#also i’m not really afraid of dying i just get really anxious & uncomfortable if i think abt the idea of nothingness after death

[lesbianlenas]

it’s not an insult to be like bella swan. you and her are both 1. smart and good at school 2.always confused about people noticing or perceiving you 3. obsessed with your crush 4. complain a lot 5. have depression 6. put up with borderline abusive and mean friends/partners 7. afraid of getting old and dying-want to be immortal

ok i can agree w all of this as being fair except for the last one i do not want to be immortal AT ALL. girl i have barely tolerated being alive for 23 yrs u think i want to do this forever……also the inherent loneliness of never changing while the world and everyone in it is always changing and leaving u behind & it never ends……what is good abt immortality i’d be like to my sexy vampire gf um can u just suck my blood till i die at least it would b a sexy way to go……

[paradiseismine]

Finn and his characters tying you up - Headcanons

Pairing: Finn Wolfhard + Finnverse characters x f!reader

Love note from Nina: Yes, all of Finn’s characters would tie their partner up. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.

Summary: Headcanons for Finn Wolfhard and his characters, on how each one of them would tie you up sexually.

Warnings: a bit of kinky stuff, but no smut. kinda fluffy I guess (?)

Finn Wolfhard (himself)

How did he bring it up the first time?

Finn said he needed to talk. You got curious and even a bit anxious, he seemed to want to keep a very serious tone to the conversation. His face was absolutely flushed as he grabbed your hands and, looking into your eyes, said:

- Babe, I want you to know that I love you and respect you very much, ok? It’s been such a joy and a privilege to have you in my life… To get to call you mine, to be a part of your life, to kiss you, to make love to you, all of it. It’s just that… I’d like our intimacy to be a bit more, uhm, intense, you know?

- I love you too, babe. You’re my everything. But I don’t think I understand… What do you mean by that? - you asked, fondly. Finn scratched the back of his neck, apprehensive.

- Could we… Maybe… I mean, could I tie you up sometime? Just the hands, if you’re ok with it… - his face was really flushed as he said it.

- No problem, my love - you agreed. - I trust you 100%, you know that. I’m glad you could trust me with your desires. Next time we do it, you can tie me up, ok?

Finn smiled, relieved. He feared being misunderstood, or taken as a creep. Little did he know, now you were dying to be tied up by him.

What does he use to tie you up?

Some fancy “tying bdsm kit” he made his assistant buy while he was out filming, so no one but you would ever know about this side of him without signing an NDA. It’s apparently made out of some special fabric-like material that doesn’t bruise your skin and is very comfortable. Being a celebrity, Finn’s not only afraid of accidentally hurting you, but also of people seeing any sort of scrape or bruise on your body when you go out in public. What if they think he’s violent with you? Well, he only is when you ask him to be.

How/where does he tie you up?

With his busy schedule, the first places you get to be tied up in are hotel rooms, as you guys would meet in between his shootings and band gigs. He ties your hands gently at first, but as you get comfortable, he begins tying your ankles too. Seeing you all tied up feels so private, so intimate… He loves it, and so do you.

Boris Pavlikovsky

How did he bring it up the first time?

Boris was always into “weird” stuff. He liked to drink while fucking you from behind, he’d ask you to spit on his body (just to see what it felt like) and stuff like that. When you two were getting it on and he found something that could be used to tie you up, you pretty much knew what he had in mind. He looked at you in an inquiring way, and all you had to do was nod and put out your wrists for him.

What does he use to tie you up?

He uses pretty much anything he can find at the moment. You’ve been tied up with dish cloths, robe belts, shoe laces and even a measuring tape. If it can be tied around your wrists and you don’t oppose to it, you’re getting tied up with it.

How/where does he tie you up?

Anywhere that tickles his fancy. He’d tie you up in the bedroom, in the kitchen, even in the shower. He keeps the knots simple, but firm. He only ties you hands, though: your legs need to be all spread out for him.

Mike Wheeler

How did he bring it up the first time?

He took you to the basement for the usual make out session - at least that was what it seemed. After some heated kisses, he held your face, making you look into his eyes.

- Do you trust me? - Mike said, gently caressing your cheek, his eyes always as dreamy as ever.

- Of course, angel - you responded, smiling.

- Tell me if you get uncomfortable at any moment, ok?

You simply looked at his hands doing the work. Ugh, he’s so hot.

What does he use to tie you up?

A belt. Specifically, he likes to take off the belt he’s using beforehand and tie you up with it. There’s something about undressing you, then undressing himself and tying you up with his own belt that gets him extra hard.

How/where does he tie you up?

He simply ties your wrists together. You don’t resist in the slightest, of course, completely taken by his dominant energy. He likes to have that kinkier type of sex in the basement, where you guys can make some more noise without getting caught/heard by anyone else in the house.

Miles Fairchild

How does he bring it up the first time?

Very early into the relationship, actually after your first kiss, Miles was already calling you “mine”. And being “his”, you knew what kind of stuff he liked: the freakiest possible. He started tying you up within your first month together, and as time went on, it got more and more sophisticated. You two have a safe word, so if you don’t like something, you can say the word and he’ll stop immediately to check on his precious doll.

What does he use to tie you up?

A rope. The same kind that could be used to tame the horses in the manor’s stable. He finds it animalistic and sexy, like you’re a wild creature he has to tame and take care of - that’s kind of how you feel, too.

How/where does he tie you up?

Miles had read an awful lot about shibari - he has literal books on the subject. Expect to be in his room, tied up in some crazy positions, with very elaborate knots concocted by him. There will be ropes all over your body - if not actual ropes, warm ropes of his cum.

- Slutty princess of mine, how would you like to be all tied up and hanging from the ceiling? - he asked, his eyes darker than ever. - You’d look so pretty like that, like my own little puppet sex doll…

Trevor Spengler

How did he bring it up the first time?

You two were making out, you know, as you usually do. Trev stopped kind of abruptly, and you could tell he had something else in his mind.

- Babe… - he started, his voice raspy with lust. - There���s… There’s something I’ve always wanted to try, I don’t know if you’d be into it, and it’s totally fine if you’re not, but I-

- Trevor - you interrupted, reassuring him with a gentle caress and a loving smile - It’s ok. What is it that you want to try?

- I, uh… Can I tie you up? You know, as like a sex thing?

- Sure - you chuckled. - I think I’m gonna like that too, love.

What does he use to tie you up?

A silky tie. He’s afraid anything rougher would irritate his princess’ delicate skin.

How/where does he tie you up?

Trevor is a sucker for car sex, and loves tying you up in the Ectomobile. He’d usually tie your hands up and ask you to suck his dick with your hands tied. You look so submissive doing that, it drives him crazy - specially when you grab his dick with your tied hands.

Ziggy Katz

How did he bring it up the first time?

He knew he’d feel embarrassed: that was a given. He had finally gotten a pretty girlfriend and didn’t want to scare her off, of course. After a lot of pining and reconsideration, he simply blurted it out while you two were making out on his bed after school.

- Would you let me, like, tie you up? I mean, it would be Tera hot to have you all tied up to the bed frame while we do it, you know?

- Sure - you laughed. - How do you wanna do it?

What does he use to tie you up?

Bedsheets. It had to be something that doesn’t look like it’s gonna be used for sex, ‘cause his lazy ass will totally forget to hide it afterwards, so if it’s just the bedsheets, his mom won’t be suspicious.

Where/how does he tie you up?

He makes sure you can’t “escape”, making firm knots and tying your hands above your head onto the bed frame. Ziggy secretly loves it when you struggle to free yourself and try to touch him, because then he gets to hold you in place and feels even more dominant.

[anfie-in-the-box]

Dreamtale_Not_Found

Notes

Remember this thing I wrote out of the blue for Aftermare Week by @bluepalleteuniverse? Well, now the story truly begins!

Warnings: depression; a bit of manipulation, guilt-tripping, and an overall mean attitude of a random villager towards both Nightmare and Dream; not a panic attack, exactly, but definitely something similar.

Do tell me if there's anything I missed!

。。。

A negligible shift

Nightmare is done. He needs a change. Something. Anything. Please.

He sits between the roots of the Tree, hugging himself with both hands, chin on the knees. The position gets awkward, uncomfortable, but he doesn't have it in himself to move. He's drained.

He's fearful, uneasy with the deepest pain that never ends, but he's also empty. That's how it feels, at least. It's a void that nothing can fill, not even anxiety and doubts that have Nightmare in their cruel cold claws. The way misery blooms in the emptiness of his being is so alluring though, so mesmerising. Nightmare lets himself drown in the feeling. Nightmare never fights it, like he never fought the villagers, neither verbally nor physically. He's weak, isn't he?

But he isn’t evil. He's not. Can't be.

Right?

These thoughts break him more than any of the villagers ever could. Nightmare doesn’t know who he is anymore, and that makes it so much more frightening. He can't bear it. He's not brave, and he's not strong.

His hands are trembling. His whole body is trembling, Nightmare notices belatedly. His vision is blurred, too; he's crying again. He can't help it, useless even against his own tears.

Nightmare hugs himself tighter, so tight it almost hurts.

Can it be that the villagers are right? Were right all along?

No, no, no. Please, no. He doesn't want to be evil. He doesn't want to be a freak. It's supposed to count, right? He tries, he really does. It must count.

If only Nightmare could find a way to prove himself. Abruptly, he stops hugging himself, both hands limp by his sides. Does he even deserve this poor attempt of comfort? Is he really what the villagers say, a useless, stupid, good for nothing villain?

No!

The tears keep flowing down his cheekbones. He doesn't hiccup, doesn't sob, doesn't tremble anymore.

He's drained. Done.

He really, really needs to change something. Or something to change — and wouldn't that be perfect?

Too good to be true.

His fingers touch the grass beneath him, and the trunk of the Tree is solid as ever, always there to rely on.

Nightmare tilts his head back. Just then, he sees the apples. Black, but also some golden.

Maybe... Just maybe, but...

He'd need to stay alone for that though. Dream consistently declines any help requests from the villagers, seemingly determined to never leave, but he’s just too kind, there’s bound to be someone he can’t say no to. It’s a matter of time. And waiting is fine by Nightmare, now that he has a plan. He’s not wasting his time anymore; instead, he’s being patient, ready to take the first chance he gets. It’s a smart move. Besides, the reward will be worth it.

Tired, Nightmare wipes the tears with his sleeve and makes himself as comfortable as possible, resting beside the Tree’s rough trunk. If he’s lucky, he’ll even drowse and nap a little.

。。。

Ironically, an opportunity comes up later that day.

Nightmare doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have at some point since some noise wakes him up. When his head gets clearer, Nightmare realises it’s two voices, one his brother’s and the other only distantly familiar. A villager, then.

“Please, don’t talk so loudly,” Dream pleads in a small voice. “Nightmare is sleeping.”

How Dream always manages to be so caring and gentle is beyond Nightmare’s understanding. His little brother doesn’t deserve all that. Luckily, Nightmare knows what to do. Currently, he just has to keep listening intently, and it’ll be better if they think he’s still asleep. So no movement or sound. Nightmare’s good at that, he likes to think.

“Of course that useless garbage is sleeping in the middle of the day. But who cares!” the villager says, clearly irritated. They do lower their voice, though, if only to please Dream a little. “We need your help, and you can’t sit this one out!”

Dream sounds tired and somewhat hurt when he replies, “I’m so sorry if my brother upset you, but please, don’t talk about him that way.” Only when the villager mutters a “Yeah, whatever” that Nightmare barely hears from his position on the other side of the Tree, Dream continues. “Can you tell me what’s so important you think I need to leave the Tree?”

