him. He just considers it to be cool.

Satan

Satan was impressed with your high grades. It must be hard for a human to suddenly learn about a whole new realm, right? So if you had Cs he would understand, but you were getting 97s and 94s.

He understood everything when he started to notice what kind of books Buff Cat had been reading in his room, recently.

You all were having a test on curses soon, and Buff Cat came by his room and began looking for books about curses, and similar ones to what you all had been learning about.

Satan ended up chuckling to himself and found it amusing. It was amazing how your cat even spent his free time coming to someone’s room, finding books for your tests, and reads them before going back to you to help you understand the content.

He likes to get coffee with Buff Cat and talk about the stuff you’re learning in classes, he never directly said it to you, but he helps Buff Cat find specific books when Buff Cat comes over.

Asmodeous

Lucifer decided to punish the house of lamentations by taking away all of their electronics after they did something stupid again. The only way to earn it back, was through getting an 80% or higher on their next test.

You and Asmo suffered because you would normally look up answer during your test, and Asmo had no social media or contact with any of his friends with benefits.

You two weren’t ashamed to beg Buff Cat for help to pass your next test. He was probably the smartest in the house. He goes to Satan’s room almost every day and purchased books when he goes out. Your cat even tutored you when you were in elementary school.

You and Asmo barely needed to convince Buff Cat, as he was ecstatic to help you again. He’d do anything to help you, and was even willing to help Asmo out as well.

Asmo thought that Buff Cat looked REALLY adorable in his teacher’s outfit. A suit, tie, glasses, and his claws were so shiny from their manicure earlier.

Buff cat even slicked his fur back to look like he gel’d his hair. He was a literal fashion icon. Asmo could do some sewing, but nothing to the degree Buff Cat did.

Buff Cat had so many outfits he made himself, and he even did them so quickly. They all turned out perfect. Oh right, this was about studying wasn’t it?

Asmo never really asked questions about why your cat could just be so smart, and more so focused on how cool your cat looked. Priorities.

Beelzebub

Beel and Buff Cat are gym buddies, so naturally they’d walk home together from the gym. Everything was fine until Buff Cat’s MC senses were tingling, and began to walk towards you, crouching down in a store trying to figure out which notebooks to buy.

Beel thought it was pretty cool Buff Cat knew where you were, like how he and Belphie were that close to each other.

Brel asked you what you were doing, and you explained that you wanted to get some new notebooks because your old one is messy and confusing. You just scribbled whatever you could down, and were having a bit of a hard time in class.

Buff Cat immediately perked up, and you two seemed to have a conversation. He meowed and you happily said “I’d love that!”

Apparently, Buff Cat had offered to tutor you. Beel wasn’t so sure how well your cat could teach, though, considering he still is a cat, and offered to help you as well, since he wouldn’t like to see you sad from overworking yourself.

He was scribbling notes alongside with you five minutes into your first session together. Buff Cat wrote such simple explanations, and even prepared notecards ahead of time, Beel forgot he was supposed to teach you.

He is pretty fine with Buff Cat teaching you both, and once again forgets that Buff Cat is a “normal”? cat and not some weird creature that knows the answer to life.

Belphegor

Is really fucking terrified of your buff cat. Like TERRIFIED. So when he sees your cat in a teacher’s outfit sitting at the dinning room table, teaching you math, he was frozen.

He came down to get a glass of milk but what is this. Do you- do you have to do it in the living room?

There is no other reaction than physical fear coursing through his body his adrenaline is at the highest and his fight or flight instincts kick in.

He’s already fought once and that caused Buff Cat to exist in constant Buff form around him, so you can bet he is running.

Probably has a group chat with Mammon and Luke. “Buff Cat Conspiracy”. They talk about how scary buff cat is.

Diavolo

Buff Cat told Diavolo he was the one who helped you study. They were having conversation (buff cat used a notebook) and the topic of your studies came up. He mentioned how he had been helping you study, and understand the terminology in the Devildom better.

He was happy to hear that you understood it, and that it wasn’t too complicated for either of you too.

He actually asks if he can watch your study sessions, to see if he needs to lighten your workload just in case you’re pushing yourself too much.

You two allow him to watch, and he’s giving soft claps and smiles as the two of you give it your best.

Is honestly very happy with how much you two get along, and how you say it’s very simple since Buff Cat explains(meows) it in a very efficient manner.

He already knew Buff Cat was smart, but haha. Maybe he should hire Buff Cat to be a teacher or support class teacher for RAD?

Barbatos

You had grown accustomed to the devildom these past few months, and with Buff Cat with you, you were allowed to freely explore it when you want.

Buff Cat also happens to have a spare key to open the castle when he wishes.

Exam/testing season was coming up, and you knew you couldn’t study at the house of lamentation.

It was very distracting, and so you decided to go to the castle. No one will be screaming there, or trying to convince you your cat is a weird entity trying to plot world domination.

Barbatos was sort of used to seeing Buff Cat come and go as he pleases, but why were you here? Before he could say anything, you told him that you were visiting to study! And that you hope he didn’t mind that Buff Cat was going to tutor you.

Alright, so you’re studying, but why at the castle? You had to explain that it was very distracting at the house of lamentations, and Mammon was trying to convince you to get rid of your cat 24/7.

Ah, he could see that. Your cat isn’t exactly normal, and Mammon does occasionally scream like a girl. I promise I love Mammon. But it’s not like he minded, so long as you two were quiet and actually studied.

He left to clean for a bit, and when he returned to the guest room he saw you wearing a headband, violently writing down and muttering definitions at an insane pace. Buff Cat was in a teacher’s outfit, and holding out flash cards.

He’s slightly taken aback, but doesn’t show it anywhere on his face. He has never seen you so serious before, and neither has he seen Buff Cat so focused on you, as well.

He’s quite proud of you two for your hard work and dedication. He doesn’t interrupt but instead pours you three cups of tea, Buff Cat thanks him, and watches over you two.

Solomon

Solomon invited you over for a study session. He may be a little shady, but he does care for you, as a fellow human.

He was ecstatic to see Buff Cat come with you, because he still wants to dissect your cat.

He was about to talk to you about letting him research you cat, but you made yourself comfortable on his bed, and Buff Cat began to put on glasses and take out a pointer.

He didn’t have anytime to talk beforehand, as you were highlighting certain areas of your book, your cat pointing to certain parts, and you patted the bed beside you for Solomon to join.

Solomon’s plans to dissect your cat are set back another day, but he takes great interest in the way he teaches. Your cat is very methodical about how to remember things, and explains(meows) it rather simply.

He swears that your cat is not a normal human cat, but why can he sense literally zero magic power from it? If only Buff Cat could teach him that.

Solomon also gets 100% on the next test by remembering everything the way Buff Cat had taught you two.

Simeon

Absolutely chaotic man, when he sees you and Buff Cat in a classroom when school was over, he approached you two, and said hello.

You greeted him, and so did Buff Cat. He asked what you were doing after school so late, and that it was dangerous for the two of you. Buff Cat not so much but could still be in danger.

You told him you were studying for the upcoming test, and that Buff Cat was helping you.

Simeon was like!!! 💖👉👈💖💖💖💖🥰🥰🥺🥺 could I join?? This sounds so fun!! Buff Cat is so smart!!

He does not question the fact he’s studying with a cat, learning from a cat, or just how nice your cat can write on paper, like perfect handwriting.

He has such chaotic energy that he’s just like you, what a cute cat!

Luke

no.

just no.

he’s fine with your cat but does your cat have to be in buff form when you’re being taught?

he is happy you are getting good grades but please get him away from buff form buff cat.

[summahsunlight]

Perhaps It’s Fate, Part 21

Rating: T, to be safe

Word Count: 1.6k+

Summary: After joining the Resistance as a mechanic, you were happy to keep to yourself, until a little orange and white bb unit and his master wander into your workshop one day.

Pairings: Poe Dameron x Mechanic!Reader

Start from the beginning!

Taglist: @ms-dont-care​, @starless-eyes-remain​, @elmoakepoke​, @marvelobsessiononastick​, @kiaralein​, @softly-sad​, @totalpoedameron, @ordinarymom1​, @sevvysaurus​, @spider-starry​, @liadamerondjarin​, @jingyuhearteu​, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling​, @paintballkid711​, @ren-ni​, @lostinwonderland314​, @elite4cekalyma​

Taglist is still open! Just send me a message, ask, or comment here if you would like to be added🥰 Thanks for reading!

Eventually Poe sent BB-8 to coax you out of your hiding spot a few hours later; the Resistance was leaving Crait and you could not hide forever. When you appeared in the main hanger, everyone knew to give you a little space, to let Poe be the first person to approach you--everyone that is except Finn.

Poor Finn hadn’t been around long enough to know this routine and when he cut in front of your path, broadly grinning and happy to see you--you panicked--startled by someone so quickly approaching you--and this time there was no place to hide in the main hanger since the Resistance was packing up the Millennium Falcon to depart. 

You were trapped and fight or flight kicked in.

Next thing you knew, Finn was on the ground, his nose crocked and a shocked expression on his face because he wasn’t sure what he had said that had offended you. 

“BeeBee-Ate, see if you can find Finn some ice for his nose,” Poe said, reaching out and helping the other man off the ground. “Sorry,” the pilot mumbled. “I should have warned you.”

“Warned me about what? All I did was ask her how she was feeling,” Finn. said, gingerly touching his nose. He glanced in your direction, saw your eyes wide with fear, backing away from the two men. Something wasn’t right with you, you were acting so strange. “Is she...is she okay?”

Poe looked at you then; he’d seen you like this, so many times, but now all he could hear was you sobbing I can’t control it!  Were you okay? No. But you would be. He waited until you had a clear path of escape before approaching you--if you didn’t feel cornered you typically calmed down quickly. “It’s okay, love, you’re safe here, remember? No one is going to hurt you.”

Blinking back tears, your eyes darted about the main hanger. If others knew what was going on, they certainly were not paying any attention to you, respectively giving you space as Poe often demanded from the first few times a panic attack had happened on D’Qar. Tentatively you took a step towards him, but someone dropping a crate, startled you some more, and you jumped back in fear. 

“Deep breaths,” Poe reminded you. “Take deep breaths, love.”

“Should we get her some water?” Finn sputtered.

“No, it just needs to work itself out,” the pilot responded.

“What needs to work itself out?”

“Panic attack.”

His words snapped you back to reality and you let out a strangled sob. It only took three large, running steps to get to Poe, but you were there, and he was holding you and rubbing your back while you cried into his chest. Once again he instructed you to take deep breaths, coaching you through them. 

Finn seemed to understand now. Several troopers had been sent for reconditioning because of similar behavior that you had just displayed. He supposed it was much easier to erase the anxiety than to have to deal with it for the First Order. It wasn’t so simple for you. And after such a tough mission, where you all almost died, Finn wasn’t surprised you were experiencing a panic attack now. 

Poe was well prepared, however, he’d done this several times before. He had an instinct for when it had passed and when you were feeling closer to your normal self. Easing his hold on you, he led you up the ramp into the Falcon. BB-8 rolled along besides you and settled into a small nook, hidden away from the eyes of the Resistance members. 

You plopped down onto the blankets that Poe had previously set up for you--he’d known you still needed some time away from everyone and had managed to find a spot for you on the freighter to do just that. You didn’t deserve him. 

“Are you hungry? I managed to scrounge up some ration bars.”

“No, thank you.”

“Want me to leave BeeBee with you?”

“Only if you don’t need his help.”

Leaning forward, Poe pressed his lips to your forehead. “I can manage without him for a while. Besides, I think you need him more than I do, sweetheart.”

You felt BB-8 roll closer to you, pressing his small, round body against your side. A soft, sad smile spread across your face at the familiar contact. If Poe wasn’t available to sit with you, his loyal little droid was. And somehow that always made you feel better. “Yeah,” you whispered, pulling one of the blankets around your shoulders, “maybe I do.”

Poe caressed your cheek and promised to check on you later. BB-8′s photoreceptor followed the pilot as he walked away and then he turned back towards you. 

Gently, you rubbed the top of his domed head, and drifted off to sleep.

-----

Rey and Finn were waiting for him at the end of the ramp.  

Poe sucked in a sharp breath and offered an easy smile to them.

“Is Y/N okay? I swear to the maker, Poe, if I had known...”

“I know, Finn. She’s fine; BeeBee-Ate will keep an eye on her.”

“I could teach her some mediation techniques,” Rey offered. “They... they help calm me when I’m angry. Maybe they’ll help Y/N when she’s anxious.”

The pilot knew it was more than just anxiety that plagued you--however, Rey’s gesture was nice. Her heart was in the right place. “It’s up to her,” Poe said with a shrug of his broad shoulders. “Any word on where we’re heading once we’re done packing up?”

Finn shook his head. “Not yet; I’m sure the General even knows where we’re going yet. She said there was very little talk about after the First Order’s tracker was disabled. They had to act quickly to save the most lives.”

Poe ran his hands over his face. He was exhausted; he wasn’t sure when the last time had been that he actually got a full night’s sleep. But there was no time to let up now. There was work to be done--he couldn’t just walk out on this war, no matter how tired he was. “Well, we can’t stay here much longer--the First Order knows we’re here.”

BB-8 rolled halfway down the ramp, clearly distressed. Poe knelt down when the droid got to him. “What’s wrong, buddy?”

Rey headed towards the ramp immediately after BB-8′s response, but Poe stood, held his hand up and stopped her.

“Not the time,” he said, shaking his head. 

“Not the time for what?” Finn questioned.

“To teach Y/N meditation,” Rey mumbled. “Poe. If she’s having trouble sleeping...”

“If you wake her up from a bad dream... she’ll have another panic attack,” Poe said, “Let me handle this.”

Before Rey could even object, Poe was up the ramp and heading back to the spot he had left you in.  Tangled up in the blankets, you were murmuring in your sleep, a fearful expression on your face--Poe had seen this before, when you had dreams about the night your parents were killed.

Gently he placed his hand on your shoulder and shook you. “Y/N? Sweetheart..... wake up. You’re dreaming.”

You gasped, your eyes flew open, and when you saw him, your arms were immediately around his neck.  

Poe hushed you. “It was just a dream, love. You’re safe, you’re not on your home world--you’re not watching your parents die.”

“It...it wasn’t them that died this time. It was...it was you.”

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay. I’m here--I’m not leaving you.”

Burying you nose against his neck, you wished that could really be true--but you knew, there was still a war that needs to be fought and won--and the galaxy’s best pilot wasn’t going to just sit on the sidelines and watch. You silently began to cry; the First Order could still take everything away from you, they could still take Poe and leave you with nothing.

Poe eased you back against the blankets and settled you into a comfortable position, making sure you were securely wrapped in his arms. His thumb wiped the tears away, rubbing soft, comforting circles into your skin. “Please try to get some sleep, love. I’ll stay right here. Promise.”

You did feel sleepy; panic attacks took most of your energy once they were over. “But what about the Resistance? The General?”

He shook his head. “Right now, you’re more important. They'll manage without me for a few hours. Besides, there’s no way Rey or Chewy are going to let me fly this ship when we leave, so... I have time.”

“What’s going to happen to us?”

“We’re going to keep going--because the galaxy is depending on it.”

“But if we lose...”

“We’re not gonna lose...”

“But...”

“Go. To. Sleep.”

His lips began to press soft kisses on your cheeks, your lips, and when your eyes finally closed, across your eye lids. “You deserve better,” you mumbled, almost incoherently. 

Sighing, heavily, Poe tightened his arms around you, pulling you in closer to him. You’d had his conversation before and every time he’d tell you that he didn’t want anyone but you. It broke his heart that you thought you weren’t good enough for him--all because of your panic attacks. Stroking your hair, Poe pressed his lips to your temple. “No; we were meant to find each other. We were meant to be together.”

You laughed, sadly. “Fate? It was just BB-8 who was bored, and roaming around the base looking for things to do that found me--you just happened to follow.”

“Are you complaining that I did?”

“No, I’m not.”

Poe kissed you, tenderly. “Good. Now, darling, please, please--go to sleep.”

Feeling safe, loved--you finally complied to his wishes.

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Hi guys!

Um-come talk to me(or whatever)!!

Reblogs are love!

I love @dirtystyles, my tag list, @the-well-rested-one and all of my readers, lol!

Tag list: @awomanindeniall @mrsfstyles @fullstopsteph @emulateharry​

Day Eight: The One With The Fort

Elise woke up with a hangover, just not the type when you at least have the wild night you may not remember to show for it. She was certainly not in bed naked, with another nude person, surreptitiously checking to see if they used protection.

This was an emotional hangover.

She'd got feelings, for a boy. Man, did she hate those. The last time she had them, it wreaked all kinds of havoc, and that was just her sister's boyfriend not a world famous object of obsession. She should have known how to read the signs, that mistake had gone a similar way. Time spent together in a house, some things in common, a little tension, fear of rejection, a move, sex, secret relationship, discovery, a broken hearted sister, disappointed parents, and a transcontinental move to escape.

Ok, so this one was in a much safer place than that. Harry was a bad choice as a man to have feelings for, but for totally different reasons than Bryce. Her quarantine buddy was a bad idea because of the rejection and/or future rejection.

Did it count as rejection?

Elise felt rejected, but feelings aren't facts, as her dad liked to remind her. She supposed it was a near miss. She had gone the last 10% just like the movie Hitch had taught her. Maybe he would have finished the gap, closed the circuit, and such, and she could have felt those beautiful pink lips on hers.

But he was saved by the bell.

Instead they ate, and sat on opposites ends of the table just like she had set it. Elise liked that it wasn't a ridiculously long ostentatious piece of dead wood before yesterday. She'd even complimented Harry on it. Last night it was unsatisfactory, definitely not as close as she would have liked to be sitting.

And during cake time, which had turned out stellar, he had touched her elbow and the bones in her feet had rattled. His hand hadn't coasted to her palm, nor had he spun her into him and pressed his lips to hers. He'd just told her it looked great and handed her the knife to cut.

Elise couldn't even think about the couch.

He'd insisted that they cuddle, and had lain behind her in the unexpected big spoon position. She'd been very excited when he suggested it, thinking it was a typical boy ploy to feel her up and get to the kissing they'd almost started.

She figured she'd at least get to feel a boner.

That was an atrocious word. But everything else sounded even worse in her head.

She'd felt no erection, just the warm shape and had wanted with all her might to press back against it, but if there was such a thing as a platonic spoon, she'd just experienced it. Then Harry had fallen asleep, his head bookended by hers until his neck relaxed onto the pillow.

Elise threw in the towel then.

The little voice in her head, that sounded suspiciously like her sister, told her that good guys didn't want her, though they'd be bad long enough to take what she was offering.

She was pretty sure she'd called Jessica a jealous bitch over that. The words had stuck in her head though, and not that she was hoping to make a go of things with her sister's ex, but the idea that he was just playing on her dark side to explore his own, it just poisoned their relationship. It certainly contaminated her already fragile relationship with her sister.

Elise had wanted to go away then, needed an escape, if she left it would be better, her parents didn't have to feel disappointed everyday when they looked at her, and Jessica didn't have to feel betrayed. Hence, England, quarantine, Harry Styles.

The first several days she could not figure out how it was karmic in any way that she got to be so close to Harry Styles. Now that he had become just Harry, the lovely rich weirdo with the bad taste in books and great taste in music, she was temporarily living with, she had figured out the catch.

The universe had given her her adolescent fantasy, shown her reality was better, and then snatched it away, like ice cream falling off the cone into sand within the first ten minutes on a boardwalk. Much as she hated it, Elise also felt it was right. She'd snuck around with her sister's boyfriend, it was only right someone she'd fallen for, who was way out of her league anyway, wouldn't want her even if she was literally the only option around.

Why was self loathing so attractive in moments of reflection?

She was going to have to go downstairs soon. She could hear music, a sure sign Harry was up and waiting for company. Maybe she could heat a thermometer under a light bulb and claim sick. Little water on her face to fake clammy skin.

Then he could baby her and she could take the tenderness and not expect the kisses, or boners. Because nobody liked kissing snotty people. Could you fake snottiness? Not without props, Elise decided. Also, faking sick when in quarantine during a pandemic seemed particularly heinous.

Despite her misgivings, she hauled her sad skeleton out of bed and got dressed. When Elise found herself searching for a specific pair of underwear, she realized she was literally planning on wearing her big girl panties. That at least made her chuckle. Whatever got you there she supposed.