“Took you long enough to ask! Some guardian you are!” the villager huffs. “Just so you know, Ava is so sick she’s dying, it’s getting worse, and we’ve tried everything, but nothing helps! There’s no cure but the golden apples. It’s our last hope.” They insist, not giving Dream a moment to hesitate, “Come on! Do you really want us to lose Ava just because you decided to be stubborn?”

Nightmare tenses. He knows exactly how much of a bleeding heart his brother is. No chance he’s turning this one down; not when it’s a matter of life and death. He’s coming to the aid if only this one time. Meanwhile, Nightmare can set his plan in motion — prove himself worthy and good. Everything’s going to be fine. Everything’s going to get better. Finally.

Despite himself, Nightmare smiles. However, he keeps his sockets shut, just in case Dream decides to check on him before going to the village. He will go, without a doubt.

And indeed, Dream gasps, terrified, “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry to hear it! Of course, I’ll help poor Ava!” Then, there are steps and rustling, quiet huffs, and at last, this specific sound of a fruit being picked from the Tree. Nightmare knows that sound, although he’s never done it himself. Nobody asked for a black apple, after all. Nobody wanted it.

Nobody wanted him.

But now, that’s alright. He’ll just show everyone that he can take care of the golden apples, too. Everyone loves them, and they will love him as well. It’s so easy, Nightmare just cannot fathom how he hadn’t come up with it before.

For a few seconds, there’s a pause.

“What are you waiting for? You got the apple, now let’s go!” the villager hurries. Suddenly, the steps sound much closer to Nightmare, and he’s been ready for that, it’s exactly the reason why he never opened his eyes, then why does he jerk?

Luckily, it doesn’t give his act away. Dream sighs and whispers, ever so softly, “I’ll be right back, brother. Sleep tight.” He goes away and says a bit louder, worry evident in his voice, “Let’s go. I really hope we’ll arrive in time...”

If the villager replies, Nightmare doesn’t hear it. He counts to a hundred five times, just to be sure, and gets up only after that.

This is his chance to make the tables turn.

。。。

For a minute, he simply stands there, looking at the Tree, his chest heavy with anticipation. His gaze is fixed on a single golden apple, the nearest to him. The one he’s going to pick and keep from harm all by himself.

While Nightmare stares at the apple, a strange feeling arises in his entire being. It’s light and unobtrusive, but also comprehensive. He’d try to identify it if he had more time, he thinks. As it is, he can’t quite put a finger on it right away and so just lets it be.

It’s getting late, Nightmare notices. The sky darkens steadily, the sun already gone. Pinks and purples linger on the horizon, and for the first time in a while, Nightmare finds himself appreciating the view. It’s been so long since he last enjoyed... anything, really. Everything except for misery and pain has become dull, faded. Being able to drink in the sight now, suddenly thrilled by that fleeting moment between day and night, relishing in the cool breeze...

Nightmare forces himself to look away. He has a plan to execute, and Dream might come back any minute. His brother is nice, but... he doesn’t understand. He wouldn’t even if Nightmare explained. So he has to do this alone.

Not like it’s the first time anyway.

Deepest sadness and utter hopelessness creep back into Nightmare’s mind and heart, but before they take hold of him, little guardian decisively comes closer to the Tree and reaches for a golden apple, the one he’d chosen before.

A moment stretches to what seems a tiny eternity. That’s what it feels like to Nightmare, who freezes, terrified. His hand trembles. The apple is so close, one slight movement and he’ll have it, feel its surface. Is it warm or cool? Nightmare wonders, distantly. Is it soft or hard?

After a long, long pause — one that lasts barely a minute, Nightmare’s mind knows, but his heart doesn’t believe it, — his hand withdraws. He holds it with his other hand against his chest, aching all of a sudden.

What’s wrong with him? Why can’t he do this? He’s a guardian just like Dream, who’s done this plenty of times! It’s so simple! It should be simple.

But his body refuses to cooperate. He’s shuddering, so anxious and afraid it’s suffocating. No wonder his chest hurts.

Tears prick the corners of Nightmare’s sockets.

Come on! Why can’t he move? Just why?

It’s not fair. This might be his only chance. Dream made an exception today, sure, but it’s not every day someone is on the verge of dying. He’s going to come back, and stay beside the Tree like a good guardian he is, and nothing’s going to change.

Filled with despair and fear, Nightmare tries one last time, putting all effort he can into stretching out his hand.

It doesn’t work. His body doesn’t work, not properly, anyway.

What’s even happening?

Just then, Nightmare hears familiar footsteps from behind. The sound makes something in him snap. The pain in his chest, the tension in his body, the feelings in his heart, and the thoughts in his mind — everything dissipates, leaving him tired and empty.

And — oh.

Nightmare sees now. That light feeling was hope. And it’s gone.

“Nightmare!” Dream calls out, not quite close yet but already explaining himself. “Sorry I left when you were sleeping, I hope you weren’t too worried when you woke up all alone... I didn’t mean to take so long or to take any time at all, but it was urgent and you don’t sleep much, so I...”

Utterly exhausted, Nightmare shrugs his brother off with a quiet “It’s fine” and, when Dream abruptly stops talking, goes away to the other side of the Tree.

Leave it up to him to not do a single thing right.

Of course, it’s all in vain. Pointless and futile.

He’ll just sleep.

。。。

Only that night, Nightmare tosses and turns restlessly.

As energy beings, they don’t exactly need sleep, so for Nightmare, it’s more of a way to escape than anything. Being awake means thinking and feeling, while sleep, although it seems to last just for a moment without dreams Nightmare’s only read about, gifts him a blessing of unconsciousness. When he sleeps, it’s almost like time and space cease to exist.

Almost like he ceases to exist.

It’s sweet and alluring. It’s also terrifying.

But none of this matters anymore, because, after that incident, even light sleep just won’t come. It’s called insomnia, Nightmare thinks.

Something did change after all. For the worse, that is.

It really could have been funny, but after a week of long, long days and nights Nightmare’s forced to spend wallowing in his misery, he can’t find it in himself to laugh.

Tired.

He’s so very tired.

。。。

Credits:

Undertale © Toby Fox

Dreamtale © jokublog

Read English version on ao3

Read Russian version on ficbook or fanficus (to be added)

。。。

Notes

This story is canon compliant, which means Nightmare is six years old at the moment of the (absence of the) Apple incident. But because he never got corrupted, he has a chance to grow up, and that he will do. His meeting with Geno will happen years later, when Nightmare is an adult.

It will become obvious as the story progresses, but I felt the need to clarify right now. Maybe I'll remove this part of the notes later.

Also, since we don't know about Dreamtale as much as I'd like, I'm trying to fill in the gaps. All places and characters mentioned are my version of Dreamtale, except for Dream, Nightmare, Nim/the Tree of Feelings, and Neil. That makes Ava just a random name to make the dialogue feel personal.

Feel free to let me know what you think if you'd like!

。。。

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[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: INFP with social anxiety here. I have a therapist but we're focusing on some other issues right now. In the meantime, I was wondering if you had some advice for me. I know you're not a professional (you say that multiple times in your posts) and of course I'm not asking you for a fix for my social anxiety with this - I'm just asking your help to understand what part my cognition could be playing in all of this cause I'm really curious.

Basically, my problem is the time frame right BEFORE I meet someone and, sometimes, immediately after. I don't really have problems socializing in the "middle", if you get what I mean; I'm easily adaptable and once I'm relaxed, once I realize no one is there to attack me, my mind starts getting ideas and I kind of know what to say, even though I'm a bit out of practice and I still have problems convincing other people of my emotions (like, mirroring their emotions so that they know I agree with them and stuff like that; for some reason they never ---believe me when I say it with words).

When I make plans, anyway, and I still haven't met the person, I get this anxiety: like I would rather stay home than go there because it's going to be "boring" and I'm probably going to feel like an idiot or make some sort of social gaffe. I mean, I do kinda get bored after a while anyway, but I also know I tend to overestimate that level of "future boredom" to the point it hurts me to even think about showing up and forcing myself to think of stuff I can-- say.

I get anxious because I start thinking about the way people used to treat me in the past (I've always been the black sheep of my family and/or my social circles and I vividly remember some bad things they used to say to me) and I start worrying that, deep down, they still think of me like that and they're never going to forget that "preconception of my identity" and open their eyes to who I am now, or I guess to who I've always been.

I do realize it doesn't make much sense, this "who I ----really am" part - but I've always had the impression that I was a bit different than the "me" they percieved, maybe because after many, many years of being accused of "selfishness" and "inability to tune in with the emotional atmosphere" I learned that in order not to ruin the "social mood" I should've adapted myself to the group - but the problems is that I suppressed "myself" in the meantime (and with myself I mean, like, my real interests, the things I'd like to talk about for ages without-- having to be interrupted or looked down on because, quote unquote, "ok, cool, but we don't really care").

I understand now that if they don't give me hints of actually caring about the subject I should stop rambling like a fool, but this is making me feel like I have nothing "useful" to offer them and therefore bringing the anxiety I'm struggling with. It makes me scared that I'll never be able to be myself around them because of the "social rules" I want to respect to be accepted, & to make----it worse I'm out of practice like I said before and sometimes it just gets too awkward and I want to get out of there.

I bet I'm doing something wrong because friendships and relationships in general are not supposed to be "boring", am I right? And yet until I don't get distracted by the actual conversation, I feel like it's going to be really boring and uncomfortable and sometimes going through it is SO horrible... most of the time I end up making up some excuse to go home earlier and talk----my internet friends instead (thank God for the internet!!!!). Anyway, thank you if you'll answer! And have a good summer vacation c:

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

The first thing I notice is that your thought process bears a very striking resemblance to many INFJs who struggle with social anxiety due to poor Fe development (see past posts). As a general rule, if I have good reason to suspect that someone might be mistyped, I won't provide info about function development until they undergo a proper type assessment. Otherwise, they might adopt the wrong method of improvement.

You say you want to understand what part your cognition plays in the social anxiety you experience, so I will mention the aspects of your cognition that seem most significant:

1) No Chill: You overthink things to an extreme, to the point of self-sabotage, perhaps even creating a self-fulfilling prophecy (i.e. when expecting the negative actually makes the negative happen). Overthinking means that you're not confronting the real obstacle getting in the way of your socializing. You're constantly trying to envision, imagine, or predict what will happen in a social interaction? WHY? What's the point of that overthinking? It's how you avoid confronting your fear head on.

2) Insecure: Your "predictions" are too often faulty because of being tainted by your underlying insecurities. You're insecure about being attacked, being accused, being misjudged, doing something wrong, being deemed of no value or unworthy of care, not being accepted or acceptable, dying of awkwardness, feeling bored, feeling uncomfortable, and on and on. You've described your thought process in detail. But nowhere do I see you confronting your insecurities, digging deeper into them, in order to understand the root of them. Insecurities are a manifestation of fear.

3) Control: Irrational anxiety is oftentimes about trying to control things that you shouldn't be trying to control or cannot have any control over - it wastes mental energy and leads to futile behavior. As long as you're trying to control social situations and their outcome, you are either trying too hard to make reality match up with your expectations or you're fumbling whenever reality unfolds outside of your expectations - you become rigid and frail. You claim to be "adaptable" but everything you say after that only proves you don't know the meaning of the word. You can't handle unpredictability, hence, the attempt to be in control by trying to "predict" everything. Do your attempts to control actually work? Do they help or hinder you? If they mostly hinder you, then isn't it time to change your strategy? Anxious people often believe that having more knowledge or control is the answer to their fear. But, in your case, the huge cost of being controlling is being incompetent. What's worse, the fear is still right there running the show.

4) Unresolved Trauma: You attribute your troubles to your past. Fair enough. Growing up in a social environment that did not respect and appreciate you is painful, even extremely traumatic for certain personality types. It also makes people too hungry for validation. It's natural that you wouldn't want to feel the pain of it again. However, if that pain remains unexamined and unresolved, you will unconsciously keep seeking to resolve it, which means re-enacting the trauma over and over again throughout life. The proof? Every time you meet someone, your first stance is defensive, because the first thing that comes into your mind is that you don't want to be attacked or invalidated. That old pain is running the whole show because you are deeply afraid of experiencing it again, yet you don't realize that YOU are the one calling it back up and rehashing it. What are you doing to resolve the pain rather than indulge the fear?

5) Self-absorbed: Social anxiety makes people too absorbed in their own thoughts, feelings, hopes, and expectations. They are too preoccupied with what they want, what will happen, how they will be perceived, how they might make a mistake, how they might be attacked, etc. This means they're not truly present with people, so the relationship can't really go far. Driven by fear and insecurity, they are always behind a wall, too difficult to reach.

Even if you happen to meet the right people, do you make it easy for them to befriend you? It seems that you can't open up with ease, you can't go with the flow of the other person when they don't live up to your expectations, you can't keep your emotions in check and misjudge situations, you get bored when it's not about you, you run away instead of making things better. Looking at yourself objectively from the outside, would you want to be friends with someone like that?

If you want to have good friends, you first have to BE a good friend. You want care, love, and validation? We all do. The best way to receive it is to be the first to give it. By being more aware of other people's needs and doing more to show that you care about them, you put them in a better position to care about you and meet your needs in return. This is the difference between actively trying to "make" a friend vs passively wishing for a friend to drop into your lap.

Being a friend isn't about what "value" you have, as though you're some kind of object being appraised and sold. Being a good friend is quite a simple matter of putting out the energy to care and show that you care. When you meet someone who's moved by your care, they will care for you in return. When you meet someone who's unmoved by your care, figure out the real reason why, in order to determine whether you should keep trying or put your energy elsewhere.

You never really know who you'll hit it off with. One of my favorite experiences in life is making a friend in the unlikeliest of places. As an adult, meeting new people is a numbers game. All you can do is keep pushing yourself to meet new people. The more people you meet, the greater the odds of clicking with someone. If you're looking to meet like-minded people, go to places that are likely to have people who share your interests. If you don't hit it off with someone, simply move along. You don't have to be friends with everyone, do you?

Yet, you take every little social interaction so seriously that each step is like life or death - that's what makes socializing tiring, laborious, and unfun. Why not enter into every social interaction with an open mind and an open heart? Why not truly go with the flow, without having to undergo the repetitive ritual of predicting what will happen or fussing over what did happen?

6) Poor Emotional Intelligence: This point is the common thread that runs through the previous points, which is why I keep repeating the word "fear". You have extremely low tolerance for negative feelings and emotions, which means you really need to work on learning how to deal with your emotional life better. Any little sign that things won't turn out the way you want and you start to panic, overthink, blame, or flee. Why do you recoil from yourself and your own feelings and emotions? Why are you so easily shaken by boredom, awkwardness, invalidation, failing, other people's negativity, etc? Why do you react so badly to these things (when others just brush it off and keep going)?

7) Low Self-Awareness: It's not enough to just name the fear ("I'm afraid of____"). Does the label explain why you have this particular fear and not some other fear? It's not enough to blame the past ("It's because of ____"). Why did someone else with a similar past as yours not develop this fear? To get to the root of fear, you have to identify, in exact terms:

what aspect of you has to change to overcome the fear

what aspect of your identity has to "die" (i.e. be let go of) in order to evaporate the fear

Until you answer the fear properly, it won't go away.

[everythingshoto]

Already gone | Fives

Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x reader

Summary: The loss of Fives is unbearable and it’s time to say goodbye to him. You need to let him go, but your heart can’t.

Wordcount: 1828

Warnings: reader goes to extreme sadness, depression. Mentions of death and seeing the dead. Violence language.

a/n: Hello there :) This is my first work to be ever published, so I am a little nervous! I know it’s not the best I’ve ever written -and I’m not completely satisfied with how this turned out-, but I just really wanted to make this story. (My native language isn’t English, so that’ll explain grammar mistakes :)) This is for all the very sad sl*ts out there, i feel you 😔

༓☾ M A S T E R L I S T ☽༓

Sometimes it felt like he was speaking to you through music, like he was your guardian angel and looked out for you.

The depressed tones blasted through the speakers of your apartment as your hand -holding an empty whiskey glass- sank to the ground. The bass thundered in rhythm with your heart, the lyrics as sad as a blue moon. But, all the songs about heartbreak and pain that you had on endless replay, had one difference with you. You weren’t just heartbroken, the love of your life hadn’t just left, he died. He couldn’t even come back home to you, even if he wanted to, he’d be stuck somewhere in the afterlife, not even able to find peace he deserved. The hurt Fives went through was the worst part, the guilt you felt.

Your eyes closed as all the moments with Fives flashed by, his smile, his words, his handsome face. Nothing seemed to make up for the fact he wasn’t sitting next to you anymore. The past couple of days you had waited for him to come home, to you. And you still did. The news Rex brought hadn’t sunken in yet and somewhere, your heart still jumped as someone opened your front door. But maybe, that feeling wasn’t going to leave, ever again. Your grip around the glass tightened as all the memories you made together played in your head over and over again.

“Fives! Fives!” You cried out as you saw his damaged, white and blue armour next to Jesse’s. He just returned from Umbara, one of the saddest pages in the clone wars history. Because a betrayal of general Krel, several clones had to give up their life. Words couldn’t describe what you felt, as you saw Five alive, amongst his brothers.

“Cyar’ika!” He yelped back as he saw you in the crowd. His pace quickened and he let you fall into his arms.

“Fives.” Your voice now whispered, your face buried in his neck. His skin melted with yours and it felt like nothing could break this moment. His arms would never let you go, ever again.

You twitched and shivered as your eyes opened, your hand grabbed your shoulder, looking for his. His fingers felt imprinted on your skin, like a mark, and you hoped the stain wasn’t going to fade anytime soon. Your gaze was caught on the evening lights of Coruscant, but this time, you really felt a hand on your shoulder. You wanted to smile, but deep down you knew it wasn’t him.

“Rex,” your voice was burned from alcohol and rasped painful against your throat. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Oh, I am sorry.” His voice seemed uncomfortable and he laid a hand behind his head, “you didn’t respond on my knocking, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You nodded stiffly, “I’m fine, thanks for asking.” You said as you swung the empty whiskey glass elegant through the air.

“Uhm, are you sure?” Rex’ eye caught the bottle next to you, half empty. He sat down on the ground, besides you, his eyes burned on your skin.

A sarcastic smile hovered around your mouth, “like I said, yes, I’m fine.” The lies were as sweet as sugar, but Rex knew better. The empty bottle of alcohol laying on the floor was just as lost as you. Unfortunately, you wished to be all screwed from the poisonous liquid, but even half a bottle of whiskey didn’t seem to fill the hole Fives left behind.

“It’s time.”

The words Rex said made your world stop for a second. Time seemed to stand still and your head started spinning. Your sweaty palms tried to warm your shivering arms, as your anxiety rose to the ceiling, your heart pounding louder and louder.

From sitting anxious on the floor, under way to Fives’ lifeless body. Rex dragged you all the way with him, knowing you weren’t okay. But he also knew, you weren’t going to forgive yourself if you never said goodbye. Rex lead the way through the medical center as you followed him in safe distance, knewing what you would face seconds from here. Your steps became smaller and the shivers crawling up your spine became colder. Instead of the anxious pounding of your heart in your ears, you barely seemed alive now.

The clone guarding the room nodded to the two of you as you walked in. The room was big and glanced several tints of blue, but all you really noticed was the table in front of you.

“I can’t do this.” You panted as you grabbed Rex’ arm. He turned around, standing in front of you, tall enough to cover the table in the end of the room.

The pain radiating of your face made Rex even more sad, “you have to say goodbye.” He spoke quietly as he offered you a hand.

His voice made you noucious already, you couldn’t hear anything but Fives. You accepted his offer by gently taking his fingers, nervous about what you were going to witness. Even though you knew what you were going to see, you could never prepare yourself. The table Fives laid down on seemed miles away and slowly, step by step, you saw your soulmate coming closer. You felt weird, stressed. It felt weird looking at him without him glancing back, it almost felt.. like he was really gone.

You tried to take big breaths as you reached him and your eyes couldn’t help but stare at his. Your heart wanted them to open, somewhere you expected him to get up and hug you, just like old times. Part of your heart wasn’t ready to let go of the love of your life.

“Fives.” You whispered as your shaky hand grabbed his. He felt ice cold and you shivered by his touch. His face was a sick shade of pale and the bags underneath his eyes were as black as the sky. Few blood drops spotted on his face and his, usually pretty hair, was a mess. Nothing hurted you more than seeing him, like this, so vunarable, so drained of life. Your breathing turned into hyperventilating and your heart shattered as it realised. He was not coming back.

You took his hand and squeezed it softly as you started stuttering, trying to say your goodbyes. “I love you Fives, I- I- I don’t want to let go of you- I...”

Rex laid his hands on your back, trying to give you comfort, but you weren’t able to finish your sentence. Grief hit you like a truck and Fives’ lifeless, emotionalless face drew all your attention away from your words.

“It’s going to be okay.” Rex said, as his hand rubbed down your spine.

“What?” The words felt like poison, the way you spitted them out of your mouth. “It’s going to be okay?” The slightest bit of sarcasm pushed through and your gaze left Fives’ to meet Rex. He seemed surprised by the storm that laid, so suddenly, on your face.

“Well ye- eventually..” now, Rex was the one who had lost his tongue.

“Yes? Eventually it’s going to be okay?” Tears raced down your face. “What’s going to be okay? The fact that we KNEW about the inhibitor chips and did nothing?!” Anger took over and your fingers formed fists. “We should’ve helped him, we should’ve done something!” You yelled at his brother.

Rex seemed just as broken as you, though he tried to stay professional. “Well I have, we tried to..”

You shook your head, the ignorance in Rex’ voice made the rage in your blood rise.

“Just admit it, we failed him! You, and me! He reached out for help and we literally ignored him!” Your shallow scream echoed through the room, “we failed him..”

The little bit of hurt in your heart got replaced by more anger. “Why didn’t you do something?! He came to talk to you, he wanted your help! You should’ve done something! You did, nothing!” You cried, screamed, as your body couldn’t hold the weight of your heart anymore. You sank to the floor, crying over the man you loved. Another cry left your body, your hands caught it as your head buried into them. Endless, non controllable sobbing took over and there was nothing you and Rex could do.

“You killed him Rex! We killed him! Just as much as the one who placed the bullet into his heart!” You managed to look up to Rex, your vision was blurred and you weren’t in control of anything. You lost it, you had lost your world, the person who made you happy. “We abandoned him, when he needed us most.” You managed to whisper. Your heart ached, he died for nothing and you were never going to forgive yourself. Fives his trust in the two of you must’ve died along with him.