Most of her fretting would be for naught. He was just Harry, and he'd acted like nothing happened. She could follow his lead, right? They were forced friends, at least for the next 6 days. May as well make the best of it and not lean in to the awkward.

The stairs made the echoey sound around the bend and she avoided the creaky part and only got a low groan. She'd relaxed a bit by the time she made it downstairs.

What the fuck was his problem? Why was he shirtless? Again! At least he had on more than a towel. Fuck her life, man. Or fuck her man, that'd be the life.

She stood at the end of the stairs and gave herself a moment until he realized she was there. His back was, woah! He was very broad for someone so slim. And his chest was, ugh, and his face. She often felt like she should congratulate him on his visage, especially the way it had leaned out and squared up. He was so manly now.

Dammit, she should have found that thermometer!

"Morning." She heard him say before she had gotten out of her head.

"Good Morning." She smiled back at him. His smile was like the call for a response in songs. You had to answer it.

"Are you hungry? There's leftover food, we could throw eggs over the last couple puddings. Or coffee?" There was a weird current under their conversation. Like he was walking on the shells of the eggs he was planning to cook her.

"Coffee?" She shrugged. "I can't really think about food yet." Elise's nerves were churning her stomach. All she could think of was the near kiss and the heat of his body behind her.

"Done." He headed to the kitchen and she followed, of course. He'd pulled out the French press, something she would purchase for herself after this. And asked, "what do you want to do today?"

Honestly, she wanted to hide out. Was there a book she could fake wanting to read? Elise was sure he had some book of semi terrible prose he would recommend to her. She need but ask. Then she could hold up in her room. The downside was she'd have to see his little sad puppy face when she told him she didn't like what he did. That was one of the downsides. Elise also wanted to be around him, maybe be able to smell him, and to avoid him noticing her avoiding him. But they needed to have something that discouraged talking, or she was gonna wind up asking him what the fuck his problem was. Because, they'd had a couple moments, she was sure of it, when they worked out, when he touched her thigh, and the near KISS, for fuck's sake. There was chemistry.

Or she was going a bit crazy, and it was totally one sided, which, seemed the way it should be.

In any case, she couldn't just ask him. She wasn't usually an asker, she was a guesser. Elise's best friend Niki was direct and wonderful, she asked for what she wanted or asked people what they wanted. When they were teenagers, she'd thought it was so embarrassing sometimes, now she wished she had some of her boldness. If she could just ask it would really simplify things. Harry, do you like me? Are you having any pesky feelings? Do I make your dick hard? Any flavor of honesty would taste better than the uncertainty she was chewing on.

Instead Elise said, "marathon Friends?" She shrugged.

His eyes opened big and she looked down to dodge the power of his pleased crinkles. "Marathon Friends!"

So there they were, three quarters of the way through a series with popcorn between them when Elise said, "I think I need to stand up. My butt is numb."

"I could rub it for you? No, not an option then?" He giggled. "We could make an obstacle course?" Harry suggested gleefully, and she wondered how long he'd been sitting on that one.

"That sounds athletic. As you've seen, I'm no athlete."

"Built like one." He said and before she could really respond he'd launched into a plea. "It'll be fun, then we can build a fort and watch more Friends."

"Are you 7 at heart?" She giggled. His glee was contagious, like Phoebe's wackiness.

"Nine!" He danced his eyebrows. "But to adult this party up, let's add alcohol. I feel like I have not given you a proper look at British life and quarantine, as we've not been pissed much at all. We can play a Friends drinking game, bet there are loads on the internet!"

Oh, this was a bad idea. But maybe she'd find some liquid courage.

The obstacle course, well it went better than she anticipated, and he let her win. She cartwheeled, the one thing she had learned in gymnastics, across the finish line. He was way ahead of her when they got to the pillow sack race at the end. The idea had struck her like a lightening bolt. She could not bound like him, all that thigh strength, but she could cover ground quick another way! She managed to keep the high thread count fabric on through her revolutions. She was a little terrified of destroying his nice linen. Harry let her cross ahead of him, and he hoisted her into the air when she exclaimed "YES!"

She expected him to complain about her tactics, instead he jogged her around on a victory lap. "Well done!" He danced in a circle and put her down, his arms wrapped around her, squishing her face into his clavicle.

"But I cheated." She muffled into his body.

"We didn't make rules. You saw an opportunity and took a chance." He shimmied his shoulders, all his bottled up energy from a day on the couch coming out in exuberance. "You gotta take chances in life."

They were close, though he'd let her go. Was she supposed to take the chance now? Was that an invitation? Why did she have to do it? "Yeah, yeah, you're right." She said but didn't act.

A beat passed and he sighed and turned around, moving around exercise equipment. "Let's build this fort, yeah?" His smile wasn't forced, but she noticed he only had two eye crinkles, not the full powered four.

His hand was on her shoulder. The opportunity was still there, but yesterday's rejection still clouded up her head like an unkept pool. "Yeah." She turned around and opened the ornamental blanket storage box he had in his media room.

They worked together with ease, and had a fort that would stay up for days on its own with no roughhousing to show for it. IKEA would be proud, they didn't even need pictorial directions.

"It looks cozy!" She smiled at it.

"It's nearly perfect." He said, before jetting off. "One second." He came back with led lights and used some stylish magic to arrange them high."Now we got it. Just missing one thing."

She couldn't imagine anything missing with the attractive light on his face. This was dreamy, she'd almost forgotten that he seemed to have decided that she had to make the move. Leaving them at an impasse. "What?"

"Tequila!" He danced his eyebrows. "One sec." He jackrabbited off.

Should she tell him tequila made her way too honest, or let him figure it out for himself?

"Alright." He skidded into the tent by her side and she applauded because he managed not to shatter the tequila bottle and glasses. "This is the best tequila." He assured her. "Find a drinking game! Unless you fancy strip scrabble."

That sent her diving for the phone. That was an even worse idea than getting drunk together. It was a quick google search later and they had their marching orders.

Phoebe seemed the most reliable. They both were licking salt and swallowing top shelf shots whenever she appeared. Monica and Joey were making a good showing too.

Her stomach hurt and she was bent sideways making a right angle at his hips from laughing so hard. Elsie had forgotten! This show was so funny, and god! They were both drunk.

Rachel was having a sappy moment and it was bringing out the sap in Elise. Man, tequila also made her emotional, she'd swung like a desktop pendulum from laughing so hard she cried to introspective sadness. It didn't exactly make sense, she was definitely more the Ross in this situation. Though her pining had started much later, precisely 7 days ago.

She giggled, nothing was precise after that much tequila. Call her Tarzan with all that swinging.

"What are you laughing about?" He turned on his side to look at her, his face full of mirth, his eyes at half mast and a little red. Bedroom eyes popped into her head and she had to suck in a breath. This felt very coupley, lying side-by-side in a fort. She would say cuddling, but they weren't touching. They hadn't been, but while she was assessing their postures, she realized he'd tangled their ankles together.

Everything they did felt coupley. Because they wanted to couple up or because they were just a couple in number?

"Um" she croaked. "I was just thinking of something, but then, tequila brain you know!" She flicked her temple lightly.

"Oh, I know!" He was jolly and she thought for a minute of other times she'd seen pictures of him drunk. His arm was around her waist now. He liked drunken cuddles, when he was younger, which was knowledge she maybe had no business possessing but knew nonetheless. His face in her neck a moment later had her closing her eyes and sighing. He smelled good, a little like a bar, but also like cologne, and his hair was so soft. She wanted to touch it.

Maybe she had more in common with Ross than she realized. A seemingly unattainable old crush suddenly in her life, maybe attainable, available.

Her drunken hands had a mind of their own, and she ran them through the silk of his hair. It felt wonderful between her fingers. Elise twirled some curls around her pointers and was rewarded by a groan from her cuddle buddy.

"Mmmmm, feels good!" His ankle tangle had become his calf and at that moment his whole thigh had inserted itself between her legs. She'd been ignoring the dull throb there for most of today, for days. The barest pressure was on her crux and she couldn't take this. She tensed and pulled, he moaned. Her hand dropped.

She felt his breath on her neck and then his head roll back to her shoulder. "Hey! Why'd you stop."

If she turned her head their boozy breaths would mingle and it would be their second almost kiss in as many days, and she couldn't take this.

Elise turned her head.

He blinked at her slow and the tequila sunset of his eyes was intoxicating. She let her eyes come down to his lips, and when his tongue peeped out to wet his mouth, hers moved on its own, "Harry?"

It needed to be asked right? She couldn't just let it happen.

"Elise." He breathed back and moved closer.

Tequila, and mint somewhere underneath, was all she tasted. Teeth and tongue, plump lips moving between and surrounding hers was what she felt, until his larger frame pressed her back onto the floor. She felt the one thigh almost against her center become his pelvis, flush. He pulled back, looked in her eyes and gave her a soft buss, resumed the eye contact. Elise leaned up like he had water and she was thirsty. The way his tongue played along the sides of hers, sliding over the top and out before he changed angles slightly and reinitiated had her lightheaded. Her skin was tight, especially where his hands were. Her clothes were heavy and hot, at her hips, around her rips, the sides of her breasts tingled, her shoulders were his palms held her open beneath him. Elise needed water. Was panting. She wasn't even sure how much the kiss had escalated, until his lips were moving over her neck and onto her collarbone, the thick strap of her top coming down, cold air and warm kisses on the swell of her cleavage. Pressure revolving between her thighs. The well was just ahead and if they kept at it, she'd dive in. Water water everywhere, so much to drink. To drown. She stilled.

"Elise?" Harry asked from where his hands and mouth had almost reached her nipples?

"I think we should stop."

[thiswasinevitableid]

I had a terrible thought. I want to preface this by saying that I have a difficult time starting new fics when I finish one that I love, even if I’m excited to read it. After reading Metamorphosis, it was difficult to start Falling, and now I am having a similar issue with M&M. Though I enjoy it already and am rooting for the couples! This made me think of reincarnation aus. What if Indrid knew Duck’s soul in a previous life of the latter, but after losing him had to go on?

In addition, Indrid is overjoyed when he realizes he’s finally found Duck again?

Apparently, I’m in a “what if” mood? I was thinking about how Indrid views so many timelines, the way Garnet does. How you mentioned in various parts of the Falling series. What if Duck does follow the “canonical” path, right up until he’s about to leave for Brazil? Indrid living their life through visions of what could have been? BUT THEN, because I can’t stand sad endings, Duck suddenly regains his memories(via your personal choice of magical means) and....(ran out of space)

Okay, so this is wild: A week ago, I was thinking about how I’d do a soulmates/Reincarnation story, because those AUs are not my jam but I was procrastinating (side note: I too struggle to move from one story to another when I read; your brain has to finish the rinse cycle on the universe you were in before starting on the next one)

Behind the cut for angst (with a happy ending) and, perhaps obviously, mentions of death. The fics I reference (for those who spot them) do not, canonically, relate to each other like this but since we’re playing “what if?...

Indrid Cold hangs up the phone.

See you tomorrow?

Is that all he could really think of? But then again, Leo had been in danger prior to that and the whole tree mess is wrecking havoc on his mind. But then again, what could he have said.

Over a century ago, in another life, you hunted me when all my failures turned me to self interest?

Nearly a century ago, I told fortunes in dusty tents and lifted heavy things for their amusement?

As soon as I heard your voice, I knew it was you?

He shakes his head; maybe he’s wrong. Maybe Duck isn’t the man he has loved and lost twice over in his time on earth. Maybe his intuition and visions are wrong.

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

They’re not wrong. This helps him very little. Because while he remembers, Duck does not. He watches the disgust on his face at the state of the trailer, the fear when he removes his glasses.

Yes, the mess has gotten rather bad. But the first time we met was in a cave.

Please don’t be afraid of me. Please remember all the times you lay in these spindly arms, wrapped in my wings.

Please remember.

Duck saving Billy is so familiar. So like him, and when Indrid sees the argument between him and Minerva play out in the futures hes awash with pride. Stubborn and kind, not nearly as bloodthirsty as fate wishes him to be.

Strong too, if the punch is any indication. 

“I’m gonna save the Mothman.”

You remember. Some part of you remembers. You thought to save me before anything.

“That’s the whole tourism industry of Point Pleasant right there.”

Well, fuck me I guess.

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

He sits in the trailer for a week after the tree is destroyed. There are futures where Duck comes to apologize, to check on him, to ask for his help.

No matter how many times he plays them over, they do not materialize.

He can’t force the issue. He can’t. He can’t bring himself to go see Duck. The last time, while he never remembered, he seemed as drawn to Indrid as Indrid was to him, their loving blooming naturally as they traveled together.

Duck Newton has fought fate all his life. He’s been hounded to take up a destiny he did not want. Indrid will not be another voice yammering about fate and destiny in his ear. The man he loved, the man he could easily love again, deserves better.

He starts the trailer, and pulls away from the forest.

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

The images of the end play out, over and over, as he drives. He tries to drown them out with the timelines he cherishes that never came to be; Duck falling asleep in his arms, Duck kissing him in the snow, Duck seeking him out when everything went to hell.

“It could use some work.”

I will not allow the Quell to take you. Even if you never remember me, never love me, are never even my friend.

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

His wings ache, still sore from where something bit them during the fight. He’s staying at the Lodge while the Bago gets repaired (a Quell Rhino went straight through it). Outside he hears Duck laughing, Minivera’s booming laugh underscoring it.

I really did not see that one coming.

Duck is excited for Brazil. He is excited to be with Minerva. He is excited for his future, and Indrid would never, ever, ever take that from him.

“I do not wish to be apart from you. My life has more color, more substance, more futures in it when I am with you. I love you, and I want to stay by your side for as long as you’ll have me. You seem to feel the same about me and wish me to stay. I’m proposing a way that can be true.”

“You’re askin' me to marry you?” Indrid gives the smallest nod as confirmation. His lover turns the ring over in his fingers.

“Well?” Indrids' voice is soft, shy, unsure.

“Mr. Cold, I do believe I’ll accept your proposal.” He slips the ring onto his finger, holds up his hand and watches Indrid slump forward on the table in relief.

Two out of three meetings lead to love, that is more than he could ever dreamed of.

 “Is that what you’d like? For me to carry you away?” Indrid brushes their noses together.

 “So goddamn much.” The strong-man closes the half-inch between them. It’s as gentle and as tender as first kiss ought to be, their lips learning the shape of each other and teasing at the promise of more.

 When Indrid pulls back, pressing their joined hands to his cheek, he whispers, “simply say the word, and it will be so.”

He can’t go back to Sylvain. What good is a seer who can’t let go of the past?

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

“Indrid? Oh, there you are buddy.” Duck grins at him, setting the box down on the small table in the trailer, “this was stuff they had to move when they were fixin’ it. Didn’t want to chuck it without lettin’ you look through it.”

“Thank you, Duck.” Indrid begins emptying the box, and Duck helps him, setting things in to neat piles.

“Are you excited for your journey?”

“Uh. Yeah, uh, hell, fuck, hell yeah.”

Indrid looks at him, worried.

“I’m havin’ second thoughts. And Minnie and I done nothin’ but fight the last three days.”

“All couples do, I am told.”

“Yeah but this, these feel like bigger fights. Things we need to hash out before we move to totally new fuckin continent.”

“Perhaps you can defer your work? That would give you time to work things out.”

“Ain’t sure that’s a--shit!” The sketchbook turns out to be a stack of loose papers, and they tumble from Duck’s hands. The ranger kneels down along with Indrid, and as they gather them up, Duck’s hands slow.

“Indrid? Why are these all of me?”

With horror, he sees the futures that did not come to pass, but that he drew anyway so he could look at them, held in Duck’s hands.

“They, ah, they were just futures. You must have been having a busy day, or, or something.”

“Hold up, they ain’t just of me. Seems like there’s a lot of us, uh, together. Really together.” Duck blushes, setting aside a page in a hurry as Indrid wills the floor to open up and swallow him.

“As I said, just futures.”

“Futures you wanted?”

“I, ah, I...”

“Wait, how old is this one? Did you so somethin funny to the paper?” Duck holds up the brown and brittle page.

“Huh. That fella looks like me if I were, I dunno, dressin up like a cowboy.”

“Sheriff.” Indrid corrects softly, “that was sheriff Jake Ellis. I man I loved many, many years ago. As far as I can surmise, he is a past life of yours. There was another in between who I, ah, I also loved. Who was also you.”

“........What the fuck?”

“A reasonable reaction. You should go.”

“Wait, Indrid, why didn’t you say nothin?”

“Would you have honestly enjoyed someone saying ‘by the by, we were lovers in two of your past lives, I already feel myself growing attached to you, so please date me because this feels like fate?”

“Okay, fair point, I woulda hated that. Why not stick around then, be my friend, lemme get to know you?”

“You deserved better than my lurking in the shadows in hopes of you loving me.”

“Indrid-”

“Please leave.“ Indrid points to the door. Duck hesitates, then stands and exits the trailer, gait subdued.

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

Duck hears the sad chirring start as soon as the door shuts. He turns, heading into the woods. He needs some time to think.

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

It cant be

“Duck? Your, your flight, you missed it.” It’s been a month since he last saw the ranger.

“Yeah. And, uh, Minerva’s stayin with Leo for a bit. Had some things I wanted to sort out in Kepler before I did anythin’ else.”

“Please don’t tell me this is due to my drawings. I cannot bear the thought of you setting aside your life on the off-chance you might come to love me.”

Duck shifts side to side, “Are you at least willin to give me a chance?” He holds out his hand.

Indrid looks at the futures, but they’re too jumbled by his own indecision to be much help.

“Very well. Two months. If you still feel nothing more than friendship for me after that, please promise me you'll forget about me.”

Duck nods, takes his head, “Deal.”

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

Indrid yawns, pads into the living room still half-asleep. Waiting for him on the table is a vase of flowers and a mega-pack of fruit gushers, along with a note.

Happy six months, darlin. See you tonight.

-Love, Duck.

[elrondsscribe]

No ATLA shipping wars, please. There is room for ALL the ships.

So I’m sure anyone who’s been tracking me lately knows that I’ve been all up in Avatar: The Last Airbender ...

And I must say, after checking out the tags, I am TERRIFIED to speak my mind about ANY of the ships I like!! Like, I don’t want to be thought of as a poisonous Supporter Of That Which Is Toxic And Problematic because I did or didn’t gel with one ship or other. Spoilers under the cut.

See, I’m always the kind of fan that nobody likes: I’m the MCU fan that appreciates Steve and Tony; I’m the Star Wars fan that loved all nine Episodes. So when I say that I sail literally all of the ships because all of them hit me in different kinds of feels, well, y’all know to expect this from me.

(I should say at this point that the only thing I’m considering ‘canon’ for the purposes of this conversation is A:TLA; no LoK or comics is relevant here.)

(Also, can I just say what a wonderful change of pace it is to be in a property where, at least in the generation of our ‘mains,’ there seem to be more named, developed female characters??)

So I’m gonna start out with saying: I like the canon pairings as they stand! Kataang, Sukki, and Maiko being the main ones, obvs. However, I also like all kinds of AU pairings too!

Like Zutara - I mean, I can hardly say anything here that ten thousand others haven’t already said better, but their journeys do parallel each other in a lot of significant ways, and I think that, by the end of the show, they do legitimately share enough to have the foundations of a good relationship, if as a fanwriter you wanted to go there. You could make much of the poetry of their differences (”you rise with the moon, and I with the Sun”), and/or really develop their existing ability to safely be the ‘splash zone’ for each other’s turmoil. Besides, I think Katara’s mothering fussbudget energy would be a great thing for Zuko, and there’s a gentleness to her that he’d find healing.

{Now, I’ve seen a lot of comparisons between Zutara and Reylo, made by people who either want to demean or defend both ships. I’ve also seen these comparisons soundly trashed by people who like one, but not both, of these ships. As someone who never has had strong feelings either for or against Reylo, and as someone who loves Zutara but not exclusively, my response to all of that drama is a big old shrug of my shoulders. So don’t come at me screaming about Reylo, either to stan or cancel. Please just don’t.}

Also I don’t know a good way to say this, but you know how some people just can’t seem to resist reading Zuko and/or Sokka as gay? Well, I can’t stop reading Mai as lesbian; I don’t know why.

I don’t know which pairing Taang is. If it’s Aang/Ty Lee, omg yes!! Kill me with all the sparkles and rainbows! I already want to eat them both up. More seriously, I think Aang’s peaceable temperament would be a really welcome change in her life, after Zuko’s turmoil and Mai’s ice and Azula’s, well, Azula-ness. She’d probably just love Aang’s aura :) 

If Taang is Aang/Toph, well, we’ve observed that our flighty lil’ Aangster could use a grouding influence :) I don’t know who on Tumblr pointed it out, but Toph is the last person in the world to fangirl over Aang, which seems to be very good for him, while also not clipping his wings. While I do believe they’d be the kind of couple to quarrel and, at times, drift apart from each other (she’s incredibly rooted while he’s the embodiment of a free-spirit), for some reason I can easily see them finding each other again. There’s a scene in my head, one where an adult Aang is faced with the necessity of a sacrifice play that he might not come back from, and instead of tearfully trying to convince him not to do it, Toph says, “Go get ‘em, Twinkletoes.”

[And if you ship Zutara alongside Aang/Toph, you could have a fanfic where you did a Parallel, with Two Ships Of Opposite-Power-Benders. I’d be a fan!]

Now I’ve seen Sokkla floating around too, and I must say that this intrigues me, especially the way that this ship is connected to ideas about the redemption of Azula. I’ve seen some people being really upset that Azula never got a redemption arc in the show, but c’mon guys. A redemption arc for Azula would have taken a long-ass time - it would’ve been awesome, but it would’ve taken a long-ass time, definitely longer than a fourth season, I think. But if you were going to go with a combination of a redemption arc and a ship for her, Sokka would be a great idea. I don’t think Azula knows what fun and merriment are, and who knows those things better than Sokka?

[Honestly, that’s the thing about shipping Sokka with anyone: he would bring them laughter.]

But enough about the het AU ships, let’s talk about the gay ones!

Zukka would be the most prominent example, of course. The rapport that Zuko develops with Sokka over ‘The Boiling Rock’ is beautiful to behold (jokes about ‘that’s rough, buddy’ aside), and heaven knows Zuko needs someone to teach him how to laugh.

And remember how I said that I somehow can’t see Mai as straight? Well, I also can’t stop shipping her with Azula (don’t know the ship name for this one, but I know it exists). Obviously this ship would have more than an edge of ownership and manipulation about it, but they’re so deadly radiant and it’s like I can’t look away from them.

And Ty Lee is just so adorable and sincere (even with all the buried sadness) that shipping her with almost any of the other girls just makes my heart melt. Especially Katara, who would just cuddle the hell out of her whenever she’s feeling down. Or even Azula, who would totally own and work her but also, like, dazzle her. Main exception being Suki - for some reason, my head goes all kinds of hot, dirty places when I imagine Suki and Ty Lee sparring.

However, all this being said, I still have love for the canon ships that we got.

For example, like I said, I do ship Kataang, and I think together they’re incredibly sweet, but I also think that Katara’s tendency to hover and Aang’s tendency to (literally and metaphorically) fly away from/float above problems would jointly become a not-inconsiderable hurdle in a long-term relationship. Now I’ve observed couples in real life with similar dynamics, and I’ll stick out my neck and say that I consider this a workable hurdle, especially if both Katara and Aang grow in maturity and interpersonal understanding as they get older.

Similarly with Maiko: we see that, where Zuko’s emotions tend to run fire-hot, Mai’s tend to run ice-cold; we saw a clear example of these tendencies really clashing with each other. And Mai’s way of showing Zuko affection does seem to have genuinely perplexed some people who watched the show, to the point that they didn’t read it as affection at all. But again, drawing on what I’be observed, some couples really do develop a ‘love code’ that they understand even if literally no one else does. I don’t see any indication of either Mai or Zuko actually ill-using the other; and I will always stan this line from Mai when she made her big choice: I love Zuko more than I fear you.

As for Sukki - well, you already know. Sokka definitely grew and healed a lot from it, but I don’t think the trauma of being unable to protect Yue is one that will ever truly leave him. And as much as Suki understands him, I do think Sokka’s protectiveness will sometimes grate on her. She’s a motherfucking warrior-chieftain. And yes, this can definitely shape into a relational problem, but not one that can’t be worked around.

So ... TLDR, I love all the ships, and refuse to be part of the anti drama.

[jessiebanethedragon]

Sweet Coffee

WARNING: Content is about suicide and loss of loved ones, also swearing. 

Isn't it lovely? Being here alone, in the dark? Doesn't the fresh air make you feel alive? I used to come here with you, in the middle of the winter when the owners had left to retreat to  somewhere warmer. If you knew where to turn, you could find the property and the side of the hill that it sits on.  If you knew where to look you could find a place that looks over the whole city.

 It smells like our life together, and for a brief moment it seems so real I could look over to the driver's seat and see you. But then the wind picks up and the smell of soft sweaters, lavender and fresh herbs is taken from me. It tastes like iced coffees, the only thing worth ordering from the drive through we always hit before coming here. And the freedom it brings is so real I can reach out and touch it. 

Sitting in a small car and staring into the depths of a city that didn't care about us was so satisfying. Like we could see all the lives that were milling about unknowing we watched over the tops of their heads in our secret special place. It's not the same without you. 

“I don’t want to say goodbye. I want to say thank you.” Was what the letter said. “I want you all to know that without everyone in my life I would’ve been dead long before this moment.” it was as eloquently written as you were spoken. All the right words in the right places to tell us what we had to hear. And I can't help but think how bad a job I would have done if it had been me writing it. Like an automated response generator, repeating the same things I'd been  told over and over. 

“Call the helpline. Dial 911 if it is a life threatening emergency. Ask a trusted person to hide away your pills so you’re not tempted by them.” All the words people told  us in order to make use of someone else's problem. “Don't call me. Call the authorities.” Don’t ask the doctors to find medications that help, just hide the ones that should be working so you don’t overdose before they can adjust you to the correct dosage. Yes, I do know that my final message would've been much more angry than yours.  

I can't remember the exact words, I ripped the thing to shreds the second I was out of sight when we got back from the hospital. No one could know I had planned my own downfall just days before your own. The guilt I feel for being so self absorbed in my own demise that I didn't notice the signs is immense, even though you specifically said not to feel at fault. Our last night together is burned into my memory. But after all, everyone around us was taught to recognize destructive behavior, our families were trained to know when we went over the edge. You and I were never given that luxury. 

“Coffee.” was all the text said at 7:34 that night. I  know because I checked the time stamp, as if I could recreate every element of the last time I saw you. It wasn't a question, it never had to be. When did either of us say no to a drive around the city at night with an iced coffee and what felt like not a care in the world? If I had known what that night meant for you, maybe I would have said no. Maybe I would have taken away your ability to say goodbye to me because I wasn't extended the same courtesy. 

“If you had to do it all again, would you?” you asked when we had settled into our spot. We didn't talk while driving, looking out the window was too much fun for conversation. But after we had parked on the edge of the hill on February the tenth, at what I guess was about ten to eight in the evening, the conversation started to pour out of us. Words spurting out, as emotional and as spirodic as a bullet wound. 

“Probably not.” I admitted, sipping the iced coffee that was just sweet enough for such a cold night. 

“I would.” you said staring at the train that was passing in the distance. “I would change everything. I’d work with every intention on changing who I've turned out to be.”Then it went quiet. 

“I think i'm hardwired this way.” I whispered. “I think even if I did it all over. I’d still end up where I am.” Brown eyes met mine before turning back to the scenery. “I think whatever created me, the universe, god, whatever it was,” I paused, releasing the implication of what was saying, a breath, a beat went by before I continued. Knowing that whatever I said, you’d still be there after. “I think whatever designed my DNA chiseled in that I wasn't meant to be happy. If my life is ended ‘prematurely’.”  I added bouncing finger air quotes. “It's only that way because that's what fate wanted.” 

“Fuck fate then.” You replied. And we both shared a chuckle as I leaned my head on the rest behind me, closing my eyes with a smile. 

“Yeah, fuck fate.” 

It takes one beer to get me buzzed, it’s enough to feel calm but not enough to make me loopy, so I can keep my indulgences to myself.  I like to think  you’d approve, me having a beer before your funeral. It’s rebellious, and it tastes bitter with that little fizz. Just like you. 

As a person who only ever wears black, I can say that the colour didn't seem comforting today. My mother squeezes my shoulder, pushing me forward into the church. It angers me,  you weren't religious, you were baptized as a courtesy to your grandparents. You would not want to be buried here. If I had my way I'd take your ashes and spread them across the world. Leaving a part of you in the depths of each corner of the planet. A representation of how ingrained you were into my world. But that's selfish. And I was raised not to be selfish. 

“I’m sorry for your loss.”  People say as I pass them, pulling me into their arms, touching my hair, arms, face and anywhere else they think is appropriate. When in fact every touch makes me want to scream and every time someone says “I can't imagine what you’re going through.” I can't help but agree.

Everyone else fades away when I see  your mother. The likeness so obvious now, it's like a punch to the gut. The times we spent together flash before my eyes, driving with the music too loud, her making us the special breakfast that's only allowed on sleepover days. And I can tell she feels the same because when our eyes meet she stops talking. I know I am the last living embodiment of her daughter, and the similarities between us are clearer now than ever. 

I throw myself into her arms because she's the only one who makes me feel whole again. 

“It should've been me.” I whisper to her, my head and mind buried into  her shoulder, hiding my emotions. “It should've been me, I deserved it, I should have been me.” I repeat it over and over again, my mantra breathed aloud as if it's the last thing i'll ever say. 

“Oh honey” she cries, brushing my hair soothingly.  “It shouldn't have been either of you.”

“I-I-I” I sob out, forgetting how many people can see me meltdown  “Feel, I feel, so, so, g-g-ultiy.” I feel someone's arm around me, I can tell from the smell it is my dad, he always wears the same cologne. He's gently leading me outside into the fresh air. The wind is making me chilly, enhancing the feeling of emptiness inside me. 

“I found your note.” he whispers, somehow we find a bench, one that overlooks the entire cemetery. I look at him, and his eyes give away how I look. Red eyes, mascara in streams down my face, covered by foundation. I look like a doll, ceramic perfection, save for the giveaway of black streaks and puffy eyes. 

“I ripped it up.”  I stutter out. As if that is an excuse, what I really want to say is ‘don't be mad dad, I threw it away, so that means I’m fine now, right?’

“I know, I found the pieces. I just” he pauses,  he’s always so concrete with his words. Now is no different. “I wanted to say how proud I am of you, for having the strength to do that, for sticking around.” 

“I can't promise anything.” I say, my family knows all too well how often my strength fails. 

“You don't need to.” He murmurs with soft eyes. “I can't explain how much I love you, and I can't explain what it's like seeing you in pain. I can see you burning up like a supernova before it collapses. And everytime you choose to stay you amaze me, and you just lost the person who was most important to you. People who have been through less have taken things much worse than you are.” He takes a breath, “I knew this guy at school, we were like 23 at the time. Partying, skipping classes, the usual. His dad passed away during the second semester. Heart attack.” I notice the tears in his eyes, welling up steadily as the memory becomes more and more clear. 

“That's so sad” I say to fill the silence.

“Gets worse. My buddy, he took his own life after the event. Just couldn't cope, never got his degree, never graduated. His girlfriend was a mess for so long, his mum even more so.” he wipes away the wetness with a sniff. 

“Dad, I'm so sorry.'' I say with my whole heart. 

“What I mean is, you always stay because you ignore your pain for fear of hurting others. And that makes me so damn proud of you.” I lean into him for a hug, and I wonder why he's kept that story hidden for so long. I don't question it, we all have our secrets after all. But this moment, right here on an old bench with my dad. This, I will treasure. 

The rest of the funeral was largely uneventful. Everyone had stories to share. Many tissues were used and even more hugs ensued. My best friend's life is recounted in the space of a few hours. Every memorable detail shared to the fullest extent, and then she is laid to rest in the ground, surrounded by people she didn't know. The only thing that isn't present is her letter. It’s mentioned, but not read. There are words and phrases that I recognize. “Don’t lose yourself  to my loss”  or  “ I give myself to the earth, the wind and the heavens, because there is no pain in the deepest of forests and the warmest of oceans.” But at the end of the letter, the gut-wrenching final goodbye is left out. Not that it matters, no one needed to hear those words, except maybe me. On the car ride home I close my eyes and picture the papers in my head. Page after page of apologies, memories, and everything in between. 

“To my best friend, sister and lifeline,” I could hear your voice as my eyes drifted across the paper. “You will feel the most guilty, I know this. But I need you to push those feelings away, there is not anything you should have or could have done. I know it is going to be hard, maybe impossible even. And I write this for you because I know as I jot down my farewell, you’re in your bed, underneath a pile of blankets whispering over and over, ‘Death is permanent, this feeling isn't.’ I know this may be a mistake, and I know you’re depressed, anxious and obsessive. But you need to stop apologizing to everyone for being that way. I mean, it's hardwired into you right? Or at least I know that's what you think. But even those who are made to be a certain way, it doesn't stop them from living the best they can. Don’t follow me, don't give up your life for one person. If you don't want to stick around for them, stick around for me. Because you’re going to have to live for two from now on. I know it’s shitty to put that burden on you, but I know you need it. Living wasn't your plan, living for two people was even supposed to happen. But fuck fate right?” 

[rabiessharcc]

Buddi's ref is now complete!

AaAaa i love him so muCh hh 🥺👉🏻👈🏻💖

The only thing i don't like about this is that i used the wrong shade of red for his sweater stripes. But it doesn't matter as long as the right color palette is next to it.

But aNywAy, i suppose i should share his backstory too. My writing and creative writing skills aren't that good so bare with me-

Buddi's backstory:

A few weeks after the Zed Mart massacre from Chucky, Kaslan created a new version of the original Buddi to replace the Buddi 2, as the release of the Buddi 2 was cancelled and all original Buddi's weren't selling anymore. This new Buddi had similar sweater stripe colors as the Buddi 2 and slightly greyish blue colored overalls. The 'Buddi' logo on the overalls were grey with a red outline instead of yellow with a red outline. The hairstyle and color was the same as the originals and the eyes of the new Buddi were blue, but this time the left eye was light blue and the right eye was dark blue.

Kaslan only created one version of the new Buddi as they were afraid the same incident might happen again like the other products. They only made one so they can test it and see if it works properly. Once the new Buddi was created, it was up for testing. However, during the programming of the chip for the Buddi was being set up, the computer glitched out without anyone knowing, almost like something, or someone, was controlling it. This disabled all the safety features on the chip, creating a duplicate chip like the original Buddi that started all the chaos. The chip was taken out and put into the Buddi without being double checked.

During the testing, everything went somehow well. The voice of the Buddi sounded sweet and friendly. However, he did have a stutter when he talked, but Kaslan just said they can fix it after the testing. "Hi! Are you my new b-b-b-best b-b-b-buddy?" Was his first quote he would say. "Wanna play a g-g-game with me?" Was another quote too. He acted and communicated similar to the original Buddi and had a more smarter self-learning technology. His default name was 'Buddi'.

A couple hours past during the testing and the Buddi roamed free for a while. He looked around the area, curious and happy. Suddenly, he spotted a drill on the floor near the area where they were putting his parts together. He walked over to the drill and picked it up, as his eyes flickered red for a moment. Buddi turned around to face the Kaslan workers and turned on the drill. His eyes flickered red again and spoke again, sounding a little sinister but still looking innocent in his eyes, holding up the drill towards them. "Wanna p-p-p-play now?" In fear, the workers quickly hit him round the head, making Buddi fall to the floor and dropping the drill. "Wait! I only want to p-p-pla-" Buddi whimpered, before getting deactivated and thrown out of the factory and into the rain out the back of the factory.

The impact of the fall turned Buddi back on, but he was slightly broken. He looked around, confused, and somehow feeling a bit of fear and sadness. All he wanted to do was play, and this is how he got treated. He slowly got up, and looked towards the closed door of the factory. At this point, he thought that hurting other people, like him, after showing violence was a good thing. Small streams of oil ran down his face as he turned back around, slowly walking off into the rain before collapsing on the floor, miles away from the Kaslan factory, broken and damaged from the rain getting into his circuits. Nobody saw him or even payed attention to him, before someone came along. A tall Android stopped by him and picked the broken doll up. The Android noticed he was broken, so it took him along back home. Seems like Buddi will be getting new friends.. Until the end.

[notyourbae365]

The One Where They Both Say Yes

                                               ~A Bughead Fanfic~

Description: A sweet, fluffy Bughead fic inspired by the double Malec proposal! It’s always great when two things that I love can come together :)! Contains fluff, hijinks,  general cuteness, and the only warning is that your mouth might hurt from smiling (I know mine did while I wrote this)! I hope everyone enjoys! (Oh, and of course the title was inspired by the most amazing show, Friends.) 

                                                               ~

Betty Cooper and Jughead Jones were the perfect couple. It seemed that no matter who broke up, hooked up, or got knocked up in their crazy town, they remained steady. They had been through so much together in the 5 years that they had been dating, so it only seemed natural that it was time for them to take the next step in their relationship.

At least, Jughead hoped that was how they both felt. The dark-haired boy was currently pacing the floor in the dorm room that he shared with Archie, nervous beyond belief. He was planning on proposing to Betty tonight, and his normally collected composure was cracking rapidly. What if she thought it was too soon? What if she didn't want to get married right after they graduated from college? Maybe she would want to explore more, even see other guys? At that thought, Jughead knew he had to stop overanalyzing what her response might be, otherwise he was going to lose his damn mind. 

Luckily for Jughead’s nerves, Archie opened the door just then, back from his exams. 

“Man, have you got perfect timing. I need to ask you something.”

“Go ahead, bro, shoot.” Archie responded, sitting on Jug’s twin bed. 

“Okay, so I’m going to propose to Betty tonight,” Archie looked shocked, but he quickly regained his composure, “and I wanted to know what you think she’s going to say.” Jughead asked, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. 

“Jug, that’s great! I always knew you guys were going to get married someday, I just didn’t know it was going to be so soon! However, I think she’s going to be over the moon. You shouldn’t doubt her, buddy. I think everything is going to perfect.” Archie said, patting his friend on the shoulder.

“Really? That makes me feel so much better, thanks man. She’s been dropping hints left and right, so I think she’s gonna say yes. Hey, do you want to see the ring?” Archie grinned and nodded, so Jughead took it out of his pocket.

While the two boys were admiring the ring, they had no idea that a similar conversation was taking place in the girls’ dorm room. 

                                                             ~

Betty Cooper had been in love with Jughead Jones forever, it seemed. She knew his fears and his flaws, and loved them because they were a part of him. However, if there was one major thing her boyfriend was bad at, it was taking a hint. She had taken to reading bridal magazines when she knew he was around, talking to him about beautiful rings that she had seen in the jeweler’s window, and how she had caught the bouquet at Cheryl and Toni’s wedding. He never seemed to get it however, and she was beyond frustrated with waiting for him.

Today, that frustration was increased exponentially by a wedding invitation arriving in the mail. It would seem that Ethel Muggs was getting married. Betty hadn’t spoken to her since high school, but she was happy for her. At least somebody’s boyfriend could take a hint. 

Veronica got home just then, fresh from taking her final exam. Betty got up to greet her with a hug.

“V! How was the test?” Betty asked, beaming with pride for her best friend. Veronica feigned sadness.

“Oh, well it was.....amazing! I absolutely crushed it!” Veronica’s fake sadness had given way to a huge smile, and her and Betty jumped in excitement. 

“That’s fantastic, V! I’m so happy for you. We have to celebrate tonight. I think Archie’s finals were today too, so he can tell us how those went.”

“That sounds great. I’ll call the guys right now, and ask them where they want to go.” 

While Veronica was talking to Archie on the phone, Betty got lost in her thoughts again. A night like tonight would be the perfect time for Jughead to propose. If only, she thought. Suddenly, an idea hit her like lightning. Why wait for him to propose, when she could ask him to marry her! It was absolutely perfect, he would never see it coming! 

“Hey, earth to Betty!” Betty was jerked from her thoughts by Veronica waving her hand in front of her face. “What were you thinking about? You’re smiling like a maniac! Frankly, you’re scaring me a little.”

“I’m going to propose to Jughead tonight.” Veronica reeled back on her heels, clearly startled. 