“Come here,” Rex said as he lifted you up from the stone cold floor. His voice was shaky, like you had never heard before. Before Rex pulled you into a hug, you caught a glimpse of his watery eyes, a single tear dripping of his face.

You laid your head on his shoulder and couldn’t stop crying. You panted heavily in between, trying to breath as you drowned in your own, bitter tears.

“I know, I miss him too.” Rex said as he continued rubbing your back, trying to calm you down. More tears slowly rolled down his face as he held you close. His heart felt crushed and the worst thing was that everything you said was true. Rex agreed, he failed his brother, there was no need for a bullet through Fives his heart and it happened anyway. It seemed like there was always someone who ended up dead, everyone around him slowly ended up dying.

Fives’ last words had repeated constantly in Rex his head. The anxiousness in his eyes, afraid his own brothers would hurt him, and yet they did. The panic Fives yelled with, getting the gun was the dumbest thing he could’ve done. But for Fives, it felt the best thing to do, like he had only one choice, the only defense he had left.

“Get away from me!” Fives yelled as he held up the gun, pointing it at Fox his head.

Gunshot

An earsplitting silence followed. The only sound echoeing against the walls was Fives’ panting, and how his body shattered against the floor. Rex remembered yelling his brothers name, beating the ray shield that separated them. He was completely defenceless as he watched his brother die.

More tears flowed down Rex’ cheeks as he relived the moment.

“The, the nightmares, they are.. finally.. over.�� Fives gaze connected with Rex one last time, but left too soon. Rex felt his brothers body weaken, he was gone, he died, in his arms. Rex held him close, not realising what just happened, what he had done.

Meanwhile, the tension in your core made you cramp together against Rex. It felt like every single nerve in your body was damaged, the kind of damage that couldn’t be fixed. You felt tired, exhausted, like the last bit of happiness had been drained of your soul.

“I can’t miss him Rex.. I don’t want to.”

[fe-semi-decent-scenarios]

Congrats on 100 followers!!! If it's no bother could I request head cannons for how protective the BL group is over their s/o? Thanks :))

[I’m assuming that these are just general jealousy level / worry-wart head-cannons? We’re not tapping into yandere on this blog lol. I’ll keep it simple, how ya like it :3] 

Dimitri: 

11/10

Boy worries 

People out there want him dead = people out there want you dead too

Some might even try to take advantage of you due to his high status 

Makes him hella clingy sometimes. Nightmares when you’re in ‘unfavorable’ circumstances aren’t rare

Even in his emo phase he’s still like this- just even more because the world is basically his enemy 

Don’t let feral dima be around when soldiers talk smack to you. He will put them in their place without mercy 

Doesn’t help that you’re basically the closest to family he’s got aside from Dedue

Dude you’re his future and he knows it. There is no one else who would stick with him through everything like you do 

Even if there was, he wouldn’t want them. No one can ever replace you

He’s not so much concerned with someone else putting the moves on you 

Okay, wait--hold that thought 

He trusts you but goddess forbid someone makes you uncomfortable. He will use his authoritative presence to make them feel like a pebble next to a boulder 

Totally glares at anyone with wandering eyes when you’re not looking. He’ll put one arm around your waist and nudge you away from them without hesitation 

  Dedue: 

3/10

He can’t stop people from making advances- he knows that 

He also can’t take action on your behalf

Sure, he doesn’t like it when people make advances towards you. The whole point of being in a relationship is so people know that you are each other’s partner 

Most of the time he just lets you deal with it. You can take care of yourself 

His mood goes foul if people dare to do it in front of him. If people thought he looked intimidating before then d a m n 

He’ll casually place a hand on your shoulder (which if you know him well is actually the most unusual thing) and ask if you need anything else before dismissing himself 

Just a little expression of clarity that you’re with him, you know, chase the bugger off  

Surprisingly not a worry-wart in any aspect aside from health 

It’s easy for someone to neglect their health; mental and physical

Don’t be surprised if he encourages you to get check-ups ritually 

If something’s an issue he expects you to come to him when you’re ready

Not pushy in the slightest 

Felix: 

8/10

Asserts d o m i n a n c e towards all threats 

His attitude is one of the top three causes for any arguments. You know the snarky remarks are part of the Felix package, but would it kill him to have some restraint occasionally? 

Despite his intelligence Felix tends to make quick assumptions. The guy has a bit of a superiority complex and doesn’t like when other people get cozy with his s/o 

Pity the fool who challenges the Fraldarious 

He views it as them not taking him seriously. 

Also slightly afraid you’ll ditch his difficult ass

He can and will tell them off. Doesn’t matter the time or scene- if he feels someone’s being too buddy-buddy then he’ll make them to get lost 

Hence the arguments. It can get bothersome when he acts out towards someone you’re friends with or if he causes a scene 

He knows that it’s out of line and that you can make your own choices, but he can’t help it 

Will apologize begrudgingly, but only to you. The other person can just live with it 

You might be able to milk it and get an apology hug lol 

In other aspects of life he’s the same way. If a politician tries to screw you over he’s right there watching from the sidelines, if you’re in battle then he’s constantly glancing at where you’re stationed, etc. 

Ashe: 

7/10

He’s your silent protector lol

Not because he’s ‘quiet’ but instead out of fear. He doesn't want to annoy you 

Ashe has a lot of insecurities. No matter how many times you tell him otherwise he’ll always think you’re out of his league 

If anyone flirts or makes suggestive comments towards you he’ll get upset 

Like, really upset 

extremely upset 

 He’ll watch from the sidelines as you diffuse the situation, lacing one hand with your own with a smile. Just you’re normal not-confrontational-at-all-Ashe. At least that’s what you see 

On the inside it’s a raging storm of emotions going on. He’s so afraid that one day you’ll wake up and realize that he’s not good enough. That he’ll have to watch you walk away and return to an empty home again 

Que nervous sweating 

He becomes a doting mother if you’re ever ill or in danger. For weeks on end he’ll become you’re second shadow 

If someone ever dares to hurt you while he’s nearby they’re getting an arrow in the back. No mercy. The fury borderline snaps the arrow between his fingers 

Hates leaving you behind or being away. Not knowing if you’re safe, happy, healthy, etc. eats him up inside 

Literally fragile glass. He can’t even tinker with the thought of you dying or he gets a stress-induced headache 

Sylvain: 

5/10

He’s so neutral towards everything that it’s honestly scary 

The fellow Lions would even say ‘creepy’ for some occasions. It’s so far off from how he behaved towards his past partners and other friends 

With his past and reputation people would think he’d at least get defensive when other people flirt with you 

He knows what players are looking for since he was one. He’s been in their shoes

Yet??? He’s indifferent towards everything???

It takes a lot to get Sylvain worked up. His laid back way of approaching conflict tends to rub off on those around him and therefore helps in avoiding arguments 

It would take either you expressing your discomfort or for the other party to attempt physical contact to make him hostile 

Even then though he’ll simply push them back before leading you away. No harm no foul,  just in and out before things escalate 

When it comes to big decisions or outbreaks he also follows a neutral approach. He waits for you to express your own wants before giving his opinions 

You want to fight in the next battle? Cool, you’re registered. What battalion are you with? Well, looks like your going a different route than him. Are you sure that’s the one you want to follow? Yeah? Nothing he can do then aside from wish you luck. 

Doesn’t mean he won’t be concerned at all though. I mean, it’s natural to be. 

His mindset is that if he doesn’t worry then you won’t either. Anxiety is contagious and you don’t need extra stress in bad situations. 

Annette: 

7/10

She doesn’t w a n t to be like this, but sometimes it’s hard to hold back jealousy 

Annette is one of those people that likes attention from the person she cares about. It makes her happy, so being ignored for someone else would really hurt 

She’s nothing special in this regard. Like any person in a relationship she’ll have her moments, but for the most part everything is fine and dandy 

The whole reason she’s above average is because of other reasons

She’ll nag you about safety precautions with logic from her studies. Being a goodie-two-shoes from a young age has her nerves spiking whenever you take needless risks 

If she wasn’t reading up on faith magic before then she is now 

The fear of being left behind is also something to chalk up on this list. If you’re gone longer than expected she’ll become antsy 

The others can always tell when she’s worried. Annette isn’t very good at hiding that kind of aura from taking over 

All in all, she’s not a very protective person. A better term would probably be “anxious”

Mercedes: 

10/10

While she isn’t the staple of ‘overprotective,’ she is still exceedingly mindful of possible disasters  

Are you really surprised? Mercedes cares about everyone no matter who they are.  

She legit prays for the souls of her enemies. The woman is a saint in human skin

This also negates any jealous bone in her body. If she ever does feel uneasy it’s just a quick pang in the chest and then it’s gone 

She doesn’t like to dwell on ‘what ifs’ because then she can’t live in the present- where people need her  

She can seriously be a bit much other times though. If you even sneeze near her she’ll ask to take your temperature 

Doesn’t matter where, who, when, etc. Mercedes takes care of everyone 

Don’t ever deny her either. She can be pushy if the situation calls for it and sometimes it’s just easier to let her do what she wants 

She’ll pray to the goddess for your safety before any battle, and send you off with extra healing potions for the times she won’t be near 

During these times she’s extra vulnerable and is more open to showing her own personal strife to others. She tries to keep optimistic but nobody’s perfect. If it becomes too much she may seek to talk with a close friend (aka Annette) 

However, her thoughts remain unclouded when others are in need. She suppresses her personal feelings until those in front of her are taken care of 

Ingrid: 

0/10

She isn’t worried 

You know better than to wrong Ingrid 

Enemies know better than to wrong you 

Either happens and someone’s gonna die 

[horde-princess]

Death With Dignity

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Catra reflects on her redemption and the sacrifices of angella and shadow weaver (and kisses her girlfriend 😌😌). Inspired in a major way by @catradora‘s beautiful illustration of catra gazing up at a mural of angella 💘

--

1. monarch

Bells echoed quietly through the halls of the Bright Moon palace. It was four in the morning and Adora’s arm was draped protectively over Catra, her chest rising and falling against her back, heartbeat slow. If they were back in the Horde, the rhythm of it would’ve been fluttery and anxious. But in recent weeks an era of peace had settled over Etheria, and maybe especially over its destined hero. Her calling fulfilled, her new life beginning… Sometimes Catra let herself dream of it, too. Finding peace.

read on ao3

She quietly slipped out of Adora’s arms, careful not to wake her. She’d had a lot of practice the past couple of weeks, which should probably worry her, but if there was something bothering Catra she couldn’t bring herself to admit it... too afraid of watching Adora’s love shatter in her hands like a fragile glass illusion that was never really hers.

Adora stirred in her sleep and her fist hit Catra’s pillow before she relaxed again. Catra flinched. It was hard to look away from her, a living mosaic of everything she found terrifying and breathtaking. The way the moonlight kissed her skin, the curve of her shoulder. When tears blurred her vision enough that she could barely make out the form of her anymore, Catra turned to leave. 

Walking the halls at night, she found an intimacy with Bright Moon that evaded her during the day. The bright colors were dimmed in shadow, there were no curious faces--or suspicious ones. Just the same few guards who had gotten used to her nighttime wanderings. While the palace was full of beautiful paintings and murals like nothing Catra had ever seen, there was one in particular that she kept coming back to every night. She stood before it and gazed up in child-like wonder.