“You’re doing what?! Where did this come from? I mean, I think it’s great, I just had no clue you even wanted to get married right now.” 

“I’ve been wanting him to propose for a while now, but he has no idea. So why not ask him instead?” Betty grinned, clearly excited.

“You’re absolutely right. Take the bull by the horns, B. I’ll help with whatever you need.” Veronica hugged her best friend, excited at the prospect of Betty’s impending engagement. 

“Thank you, V. That means a lot. Okay!”, Betty clapped her hands together excitedly, “there’s so much to do! We have to write my speech, get a ring, figure out when to pop the question.....” Betty continued naming things, blissfully unaware that her “clueless” boyfriend was doing the exact same thing. 

                                                              ~

“Okay, Arch. I think I’ve finally got the plan all figured out. We’re all going to be at the restaurant tonight, so I’m going to do it then. I’m going to tape the ring to the inside of the cover of this vintage Nancy Drew book that I got from an antique store. I’ll pretend that’s a gift I want to give her, she’ll unwrap it, open it up, find the ring and bam, one knee and speech.” Jughead finished, looking at Archie for his response.

“That’s an amazing proposal, Jug. She’s going to go batshit crazy over it.”

“I hope so. I worked really hard on this. This is going to be a night we’ll never forget.”

“Absolutely, man.” Archie checked his watch. “We better get going or we’re going to be late for our reservation. I don’t know why Betty and Veronica insisted on going to this fancy-ass restaurant. Any place that requires a suit jacket is too stuffy for me.” 

“Hey, don’t complain. This “fancy-ass restaurant” they chose is much better suited for my proposal than Poppa’s Pizzeria anyway.”

“Yeah, I know, but I guarantee the food isn’t any better. Poppa’s pizza beats crab legs and caviar any day.” Archie said, with a disgusted look. Jughead laughed, and put his arm around his best friend.

“Come on, man. We gotta go.”

                                                               ~

Betty and Veronica got to the restaurant first so that they could make sure everything was set up, Betty a bundle of nerves. 

“Let’s run through everything one more time. We eat our meal, and then I tell the waiter to bring dessert. He’ll know that means it’s time to bring to bring out a strawberry milkshake, which will have a tag that says “pull me” on the outside attached to string that is tied to the baggie that has the ring in it. Then he pulls the string, finds it, is shocked, cue me on one knee and speech.” Betty said, reciting her plan from memory. 

“It’s perfect, Betty. He’ll be so surprised! You couldn’t screw this up if you tried. Everything will be just right, I promise.” Veronica smiled assuredly at her best friend, not knowing the plan her boyfriend and Jughead had already come up with. 

It was certainly going to be a night of surprise for everyone. 

                                                          ~

Archie and Jughead arrived shortly after the girls’ conversation, and the couples greeted one another with “hello’s” and kisses. All four of them couldn’t seem to stop smiling, but both Betty and Jughead were too anxious to notice that the other seemed as nervous as they were. 

The group sat down at the table, and casual conversation was made in an attempt at normalcy by both sides.

“So Arch, how were your exams?” Betty asked, holding Jughead’s hand on the table.

“They went pretty well, I think.” Archie looked over at Veronica sitting next to him. “Hey babe, your exams were today. How did you do?”

“Great! I feel very confident.” Archie kissed her on the cheek.

“That’s amazing! I’m so happy for you!”

“I’m glad me and Bets took ours already”, Jughead said. “I wouldn’t want to have to worry about that tonight too.” He laughed, and then his eyes widened when he realized what he had said. Archie’s did too, and he quickly swooped in to save Jughead’s secret.

“Yeah, I’m nervous about graduation too. Me and Jug were talking about it on the way over here, about how awful it would be if you like tripped on your gown or something.” The group laughed, and Jughead’s comment flew under the radar of both girls. 

The men breathed a sigh of relief, and the conversation continued on. They talked about after-graduation plans, funny stories from college, and Ethel’s upcoming wedding, which the boys had also received an invitation too. Archie and Veronica did most of the talking, with Betty and Jughead insanely nervous about their proposals. Neither Archie or Veronica realized that they were both covering their best friend’s ass for the same reason.

Their meal came and was eaten, and then it was time for Betty to order the dessert. She did so with ease, not messing up at all. It seemed that everything was going perfect, and Jughead didn’t suspect a thing. That is, until....

“Bets, I have something for you. It’s a graduation present.” He handed her the wrapped book with the ring inside, barely able to contain himself. 

“Oh my gosh, thank you Jug! I actually have something for you too, but I wanted to give it to you during dessert. Can we open our things together then?” Betty asked, hoping she wasn’t being too obvious. Jughead was a bit taken aback, disappointed he would have to wait for a bit to propose, but he agreed. Veronica shot Betty a covert thumbs up for her smooth move.

Soon, Jughead’s milkshake arrived along with ice cream sundaes for the rest of the group. He started to protest and say that he hadn’t ordered a milkshake, but Betty shushed him. 

“It’s alright Jug, I ordered it. I thought it would be nice to have something sentimental tonight. Plus, your gift is inside!” Betty said, smiling excitedly. 

“Aah, clever. But you’re opening yours first, I’m too excited to see you open it.” He said, anticipating her reaction to the ring.

“Okay, fine. But only because I love you.” She pecked him on the cheek, and then pulled the string on the package. The wrapping opened, and she saw what was inside.

“Oh my gosh, is this a vintage Nancy Drew book?” Betty squealed, amazed at how thoughtful her boyfriend was. “This is amazing, Jug! Thank you!” She hugged him tightly.

“You’re welcome, but that’s not all. Look inside the cover.” Betty looked puzzled, but did what she was told. When the book fell open, she saw the ring taped to the cover, but her mind struggled to compute what she was seeing.

“Oh. my. God. OhmyGodohmyGod. Is- Is this? Are you seriously?” Betty was in shock, sitting still as a stone. Across the table, Archie was grinning, and Veronica was just as shell-shocked as Betty. 

Jughead dropped to one knee, and Betty became coherent enough to interject. 

“Hold on, just one second. I-I can’t believe this! I know this is going to sound really weird, but do you see that tag on your milkshake?” Betty said, her hand shaking as she pointed. Jughead was extremely confused.

“Are you really interrupting my proposal to you to talk about a milkshake?”  He said in disbelief. 

“Pull on it.” Betty said, still reeling. 

“Seriously?” Jug couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Pull the damn string, Jones!” 

“Alright!” Jughead got off of his knee and sat in his chair in front of the milkshake. This proposal was not at all going as planned. He pulled on the string, and a baggie containing- was that a fucking ring? Now it was his and Archie’s turn to be completely dumbfounded. 

“Wait a second, you were-” Jughead was cut off by Betty getting down on her knee. 

“I am so shocked right now, and I know you are too, but honestly I think this is the most perfect proposal that we could have. We’ve always done everything together, why not this too? I love you so much, Jughead Jones, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and create so many more amazing and crazy moments just like this one. What do you say, will you marry me?” Betty was visibly crying by the end of her speech, and Jughead was definitely tearing up too. 

Jughead got on his knees with her, and gathered her hands in his. 

“Only if you’ll marry me, Elizabeth Cooper.” She laughed, and nodded her head enthusiastically, tears still sparkling in her eyes. 

They stood to their feet and got the rings out, placing them on each other’s hands. Archie and Veronica were beaming behind them, and they weren't the only ones. The restaurant had started paying attention, and when Betty and Jughead sealed their engagement with a searing kiss, the patrons erupted into applause. 

Betty and Jughead separated, with Betty blushing as she realized that they had just passionately kissed in front of over 100 people. The couple sat down, and Jughead, noticing his new fiancée's blush, said softly in her ear,

“Get used to it, babe. You’re going to have to do it all over again on our wedding day.” Betty laughed, the blush receding from her cheeks. They looked at each other and both thought at the same time,

I love you so much.

[fanfic-scribbles]

Lunch Buddy: Chapter Seven

Masterlist

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Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers makes a friend. A prickly, generally people-averse friend, but they’ll both take what they can get.

Quick Facts: Friendship (/Eventual Romance) – Steve Rogers & Reader (leading to Steve Rogers/Reader) – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 7: Bi Association

Chapter Summary: An accidental assumption leads to an emotional conversation. Being disasters is both a good and terrible thing to have in common.

Chapter Warnings: Talk of coming out, mentions of homophobia, mentions of past Steve/Bucky and past Steve/Peggy

Chapter Word Count: 3669

A/N: So at the beginning of the story I warned Reader/OFC is very definitely bisexual and that really comes into play here. I think this chapter was one of the ones that pushed me to keep OFC as an option for this story because coming out (or not) is a really personal thing. ‘Not all bi folk’ and whatnot. Otherwise, please enjoy these two doofs being terrible with real actual Emotions.

    Job hunting was annoying, but surprisingly fruitful.

“Are you sure everything’s all right?” Steve asked.

“Yeah. Why?” I asked and looked at him.

“Your playlists are a little…” He gave the next word a lot of thought. “…Heavy. Lately.”

Poor sweet summer child, I thought. Apparently Lamb of God had taught him nothing. “You said you like Rise Against.”

“I do.”

“So we’re branching out,” I said and went back to my doodling. “Slowly but surely, we’ll get you to branch out even more.”

“I guess– wait. ‘Slowly?’”

“How about you?” I asked, focused on my crummy little tree. “You’ve been a little out of it this week.”

I thought he’d brush me off. Instead I got silence. I lifted my head again and did a double-take at the way he stared at…well, nothing that I could see. After a few seconds he shook it off– literally. “It’s nothing. I’m fine,” he said. “Don’t you have to go soon?”

I frowned at him. “If you don’t want to talk about it it’s okay; you don’t have to–” I caught sight of my phone and the clock numbers thereon. I jumped up. “Fuck!”

“I’m just trying to help,” he said calmly, and he held onto the rickety table while I threw my shit together. “It seems like you’re more reluctant to go back to work these days.”

Of course he noticed. But then, it was hard to be subtle when I dreaded ever seeing my boss in fear of him asking about how ‘It’ was going. I sighed, slung my bag on my shoulder, and faced Steve. “Work is…work. It gets like this sometimes.” I shrugged like it was nothing. “So if you’re ever looking for someone willing to be chucked at an evil alien or something…”

“I have your number,” he said, smiling at me, and I saluted and ran out.

~

There wasn’t much smiling over the next few days. For either of us. On at least two of those days I was setting up follow-ups and moping about being rejected from the perfect job. And on a day after that I went through most of my lunch break before I noticed that I had hardly spoken to Steve at all.

I then noticed that he was abnormally silent. He sat with his back even closer to the wall and had his sketchbook tilted up so that he was ensconced in his own little world. I watched him for a while. He ignored me and showed an unnerving lack of emotion. No concentrated frown or unhappy scowl, just…nothing.

“Hey,” I said gently. His hand slowed to a stop and after a deep breath he looked at me. Under such a dead stare I almost floundered– was it really my business?– but I managed to spit out, “Are you…okay?”

I should have asked him how he was but that was a mistake I realized too late. “Yes. I’m fine,” he said and went back to his dead-faced drawing.

I didn’t know how to follow up and it was very blatant that he didn’t want me to, so I went to put my second earbud in.

“But…thanks for asking.”

I hesitated but Steve showed no physical sign of having said anything. But just the words, even flat as they were, made me breathe a sigh of relief as I put my headphones in. Something was better than nothing.

~

We went through the same routine for the next several days. The next time I came in after that, though, he was sitting with a book, his sketchpad shut and sitting next to him, and at least an inch between his back and the wall.

Still, I was wary. “Hey,” I said as I sat down.

“Hi.”

He sounded…not normal, but not bad. Not exactly. Distant, sort of, in a way that I didn’t know if talking to him would be bothering him. But then his eyes flicked up and I tried to think of something to say. An apology for staring would have been nice, but a coherent string of non-creepy words didn’t make it from my brain to my mouth.

“I, um…” I held back a sigh and tried to think, damn it. It took me a bit but Steve waited patiently for me to spit it out. “I know I keep asking how you’re doing, and I-I don’t want to be annoying, so I’m– I’m fine to keep asking, if that’s okay with you, but…but it’s okay if you don’t want me to keep asking. I won’t be offended.”

He gave that some thought. “Is it selfish that I like being asked even though I don’t really want to answer?” he said at last.

“Personally I don’t think so,” I said. “But I also don’t think it’s bad to be a little selfish sometimes.” If he did, I didn’t know why in the world he ever associated with me.

His smile was small and sad. “I’m more selfish than most people want to believe.”

“Everyone is,” I said. “I know it might not be comforting, but…at least you're not alone?”

“In some ways,” he said, staring at his sketchbook. He rested his hand on it, slightly curved and gentle fingertips moving over it with short, light, absent strokes.

I was curious but I didn’t want to ask. Well, not directly. “Are you working on a project?”

He glanced at me and then looked back down at it. And kept looking.

“If you want to tell me to butt out–”

“I don’t.”

I shut up. Steve looked around the shop like he was checking for lurkers and eavesdroppers, but there was no one even close that I could see. He beckoned me to come closer so I hopped over to the chair next to him and scooted in.

He opened up his book to a portrait that was downright breathtaking. A man’s face was lovingly rendered in a mix of pencil and ink, and while the style was similar to Steve’s other drawings, it was so incredibly different just in the obvious amount of time and care spent on it.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” Steve murmured, moving his hand to rest right next to the sly smile and fondly shining eyes. “Bucky. He was…my best friend; he was…”

The thing was– I was not completely ignorant of Steve’s past. He had been a very important figure in history: medical miracle, war hero, and walking tragedy. He had never caught my attention because the textbooks always made him sound so noble and red-blooded American male and boring. But I’d had a classmate-kind-of-friend who had been obsessed with him for a period of time and so I knew some things just by osmosis.

I had thought that, at least, but I really should have considered the source that information had come from. Anything school had fed me had gone in one ear and out the other but my sorta-friend had, at one point, gotten my attention with an aside about Steve likely being involved with his ‘best friend’ Bucky. I hadn’t thought much of it at the time beyond ‘good for him’ but years of being (lurking) in certain communities on the internet had really made it seem like a true-but-generally-unspoken thing. That, and the fact that he had said nothing because he was too busy stroking the drawing, made it pretty damn clear to me.

So I thought nothing of it when I tried to fill in the blank with, “Your boyfriend?”

It was…the absolute wrong thing to say.

Steve’s head snapped up and his face changed through expressions almost too fast to name– shock was one, anger was another, then–

“What did you say?”

His voice was not stern, or scolding, or panicked. It was…chilling. I didn’t know what the hell to make of it, but it scared me. I couldn’t even swallow, my mouth was so dry. “I–I’m sorry; I didn’t–”

He leaned in close. I leaned back, but I could only go so far. “Where did you hear that?” he said low and glanced around the room.

I became vaguely aware of the world around us and, thankfully, we were completely unnoticed. I breathed a sigh of relief but I still felt shaky. The guy could give a death stare like no one’s business. “It’s okay, no one heard–”

“Where?!”

I didn’t know how to answer that, though I scrambled to try, only to be cut off by the buzzing alarm on my phone. I cringed and tried to shut it up. I’d rather be late for my crappy job than leave things like this. “I– S-so I–”

“Go.”

Steve’s voice was dispassionate and calm and he sat back in his seat. He kept his eyes on the table and his hand lay flat on the sketchbook’s cover. I was frozen, stunned by his coldness, but he ignored me. I packed up, feeling sick and miserable, but before I left I stopped and tried to apologize. He glared at me with eyes that looked full of hurt, so I tucked my tail between my legs and ran.

~

It was evening and I was just settling in to be sad and pathetic and rue the day I ever spoke to anyone ever when my phone alerted me to a message. Only one person texted me without calling first, and after going through my work day in a state of constant near-tears while I replayed that moment over and over in my head, I was too fucking tired to deal with him just yet.

My phone buzzed again though. And again. On the way off-chance that it was my boss with a work emergency, I reached out from the Blanket Pit of Misery to grab my phone from the coffee table. I almost wished it was my boss when I saw Steve’s name.

However.

Steve: This is going to sound forward Steve: But can I come over? Steve: Or can you come to my place

I raised both eyebrows. Thankfully, the next parts came quick.

Steve: I’m sorry for today Steve: And this conversation shouldn’t happen in text Steve: Or public

I sat up and stared at the screen. On one hand: ‘I’m sorry’. On the other hand: an in-person conversation. Ugh.

Me: I don’t want to fight

His response was immediate and came in a flood.

Steve: We won’t Steve: I promise Steve: I didn’t mean it; I panicked Steve: And I’m sure you already figured out why Steve: But I need to explain it Steve: Please

I was really tired. But I knew that panic.

Me: How the hell do you text so fast

I sent him my address and spent his travel time trying not to freak out. When he knocked, I started to freak out about the mess. I shoved the blankets to the corner of the couch and grabbed empty cups to dump in the kitchen sink on my way to the door. I then stood there for a second to give myself a once-over– lounging clothes, but clean, and I was mostly decent, so I opened the door before I could chicken out. Steve’s eyes were cast down and he was hunched over into his usual brown leather jacket. He lifted his head in my general direction but didn’t really look at me but for occasional glances. He looked about how I felt.

“I guess misery doesn’t love company,” he said lightly.

I rolled my eyes and stepped back so he could step in. “You're not nearly sadistic enough to know,” I said and shut the door behind him. “Do you want something to drink?”

“No thanks. I think I’m going to throw up.”

I had been going to the fridge but at that I stopped and turned to face him. Steve was still hunched and seemed to be shrinking more with every second. I took a step forward and stopped when he flinched. “Hey,” I said gently. “It’s not the 40’s anymore; I’m not going to turn you in.”

“Don’t joke about that,” he muttered.

“I’m not!”

I hadn’t meant to be so loud– even Steve looked surprised enough to have a spark of life again. But he was standing up and I had his attention, so I ran with it. “I wasn’t making a joke of it before and I’m not making a joke of it now,” I said, because I had to make him understand. Somehow.

“I know you weren't joking before.” He fell back onto the couch, which creaked. “It made it…worse.”

I opened my mouth but he held up his hand. I waited, but when he took longer to compose himself I slowly walked over and perched on the edge of the other end of the couch. I felt so stiff I probably would have been more comfortable if I had remained standing, but the silence was so absolute that getting up would be too disruptive.

“Some people knew,” he said, so softly that I leaned in closer on instinct. He raised his voice a little. “Nobody talked about it. Ever. We were…as careful as you possibly could be when you love someone that much.”

He didn’t look at me. I didn’t move. I wanted to…reach out, put an arm around him, do something, but I didn’t know if we were quite there yet. Or if he was okay with being touched at all.

“Peggy definitely knew,” Steve said, staring at the floor but obviously not staring at the floor. “And after Bucky…fell…she–”

Steve turned his face away and wiped it. I scooted closer and put my hand on his arm. He didn’t pull away, so I stayed, but I was stock-still, afraid that if I moved an inch in either direction he’d push or pull or run.

He faced forward again with a dry face and his throat pulsed with his swallow. “I loved her too,” Steve said. “I could have– if I had made it out, we could have been happy, you know?” His smile was sad and wistful and his eyes shone just a little too bright. “I like to think so, anyway. Peggy was never disturbed by it. Sometimes even made some comments that, I think, if we had all made it out…”

He shook his head and got to his feet. “Bisexual,” he blurted out. He kept his back to me and barely glanced back. “I like that; it– it suits me. I think.” He turned to face me. “But I’m not…out. Obviously.”

I nodded. My heart was racing and the more he stared at me the harder it hit my chest, the harder it was to say something. But he took a slow step back, said, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have–” and then he stared to leave and I couldn’t, I couldn’t leave that there. No matter what it meant for me.

“I’m not out either!”

He stopped right at the door. I was almost not breathing when he looked at me sharply, but apparently having very obvious heart failure attested to my earnestness, because his eyes widened and his hand slipped from the knob. I swallowed and sympathized with how he’d had such a hard time with it. I felt like I was swallowing an egg-sized rock. But then he was utterly silent, so I asked, “Well? Does misery love company now?”

He flinched. “That’s not something to be miserable about.”

I shrugged, because that was easy to say, wasn’t it? He shifted from one foot to the other and looked extremely uncomfortable. It took me a moment to realize why that might be. “Yes,” I said and he nearly jumped. “We can be closeted bi besties.”

“I didn’t…mean to make you come out. I just–” He ran his hands over his face and through his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess right now.”

“Just right now?” I asked. He actually made a sound that was kind of like a laugh. I sighed. I felt almost completely drained, but at least the hard part was done and over. “Take off your jacket and sit down,” I said and went to the fridge. “I don’t want you to break down in a cab or something.”

“I drove.” But Steve shrugged off his jacket and threw it on the coffee table as he sat back on the couch. “Motorcycle.”

“Even worse.” I brought back two water bottles and set one in front of him before I dropped onto the cushion right next to him. “I’m not gonna be the last person to see you before you wrap yourself around a pole.”

“I’d survive it.”

That was way too flippant and I couldn’t be trusted to touch it without also getting darker than I felt comfortable with. “Well, I’m sure you have a nice bike that doesn’t deserve that.”

We both sat in awkward silence. He picked at the paper wrapping and I chewed on the bottle rim, occasionally consuming some water by accident just because the damn thing was so full. “I’m sorry,” Steve said quietly. “That could have gone better.”

I put the bottle down. “Coming out is always awkward.”

“Even for you?” he asked and lowered his voice for, “Even now?”

“There’s always going to be someone, always,” I said. “And some that do it because, uh…they care, and they think it’s safer if you just… But– the times I’ve come out, I don’t regret it. Even when it blew up in my face. I never– I just don’t trust people, and sometimes I’m scared of what that makes me, of how detached I get, in the interest of keeping myself safe. I’m glad that, sometimes, even I can still trust people. Even if it’s just a little bit.”

I didn’t really expect anything, but of everything, I really didn’t expect Steve to turn his body and hug me so suddenly I went “oof!” He didn’t hold tight though, so I crossed my arm over to my shoulder to pat his hands awkwardly. And then, because he was hugging from my side and I couldn’t really return the gesture, I slipped my other arm around his back.

“Me too,” he said and let me go. “I’m…glad you can trust me with that.”

“Same,” I said. “Even if it was unintentional. I’m sorry; even if I was right I shouldn’t have said it like that. I know how that heart attack feels, so– I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” he said. He still sounded utterly miserable though.

I nudged him. “I promise I won’t say anything. It’s no one’s fucking business, right?”

He breathed. “In theory,” he said. He lifted his head and stared at nothing. “I’m going to have to make it be, though.”

Considering the guy couldn’t come out to defenseless old ‘tries not to talk to anyone else ever’ me without freaking the fuck out, coming out to the world seemed like a leap. “Why?”

He didn’t answer at first; he just sat there clenching his jaw so hard I was afraid he’d break his teeth. Then he stood up and paced, but from the marching motions it didn’t look like it helped much. Granted, my apartment was only so big and he couldn’t get a good stomp going, but still.

“I wasn’t going to,” he said and stopped. “I thought I could get around it, brush off interview questions and just act stupid. But then…” The muscles in his neck rippled with his swallow. “I was talking to this kid one week. They were so sweet, and they had a– a rainbow flag pin on their bag. I wanted to compliment it, but they saw me looking and covered it up. Then they made some excuse and left.”

He just stood there, but when I tugged at his shirt he plopped right down next to me. “They didn’t want to know,” I said softly, because as much as it sucked for him, I could really sympathize with that kid.

“And I hate it,” Steve spat like he was full of bile. “I hate trying to skirt those questions, I hate that the people who would have beaten me to death before the war look at me like they think I’m on their side; I hate that anybody like me is afraid to ask anything other than ‘are you okay that I exist.’” He sighed. “Most of all, I hate that I’m such a fucking coward I haven’t just said it yet. I need to, for my own sanity, but it’s…terrifying.”

I wished there was something I could say, something smart, or comforting, or even just kind. However I had a big load of nothing, so I just kept my arm around him and hoped it was enough that I was there. I hoped that he knew I understood.

He sat there, silent, but he didn’t leave, and eventually I got an idea. “Hey,” I said and got up. “Since you’re here, come on; I’m gonna show you how to play a video game.”

He didn’t protest, and even let me tug and shove him around until he was sitting on the edge of my bed and holding the controller in his ridiculous bear paws. “Fuck, your hands are big,” I said and eyed them. Maybe this was a bad idea. “You’ve got a gentle touch, right?”

He looked at me and made his lips a flat line. “You’ve seen me use tablets and phones.”

“Okay, point,” I said and settled in as the system loaded.

“I mean, I broke a half dozen of each before I got the hang of it, but I’m sure it won’t take me that many this time.”

I glared at him and he smirked, the little shit. As the starting screen came up I sat back. “Well,” I said. “At least if you break my controller you won’t have to worry about that pesky ‘coming out’ bullshit.”

He laughed.

It was probably good that he thought I was joking.

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[inanawesomewave]

SOCIOPATH WALKS INTO A THERAPIST’S OFFICE

I started therapy.

There’s a common myth that people with ASPD won’t seek therapy, or won’t respond to it, that we’re far too high and mighty, too deep into our own sense of power and control that we feel therapy would hamper our greatness somehow, or that we would sense a game afoot and the therapy would turn into a back and forth of tensions and manipulations and ultimately become an irresistible power play to the sociopath who has found a new thrill in analysing the analyser. At best, it’s assumed we’ll flippantly disregard all offers for help and remain ignorant and unwell. At worst, people imagine a kind of Tony Soprano/Dr Melfi scenario, the game of life on hard mode, the ultra-violent psychopath fucking with the resilient therapist’s head, what a thrill, how entertaining and devastating everything we involve ourselves in eventually becomes. And this thinking comes from the notion that antisocials do not suffer, and perhaps I’ve been guilty of assuming  this myself or at least projecting it outward. That’s the nature of my personality disorder: I’m afraid of admitting any kind of weakness. But the studies that have been done that measure an antisocial’s reaction to therapy have some flaws. First of all, the samples are always violent, offending psychopaths, incarcerated in prison, and they’re all men, and they’re all on the severe end of the scale. Secondly, studies are never done about a sociopath willingly seeking therapy, only a sociopath (or indeed psychopath) who has been ordered by court to attend therapy, so there’s a couple of glaring errors there — of course people who didn’t want to have therapy in the first place aren’t going to respond. Of course violent psychopaths who have no remorse, rather than some capability for remorse, won’t respond to therapy. They’re already in prison, they’ve already committed their crimes. You can see how there’d be very little to gain there. 
 So why did I seek therapy? 
Because I am constantly, unyieldingly fucking my own life up, and I’m doing it in a way that often feels uncontrollable to me. Everything is a constant battle between the self that I know and the dark night of myself, the part I know is there but can’t actually make out. All I know is it lurks down the dimly lit allies and leaps out of the dark corners of my psyche, and all of this presents itself as a nervy, fizzing, buzzing bandsaw of baseline level contempt, outrage, and a deep sense of something, maybe sadness, that I don’t know the name of, because if you’ve got ASPD you’ve most likely also got alexithymia as a symptom — that is, a subclinical inability to identify or describe your own emotions, a profound lack of emotional attachment to yourself. And it makes sense; if you can’t empathise with other people, you sure as shit can’t empathise with yourself. And there’s that word I use all the time — lack. Everything about ASPD, sociopathy, is defined by lack. The lack I feel the most is the lack of things that make me a warm-hearted, warm-blooded human being, and the kicker is, I lack the language to even begin to talk to myself about that. 
And that was all fine and well, way back when I had no ambitions, no familial obligation, no partner I really had to care about. If I’m honest, before marriage, I only really loved one person romantically, and he tended to my antisocial nature like he was leaving out trash for a local raccoon to come snatch. Never fetishising enough for me to lose interest, but always teetering on the edge of fascination and admiration, and whilst I thought I may have been happy then — I was just wilder. I had no barriers, and for a time, that was perfect. But that guy killed himself, when everyone thought he was happy, and whilst we had both moved on with our lives by the time he decided to end his, it could be that man was using me as a carte blanche for self-destruction; a drinking buddy gone wrong, my no-tomorrow, no-consequences way of living was normal to me, but for all the compassion and beauty and light he had within him, what I thought were similarities in our personalities, were actually symptoms of his suicidality. So really, what did he know? And what if I end up knowing it too?
 Now I’m settled and happy — externally, I’m happy. I’m married to the love of my life. We have a beautiful perfect baby son together. I’m back at university and I’m working toward a career in forensic psychology. I like the house we have. I live close to people I care about. I love my friends. But for some reason, my pervading, reigning emotions are only rage and fear. So I hauled my ass to therapy and I can tell you now, I’m not the only sociopath in the world who's done this, we’re just not supposed to talk about it. But I’ll let you in on this one, and hope I don’t get kicked out of the circle. 

 One thing you’ll have noticed with this blog and probably with the antisocials in your life is that we are in a constant state of over-examining and analysing our own processes. To borrow a hackneyed metaphor about psychopathy, we run like machines. But the machine has malware, incredibly hard to detect, but everything is bugging from the deepest recesses and nothing is really working, although the machine’s kind of running fine even if too hot, too glitchy, sometimes it blows up. We think we know everything that can be known about ourselves and this is probably a protective mechanism. I know most of us come from a lot of childhood neglect and abuse, so it makes sense we'd internalise that critical parental voice telling us we’re useless, worthless, unlovable, and turn it into a kind of, “aha! You’re wrong! I know EXACTLY what I am at all times and last I checked, I was none of those things” fuck you to our childhoods. What I didn’t realise, and maybe you’re the same, is that deep down, perhaps I feel useless, worthless, and unlovable, only I wouldn't know if that were the case, because I don't know the names of my feelings. 
 My therapist is a good guy. He’s well-dressed, friendly, and empathic in a way that gives me pause, sometimes intimidates me. Twice now I've had these eerie, uncanny moments where he’s said “but you didn't deserve that, you were a child”, and visibly winced with pain as I've matter-of-factly spoken about my early experiences. I didn’t hate it. I don’t know if I loved it. I something-ed it. At the very least, I noted that he’d done that, appreciatively. He’s taught me things about myself too, gross ugly things, like lifting up a rock and showing me all these wriggling, dirty bugs beneath: “See that weird creature with a million legs and no eyes? Those are your narcissistic tendencies. You do have them. You have a bit of a superiority complex and that's why you don't like to talk to other people. It’s because you don’t love yourself and you’re transferring that onto others. You hate other people because what if they end up being your mother? That’s why you’ve got to be superior and mighty but it doesn’t materially mean anything. Oh, and you see that fucking huge worm there? That’s your dismissive-avoidant attachment style. You don't know this but you keep yourself at a distance from love and intimacy because you're frightened of it and you think if you remove yourself from it you'll be safe from it. Weird, right? Oh, and this thing, not sure if it's a slug or what, that’s your perfectionism that you’ve told yourself all your life is one of your most beneficial traits, look at it there writhing into itself. What you don't know about this peculiar beast is that it's hurting you and everyone around you. It’s not “drive”, it’s not “a will to succeed”, it’s a boorish sense of pride and self-imposed notion that you can't stop, ever, in case you die. And you know you can work and work and improve and improve and you can get the grades and get better ones and create targets and hit them all, but it won’t make you love yourself. And you’re holding a negative view of others who don’t work as hard as you but you know what, unlike you, they’re happy”.
Okay, he didn't word it in those ways but this is a blog, I’m here to keep you entertained I don't know what my goal is. A better relationship to myself? Maybe. Other people? Let’s not go crazy, I’m hardly an altruist. But honestly? I’d rather die than give my son the kind of life where, in 30 years time, he’s sitting in a therapist’s office, lifting up the rock, recoiling at the ugly creatures. Especially if one of those creatures is: “ever since your mother died you’ve felt nothing but pain and self-blame”. 

I’d go on to tell you how I feel about  this, but there’s no words I know of. There’s probably a lot of them that exist, though. I’ll keep you updated. 


[miguel-manbemel]

Aspects & Fanfics Ep. 12: The Curse: The End of Anxiety?

Episode number 12 of Aspects & Fanfics, the fanfic inspired on Sanders Sides, by Thomas Sanders, Joan and the Foster Dawg Team. This week has been a busy one, so it took me longer than expected to finish this episode, but I finally got it ready. It has been a struggling process as there were times where I didn’t feel quite sure about if what I was writing was good enough or not, I’m sure any writer has had that feeling every once in a while about their own work. That’s why I consider a blessing any like, any reblogging or any positive commentary anyone would leave, as they’re confirmations that after all it may not be so bad. I really appreciate them and feel thankful for them.

In this episode I further explore what I hinted at the end of the previous episode, so Prinxiety is getting the center of attention in the plot. I know that ships make some people uncomfortable. I personally avoided them up until the previous episode, because I wanted to focus on the plot and not so much on the romance, but these two last instances, they really needed it to make the general story arc move forward. I hope in the end I managed to make an enjoyable story, you’re the ones who can judge it. As always, remember that this fanfic follows the canon Sanders Sides up to Embarrasing Phases and goes on its own after that. References to previous episodes will be made, if you wanna read them, you can find them right here. And that’s it, I leave you with the story, until next time.

SYNOPSIS: After Virgil rejected Roman over fear of corrupting him, Roman hasn’t been able to function properly, due to his lovesickness. Soon, though, they realize that Virgil is not appearing and, fearing something may be wrong, they go to his room. They find out that Virgil has been bitten by a special kind of Sprite, a Dark Sprite, that threatens to induce Thomas into a deep state of depression.

WARNINGS: As I said, there’s a lot of romantic prinxiety in the plot. This is a spoiler, but there will also be unrequited Anxceit in the final part. There are also going to be made references to depression and the bad consequences it can have, from lack of hope to the bad ending it can cause. As such, there’s going to be a lot of angst in the plot. You are going to see a new evil edge of Virgil he’s never shown before, and speaking about Virgil, he’s going to be in a mortal danger in this episode. There’s an intense scene where he’s on the verge of dying, I give the warning in case it could be a trigger. Also, beware at the end for some final slightly horrifying last lines that come when you least expect it. I think that’s about all. If you think that I ever forgot any warning don’t hesitate into letting me know, please. I always prefer warning too much that don’t warning enough.

EPISODE INDEX

[Thomas and Joan are both with their laptops on their legs, sitting down on the couch]

JOAN: Okay, what do you think about this idea I just had for the funniest short ever? There’s this guy that calls at one door, declares his love, but his crush lives next door and the guy’s proposing to his neighbor…

THOMAS: And both the neighbor and the crush reject him miserably and he lives unhappily ever after?

JOAN: [looks at Thomas with a still face] …you know what? Never mind. Besides, you did a similar short years ago on Vine anyway…

[intro sequence]

THOMAS: [waving to Joan who’s off-screen leaving through the door] Bye, Joan! [to the camera] What is up, everybody? Okay, I guess you’ve seen it earlier. Lately, I’ve become a little… melodramatic… in regards of the ideas I have for new stories… It’s like everything I make up lately becomes invariably sad… However, I’m not feeling specially depressed or blue, so I don’t know what’s going on with me…

PATTON: [rising up] Are you sure, Thomas? Don’t you have anything you want to share with us that could make you feel better?

THOMAS: You should know better, Patton, you’re my heart, you control my feelings of happiness and sadness. How do you feel?

PATTON: I’m feeling quite normal, Thomas. No special feelings of sadness and no special feelings of happiness either. I’m fine. I’m a… Bona Fine expert.

HONESTY: [rising up] Make a soul search, Thomas. Are you sure you’re okay?

THOMAS: I really am, Honesty. I’m totally fine. And that’s what’s confusing me. What could be happening here? Why is everything I create so… so… heartbreaking?

HONESTY: Well, if nothing’s bothering you, and Patton is not holding back bad feelings that could influence you… Then it has to be a problem with your creativity.

THOMAS: [scared] … Oh, no! Do you think something’s wrong with Roman again? Perhaps another Sanders Sprite bit him?

HONESTY: Don’t remind me of that, Thomas. I found it quite outrageous that you went through all of that and didn’t call me.

THOMAS: Well, if you hadn’t been in autopilot, then… wait, wait. We were talking about Roman. Perhaps something’s wrong with him. Should we call him?

LOGAN: [rising up] I don’t think it could do any bad, Thomas.

THOMAS: Okay, then… Roman? Are you okay? Can you come here?

[Roman rises up. He shows a dejected face and serious voice]

ROMAN: Did you call…?

THOMAS: Yes, we did… I’m glad that you’re okay. We were worried because lately I’ve been having trouble to create something lighthearted and…

ROMAN: [same serious voice] Oh… I see… I’m sorry, Thomas. I’ll try to do better next time…

[Everyone looks at Roman in disbelief]

THOMAS: …excuse me? No complaints about me criticizing your work? Roman, are you okay?

ROMAN: I’m okay… I promise.

DECEIT: [suddenly appearing, yelling scared] Look out, Roman! Your pants are on fire!

ROMAN: [jumps scared looking at his legs] What!? [after checking there’s no fire, angry] That wasn’t funny, Deceit!

DECEIT: [looking at Roman in the eye with a serious face] And I didn’t mean to be funny at all, Roman, I was talking figuratively.

ROMAN: [understanding, showing a face of sadness] Oh…

PATTON: What’s wrong with you, Princey? We’re your friends. If we can help you…

ROMAN: Thanks, guys… But I can’t tell you anything.

THOMAS: Why?

ROMAN: Someone asked me not to. And I’m going to respect his wishes.

THOMAS: Someone?

LOGAN: Well, we didn’t have any reunions since the Sprite incident, and judging from your confused faces, no one here has a clue of what Roman’s talking about. I, of course, don’t know either, and I doubt Wrath has anything to say in this issue, they still don’t have a relation close enough to have secrets so serious they cannot be shared with us. So, by logical deduction, it could have only been…

HONESTY: Virgil.

PATTON: Did something bad happen between you two?

ROMAN: [a little nervous] Nothing happened. That Sulk-an of Aggrava-tion is not related at all with it…

THOMAS: What did I tell you about calling nicknames, Roman?

ROMAN: Sorry…

DECEIT: And why are you so nervous? We’re only talking.

ROMAN: [angry] Are you? Or are you rather interrogating me? Could you stop meddling in my life? [yelling] Leave me alone, all of you, peasants! [feels he’s about to cry and turns against the wall]

THOMAS: Okay. If I wasn’t worried before, I certainly am now. What’s happened? I don’t mean to spy on your private life, Roman, but your problem, whatever it is, is affecting me in my life and my job, so I think it concerns me too. In fact, anything that is hurting my friends concerns me, not only because, eventually, it is hurting me too, but also because you’re my friends and I want you all to be nothing less than happy.

ROMAN: [turns back, long streams of tears fall down his cheeks] I’m sorry, Thomas. I’m sorry that I am such a nuisance for you…

THOMAS: [sweet voice] Hey, buddy, don’t say that. You’re not a nuisance. You stayed there with the rest of the Sides supporting me when I was feeling all that sorrow. Do you seriously think you deserve less support than anyone of us? You’re one of us, Roman. If you’re in pain, we’ll share that pain with you, so we can fix it together. Please, let us help you.

ROMAN: I really wish I could, Thomas, cause this is killing me inside… But I can’t… I promised I wouldn’t tell what happened…

DECEIT: You’ve fallen in love with Virgil, right?

[Thomas, Logan, Patton and Honesty look at Deceit with a face of shock]

ROMAN: [also in shock] I… I…

DECEIT: And Virgil’s fallen in love with you too.

THOMAS: Is that true, Roman? The other day, I thought Deceit was only teasing us… But is it true? You two are in love?

ROMAN: [sighs] There’s no use in denying the evidence anymore… Deceit’s right. I love Virgil. I love that stupid Emo Nightmare. And I think he loves me too.

THOMAS: But that’s good then. You love him and are lucky enough that he loves you back. Where’s the trouble? I think it’s beautiful that two of my Sides are in love with each other. I’m not against it, if that’s troubling you.

ROMAN: Thank you, Thomas, but…

DECEIT: I think I understand what’s going on.

THOMAS: Then what is it?

DECEIT: The problem is that Roman is a Light Side and Virgil is a Dark Side. They can’t be together, or Roman could disappear, because of the corruption Virgil would eventually inflict on Roman. [to Roman] And Virgil refused to be with you because he didn’t want to harm you, and you’re suffering because you can’t have him, right, Roman?

ROMAN: Yes. More or less…

THOMAS: And isn’t there any way to help them?