Queen Angella… The former ruler of Bright Moon--or, as Catra knew her, the Horde’s number one enemy--loomed above, a masterful work of art set with colorful stones, gems, painted glass. Occasionally, light from the torches would refract through it a certain way and almost make her seem to come alive. Wings glittered as though moving in a breeze, giving her a divine essence. The larger than life depiction did little to discourage the way Catra had mythologized her in her mind. 

A mother, a warrior, an immortal queen… and the reason Catra found herself gazing into soft blue eyes every morning. 

“Beautiful, isn’t she?”

A voice from down the hall tore Catra from her thoughts and set her heart racing. She automatically assumed a soldier’s stance, the way she was taught to show respect in the Horde.

“King Micah?--” Her breath caught in her throat. 

It had been two weeks since Micah had learned the truth about Angella’s sacrifice. She hadn’t dared ask for forgiveness. Not even as the days passed and Catra wasn’t able to eat, or sleep, or be of much use to anyone, really. Glimmer kept saying he just needed time. 

Micah approached slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on the mural. He was dressed all in white, the traditional Etherian color for mourning, which drew attention to his sunken cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes. He came to stand beside Catra, who watched him warily before also returning her gaze to Angella. She could hear her own pulse in her ears.

“Just Micah, now,” he corrected after a moment. “My days of ruling have long ended.”

His voice was gravelly, tired. Catra guessed he wasn’t sleeping much either.

“Y-yes, sir.”

They settled into an uncomfortable silence as the queen looked down upon them, in all her dignity.

“I’ll admit…” Micah cleared his throat. “When Glimmer told me what happened, I… Well, I’m sorry. For the way that I reacted.”

A wave of nausea swept over Catra. She clenched her fists, feeling mortified.

“No. I deserved it.”

She could feel Micah’s eyes on her but kept looking straight ahead.

“Did you ever meet her?” he asked.

Catra tried to think, sorting through a dusty bookshelf of painful memories.

“I… I saw her once,” she whispered. “During the Battle of Bright Moon, she was… defending the Moonstone. But not really, no.”

Micah nodded thoughtfully, then smiled. 

“And she always said I was the brave one.”

Mesmerized by the artwork, memories continued to pull at Catra… Glimmer breaking down in tears, Adora and Bow’s restrained anger when they asked Catra to leave. The three of them sharing stories about what a loving mother Angella was, what a strong leader. Adora hugging herself as she relayed the details of what exactly happened in the portal that day. How Angella sacrificed herself to save everyone.

How she sacrificed herself to save Adora.

To save her from... Catra. 

From her own monstrous, vile, misplaced wrath.

Catra realized tears were streaming down her face. 

Too overwhelmed with shame to stand any longer under the queen’s scrutiny, she fell to her knees, as if in supplication. She barely registered Micah’s concerned hand on her shoulder. 

“I--I owe her everything,” Catra wept. “I can’t make up for it, I’m so sorry… I’m so, so sorry…”

Before she knew what was happening Micah had knelt down and wrapped his arms around her and she was falling apart, shaking like a child. She didn’t know how long she cried but at the end of it his white gown was washed completely by her tears.

“You’re forgiven, Catra,” he murmured into her hair, and she could only shake her head, trying to hold back another sob. 

“Why do you even care about me?”

Micah sighed. “The same reason my daughter does: you’re trying to make things right.”

He leaned back to gently rest his hand on Catra’s cheek, encouraging her to meet his eyes. The kindness in them was terrible, burning.

“And wherever she is, I know that Angella forgives you, too.”

Somehow, Catra actually believed him. Not because she could ever be worthy of it, but... because it's who Angella was. 

Micah offered her his hand. She hesitated, then accepted it. He pulled her to her feet and they continued to study the artwork together, side by side. Catra felt like she could stare at it for hours. Truthfully, she had.

“I wish I could’ve known her,” she confessed. “Everyone tells me how kind she was. And giving. Nothing like--”

Catra wasn’t sure where she was going with that train of thought. 

“Like Shadow Weaver?” Micah guessed.

The name was like rusty nails scraping out Catra’s insides. She didn’t say anything more. But Micah placed a hand on Catra’s shoulder and she felt some kind of unspoken understanding pass between them.

“Let’s take the day off tomorrow,” he said suddenly, a mischievous lilt to his voice.

Catra squinted at him, though it was a relief to see his cheerful demeanor returning.

 “What? We have the reparations meeting--”

“I need a break from this political stuff,” Micah complained. "Whaddya say, be my partner in crime? Besides, you’re the only one who can translate for Melog--I’ve been dying to ask how they manipulate light waves with magic to--”

“Okay, okay! Fine,” Catra chuckled. “I guess… It could be nice to take a break from everyone.”

“That’s the spirit!” He mussed up her hair a little. “I’ll make a rebel out of you yet.” 

Oh, man. Between Micah, George, Lance… Dads really were all the same. 

“Now why don’t you get some rest, kiddo.”

He said it so gently, and Catra couldn't believe it. How far down into her darkness the light of one person’s forgiveness could reach. 

“King--I mean, Micah… Thank you. For everything.”

Micah smiled fondly.

“You’re welcome.”

She glanced up at Angella one last time and could’ve sworn she saw a smile reflected in the stones.

Catra started to head back to her room, but something stopped her just after she turned the corner. She peeked around it and watched Micah step up to the mural of his wife. 

He touched his forehead to the wall and let out a long, heavy sigh.

“I miss you, my love.”

--

When Catra returned to Adora’s arms, exhaustion nearly overtook her for the first time in weeks, but she fought it and stayed awake all night just to listen to the sound of her breathing.

2. mother

It was strange, being back in Mystacor. The place held nothing but terrifying memories. 

Catra, she… distracts you. Confuses you. Haven’t you hurt each other enough?

Shadow Weaver is sacrificing you! Why can’t you see that?!

It doesn’t always have to be you!

Catra stood from the table abruptly. The other dinner guests stared at her with alarm and Adora met her eyes from across the hall.

“Are you okay?” she mouthed. 

Catra plastered on a smile to address the room.

“Sorry!--I just... remembered something, you’ll have to excuse me.”

She rushed out of the banquet hall and leaned against the wall outside, heart pounding. She forced herself to take a deep breath in. Then out. In, out. Huh. Maybe Perfuma wasn’t as crazy as she thought. They’d been away from home for a couple weeks, traveling and attending parties and helping rebuild kingdoms. It wasn’t that Catra wasn’t enjoying herself, it’s just that she hadn’t had much time to process… well, everything.

She peered down the long corridor, thinking a walk might help clear her head--and that’s when she saw it.

The statue.

The likeness was so uncanny it sent her into fight or flight mode. But Catra had decided a while ago that she was done running.

Her footsteps echoed in the cavernous silence until she stood directly in front of it. The marble glistened in the warm moonlight streaming in through the windows, and it stood tall among its peers in the Hall of Sorcerers--prideful, stoic, severe, and far too much like the woman Catra had once known. A shiver ran down her spine and she struggled for breath as though the air near the statue was thin, all the oxygen around it sucked out. Lifeless eyes stared forward, her gaze passing indifferently over Catra’s head.

I’m so proud of you, Catra.

Her hands were shaking and she clenched them into fists. Blood trickled from her palms to the floor. She shut her eyes but couldn’t suppress it, the rage, the disgust, it burst out of her from some dark and emaciated fragment of her heart--

“I hate you! I will never forgive you!”

The threat fell on ears of stone. Her body slackened. Lips quivering, tasting metal, her voice shook with anger.

“I don’t care if you helped save her... I will never forgive you.”

It was the one thing Catra held over her, the one birthright she’d ever possessed--to deny her absolution. Even in death. 

Especially in death.

At least you admit she’s evil.

You’re one to talk, aren’t you?

Catra gripped her head in her hands, trying to force the memory out, trying not to scream. But wasn’t there truth in it? Wasn’t she a hypocrite? How could she accept others’ forgiveness yet withhold her own? 

You expect me to believe you had a change of heart in the end?! Catra wanted to scream at her. That you actually cared if we survived? If I survived?

She glared up at the statue’s face, the veil concealing her mouth.

ANSWER ME!

“Catra?” 

All the fire drained out of her when she heard Adora call her name. 

Hurried footsteps, then hands grabbing at her shoulders, her wrists.

“Catra!--What--You’re bleeding--”

Catra collapsed against her, sinking into the warmth of Adora’s embrace. Her chest burned but she had no tears left. Not for her. She could only gasp breathlessly against Adora’s shoulder.

“Shh, I’m here, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

“It’s not fair,” was all she could get out. “It’s not fair!”

--

“You know, it used to be all dirty. Scratched up.”

Catra hummed, more focused on Adora playing with her fingers than on her words. They sat against the wall opposite the statue. Her skin was stained red from the blood on Catra’s hands. 

“I guess Castaspella had it refurbished, after... well.”

“She should’ve thrown it out the window,” Catra said through gritted teeth. “Less effort.”

She could hear the disagreement in Adora’s responding sigh but she didn’t say anything.

“What? You think she deserves to be honored?” she snapped.

“No! Of course not. But... if it wasn’t for her…”

Catra pulled her hand away and rose to her feet. Adora followed after her.

“One good thing doesn’t make up for her ruining our lives!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Adora exclaimed. “I watched her hurt you over and over and couldn’t do anything about it!”

Catra started, her anger dissipating as quickly as it had come. She felt like she was a kid again, back in the Fright Zone, terrified and insecure and every stupid thing that ever happened to her was Adora’s fault, except it wasn’t. Not at all. 

She knew Shadow Weaver had hurt Adora, too. They’d talked about it a lot. Why she was always chasing some destiny and throwing herself into danger with no hesitation. But Catra hadn’t told her everything from her perspective, not yet.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Catra mumbled, feeling contrite for some reason.

Adora’s eyes filled with torment and a darkness Catra hadn’t known she was capable of.

She reached out for her hesitantly and when Adora didn’t back away Catra drew her close and cradled her face with both hands.

“Hey. I love you,” she said softly.

Adora hung her head and squeezed her eyes shut but the tears leaked out anyway.

Running her thumbs along her cheeks to dry them, Catra brushed her mouth tenderly over Adora’s forehead. Steady arms slipped around her waist and held onto her tightly and Adora tilted her face back up, hopeless, longing. Catra felt something almost holy running in her veins as their lips met and Adora’s kiss was warm, slow--too slow, making Catra’s temperature rise, and she didn’t know how long she could hide the truth of how desperate she was for her. But then a gentle glow behind her eyelids turned blinding and suddenly an explosive crack echoed down the hall. 

Catra jumped and opened her eyes to see both of them enveloped in magic.

“...Whoa,” she breathed, slightly lightheaded.

Adora was staring up at the statue in shock and she followed her gaze. As the dust settled, Catra saw the veil hiding its face had been violently ripped off, leaving nothing behind except vacant eyes and splintering cracks in the stone that ran from her hairline to her jaw. 

They stood together in silence, Catra hanging with a hand on Adora’s shoulder.

Light Spinner, whoever she was, had been mangled, torn away… This was the woman who had raised them. The weaver of their shadows. 

Catra coughed a little from the dust and laced her fingers with Adora’s again.

“Not sure Castaspella will like your remodel,” she tried to joke.

“Who cares,” Adora muttered. “Shadow Weaver chose her path. She wanted to be a hero... but she won’t be remembered as one.”

The set of her jaw was rigid, resolute.

“You can’t forgive her either, can you?”

“No. I--I don’t know. One day, maybe.”