DECEIT: I don’t think so, Thomas. It’s at the core of our nature. We can’t coexist for long periods of time. I know the problem very well, remember what happened to Honesty and me.

PATTON: [emotional] My poor little prince… I’m so sorry.

ROMAN: Do you have any spare hugs, Patton…? [his voice breaks] Cause I could use one of them right now…

PATTON: Of course, Roman, of course.

[Patton goes to Roman’s spot and hugs him. Roman starts loudly crying on Patton’s shoulder, his face is not seen, but Patton sweetly pets his hair]

PATTON: It’s okay… It’s okay, kiddo… Let it all go out. Everyone has the right to cry… Even the bravest princes like you.

THOMAS: [tearing up] This is so sad… And this explains why I can’t create anything that isn’t sad. My creativity is lovesick. What else could he do? Hug him tightly, Patton. Make him feel like we’re all hugging him at the same time.

[Roman puts himself together, his eyes are red and his nose wet. Patton gives him a handkerchief decorated with embroidered kittens and Roman blows his nose]

ROMAN: [cleaning his nose] What an appalling spectacle I’m giving. I’m the prince, I’m supposed to be strong, or at least look like it…

THOMAS: Patton’s said it and he speaks for all of us. Even the strongest and bravest princes have a right to cry. And it needs a lot of strength to cry in front of people. You have nothing to be ashamed of.

LOGAN: Guys… I suddenly realized something…

THOMAS: What is it, Logan?

LOGAN: Don’t you think that there’s something odd going on here?

THOMAS: I wouldn’t call this situation odd, Logan, I…

LOGAN: I don’t mean Roman’s trouble, although it could be related.

THOMAS: If you don’t cut to the chase…

LOGAN: Where is Virgil? He should already be here knowing we’re mentioning him all the time.

THOMAS: Perhaps he’s in autopilot, Logan.

LOGAN: Perhaps, but still… I’m having a bad feeling about his absence.

ROMAN: [concerned face] What do you mean? What makes you think there’s something’s wrong with Virgil?

LOGAN: I don’t know. It’s just… intuition. I never stated it before, Thomas. But apart of being home of your logic and knowledge, I’m also in charge of your intuition. I know it has no logic that I, Logic, am in charge of this illogical feeling, but I am, and I feel deep inside of me that something’s wrong with Virgil. I could be wrong, intuition sometimes fails, and it’s the only instance I’m going to recognize I’m prone to failure, but I highly doubt it.

THOMAS: Then we’ll go check on him. Remember, everyone, that Light Sides are endangered in Virgil’s room, so, if we need to stay for too long, Logan, Patton, Roman and Honesty must retreat, okay?

ROMAN: If Virgil’s in trouble, I’m not retreating anywhere.

THOMAS: But Roman…

ROMAN: Enough talking, let’s go now or I’ll go on my own without you!

THOMAS: Okay, okay, let’s go then.

[They all sink down. Then they appear in Virgil’s room. There’s no sign of Virgil]

THOMAS: Where is he? I hope he doesn’t appear again to scare us like the last time…

ROMAN: Virgil!? Were are you!?

VIRGIL: [only his voice, in demonic form, is heard, with a creepy sing-song tone] I’m glad you managed to come here, my distinguished guests… Come in… Join me in my despair…

ROMAN: Virgil?

LOGAN: That voice…

DECEIT: That is not Virgil!

THOMAS: Are you sure? It sounded like him when he’s heightened.

DECEIT: I know Virgil, and I also know an impostor when I see… or hear it. And I tell you that is not Virgil.

ROMAN: [to the voice] Then who are you!? And what have you done to Virgil! Show yourself, whoever you are!

[A dark hooded figure appears in Virgil’s spot.]

VIRGIL: You have a keen ear, Deceit. However, you’re wrong. It’s me, Virgil.

DECEIT: You’re lying!

THOMAS: Who are you? Show your face!

[He takes the cloak down and shows that he’s, in fact, Virgil. However, he has an evil expression and his eyes are red]

THOMAS: Virgil…?

ROMAN: What’s… wrong with you?

VIRGIL: I am better than ever, Roman. Now that I let myself get carried away with this feeling, I’m… ecstatic… You should all come with me… It’s such a wonderful state…

HONESTY: Okay, something tells me we shouldn’t listen to him…

LOGAN: …wait a second… what’s that in his hand? It’s… like a black glow of some kind… [realizing what it could be] No… This can’t be… it’s impossible…

THOMAS: What!?

LOGAN: It looks like a Sanders Sprite. But it’s impossible, Sprites are allergic to Dark Sides!

VIRGIL: What did you say it is…? A Sanders Sprite? Please… Mistaking it with these amateurish Lite-Brites…

LOGAN: Then what is it? And what has it done to you?

VIRGIL: Don’t my eyes give you a hint, four eyes?

PATTON: Oi! You don’t have to be rude!

VIRGIL: [evil giggling] I know, but it’s so fulfilling!

THOMAS: Red eyes, and a clue…?

DECEIT: [horrified] No… It’s impossible… It can’t be… him!

THOMAS: [afraid] Him? You mean…?

LOGAN: The Dark Master is back? But how can that be? We destroyed him! He would have needed a lot more time to rebuild himself!

VIRGIL: Oh, no, it’s not the Dark Master… Well, not all of him at least… And I tell you that I’m Virgil.

LOGAN: I’m confused…

VIRGIL: When we destroyed the Dark Master the way that we did it, we broke his body into tiny pieces that were propelled out of the Dark Realm all over the Mind Palace. And from these pieces, they were born.

THOMAS: They? Who are they?

VIRGIL: Oh, we didn’t get a name for them yet. But now that you’ve mentioned the Sanders Sprites… I think Dark Sprites sounds like a good name, doesn’t it?

THOMAS: So you are a Sprite, then…

VIRGIL: I told you I’m Virgil. But this in my hand, it is a Sprite.

THOMAS: I’m confused.

VIRGIL: Ordinary Sprites bite Light Sides only and their aim is to possess them. Dark Sprites, bite Dark and Light Sides alike and their job is to heighten the darkest part of us to unveil a trait we’ve been suppressing from ourselves, but without manipulating our minds or anything. That’s why I told you, I’m still Virgil. And you wouldn’t believe the wonders this little dark fellow has shown me.

THOMAS: I’m getting scared.

VIRGIL: I thought I was only Anxiety and Fear. But who would have known? I’m Depression too, and I discovered it thanks to this little friend.

THOMAS: And with that knowledge… what do you plan to do?

VIRGIL: Everything would be so much calmer if I spread depression on you, Thomas… You wouldn’t have to worry again about the real world. You wouldn’t have to waste your energy on mundane things, because anything is pointless anyway… [mesmerizing voice] and you know it… What’s the point of struggling anyway? There’s none… so stop struggling and let yourself get carried away by me…

LOGAN: Stop it! Stop it, Virgil! What you’re saying doesn’t make any sense!

DECEIT: And it’s a load of lies too! Thomas, don’t listen to him! He’s trying to put you into a deep state of depression. If you let yourself get sunk down by him, it will be difficult to get out.

THOMAS: I’m trying, guys. I try not to listen to him. But I’m suddenly getting such a strong feeling of sadness and lack of hope… It’s overwhelming… Guys, help me…

PATTON: [scared whining] What are we going to do?

HONESTY: Virgil, please, don’t do this!

VIRGIL: You all don’t understand… It’s all so wonderful where I am… No more anxiety… no more fight… only laying down and waiting for the inevitable…

ROMAN: [angry commanding voice] Virgil, shut up!

[Virgil looks at Roman]

ROMAN: You know this is wrong! Look at Thomas. Do you think he’s experimenting the pleasures you’re promising him!? Just look at him! He’s suffering! And what’s worse! You’re putting him in danger! You had a sworn duty, Virgil, just as I had mine. Your duty is to protect Thomas, from himself and from the dangers around him. If you go on that way, you’re betraying your duty! You’re failing, Virgil!

[Virgil shows a face of slight struggle and horror]

ROMAN: Please, I beg of you. If there’s still a tiny little piece of the Virgil I love in there, please fight against this nonsense. Don’t let this happen. You said that you loved me more than you love yourself. If that’s true, listen to me!

[There’s a flicker in the black glow in Virgil’s hand. Also, the cloak Virgil’s wearing flickers in black and purple. Virgil’s face is of constant struggle, his eyes go from red to brown, then back to red, again and again. Then, at last, the black glow gets off Virgil and explodes in the air. At that moment, Virgil goes pail as a ghost, recovering his usual purple emo outfit, and falls down unconscious]

THOMAS: [relieved] I think I’m feeling better now… [scared after noticing Virgil on the floor] What’s wrong with Virgil?

[Roman runs towards Virgil and holds him, resting Virgil’s head on Roman’s shoulder]

ROMAN: Virgil, my love… Are you okay? Can you hear me? Wake up, please…

[Virgil doesn’t wake up. In fact, he’s looking worse every minute]

LOGAN: I think Virgil recovered reason for a minute and to avoid what was happening to Thomas, he inhibited himself to repel the Dark Sprite… But perhaps he’s gone too far. We could be losing him…

ROMAN: [horror face] That’s not true! Sides don’t die, that’s impossible!

LOGAN: Human personalities can change. It’s rare, but not impossible. So it’s possible that Sides can die and be replaced or not by new Sides. It’s something that can happen.

ROMAN: [crying] Virgil. It’s not true. I told you earlier to fight. Now I tell you again. Please don’t leave me. Fight!

[Roman leans towards Virgil and kisses him. Then something happens. To Roman and the other’s shock, Virgil’s body starts floating in the air, surrounded by a mystic purple glow. The glow gets so intense it dazzles everyone for a second. Then Virgil wakes up, taking a deep breath and recovers the color on his face. Then he slowly descends down until he perches on the ground, and then the glow disappears]

VIRGIL: I… I’m not very much sure of what has just happened…?

ROMAN: [happy crying] Virgil!

[Roman runs to Virgil and hugs and kisses him]

ROMAN: Are you all right? How are you feeling?

VIRGIL: [with a loving smile] Now that you’ve kissed me? Like I could move a mountain.

[Roman smiles and kisses Virgil again]

THOMAS: But I don’t understand. What has happened here? What was that glow?

DECEIT: Isn’t it obvious? In Roman’s fairy tale language, his true love’s kiss has broken the curse and awaken Virgil. In fact, I think it has done more than that.

THOMAS: What do you mean?

DECEIT: Try to change into your old panther form, Virgil.

VIRGIL: Okay…

[Virgil tries, but nothing happens]

VIRGIL: I can’t. Maybe if I forced a shape-shift, but it’s not coming naturally as it used to…

[Wrath suddenly appears]

WRATH: [nervous, almost hysterical] Guys, I’ve been looking for you everywhere! The Dark Realm! The room! The Dark Realm!

LOGAN: Calm down, Wrath! Calm down or we won’t understand a thing! What’s wrong with the Dark Realm?

WRATH: [taking a deep breath, then calmer, but still nervous] Something’s happened in the Dark Realm! I heard a huge noise, as if something was falling apart! I went to check it out and I couldn’t believe my eyes! Virgil, your room in the Dark Realm has disappeared. It is gone!

VIRGIL: My room?

WRATH: Yes, your room! Now you don’t have a room in the Dark Realm anymore!

DECEIT: Exactly as I thought. Your Dark Side room has disappeared, because you don’t need it anymore. You’re now a creature of the Light Realm.

VIRGIL: [in shock] What?

DECEIT: When you inhibited yourself, you lost almost all of your Dark Side energy, like I did when I had to inhibit myself too. When Roman kissed you, he infused you with his own love, the purest light energy there is, and it filled you, replacing the dark energy you lost, and that made the miracle. You are no longer a Dark Side, Virgil. You’re now a Light Side.

VIRGIL: I’m… a Light Side…? I can’t believe it…

WRATH: Um… Excuse me, but will, like, somebody come back to Earth and pick me up? Because I am totally confused.

THOMAS: You’re not alone in your confusion… Wait a minute. If Virgil is now a Light Side… Does that mean that he’s no longer my anxiety?

DECEIT: Yes… and no…

THOMAS: If you complicate this a little more, Deceit, I’m gonna get a headache.

DECEIT: Think about it. Think about Virgil’s name. He had that name all that time and we never understood it’s true meaning. Think about Logan and Patton. Logan is Logos, or logical thinking, and Patton is Pathos, or emotional thinking, as Greek philosopher Aristotle described them. Think about Roman too, he is romantic for romance and a Romantic author like Poe and so many others. But what does the name Virgil have to do with “anxiety”?

THOMAS: Well…

LOGAN: I think I understand. Virgil is no longer Anxiety… because he’s Vigilance! It can be a cause of anxiety but it’s not anxiety itself! That’s why he had always in his heart the wish of protecting you, which is the only thing strong enough to break depression’s curse. And I think Virgil has always been your vigilance, Thomas. He probably was a Light Side when he was born, but since Thomas’ first encounters with him were always a cause of anxiety, Thomas started repressing him early on and he turned into a Dark Side because of that. That can happen when Sides are forming at a young age, when they’re not totally defined. And now, Virgil has recovered his true nature.

VIRGIL: I… I don’t remember at all having been a Light Side at any moment in my life, Logan…

LOGAN: That’s normal. None of us should remember something that happened at such a young age of Thomas’ and ours. Also, you have always felt out of place all of your life, didn’t you? You said it once yourself: “I don’t fit in, that’s the problem.” Now you know the reason why you felt like that. If you still have doubts and need more proof, just look at Roman, Patton, Honesty and me. We’ve been in your room for a long time now. Do you see us with eye-shadow, our hair over our foreheads and acting as if we had drunk five gallons of coffee? You can no longer corrupt us because you’re no longer a Dark Side.

VIRGIL: This… is overwhelming… I don’t know how I should react… My whole life… has been a lie?

ROMAN: Virgil, there’s no use in asking questions about the past. Think about the present. You are a Light Side. And also think about the future. I love you and you love me, and there’s no longer anything that separates us. I’ll make sure to make you happy for as long as we both shall live, if you accept me.

VIRGIL: If I accept you? After all we both have been through? Could you ever have doubted it, my prince?

[This time it’s Virgil who kisses Roman]

THOMAS: Okay, guys, I think it’s time for us to give some privacy to a certain couple. [sinks down] Let’s go.

LOGAN: [sinks down] Gotcha.

PATTON: [sinks down] Bye, guys!

WRATH: [sinks down] And I still don’t know what is going on between them…

HONESTY: [sinks down] Don’t worry, I’ll put you up to date on the way.

[Deceit doesn’t say a word. He just sighs and sinks down]

[There’s a white flash and they all rise up in the living room]

LOGAN: Well, if we needed any other proof that Virgil is a Light Side, now we got it. We’ve all risen up instead of appearing from there. Are you okay, Deceit? And you, Wrath?

WRATH: [dizzy] I don’t know how you can do this thing of rising up… Ugh… my stomach’s not agreeing with it…

DECEIT: You get used to it after a few tries… But the first time I almost threw up afterwards… And for me it’s still unpleasant to rise up to some degree.

THOMAS: That’s something that has bugged me. Why do you have to suddenly appear? Why can’t you just rise up like the others?

DECEIT: That’s like asking why does the Mind Palace exist in the first place. I have no idea, Thomas, but that’s how it is. Now… if you excuse me, I’m going back to my room now. [sinking down] See ya.

THOMAS: Bye, Deceit…

HONESTY: I’m going too, Thomas. After all these emotions I need a calming tea to feel better. [sinks down] See you later.

THOMAS: Bye, Honesty. And Wrath. If Virgil’s room is gone, what happened to all the stuff that was in there?

WRATH: Have you ever watched Doctor Who, Thomas?

THOMAS: Have I ever watched Doctor Who? That’s like asking me if I have ever sung a song, Wrath.

WRATH: Well, do you remember how the TARDIS, in special situations where it needed extra power, it burned rooms inside of it to gain extra energy? It’s something similar. The room that belonged to Virgil was “burnt” and its remains converted into energy for the Mind Palace.

THOMAS: With everything in it?

WRATH: Not everything. If there was something important that needed to be saved, it would have been moved to where it is supposed to be, Virgil’s room in the Light Realm. The rest, of course, should probably be gone, but I can’t be certain of that, anyway. It is the first time that something like this has happened in the Mind Palace and I’m only theorizing. Perhaps I should go check if everything is okay in the Dark Realm.

THOMAS: If that reassures you, go ahead. Tell me if you find anything unusual. And be careful, there could be more Dark Sprites on the prowl.

WRATH: [sinks down] I will. Bye, Thomas.

PATTON: I’m so happy, guys. I almost lost my child today, but not only he survived! Now I’m getting a future son in law too! [sinks down] Who knows? Maybe soon you’ll have to call me Granddad…

THOMAS: [smiles, but with a concerned look] Yeah, who knows…

LOGAN: Are you okay, Thomas? You’re showing a worried face now.

THOMAS: I was thinking about that Dark Sprite… The Dark Master said it, he’s never gonna let me live in peace, but I didn’t expect he’d be giving trouble so soon, in the form of his Dark Sprites.

LOGAN: We all will have to be alert to them. They’re more dangerous than the original Sanders Sprites as we all can be victims of them. But we have faced tough situations in the past and we’ve endured. You’ll see how we can endure this too.

THOMAS: I hope so, Logan. These brief moments when Virgil was trying to put me into depression… were horrible.

LOGAN: Yeah, depression is a serious issue. You have been very lucky not to fall into it. Millions of people have to face it at various points in their life. It’s possible to get out of it, but it takes time and effort, and unfortunately not everyone manages to get out at all. We would have tried our best to support you, and so would have your beloved ones and the therapists that put you into the essential treatment to get out of it. We would have fought for you and you would have never been alone on your way. You know that, right?

THOMAS: Yes, I know. I love you guys so much.

LOGAN: Please, don’t use the word love, Thomas… even though the sentiment is mutual. [sinks down] And I’ll deny having said this.

THOMAS: [smiles] Of course, Logan… [to the camera] If any of you is suffering the effects of depression, I just want to tell you something. I know it may be possible that you don’t believe it right now, but there’s plenty of people around you who love you and who will always be there to support you no matter what. Depression is a serious condition that won’t be solved by anything I could say to you. Even though it’s easier said than done, just try to remember that it will get better some day. Ask for help if you haven’t already, because you are not alone and there will always be someone who will be willing to help you, to give you the strength you’re lacking right now. You can do this. Keep on fighting. I’ll always be rooting for you. Until next time, take it easy, guys, gals and non binary pals. Peace out!

[end card]

[Wrath is wandering around the Dark Realm, on the area were Virgil’s room used to be]

WRATH: Nothing… There’s nothing left in here…

[sounds of sobbing are heard]

WRATH: What? What’s that sound?

[camera pans and Deceit is over there, sitting down on the ground, crying, covering his face with his hands. The yellow gloves are soaked in his tears]

WRATH: Deceit? Is that you?

DECEIT: [scared, noticing Wrath] No! No, it isn’t… I…

WRATH: Um… You know I can see you, right? Are you okay? What’s wrong?

DECEIT: It’s… It’s nothing… Nothing at all.

WRATH: [approaches Deceit and sits down next to him] Sure, and you don’t have to put your gloves in the washing machine because of the tears either. Please, I know you love to lie but trying to lie under these circumstances and expecting me to believe it, it is insulting my intelligence.

DECEIT: Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…

WRATH: Just tell me what’s wrong. Aren’t we friends? You were there listening to all the things that unsettled and distressed me. It would only be fair that I would be there for you when you need me. Come on.

DECEIT: Okay… But promise me that you will never, ever tell anyone. None of the Sides or Thomas must know.

WRATH: Of course I promise. No one will know from my lips, I swear. Now, tell me.

DECEIT: It’s just that… I don’t know if I should say it.

WRATH: Please, Deceit, level with me.

DECEIT: It’s just that… I love Virgil.

WRATH: I already knew that.

DECEIT: What?

WRATH: It was always crystal clear for me, ever since the old days in the Dark Realm, that you saw in Virgil more than just a friend. That time, when I told you that “sleep well, lovebirds”, I wasn’t just making fun of you. I knew that your feelings towards Virgil were stronger than what you were willing to admit.

DECEIT: Then why did you let me struggle to get my confession out of me if you already knew?

WRATH: Because you needed to let it go yourself. If I had forced you, it would have only made things worse.

DECEIT: Then you know why I’m like this, don’t you?