One day seemed like a lofty goal to Catra. The unspeakable suffering she’d inflicted on her, on both of them... yet she always had some twisted justification. As if she believed her intentions were good.

I just wanted to prepare you for the world. I wanted you to be strong.

Tears filled Catra’s eyes as she observed the damaged sculpture, but they didn’t fall. 

“Before she died… She said she was proud of me.”

She sensed Adora looking at her, analyzing. Like she was trying to decide how to respond. Catra could guess what was going through her head. I'm proud of you. You should be proud of yourself.

“For what?” she settled on instead.

“Who knows.” Catra thought for a moment. “For not ending up like her, probably.”

Adora brushed her hair back from her forehead. Her hand trailed down her neck and came to rest over her heart.

“You were never like her.”

“Come on, Adora,” Catra nearly begged. “The things I’ve done, I was so angry...”

“Because you were hurting--because you cared, so much, and people just threw it away, I--” she stopped, misery etched on her face. Catra looked down, wincing. “But Shadow Weaver? She was just selfish. How could there have been room in her heart for anyone when she took up so much space herself.”

Catra let out a shaky breath. This day, this whole trip had been so draining. She leaned into Adora for support who wrapped an arm around her.

“If she hadn’t teleported me to the Heart...” her voice fell to a whisper. “I would’ve lost you forever.”

“I know... When I heard you scream, fighting that monster…”

Catra shivered from the memory. 

The sculpture towered over them, unhearing, uncaring. 

“Adora?”

“Hm?”

“Do you... Do you think the only reason she went back to save me was to make sure you set the magic free?”

Adora frowned like she had already thought about it.

“I think… I want to believe… there was some part of her that wanted us both to be happy.”

The image flickered in her mind of Shadow Weaver removing her mask, allowing them a glimpse of her face for the first time since they were kids. Her scars, her sins laid bare for them to see.

It’s too late for me. But you… this is only the beginning for you.

Catra gazed upon the marred face of her abuser, her mentor--her mother, for all  intents and purposes, though she couldn’t bring herself to actually associate her with the word--and something restful settled in her heart. Not peace, not exactly. Just a sense of calm.

Because her and Adora, they were finally free.

She held Adora closer and nuzzled her ear.

“Well, whatever she wanted from us… it doesn’t matter. We get to write our own happy ending now.”

A smile blossomed across Adora’s face. 

“You think you’re my happy ending, huh?”

“Whatever,” Catra scoffed. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t come back from the dead just to kiss me.”

She grinned and started to lean in, but Adora pushed her off with a groan.

“Are you ever gonna let it go? That was one time!”

“And for some reason, it’s always funny--”

Adora cut her off with a kiss and yeah, Catra had the feeling that everything was going to be okay. She laughed breathlessly and leaned her forehead against Adora’s.

“Can we go home now?” she pleaded.

“Ugh, I thought you’d never ask.”

[sinningismywinning]

“I’ll See You At The Finish Line”

Requested One-Shot : Shelby Sister! x Shelby Brothers

Prompt: The boys have gone to war, expecting you to be there for when they come home. Little did they know, you were recruited as well.

   Tight chests. Anxious ticks. They were leaving. You couldn’t force out your words. You were worried that you wouldn’t say everything you needed to say. Afraid that you’d kick yourself in the ass later on for not saying enough. Did they know you loved them? That you were praying for a safe venture?

   “Don’t cry,” Arthur was never this affectionate. His arms held you tightly. “Don’t go, please don’t leave.” Your voice was hoarse from sobs. They were recruited. You had known about this day for weeks now, but you couldn’t believe it was already time for them to go. Polly looked to Arthur as she stood behind you. It was a joke between everyone, that you were the fifth Shelby brother. You were always closer to the men, than you were to your aunt and sister. 

   Arthur wasn’t afraid of dying. He was afraid of hurting you. Scared to hurt Ada, Pol, and little Finn. He was even more afraid to see his brothers die next to him. “Al-Alright,” he tried to coo as gently as possible. Tears were threatening to spill from his eyes. Ada was a wreck in the kitchen. All of the Peaky women were.

   John hushed you softly as he helped Arthur pry you off. “You’re coming back right?” You pleaded to John. “You wont leave, yeah?” Your words weren’t convincing. Three men, same war. You knew the possibility of all three coming back were low. You just didn’t know which one had the odds against him.

   “I’m gonna come back, I promise.” John smoothed your hair. He was always the stronger one out of both of you. More reserved, more laid-back. He knew how to calm you. Arthur made his rounds of goodbyes, as he embraced Polly. Ada was pleading to Thomas in the kitchen. 

   They haven’t seen you cry like this before. They were use to it with Ada. She gave them a soft-spot for emotions. She made them more understanding of women in general. Pol was very head-strong, and tried her hardest to not break down in front of the boys. But you, they haven’t seen you cry since your father left.

   You shut your eyes tightly as he pulled you into his chest. Your breathing was shaky. His hands trembled on your back. John closed them to fists, trying to hide his nerves. It was no use. He was as scared as you were. 

   “Don’t worry,” his time was running out. He inhaled sharply through his nose, and regretfully pulled away from you. “They’ve gotta go love,” Polly softly remarked. Her words burned like an iron. 

  You shook your head in defiance, but you knew they had to leave. Your family couldn’t afford more Shelby men in prison, and they couldn’t spare money for a fine.

   You let go of John. Your chest knotted and you picked at the fabric of your sleeves. Don’t break down. Keep it under wraps.

   Arthur and John said their tearful goodbyes, and grabbed their items. They headed to the front door. The room was too tense. There was nothing you could do to stop them.

   You had to see Tommy. You turned to the kitchen and he was already walking out. He stopped walking, just to look at you. You were never this weak, this fragile, this afraid.

   “Don’t cry, please.” Before the war, his words could melt a room. He set down his bag and approached you. He was the one that would hurt the most. You and Tommy had a different bond than anyone else in your family. You both had a mutual understanding for each other.

  He was always honest with you about family affairs. He never spoke down to you, or dismissed you as an annoying younger-sister. He treated you like a best friend. Your minds clicked. He always confided in you before any big change in the company.

  His hands wiped away your tears. He was the only one you didn’t want to cry in front of. His hands moved to your cheeks as he held your face. “Don’t break my heart now,” he said lightly with a smile. You didn’t want him to change after the war, but you knew that they all would.

   You felt as if you wouldn’t have any direction without them. No sense of mind. Polly was helpful, but you had a tendency to rebel against her suggestions.

   You could only shake your head in response to his words. You felt your lip tremble and you knew you were close to losing it. His hands kept you steady. “Please be safe,” was all you could muster. You were going over the things you’d remember him for in your head. His bar-fights, slick jokes, willingness to help people. You were going to hold onto that, and hope that he did the same. “I will.. I will,” he mumbled reassuringly, pulling you into a hug.

   Your tears burned hot as they drenched his shirt. You held onto him tightly. No one in your family was this affectionate. You weren’t use to it, and neither was he. Situations like this made most of you uncomfortable. This was different. You didn’t want to let go. Tommy didn’t either. “I’ll make my way back to you,” he promised. You couldn’t stand the thought of being alone without him. No one else picked your brains quite like he could. 

   “I guess I’ll see you at the finish line,” you spoke into his shoulder. He knew it was time to go, when Polly walked near and shot him a knowingly-glance. He couldn’t be late to the station. There was love between all of you in that house. It went unspoken. 

   “That you will,” he said pressing a kiss to the side of your head. He backed up and firmly clasped your shoulders. “No more crying. When I come home, you better have not snuck any boys into the house. And if I find out, its your ass.” he threatened to lighten your frown. “No promises, I’ll just have them sleep in your bed,” you laughed through stinging tears. Your face was red from distraught, but you mustered a smile. His hands dropped from your shoulders. All he could do was nod with tight lips and fake a smile. Now it was really time for them to go. He picked up his bag from the floor.

   You couldn’t move. You stared at his back as he walked to the door. Arthur and John had been waiting outside. At least they would all be together. They weren’t by themselves in all of this. “Oh and another thing,” Tommy called back as he opened the door. “Don’t fuck with my things,” he said pointing a finger specifically to you. “No promises,” you responded once again. He shot you one last weakened smile, and with that, they were gone.   

   The months to come were hectic. Getting into the swing of managing the business, and gambling accounts was rough. Pol knew what she was doing, and helped earnestly to guide to and Ada. Yet, she had more of a knack for it than you did. 

   The house was quiet. It was also clean. You began to realize how messy the men in your family were. It didn’t take long for you to register that you had no purpose in the house. You didn’t contribute to womanly duties, and quite frankly, you never intended on doing so.

   When you first caught wind of more nurses being needed in war, it quickly became a thought in the back of your head. You were never ill at the sight of blood, and have always wanted learn proper stitching methods. You’ve closed up wounds, but no one’s ever said you’ve done the prettiest job.

   Polly rejected the idea of you going into war. She refused to let you leave. “Too many of us are gone. I don’t want to risk losing one of you if it’s not necessary.” Ada on the other-hand, understood your need for it. She knew you were passionate about it. Which is why she went with you to the train station.

   When Ada came back without you, Polly knew she had lied. You didn’t go to the market, you had sold yourself to the government. She didn’t speak to Ada for days. She felt betrayed. Almost all of her children except for two, stayed back from the war. Finn was just a child, and Ada knew better to partake. She never really forgave you for leaving.

   The sights you saw. The amputations, the deaths, the burns. War was a cruel thing. All the men fighting were just pawns in a game of. It was always in the forefront of your mind. What if one day Arthur was rushed in with no legs? What if Johns tore-up body flat lined in front of you? What if they never got the chance to find Thomas’ body on the field. He stayed an unnamed corpse. These were the thoughts that kept you awake in your cot.

   The hospital never slept. The noises of agony and pain rang through the halls. The pleas for mercy, the cries for death. You could never get past the smell. Sleep was off the table. Most times, you figured yourself mad. Shadows running down the hall. Shaking hands whenever someone would die in front of you. It was your fault. No matter how battered, you always blamed yourself for the deaths of soldiers. The ones that were too far gone. You’d close their eyes and wheel out the body.

   Your mind was numb. Emotionless.

   Many nights you’d spend your moments of peace crying your eyes out in the cleaners closet. You knew you were saving lives. You couldn’t help but imagine your brothers suffering the same fate as the men down the hall.

   When the war was over, infantry was sent home first. Then the back-ranks, and finally the med teams. 

   When your brothers came back from war, they were all changed. Arthur wasn’t loud and boastful. He was quiet and shut-off. John didn’t talk much within the first hour of being home, and Thomas no longer smiled. The color was drained from their faces. Polly tried to grab all of them in her arms. Arthur flinched at first, and John weakly hugged back. Thomas didn’t budge.

   Ada stood behind Polly with Finn on her hip. They were almost unrecognizable. “Just a long trip back,” Arthur muttered for a false explanation.

   “Wheres Y/N?” Thomas quipped. Polly’s face dropped, and John looked up from the floorboards. Something wasn’t right. “Well she..” Ada tried to start.

   You weren’t dead, and you weren’t missing. That much was obvious. “Spit it out,” Tommy spoke coldly. His eyes didn’t break from Adas. The pressure to answer resided heavily in the room. John sheepishly looked to Thomas.

      Polly felt the snap in him. “About three months after you all left, she did too.” Her voice was calm as possible.

   Arthur’s brows furrowed with confusion. “Moved out? Fuck happened?” He questioned. John still kept his mouth shut. They were already asking what he was wondering.

   “No, you’re not understanding me...” Polly chimed. Thomas was thinking long and hard. He saw the expression on Adas face and pieced it together. “Then say it in a way we’ll understand,” He snapped, hoping to be wrong.

   “She went to war..” Ada spoke up. Johns ears started to burn. His baby sister joined the fight? “She enlisted as a nurse. Wrote one letter telling us she was assigned to the field medics..” Her voice dropped with each word.

   Thomas couldn’t believe this. His eyes were wide with rage. “You fucking let her join?” Arthur shouted, setting his bags on the floor. There was a timid aggression that had grown in all of them. Ada felt the weight of her assistance, breaking down her shoulders.

   “You know how she is Arthur,” Polly grew defensive. “Shes stubborn and-” “And naive!” Thomas finally broke. “She left on her own Thomas!” Polly snapped back, covering up for Ada.

   John ran his hands through his hair and moved to sit near the dinner table. He still hadn’t said a word. “Are you fucking mad!” Thomas boasted. He never yelled at either of them before. Not like this at least.

   Polly saw the deep issues that grew within all of them. The fear, the aggression, the passion to hate. She took his anger. Let him get his punches out.

   “She’ll be back in a few weeks. The paper said there weren’t enough trains to send every one home.” Her words did the opposite of calm him. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I need a fucking smoke,” He muttered walking back out of the door.

   Arthur shook his head in disbelief. The women didn’t expect this kind of reunion. The men didn’t either. 

   Thomas sat down on the curb outside. If he didn’t leave the house, he’d put a hole in the wall. His hands were shaking as he pulled out a cigarette. It was too cold outside for his current attire, but he didn’t care.

   He lit the flame and stared at the carriages trotting by. The people on the streets embracing one another. He looked down at the cobblestone. Fucking unbelievable. You were suppose to be there when he came home. He was suppose to take comfort in knowing that you’d be there to help him through this. He couldn’t imagine what you must have seen. 

   He inhaled smoke, letting it burn his tightened chest. Now the tables have turned, and the cards were switched. He was going to have to be your support system as well. He held his forehead in his hands. He shut his emotionless eyes, and sat in thought.

   “At the end of the finish line,” he hummed to himself. His mind was still in France. Fighting a war that no one else could quite see. Yet his empty shell of a body was back in Birmingham. Broken, scarred. He inhaled, and sighed through his nose. 

   Despite his disappointment and inner rage, he knew he had to be strong to distinguish your fire that would burn brighter than his. He was just hoping you’d make it home in one piece.

@captivatedbycillianmurphy

[thesculptedflower]

Partners in crime / Part 2

Oh dear, this is becoming a series, oopsie. So at least one more chapter, I’m loving this request waaaay too much. So thank you, @rott3nheart​ :*

Chapter 2

It took some days for Ed to regain any movement to his limbs. At first it felt weird and a little uncomfortable when you needed to feed him and dress him and help him to the bathroom, but with time and patience you both learned what worked best. And after that, there was no stopping you from growing even closer. There was no awkwardness between you and you both felt comfortable being your true selfs around each other. You joked about everything and anything, finding more and more similarities in your personalities. You were also bonded by trauma, caused by the same person. You told him everything Oswald had done to you, the heinous verbal abuse and the threats after you left him. In turn, he told you everything Oswald had done to him. You had thought you couldn’t hate that sorry excuse of a man any more, but somehow Ed’s stories pushed you further. 

Everything seemed to be going perfectly, until today. Ed was already walking almost without any help and he could eat on his own. But one unfortunate conversation brought up a new problem, a major one. 

’’What do you mean, ’you don’t know’?’’ You asked, looking at Ed from the couch where you were reading a book about riddles. 

His head hung low, eyes focused on his hands on his lap. You could feel how anxious he was already. After one unsolved riddle. 

’’Let’s just try another one, okay?’’ You offered carefully, turning another page on the book. ’’What’s first green, then red all over?’’ 

You could see his shoulders tensing as he searched his mind for the answer. The longer it took, the more frustrated he got, his breathing getting ragged. You shot up from the couch and hurried next to him. You sat on the bed next to him and placed your hand gently on his cheek. He turned his face away, avoiding looking at you. 

’’I’m stupid.’’ He whispered, the pain and anger in his voice very clear. ’’The damn bird broke my brain, my brilliant brain!’’ He shouted, suddenly turning to look you straight to the eyes. You felt frozen under his piercing gaze. The hate for Oswald was more evident than ever. 

’’Edward.’’ You said softly, slowly reaching for his cheek again. This time, he didn’t move away. ’’You’re not stupid. You’re incredibly smart, devilishly intelligent, and this won’t bring us down.’’ 

His dark eyes were glued to yours, strengthening the dark desire you both had. 

’’We’ll find a way through this, I won’t give up on you.’’

The last words you said seemed to change the look on his eyes. The hard and hateful gaze softened and the muscles in his face relaxed. He didn’t say anything for a while, causing you to get a little nervous. Just as you were about to say something to break the silence, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours. After the initial shock, that didn’t take too long, your hand traveled to his hair, brushing your fingers trough them. Ed had enough strength in his arms to pull your upper body against his, holding you to him like you’d vanish if he let go. 

After a while, you pulled back for air. You looked up to Ed and smiled ambitiously. 

’’I’ll do everything I can, to find a cure for you.’’

*

In the following weeks, you and Ed spend countless hours reading riddles and poems to trigger his brain. Some days were better than others. One day could be absolutely amazing, filled with right answers and witty remarks. It definitely got your hopes up, but there were very, very bad days too. On a bad day, Ed would be miserable, getting his mind tired with wrong answers and frustration. On those days, you made sure you were there for him, in every way he needed you. He found comfort in your touch, craving to be close to you whenever he felt hopeless. You would lay in your bed, his head on your chest, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. Reassuring him that he would be fine in the end. You’d brush his hair with your fingers, often soothing him to sleep. 

Lee Thompkins was your last hope. She had come back to Gotham after some much needed alone time. Her ex-boyfriend Jim Gordon had shot her husband, supposedly doing so to defend her, but you weren’t sure of the details. Anyway, she was now working in the Narrows, helping the people who needed medical aid but had no means to pay as much as the national healthcare was asking. It was admirable, and you hoped she’d find the reason why Ed was like this. She did all kinds of tests, took blood samples and even studied Ed’s sleeping. Sadly for nothing. There was simply nothing wrong with Ed, aside from some sleep deprivation. But his brain was perfectly okay. The news damaged him even more. He was now convinced that the time he was frozen had permanently altered his brain, and that he’d never be able to work again. He was shutting down, keeping to himself the next few days. You were afraid you were loosing him, and at this point, loosing him would hurt more than loosing your revenge. 

One night, your mind was going everywhere, still trying to find a way to help Ed. Maybe it was something so simple that you hadn’t even thought about it. Maybe the solution was always in him, just sleeping under the fear and confusion. Just maybe, if you just said the right words, it would wake up.

’’I know this might be a little strange, but I’d like to tell you something.’’ You spoke softly, your back turned to Ed, who was sitting on the couch, staring at the TV. You were just about to finish doing the dishes, Ed’s plate still untouched. Getting no answer from him, you continued. ’’I’ve always admired your work, and I’d really, really like to meet you for the first time.’’ You dried your hands to a kitchen towel.

’’You’ve already met me Y/N.’’ Ed sighed, his voice lacking any emotion. You walked behind him, sliding your hands down his chest until your mouth was next to his ear. 

’’Yes, I’ve met you Ed. But I’ve not met him.’’

You could feel Ed’s muscles tense under your hands and you knew you were on the right path. 

’’He’s been hiding from me, I think. Maybe he’s a little shy around women.’’ You teased, slowly coming in front of him, blocking the TV which he really wasn’t looking at anymore. His eyes were on you. You sat on his lap and guided his hands to your waist. 

’’Maybe he’d like to hear his name, coming from my lips. Maybe he’d like that.’’ 

Ed’s grasp tightened around your waist, causing a sly smile to play on your lips. You leaned forwards, so you were again next to his ear. 

’’Show yourself, unless you’re too scared, Riddler.’’ You whispered.

You stayed perfectly still, waiting for any kind of reaction from him. You were about to turn to look at him, when his other hand shot to your neck and pulled your hair. Not too hard, not too light, just enough for it to be sexy. You gasped from the sudden pull, but smiled even wider. You were now facing each other, Riddler holding you in place. His eyes looked different from those of Ed, more dark and dangerous. Those were they eyes you had seen frozen in ice.

’’Y/N L/N, I’ve been dying to meet you.’’ His voice was deeper, lustful even. ’’Let’s get to work, shall we?’’

[padfootagain]

The King And You (VIII)

Part 8: Leave The Gun, Take the Cannoli

Here we go again for a new part of this series.

Caspian's modern adventures continue, and oh dear, the situation is just getting more ridiculously crazy by the minute hahahaha!! But it's not as sad as my two previous chapters. It's just fun, really. And starting to be all fluffy hihihihihi!!

I hope you like this new chapter!

Word Count: 3797

Your world was about brushes and colours. About beauty in the ordinary, and seeing masterpieces in clouds and bloody battles in the reddened sky. You painted because you could turn the world you felt uncomfortable in into your own. Yet, despite that form of imaginary scenery, there wasn't magic. No spells, no coloured sparks shot out of wooden wands, no future guessed in tea leaves, no unicorns. It wasn't the kind of magic you were ready to accept.

And yet, as you let your gaze wander off across the street outside your window, you remembered that the guy you had let sleep on your sofa for a night – and had knocked out unconscious with a hairdryer, let's not forget how it all began – was apparently from another world. He had apparently walked through a 'doorway' between your world and his… Narnia, he called it.

In your hands, your coffee was growing cold, but you didn't mind. You weren't hungry, and had decided to skip breakfast. Your mind was too busy to let you eat.

Narnia. Magic door between worlds… in your closet…

Of course…

And yet, you could not find another explanation for the whole thing. The way Agatha seemed to believe it all, and worse, to know about it! The way he acted, the whole story about his friends dying decades ago… Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. Sherlock Holmes was quite right on that one, you guessed… but was Narnia to consider as improbable or impossible?

The sun was rising above New York, but its soft, shy rays were not shedding any light on this particular mystery. Instead, it simply turned the sky into a paler blue than usual.

It had been a week now since you had left Caspian at Agatha's house, and you had had no news. Which wasn't that surprising, considering that you barely knew Caspian in the first place. He was probably busy looking for a way to get a passport… or another one of his magic passages.

Or… he had gone home after his prank on you. Actually, that could be the proof you needed…

Ha! What better way to frame him and Agatha for their deception? Because it had to be a deception, obviously. There was no other explanation. Right?

It would put the Narnia issue into the impossible box, and your life would be back to normal.

Yes! It was decided! As you sprung to your feet, abandoning your coffee on your table to grow cold and hurried to the bathroom instead, ready to get dressed.

You would drive to Agatha's house and catch them red-handed! Or rather, not catch Caspian, and thus proving the whole ordeal was a mere fraud. No ground-breaking, earth-shattering story here.

Yes! That would surely work.

Right?