WRATH: Yes, I think so.

DECEIT: All this time I had my hopes high, because I knew Virgil was a Dark Side and he couldn’t be with Roman. I foolishly hoped that some day he would settle his eyes on me. But now that he’s a Light Side, my hopes are broken forever. I’ll never be able to be with him. I can’t be with him, because now it would be me who would corrupt him. So I must let him go. The only consolation I have is that at least he’s going to be happy with Roman. But it’s going to hurt me so bad, anyway…

WRATH: Oh, Deceit… Keep that thought in your mind. Keep thinking that Virgil is happy and Roman will make him happy.

DECEIT: He better will, because if Roman ever does something to hurt Virgil… I’ll make sure that he pays for it.

HONESTY: [Showing up next to them] He won’t do anything, Deceit. Roman loves Virgil with all his heart and he would never hurt him on purpose, you know it.

DECEIT: [startled] What are you doing here? How long have you been here? Did you hear everything that…?

HONESTY: [sitting down next to Deceit] Relax, Deceit. Have you forgotten that we have been sharing the same body for a long time and that we also shared the same memories for a long time? Many things have become blurry, but I still remember that you’re in love with Virgil.

DECEIT: Oh, you’re right… I forgot…

HONESTY: Don’t worry. I never told before, and I will never tell anyone. I know I’m Honesty, but I do not support brutal and hurtful honesty. One must know when to speak and when to be quiet, and I know. Perhaps there’s still a little dash of you in me that allows me to do that. Anyway, your secret’s safe with me. I promise.

DECEIT: Thank you so much, Honesty.

HONESTY: So this is all that is left of Virgil’s old room?

WRATH: Yes, it is…

HONESTY: [pointing at something] Um… what is that over there?

DECEIT: What?

[Honesty gets up and approaches what he has seen. Then comes back. It’s Virgil’s old black hoodie]

HONESTY: Didn’t this belong to Virgil?

[Deceit and Wrath stand up. Honesty gives the hoodie to Deceit]

DECEIT: Yes. It’s the hoodie he used to wear when he was in panther form, and the first hoodie he used when he acquired his emo form.

HONESTY: I think it would be appropriate that you kept it, Deceit.

DECEIT: Me?

HONESTY: Virgil’s obviously never gonna need it anymore. He seems pretty happy with his purple hoodie. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you kept it.

DECEIT: Yes… I guess so.

WRATH: What I wonder is how this didn’t burn with the rest of the room or reappear in Virgil’s present room. It just stayed there, forgotten…

DECEIT: I don’t know. But I’m glad that it didn’t go. Thanks for having the keen eye of spotting it, Honesty. You are a good friend.

HONESTY: The closest you’ll ever have. We’re like one after all, literally before and figuratively now. Now clean those eyes, my friend. Let’s go. I said I wanted some tea earlier, and Patton has invited us to have some tea and cookies. That’s why I came looking for you, and I don’t know about you, but I’m not gonna miss out Patton’s cookies, they’re delicious.

DECEIT: Yes, I need something sweet to forget my bitterness…

HONESTY: He included all of us in the invitation, Wrath, you can come too.

WRATH: Really? Thanks. I never tasted cookies.

HONESTY: [in shock] You… what?

WRATH: No, there’s nothing of that here in the Dark Realm.

HONESTY: Then you’re in for a treat. You’re gonna love them.

[They all leave the Dark Realm. In the spot where the hoodie was lying, a sparkle can be seen… of two red eyes]

VOICE: [demonic] Too soon… but just wait for it…

[unsettling laughter from the demonic voice is heard and again the red eyes sparkle for an instant]

[weartirondad]

And You Would Smile (And That Would Be Enough) 6/6

5 times Tony helps pull Peter away from an anxiety built cliff and the 1 time Peter is on his own. (part i, part ii, part iii, part iv, part v)

FF.net I ao3

Today was a good day.

Like, a good day as in the sun was shining, tickling Peter’s nose through the classroom window and when he got out it was neither too warm nor too hot.

Good as in Flash was out sick, they had gotten back two tests both of which he had aced and Ned kept going on and on about the latest Lego newsletter and all the new sets in it.

Good as in it was Friday and he would spent the weekend with Tony at the tower with May, Pepper, Rhodey and Happy joining them for a movie night on Saturday.

It was an almost suspiciously good day.

Peter tried to shove that nagging voice in his head somewhere in the deep abysses of his mind because he would not let his stupid anxiety ruin this perfectly fine day for him. Much to his own surprise it actually worked for once, leaving him to stroll through the floors one last time that week with a clear head and a big smile.

“Are you planning on going out before heading to Mr. Stark’s?”

They had stopped walking, standing just outside the school doors, and Ned was looking at him excitedly, voice skipping very inconspicuously when he emphasized his secret coded message. Peter was too happy to point it out to him, though, and there was no one around anyway so he just shook his head while enjoying the warm sun on his face.

“Nope, Tony has the suit for reparation after a teensy tiny knife fight on Wednesday,” he told his guy-in-the-chair with a sheepish smile and what he hoped were an innocent flutter of his eyelashes. “I’ll go out when I get to the tower, though, I’m sure he’s already been done with it since like the middle of the night on Wednesday but he’s a little mad about me getting stabbed in the first place so he’s drawing it out.”

Ned stared at him for him minute before letting out a huff that was half annoyed, half amused. “Well, at least he’s giving you the don’t-get-stabbed-talk so I don’t have to. Seriously, dude, you’re supposed to avoid getting hit.”

“Well, gee, now that you say that it makes so much more sense,” he shot back with an eye roll, digging through his backpack with one hand looking for his phone, “Are you taking the bus home?”

“Nah, my mum’s picking me up so I can help her grocery shopping.”

Peter grimaced sympathetically but pulled out his phone and headphones in triumph, “But at least you’ll get to choose which flavor Doritos she’s buying. Ah, man,” he sighed when his phone gave a sad beep before shutting down, “Can I have your phone real quick to text Tony that I’m walking over?”

His best friend was suddenly incapable of forming sentences. “You wanna. Text, uh, Tony real quick,” he repeated, eyes widening and Peter had to work really hard to stifle a laugh. “You, uh, Tony Stark. My phone. Uh.”

“Ned?” He waved his hand in front of the star-struck teenager before simply grabbing the phone he had been asking for from Ned’s lax grip. It took him a minute to type a message and send it to one of the three numbers he actually knew by heart (For emergencies, something May had insisted on since he’d been able to count) and when he was done and the phone back in Ned’s grasp the boy was still blinking ahead stupidly. That is, until a car honked loudly and his mum called for him.

He gave his friend a gentle shove in the right direction before patting his back and saying his goodbyes and greetings to Mrs. Leeds. “See you tomorrow!”

Then Peter was alone and started walking in the direction of the tower, phone and headphones back in his backpack, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket and with a happy skip in his step. He absorbed the noises of the city, the honking of cars, occasional shouts and bustling people, enjoying the normality of it all. It were moments like these when he felt like a normal teenager. Right now his enhanced senses weren’t bothering him, they were simply a way to feel more of the beauty of the day, they made him special without standing out.

He’d been born and raised in New York and the loud noises on the street actually held familiarity when they weren’t overwhelming him. On days like these, when he was at peace with the world and himself, he liked that it was never really quiet and that he was never really alone but rather part of something. He was part of a group of people who were all doing their own thing without knowing what the person next to them was going through.

There was a beauty to that kind of anonymity and connectivity –

A scream pulled him out of his musings. A barely audible cry for help. A kid’s voice.

The second his brain had registered the noise and filed it under important and ‘immediate reaction advised’ the back of his neck started buzzing. It was an unpleasant feeling that Ned liked to call his Spidey sense and that was useful about five out of ten times. And of course it would start going off when he had already established that there was something going on.

Still, he let the hum urge him on and it didn’t take him long to make out what was making the child scream.

There, towering above him, was a skyscraper and it was burning.

A large crowd of people were already assembled in front of the building in a safe distance, ambulances standing all around while several fire workers were working on putting out the fire. Strangely enough there was significantly less uproar and turmoil in the masses than he had expected.

They all seemed weirdly… settled. Scared, dusty and covered in small bruises but not as if they were looking for someone. The fire workers were only running out of the building, no one was charging in to save the child.

“What’s going on?” he asked a middle- aged man who was staring up at the fire, face scrunched up in worry.

He looked down at the kid before telling him that the fire alarm had started half an hour ago and that luckily everyone inside had already been saved and when he started talking about property damage and insurance Peter broke away.

“Hey! Sorry!” He yelled, sprinting over to the barrier to get the fire workers’ attention. “Hey! There’s someone still in there! There’s-“ His voice broke off but luckily a woman had heard him and he could only hope that she would listen because being so close to a building that was destined to collapse was doing wonders for his state of mind.  

“Calm down, sweetie. There’s no one in there. We checked every floor.” He hated adults with a passion just then. He hated not having his suit with him. They would’ve listened to Spider- Man.

“I swear, there’s someone still in there! I- It’s,” he spluttered, heart beating too fast and breaths coming in too shaky to form a real sentence let alone thought. “You need- You need to check again!”

She looked at him with compassion but damn her he didn’t want compassion. “We will check again, okay, but we can’t go that high up anymore, the fire’s been working through the building’s core. But we’ll look for your brother, okay? What’s your name? You might want to-“

Peter had already slipped away, pure panic gripping his heart at the sight in front of him. But he could still hear the voice. It was interrupted by more coughing with every scream but the kid was there and the fire worker’s weren’t fast enough and-

Without thinking he doubled back and went to the back of the building where no one was watching before starting his climb up.

His hands were sweating but he couldn’t think about how he could fall to his death with just a wrong step, he couldn’t think of-

“Mommy! Please!”

The kid’s voice pulled him from his spiraling thoughts and it was so close now. He must be on the right floor. He just needed to get inside. Of course it was one of the floors that had flames leaking out at the sides.

Funnily enough his hand wasn’t shaking when he lifted it from the side of the building to throw a punch into a nearby window. His hand was steady even when his whole body was vibrating with pure, unadulterated fear.

“Hello?” he tried, voice choking on his spit, as he climbed through the shattered window awkwardly. Shards of glass were ripping through his clothes and skin but he ignored them in favor of trying to orientate himself and listening for a reply.

There was none and for a moment he felt like passing out. Oh god, what if this was the wrong floor?

There was, however, a tiny whimper somewhere to his right.

Peter dropped down to his knees and adjusted his hoodie so it was at least covering his mouth before slowly crawling through the – not yet burning – remains of a living room until he reached a little boy, not older than four that was cowering behind a turned table.

“Hey, I’m Peter,” the teenager tried to address him before he touched him, worried the boy would freak out, but the second he realized that there was someone else there, he leaped up and clung to him like he was a lifeline. Which, he probably was in that moment. At least the hope for one.

“I-I’m s-so sc-sca-red,” he hiccupped into Peter’s neck who was holding tightly onto the tiny body in his arms, trying to sooth him through patting his hair in a similar fashion May and Tony usually did for him. He’s mind was going into overdrive figuring out how to get out but he couldn’t move them before he hadn’t calmed him down at least a little bit. “M-my m-mommy went d-downs-stairs a-and-“ he broke off into another sob and Peter shushed him gently.

“It’s okay, I’m getting you out,” he whispered softly and, really, he thought he was doing a fantastic job at keeping the appearance of calm. “We just need to get to the window and then we can climb out, okay? Can you climb? What’s your name, buddy?”

The little boy nodded and introduced himself as Sam and he was glad because if he was responsive then Peter could just keep on rambling to ignore the fact that every single fiber in his body was screaming ‘You’re gonna die’ all at once.

Together they made their way over to where Peter had come in from. But the crawl was going so slowly, too slowly. He needed to get ou-

With a loud bang part of the ceiling came crashing down.

Nononononono

Peter let go of the boy as gently as he could which wasn’t all that gently and the kid whimpered again, pulling the backpack off of Peter’s back when he was in the middle of turning around. He let him though, his entire being focused on the rubble that was blocking their way to the window.

It was dusty and everything was burning and water was dripping from the burst pipes.

He fell to his knees. He couldn’t do this.

He couldn’t. He would die. He couldn’t get out. There was too much, too-

Another crack and he reacted before he fully realized what was happening and then he was there again. He was holding up part of the ceiling, rubble and debris coming down on him and Sam was screaming.

Oh god. Sam.

Peter blinked, biting back the scream at the bottom of his throat and blinking through the tears running down his cheeks.

“It’s okay,” he managed to choke out, “It’s gonna be okay.”

His heart would combust. He was sure of it. There was no way he could survive this again. There was no way the building wouldn’t crush him this time. Squish him like a tiny bug. Like he had no backbone at all. He was Atlas, carrying the sky, stopping two worlds from colliding, only he wasn’t strong enough.

God.

“May,” he sobbed, legs shaking under the weight of the concrete and with the burden of his panic. “T-Tony.”

He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t strong enough. He wasn’t –

In front of him sat Sam, tiny body shaking with sobs as he clung to the backpack he had ripped from Peter’s back. His backpack –

Yes! He almost cried with relief when he realized what that meant. But he was already crying anyway so maybe his tears were just mixing at this point.

Focus, Peter.

“S-sam?” he managed to get out through gritted tears, thankful that the boy seemed to trust him enough to immediately sit up at his voice. Then again, he was currently holding up the part of the building that would’ve smashed them both otherwise.

Let’s not think about that.

“Can you open my backpack?” he asked, trying to breathe through the panic that was still rolling over him in waves, threatening to take over, threatening to drown him. Nope. He had to get this done. Then he’d deal with his panic. “G-great, now do you see Ironman?”

One breath. Two breaths. Steady.

“You need to press the side of his heel,” he instructed the boy who nodded ferociously and did as he was told. Peter heard the faint sound telling him that the emergency message, including their current location, had been sent and now there was actually some relief in his panic.

“Will Ironman come to save us now?”

The voice sounded so tiny and, really, all Peter wanted to do was say yes, break down and let Tony save the day but Sam would die if he let go.

“Yeah, he will,” he managed to choke out anyway, “H-he’ll save us.” Only Peter wasn’t sure he wouldn’t collapse before that.

One breath. Two brea –

The smoke in his lungs made him choke and his head snap up. The smoke was getting thicker by the minute and he already couldn’t breathe properly.

“S-sam.” One breath. “You need to.” Two breaths. “Cover your nose.” Three breaths. “And mouth.”

But the boy was shaking again, obviously having realized that he wasn’t getting enough air either, and Peter couldn’t comfort him because he was trying to keep them from dying and he was trying not to let the weight crush him and he was-

“Sam. Press down on the blue thing, okay?” He couldn’t breathe. “Gr-great. Just h-hide y-your face i-in the bl-blue light.” One more inhale. Just one more. “That’s g-good. O-okay, s-stay l-like th-that. ‘S g-gonna gonna b-be o-okay.” Exhale.

Part of him relaxed when he saw Sam do as he was told but that gave all the other parts of time to focus on his barely suppressed panic. Which was not good.

Breathing. He had to keep breathing. He couldn’t but he had to.

One. Two.

He broke off with a sob, panting through the hoodie over his mouth. He couldn’t do it. His lungs wouldn’t open and even if they did, they would inhale smoke and dust and death and –

Gritting his teeth, Peter tried to stand up a little straighter and he started counting again. Tony would be there. Tony would come. He’d just have to survive until then.

One. Two. Thr-

The building moved and he let out a scream when some part of the ceiling impaled his back. No. Gaze fixated on the little boy, he bit back another scream and took another breath.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

He made it.

He made it through five breaths.

His heart was still beating too fast, his breathing was still coming out in gasps and his entire body was on fire but he made it through five breaths. He could do five more.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

With his eyes closed he imagined May standing next to him, her gentle hand on his upper arm and her warm smile resonating through his chest. May would never let him suffocate.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

His breaths were evening out.

Ned was rooting for him. He was clutching his hand with one hand and gave him a thumbs up with the other. His smile was pained but he was being strong for Peter. Ned believed he could do it.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

His galloping heart was slowing down.

He half expected Tony to join the group next and he almost staggered when his Uncle’s hand found his waist, the touch soothing some of the pain. His Uncle would help him carry the building.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

His body slowly stopped shaking.

Tony was standing right in front of him, a look of worried conviction flickering in his eyes. When he blinked it was gone and all that was left was love and pride and then a hand came to ruffle his hair and he lowered his head, letting the panicked tension leak out of his body. Tony would come.

Peter blinked when he felt his vitals had returned to normal. Well, as normal as they could be in a life threatening situation. He was thankful for the adrenalin coursing through his blood, certain that it was the only thing keeping the post-panic-attack fatigue at bay.

“Hey Sam,” he spoke up, voice scratchy with dust and smoke but steady and calm, “Are you holding up? Tony’ll be here any second, I swear.”

The boy had barely time to mumble an affirmative into the plushy before Peter could hear the sounds of repulsors closing in on them and suddenly the ceiling wasn’t as heavy anymore.

When he looked up from Sam, he found War Machine standing beside him, helping him hold up the building and Vision came flying through the path Rhodey had cleared on his way. The corner of his lips tucked up in tired satisfaction when he watched the android pick Sam up and retreat back to safety.

The boy was safe. He wasn’t carrying the sky anymore. The adrenalin leaked out of his body with the tension and Peter collapsed forward.

He never hit the ground though. Instead he hit the cool metal of the Iron- Man suit that enveloped him in strong metal arms and picked him up as if he weight nothing. He really did feel weightless just then. And so tired.

“Thanks for saving us,” he mumbled between coughs as he let his body go limp. His head fell to the shoulder of the suit and, it wasn’t the physical contact he was craving but it was something he associated with safety and so he let his mind drift, too. The last thing he picked up before everything went black was Tony’s voice, a little tinny through the suit.

“You did all the saving, squirt. We’re just providing the getaway car.”

Peter was hunched over his desk in the work shop, eyes squinted in concentration, tongue tucked between his front teeth and fingers moving quickly yet meticulously. Everything had to be perfect. This project had big shoes to fill.

“You done yet, kid?”

He looked up with a crocked smile, stopping his motions, when his mentor wandered over and heavy hands settled on his shoulders. His thumbs rubbed circles into his shoulder blades, letting Peter relax in his grasp while the tension from sitting still for so long slowly leaked out of him.

“Won’t get done if you keep doing that,” he mumbled in halfhearted complaint but didn’t move out of Tony’s personal space who seemed content to stay right where he was.

The older man chuckled, fingers now running through Peter’s curly strands. “Want me to help you?”

“Nope, you’re doing the tech and I’m getting the software done,” he insisted, “Since you wouldn’t let me help last time.”

Now the billionaire was full on laughing and Peter grinned. He had long since learned to cherish every one of Tony’s honest laughs and he prided himself on tickling them out of him more and more often. Some days tickling was actually involved. But not today. Today was a calm day spent in the lab where they mostly moved around in silence, throwing ideas back and forth every once in a while, and took a break from their usually busy lives. A wonderful kind of boring. Just what he needed.

“Software, really?” came the fond reply, “How long have you been sitting on that one?”

“Let’s just say I’ve been hoping you’d ask me for help for half an hour now,” he grinned back, earning yet another chuckle. He was leaning against Tony’s chest at this point and so the tiny vibrations the emotion prompted swept through his own body like a wave of warmth and home.

It had been so quiet earlier that it had gotten Peter thinking on how he was really missing his StarkPal that hadn’t been salvageable after almost catching on fire two days ago. Thinking back, he was sure Tony had already had plans to make him a new one, but as it was he had suggested they start working on one and while his mentor had figured out how to rebuild the tech (because, let’s be honest he was a lot faster at that stuff), Peter had jumped at the opportunity to sew the plushy.

He had done fairly well, too, considering Tony had only taught him how to use a sewing machine four hours ago.

“I’m done, I think,” he said, disrupting the comfortable silence that had descended on them, “Only way to tell is to turn him inside out and take a look.”

“Ready for the big reveal?”

Truth be told, the plushy wasn’t as perfectly executed as the first one that Tony had sewn but Peter couldn’t care less. Not when Tony looked at him like he had just single handedly managed world peace. Not when, after they had put the tech back in, the blue light was glowing as reassuringly as ever and the heartbeat matched the one that had gotten him through so many bad days.

Friday had been awful. Yet, somehow he had fought through his own demons and surprisingly enough he had come out on top. And he was really freaking proud of that.

“Thank you,” he whispered, plushy tucked under his arm as he reached out to engulf Tony in a bone crushing hug. He was so grateful, so unbelievably lucky to have all these people on his side. There was no way he would ever be able to put it into words, so he didn’t try past a, “Thank you for believing in me.”

Because that was what they did. That was what made him strong. That was what made him hope that someday he would be fine on his own.

“Love you, kid.”

Peter smiled. “I know.”

fin.

[daydream-hobii]

Golden Heart | Chapter 1

Genre: Hybrid!AU, fluff

Pairing: Hybrid!Hoseok x Female!Reader

Summary: Y/N’s best friends all have hybrids, and she loves them with all her heart, but she doesn’t want to be the same as everyone. She loves hybrids, and knows her friends are kind to them, but hybrids are part human, thus they should have their own choices. Many people, unfortunately, abuse their hybrids and use them, so she tries to fight for their freedom of choice. Her closest friend, Namjoon, convinces her to rescue a hybrid so that it can be safe from harm, and her perspectives changes entirely. 

Warning: Mentions of Abuse!

Word Count: 1,556

Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 8 // Chapter 9 // Chapter 10 // Chapter 11 // Chapter 12 // Chapter 13 // Chapter 14 // Chapter 15 [FINAL] //

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading the first chapter! ^_^ I hope that you’ll tell me if you liked it! If people like it, I’ll keep working on it till the end. I hope you enjoyed it!!!

        I walked through my apartment I shared with my best friend, heading straight to the kitchen for food. I saw my roommate’s hybrid sleeping on the couch, ears twitching when I walked into the room. I smiled at him, knowing that as soon as I entered the kitchen, he’d be beside me.

            As soon as I stepped through the door frame, I felt arms around me, hugging me tight. I huffed, turning my head to see Taehyung’s cute face, his husky like ears straight up, and his curled tail wagging. I shook my head, chuckling and prying him off me.

            “Good morning, Tae. Want some breakfast?” I asked, grabbing the cereal. He quickly shook his head yes just as Namjoon came in, rubbing his eyes.

            “Morning, Joonie. Want some cereal?” I asked, pouring Taehyung’s bowl and handing it to him.

            “Sure. Hey, Y/N, we’re going to the p-a-r-k later, want to join?” Namjoon whispered the spelled word park, and luckily, Tae didn’t hear it. “Yoongi and Seokjin will be there too.”

            “Sure, are they bringing Jimin and Kookie?” I asked, and Tae’s attention was grasped.

            “We’re going to see them?” He asked excited, mouth full of food. I patted his cheek, laughing.

            “Taehyung, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Namjoon scolded, making Taehyung whine in protest. I laughed again, handing Joonie his bowl and beginning to eat my own.

            “Be nice, Joonie, he’s just excited,” I replied, smirking and drinking the milk from the bowl. When I put it down, Taehyung was smiling softly, and his tail was wagging.

            “Manners, Y/N. I’m trying to teach him manners,” Namjoon said, pointing his spoon at me and smirking. I laughed, shaking my head.

            “Mhmm, okay mister,” I replied.

             When it was time for the park, Taehyung couldn’t contain his excitement. He was looking back and forth from the windows in the backseat on Joon’s car, and I’d turn around to try to calm him down every now and then with no prevail. When we parked the car, Namjoon and I got out and he opened the passenger door. Namjoon held a collar and leash, and Taehyung started to whimper and look down, shuffling his feet.

            “I know, buddy,” He mumbled, hooking him to it. “You know the law. I promise, I’ll take it off as soon as we’re inside the fence.”

            “What a ridiculous rule,” I said, scowling as we began to walk to the fenced in portion of the park. “It’s not like Tae is going to hurt anyone or run off.”

            “I know, but I’d rather follow the rules, so Tae doesn’t get taken away,” He whispered, making sure Tae didn’t hear us. I looked at him sadly, nodding my head.

            Taehyung is a husky hybrid, which makes him a lot to handle. Dependent on the day, he can either be so calm that he just wants to cuddle on the couch, or he’ll be jumping off the walls wanting to play. He had beautiful black and white ears, matching a curled, fluffy tail. I was with Namjoon when he first got Tae, and it was a sad day. Tae was all bruised from his previous owner and flinched every time we moved. It took a long time to coax him out of his fear, and heal his bruises, but he had many scars that remind him of his past. Luckily, when we introduced him to Jimin and Jungkook, he was a happy, go-lucky puppy.

            We made it into the fence, and Namjoon quickly took off the collar and leash, letting Tae sprint to Jimin and Kookie ad tackle them. I laughed, following Namjoon to Yoongi and Seokjin, our two good friends. They shared an apartment together, a floor down from our own. Yoongi was at his music studio working while Jin was a chef at a five-star restaurant, which is why we all didn’t just come together.

            “Did the boys go with you to work?” I asked when we reached them, sitting down.

            “Yeah, we just couldn’t say no,” Jin replied, chuckling. “Jungkook was bored the whole time, he had to wait in the lobby with the host.”

            “Makes sense. You’re surrounded by snobs, they’d throw a fit if Kookie was back there,” Namjoon said, leaning back and smiling.

            “I’m very fortunate to have my own office, and Jimin slept most of the time,” Yoongi said, flashing a smile toward me.

            Jimin, like Taehyung, was a dog hybrid. He had a similar curly tail that was brown and white, along with pointed ears. He was an akita hybrid, and matched Taehyung’s personality well. They were the same age, and Jimin took a liking to Tae before they even met. Yoongi technically owned Jimin, while Jin owned Jungkook. Kookie was a bunny hybrid, which is surprising with just how much energy he has with the two dog hybrids. He’s specifically a Holland lope, or that’s what his papers said. No one wanted him because when you get a bunny, they’re supposed to be easy and chill, not Kookie. He matched the dog hybrids speed with ease and was maybe even faster.

            “Actually, Y/N, we’re here to talk to you…” Jin said, biting his lip. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, nodding.

            “We think you should get a hybrid,” Yoongi said, straight faced.

            “Boys,” I started, feeling annoyed, but Namjoon stopped me.

            “I know we’ve talked about this before but hear us out!” Namjoon said, making me nod. “We know you don’t like the idea of owning one, but I think Tae would really like living with a friend, so he’s not so lonely while we’re at work.”

            “Then why don’t you adopt one?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

            “You know I can’t afford the fee to own two. Taehyung is free, but if I had two, it’d be too much…” Namjoon said, looking sad.

            “That fee is ridiculous,” Yoongi grumbled.

            “I agree, but I still am not convinced,” I replied, crossing my arms.

            “Think of it this way, you know the back stories of Kookie, Jimin, and Tae, right?” Jin asked, looking sullen. I sighed, nodding.

            “Yes, they’re horrible,” I mumbled.

            “So, if you adopted a hybrid, you’d be saving them from having the same life they managed to escape,” Jin finished, eyes soft.

            I had never thought of it that way. I was so focused on trying to get them the choice of freedom, that I didn’t even think about saving one. I couldn’t help but feel a bit selfish, and that this whole time I could’ve saved one from a horrible life…

            “I think we’ve got her,” Yoongi said, smiling.

            “Y/N, I know you’re rethinking everything, but just know, you’ve helped them all more than you may know,” Namjoon said, putting his arm around me. I sighed, nodding.

            “Fine,” I said, but before they could cheer, I pointed my finger to the sky. “But! I want one no younger than Jungkook, and no older than Jin,” I replied, nodding.

            “Deal. There’s a shelter just down the street from our apartment. We’ll go tonight,” Namjoon said, smiling. I sighed, kicking myself for my answer. What have I gotten myself into?

             After dropping Taehyung, Jimin, and Kookie off at home, we all went to the shelter down the street. It was a large, three story building. It was similar to a hotel, but when you walked in, there was a receptionist and many people looking through windows at the hybrids. Each hybrid had a door and window, and in the room, it was a boring white color, even their clothes were white. They had a toy chest, a desk, and a bed. I couldn’t help but grab the nearest hand, which was Yoongi’s. He gave it a squeeze, making me feel a little calmer.

            The next few minutes were a blur. They had to do a background check and make sure I didn’t have a hybrid already. They found Namjoon’s hybrid and told me that this was the only hybrid we could get, since our apartment had a strict two hybrids per apartment rule. I signed everything, and it was time to look.

            Going from window to window, my heart ached at the images. There were hybrids that were excited and happy, and others that sat in a corner, terrified at the humans trying to coax them away from it. I sighed, trying to keep a positive attitude with all the people. Maybe they were all wonderful people, trying to do what I’m doing?

            After looking through every window, we reached the third floor. The boys behind me were mumbling to themselves, and I knew they wondered if I would ever choose one. This floor was different. I went to each one, seeing how happy and excitable each one was. When I got to the end, I saw a blonde-haired hybrid with blonde ears and a fluffy tail. I looked at the clipboard and saw it was a golden retriever hybrid, making me smile. When I looked back at the window, he was there, staring at me with pained eyes. I jumped a little, staring at him. He put his hand up to the glass, and I eyed it before putting up my own hand.

            “Hoseok,” I said, reading the paper. This was the one I wanted to take home, the one I wanted to save

[ficdirectory]

Somewhere Inside (Disuphere series #4) Chapter 15

(To listen, click here) - 12:25

“So, I don’t wanna start without Levi and Dominique, but I have feelings for feelings laundry…” Francesca ventures, eating a big spoonful of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

“Well, I don’t think they’d want you to keep your feelings in…” Mariana says.

“Right, you can definitely share with us,” Jesus encourages.

Francesca looks at Pearl, in case she wants her brother to be here, like Francesca kind of wants Dominique to be here.  She was there for Francesca’s real feelings.  So it would feel better if she was here for them now.

“Nah, I think I’m gonna wait for them.  ‘Cause we don’t leave people out, right?” she asks.

“That’s true,” Jesus nods.

They play some cards while they wait and eventually Dominique and Levi do come back.

“Hey!  We waited for you!” Francesca says, opening her arms, in case either one of them wants a hug.

“You did?  That was sweet of you,” Dominique hugs her first.  Levi comes next, a little bit like he’s nervous.

Francesca tries to make his hug really good so he’s not worried about whatever he’s worried about anymore.  He still seems sad, even though he’s smiling.

He says, “Thanks.”  

Then, Dominique sits by Francesca and Levi sits by Dominique.

“Francesca, did you wanna share?” Mariana asks.

She glances at Dominique.  “I kinda got scared to come over and ask you guys about having dinner,” she confesses, looking to Levi and Pearl in turn.

“You did?  Why?” Levi asks softly.  He looks serious.  Like he’s still worried, but this time it’s about her.

“Because...sometimes...I don’t know…” Francesca tries.

“You’re doing fine,” Dominique says.

“Because this one time...my mom made me go up to the counter at the store and pay for the stuff we were buying.  She gave me money and stuff, that wasn’t the problem.”

Jesus and Mariana are listening close.  They don’t know this story.  

“What was the problem?” Jesus asks.

“She just gave me the money and said to do it.  She didn’t explain anything.  When I asked what to do she was like, ‘What’s to explain, Francesca?  It’s simple.  Just listen for the total and then give her the money.’  So, I listened.  And I gave her all the money, like Mom said.  But then she got all mad…”

“Why?” Mariana wonders.

“Because, she’s like, ‘Francesca, don’t you know how to make change?!’  But she hadn’t told me to do that.”

“She just told you to hand them the money,” Jesus sighs.

“Yeah.  Then it was really embarrassing, because she was yelling at me that there was a line.  And I was taking too long.  She ended up taking the money away and doing it herself.  I cried in the car on the way home, and she said I had to grow up and learn to do things faster.  But…”

“It’s math.  And we can’t do math fast.” Mariana fills in.

“Yeah,” Francesca nods.

“So, I kinda got scared it was gonna be like that again.  Something that seemed easy but really wasn’t.  Or that I was gonna get yelled at if I didn’t do it right.”

“We’ll never yell at you, buddy,” Jesus promises.  “Only if you’re in real danger.  To warn you.”

“Do you guys think it’s fair that she did that?” Francesca asks.

“No,” Pearl answers fast.  “It doesn’t sound fair at all.  You asked a question and she didn’t give you all the information that you needed.  Then she blamed you for not knowing it.  That doesn’t sound fair at all.”

“‘Cause we can ask stuff to each other?” she checks.

“Absolutely,” Dominique nods.

“I just got scared…” Francesca says again.  She doesn’t know how else to explain the fear.  How she never wants to make a mistake.  Because she might get made fun of or yelled at, even by her family.

“I’d be scared, too.”  Levi allows.  “I’ve been in a situation where I didn’t know what to do.  It’s not a good feeling.”

“Nope,” Francesca agrees.  “Did you get in trouble, too?”

Levi nods.  His eyes look the saddest ever.  

“Were you ten like I was?” Francesca asks.

“I was eight.”

“What happened?” she wonders.

“I played in the mud.  And came inside, and got the floor dirty…” he says, not looking at anybody.  “I didn’t realize until it was too late.  I was trying to figure out how to clean it up, but I got in trouble before I could…”

“Not with your dad, the funny guy, right?” Francesca presses.  “He was nice, right?  ‘Cause he was your best friend.”

“No, not with my dad.  Someone else.”

Pearl reaches out to squeeze Levi’s shoulder and he shrugs away.  “No hugs right now, please.”

--

Pearl tries not to feel miffed.  Here’s Levi, actually sharing during Feelings Laundry, an actual opportunity for her to support him, and he’s shrugging her off.

She tries to listen as Mariana talks about feeling out of her depth with Stef, as well.  Pearl knows that it’s been about a year since Mariana was in a car accident.  Knows that she came out of it with a brain injury.  Knows it probably makes a million things harder.

But Pearl’s not got the energy to think about other people’s problems right now.  She’s got her own.  So many, they might drown her.  When she lets it, her mind wanders back through the years, to the woods.  To high school.  To the nice guy who’d asked for a ride home when she was sixteen.  To the way he ruined her.  Threatened to kill her.

If she lets herself she can smell the dirt.  The woods.  Her own fear.  It’s taken her some time to get used to seeing the accents of Levi’s work uniform.  The name tag.  The shirt and the pants the same colors as she’d worn.  All of it, details that stood out stronger than the pain.

She’d been scared to make a sound.  

Suddenly, Cleo’s nails are digging into Pearl’s thighs as she stands on her lap, licking her face.

“Pearl?  You okay?” Jesus asks.

She blinks.  “Yeah.  I’m here.  I’m fine.”  It’s brusque.  Because she can’t very well admit to being in the middle of a flashback, at least not now.

Jesus can tell, Pearl just bets, that she’s not okay.  But he doesn’t comment on it.  No one does.  The others talk.  And Pearl thinks about how the air smells up here this time of year.  How it’s still cold enough to have that bite to it.  That pulls her back through time.  

She thinks about how long it had taken her to recover after seeing Jared again six years ago.  It was just after Jesus and his family had left last time, and it had very nearly destroyed her.  Had it not been for Gracie, and for her friends in the survivor community, and knowing Jesus might still need her, Pearl didn’t know where she’d be right now.

“You wanna share anything?” he asks.

“I’m...not really…” she shakes her head.

“Do you need something?” Levi asks now.  Sweet.  Attentive.  Pearl has to remember that he has the right to say no to things.  That not everything has to do with her.

She has to work on not taking everything out on him.  On maybe even modeling something good for him to emulate.

“It’s a hard time of year for me,” she finally divulges.  “Something bad happened to me when I was younger.  A teenager.”

“Was it trauma?” Francesca asks.

“Yeah, it was.  And when the anniversary of a trauma comes around again?  That can feel hard.  Because there are a lot of similarities that can remind me.”

“When is it?” Levi wonders.  “Your hard time of year?”

“This weekend…” she manages.

“So, is that why you’ve been all moody?” Levi asks.  Pearl, Mariana, Dominique and Francesca all look at him in unison, not amused.

“What?” he asks, confused.

“Dude…” Jesus shakes his head.  “Don’t say women are moody.”

“I’m not saying it doesn’t make sense.  I’m just...not good with words…” Levi amends.  “Is that why you’ve been...grouchy?” he tries again.

“Irritable, and yes.  Last time, I think Dominique and I were mentioning.  That can also be related to trauma.  But I’m sorry.  I know I’ve taken a lot out on you.”

“It helps to have more information.  To know I didn’t do something wrong.  If I did, I’d rather you just tell me.”

“Noted,” Pearl nods.

“Jesus, are you good?  From earlier?” Dominique asks.

Pearl’s curious, but doesn’t ask what happened earlier.  If Jesus wants to share, he will.  

“I got a bit triggered before dinner, but Francesca caught it.  I’m okay.  Sometimes, it just sneaks up on you.”

“It’s because I talked about it,” Francesca puts in sadly.

“What?” Dominique wonders.

“I talked about one of your trauma things accidentally, and then you got triggered.  Sometimes, it’s okay to talk about that stuff, and sometimes it isn’t.  I was just trying to help.  It made me stressed that I hurt you.  It’s part of why I got upset later.  Sorry for taking your turn.”

“It’s okay.  We share,” Jesus reassures.  “And I appreciate you trying to help.  But maybe you could ask me if it’s okay to bring up a trauma thing before you do it?”

“Consent again,” Francesca nods.

“Consent always,” Jesus smiles a little.  They fist-bump.

“Does everybody have trauma?” Francesca asks.

“Not everybody,” Dominique allows.  “But a lot of us here do.”

Pearl notices how Dominique keeps eye contact with Levi for a second as she talks.  How he nods a little.  It makes Pearl think about what he’d said about the mud.  About how it wasn’t Dad that he was in trouble with.  Who did that leave?  Nia, his mother, didn’t seem like the type to overreact to a little mud.  

She wonders if there is more to the story.  Feels instinctively there must be, but knows she shouldn’t push.

Levi nods and raises a finger - not even his whole hand - as confirmation that he has trauma, too.

“Wow, I think that really does make everybody here.  Except me,” Francesca shrugs.

Pearl has thoughts about the way Stef’s treated Francesca.  How normal eleven year old children don’t break down when asked to walk next door out of fear of messing up.  To Pearl, that sounds very much like trauma.  But she knows it’s not for her to say.  It’s for Francesca to own, if, and when she’s ready to do so.

“Dominique, how are you?” Mariana wonders.

“I’m...closed…” Dominique says, cryptic.

“Like a store?” Francesca wonders.

“More like an emotional state,” Dominique explains.  “When you’re open, you feel like sharing.”

“Oh, so you don’t feel like sharing,” Francesca deduces.  

Dominique nods.

“That’s okay.  We respect that, right?” Francesca looks around the table.  “Nobody has to share if they don’t want to...because consent.”

“Thanks, Francesca.” Dominique tells her.

Of all the people here, Dominique strikes Pearl as the enigma.  She knows almost nothing about her.  But Levi’s similarly closed off.  It makes sense that the two might be drawn to one another.

“I’m gonna head out,” Pearl offers.  “Thanks for inviting us for dinner, Francesca, it was very good.”

“You’re welcome.” Francesca smiles.

“Just come over next time,” Jesus offers.  “You know our schedule.  If you wanna eat with us, or just hang out, come over.”

“Sounds good.”  She’s headed for the door when Pearl realizes Levi is behind her.

“I’ll come home, too,” he says.

--

“Will you not walk behind me?” Pearl asks, her voice shaking.

“Oh.  I’m sorry,” Levi apologizes.  He makes sure he’s walking beside her.  They don’t talk until they get home.

“Sit with me for a minute?” she asks, patting the couch.  

Levi does.  Hopes she can’t tell how nervous he is.  Is she gonna ask about what he shared earlier?

“I’m using a lot of my energy this week just trying to deal.  I do want to be there for you.  But I want to be honest with you about what I need, too.  So…  I think I’m gonna need you to come to me for your hugs.  Ask me.”

“Because you don’t wanna give them to me?” Levi asks, confused.

“I do want to.  But my mind is pretty full of trauma stuff right now, and it’s hard to keep anything else in there.  So if you could come to me and ask me?  That would help me remember.”

Levi hesitates a little.  It feels a little forward - a little desperate - asking for a hug when they were always freely given.  “Can I - I mean…  Can I have a hug now?”

“Sure,” Pearl says, softening.  She opens her arms and he accepts.  

It’s hard to feel totally comfortable there.

But he’ll work on it.