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

 Caspian, however, was still at Agatha's. She had given him some new clothes, and if he didn't find them as comfortable as his own, he did reckon that they were better suited for this world. Agatha had contacted her old friend, Roger, and a meeting was set for this very afternoon in New York, in a place called Central Park. Caspian was anxious, although excited as well. Agatha was willing to help, and she believed him. It was lovely talking about Narnia with her, about the stories they had to share about their two lives. He spoke for hours of tales he had lived with her family and on his own, she talked of her mother and the life she had here. She talked of her children and he told her about his love for the sea. There was such a level of understanding between them, two people speaking the same language in a world that seemed to be written in another tongue. It felt so good to be understood. It felt safe. If Caspian was still mourning his family, and scared of what the future may hold for his people if he couldn't come back quickly, he was less afraid now that he had an ally.

As he watched the bleeding leaves being carried by the wind while they fell from the maple trees, he found that there was something else weighing on his heart, and when he searched through his heart for the cause behind his worry, all he could see was your face.

Why did he miss you so? He didn't even know. He had not spent so much time with you, and yet he found himself now wishing for you to be near him again. If he felt safe in Agatha's care and was grateful for all her efforts to help him, he wished you could be here.

He thought about leaving this land for England. Agatha had showed him on a map where the two countries stood, and indeed, they were separated by an impressive distance. He would have thought that months would be needed to cross the ocean that tore the lands apart, but Agatha had assured him that it would merely take a day. So many miles that he would put between you and him. And then, if all worked out as he hoped it would, he would go back to Narnia, and never see you again. The thought of never hearing your voice again, never seeing your face, never listening to you talk about what you loved, and that stunned smile you gave him when he behaved strangely, and… oh… everything about you, really… the thought that he would never see you again was more painful than his fear of never going home. And he couldn't explain why. He felt that way, and that was all the truth he had for now.

"Here you go, drink some tea! It'll help!"

"I'm fine," Caspian lied as Agatha sat on the chair opposite him in the kitchen.

"You are troubled. And I am guessing you have many reasons to feel that way."

"Indeed," he nodded, accepting the tea with a grateful smile.

"Don't worry about this afternoon. I'm sure Roger can help us."

"I am very grateful, for everything you are doing for me."

"You're family," she brushed his remark away with a tender smile and a wave of her hand, simple gestures that made Caspian's heart hurt in a soft way.

But even Agatha's soothing tea could not push you out of his thoughts. And as it wandered off, his mind formed a question that he found torturing.

Would you remember him?

He would probably never see you again. And if you had met in what could certainly be described as an odd situation, you had spent so little time together compared to what a lifetime was. He would be merely a blink in your life. A weird adventure that would linger in your memory for a while. But for how long?

Somehow, he knew he would never forget you. Standing there in your towel after he stepped into your world, the look on your face at the police station, eating pizza with him, anger at your ex, doubt in your eyes at his story, sitting by his side as he cried, how you tried to wrap your mind around his and Agatha's explanations… he didn't think you believed him, even now. It did not change the fact that he believed in the kindness he had read in the way you looked at him, in the way you moved, in the smile you had offered him…

No, most definitely, he would never forget you. And it wasn't because of how you had met, at least, he wasn't sure it was the only reason.

But would you remember him?

He opened his mouth to ask his question out loud, without thinking, when he was interrupted by the doorbell. Agatha hurried to go open the door, and Caspian was left alone in the kitchen, staring down at his fuming tea, his questions unanswered.

"Oh! What a pleasure to see you!"

Agatha's voice rang through the house, and Caspian's attention was pulled to the present.

"Caspian! Come and see who's here!"

The King stood with a frown, walking to join Agatha until he could see who was on the threshold, and the sight got him frozen on the spot.

It was…

"You…"

He crossed the distance between him and the door at last, letting out a shaky breath while a smile made its way to his lips.

He couldn't believe his eyes.

"Y/N? What…" he stuttered, too stunned. "What are you doing here?"

And you were just as stunned as he was.

Because, by coming to Agatha's home, you expected him to be gone and to finally have the proof that none of their tales were true; but now you were standing before Caspian.

And also because… well, he was wearing normal clothes this time. A white shirt that fitted him a little too perfectly, and a dark pair of jeans. Your heart was skipping beats, for reasons you would have preferred to deny but truly, you couldn't hide this even to yourself. He looked gorgeous.

"Hi…" you let out in a breath. "Well, I… I just… wanted to know how you were. And…"

"And?" Caspian encouraged you as you didn't continue your sentence, but you shook your head.

If he was still here, then it could only mean that… or perhaps he just lived there, with Agatha?

Oh, but the look on his face… like he was so genuinely stunned and yet ecstatic to see you again. No one could fake that. Could they?

"Nevermind. How are you?" you answered.

"I'm well. What about you?"

"I'm okay."

"Come in, Y/N!" Agatha invited you in, but even her intervention could not completely bring the two of you back to earth. Your minds were still hovering somewhere up in the stratosphere.

"I… I just wanted to see how you two were," you answered shyly, your eyes never leaving Caspian's almost-black irises.

"Come on in!" Agatha insisted. "I've just made tea!"

"Please," Caspian nodded, and for some reason, you couldn't refuse him.

"Okay, but not too long."

"Brilliant! I'll make you a cuppa, just a sec!" Agatha hurried to the kitchen, while you stepped in the house.

Caspian took your jacket, and he stood maybe a little too close to you, but none of you were willing to put more distance between the two of you.

What the hell was going on between you two?

You couldn't deny that he was fairly attractive, but that couldn't be just what was going on here. You had come to break his whole tale into pieces, and instead you found yourself pulled towards him by invisible strings from which you couldn't cut yourself loose.

And he had wanted to see you again, but he wanted to talk to you not simply stare at you wide-eyed like he did now. Instead, he found himself pulled towards you like a comet changing its course next to a sun.

"I… I didn't think I would see you again," he let out in a breath, hoping you wouldn't notice how tight his throat had become.

"I just… I thought I would drop by. Have a chat… and I… to be completely honest, I was wondering if you would still be here."

"Well, I am. And I… I'm glad you came."

You exchanged a smile, before hearing Agatha calling for you in the kitchen, and you finally headed to join her.

"So… did you call your friend?" you asked your host as you sat around the table by Caspian's side.

"Yes! We're going to meet him this afternoon, actually! Central Park. The perfect occasion for a lovely walk."

"Have you explained anything to him already?"

"Not in detail. These aren't the kind of things you should talk about on the phone. But I told him that I needed a favour, and he was eager to help. I have no doubt he will get us all that we need."

"Great!"

"But… why don't you stay for lunch?" Agatha offered. "And you can come back to New York with us!"

"I… I have my own car."

"We would have taken the train, would you mind terribly to take us at least to the train station?"

You smiled, defeated already.

"I can take you to New York, it would be my pleasure."

"You don't have to, I'm sure you had things planned," Caspian added, quite uncomfortable, but you brushed his doubts with a laugh.

"It's okay."

"You could even come with us to see Roger!" Agatha went on.

You hesitated, but had to admit that you were very curious. Besides, the most plausible explanation for all this was still something between a magical land called Narnia and an elaborated con that for now had not given you much trouble.

So, why not investigate a little further?

"You know what? I'd love to meet him!" you answered.

"It won't bother you?" Caspian asked with hope badly hidden in his eyes.

"No, I want to."

You exchanged a bright smile.

And that was how you found yourself taking the two of them to Central Park…

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

 Caspian loved Central Park.

Red and orange hues against the vivid blue of the sky, green grass plunging into ponds, ducks running around, and for once, people who didn't seem to be hurrying anywhere. Time seemed slower in the park than in the rest of the city, and this slower, more human rhythm, fitted him much better. It was closer to the heartbeat of his kingdom.

A pair of squirrels chased each other across the path before them, as you came closer to the bench where Roger were to meet you.

And indeed, an elderly man, tall and undoubtedly strong was waiting on the bench, reading a newspaper, wearing a grey hat and a grey coat and all in all an ensemble of clothes that made him a perfect cliché of a leading role from a film noir.

He grinned at the sight of Agatha, and you were surprised to find them holding hands in a tender gesture as they met.

"Oh, Agatha. Still as beautiful as the morning sun."

"Oh, Roger! Don't start! You're such a charmer," Agatha blushed, but her whole frame shining now with joy.

"I'm so happy to see you again."

"Me too. It has been way too long."

"You haven't changed a bit."

"In years! Of course, I have!"

"Not to me."

You and Caspian exchanged a knowing look. So… that's why Roger was so eager to help… he was completely weak-in-the-knees under Agatha's charms.

You found the two of them adorable, to be honest…

"This is Caspian, the man I told you about. And this is Y/N, a friend," Agatha introduced you.

You shook hands with Roger, or well, he crushed your hand more than shook it, actually. Caspian though didn't seem to notice, and by the surprise on Roger's face, the king must have matched his vigour in his handshake.

"Nice to meet the two of you. So, you're the one who needs my help."

"I am indeed," Caspian nodded.

"He needs to travel to England," Agatha explained. "But for a very complicated reason, that I will not tell you, so no need to ask… he doesn't have a passport."

"And can't make one?"

"I'm afraid not. He has no papers."

"None?

"It's a long story. But I would be grateful if you could help."

"For you, Agatha, anything. But I'll still need to know what papers you need and why you need them. It will change the quality of the copies."

You started to walk together down the path again, keeping your voices low, but there was no one around. And you seemed to be the only one nervous in the company.

"He needs to go to England. That's all."

"Hmm… that can be tricky. It would help if he wasn't going alone. Will you two travel with him?"

"I'll go," Agatha nodded.

You opened your mouth to reply, but Roger, with a look on his face signalling that he was using every braincell he had to a point that you expected smoke to pop out of his ears, cut you off.

"Are you two together? It would make the trip safer if you went as a couple."

"What?!" both Caspian and you exclaimed.

"Trust me! In my experience, families and couples are less suspicious than a lone man. It'll help greatly passing the security."

"Y/N is not travelling with us," Caspian shook his head.

"Shame. It would have helped."

"Can you help us get the papers?" Agatha drew the conversation back on track.

"Sure. It'll take a couple of weeks though. Will need a picture of your friend. A few info. Name etc. But nothing I can't handle."

"For the price…"

"Oh, Agatha. Don't insult me. All I want in exchange is to take you to the opera, like we used to, back in the days."

She giggled, but nodded all the same, and you promised yourself to make her tell you everything about it.

"I reckon you're losing in that bargain, my dear Roger."

"Oh, no. I'm winning."

It's only when Agatha took his arm, shifting the material of his coat, that you noticed the holster he wore, and were reminded that he was, indeed, a member of the mafia.

"I'll contact you when it's ready. But let's take a walk for now, it's a lovely afternoon," he went on.

After a few minutes, he and Agatha were leading the way, a few meters before you, lost in a conversation of their own. By your side, Caspian was walking in silence, merely appreciating the beauty of the park, and the joy that coursed through his soul at the thought of having you near him for just a little while longer.

"Really, Roger makes me feel like I'm lost on the set of the Godfather," you broke the comfortable silence surrounding the two of you.

Caspian frowned.

"Is it a book? Or a… I believe you call them… movies?"

"You know what a movie is?" you asked, surprised, and your eyes narrowed as you thought that maybe he had trapped himself. But there was no lie in his eyes when he answered.

"Agatha explained them to me and showed me one on her… what is the black screen called again?"

"A television." You smiled. It sounded more like the Caspian you knew.

"Yes! She showed me… I believe it was the War of the Stars?"

"Star Wars?"

"Yes! Star Wars! I didn't understand much of it, to be honest."

You broke into laughter.

"Well, she sure started strong!"

"It was such a strange story," Caspian went on, shaking his head and frowning. "They were in the sky!"

"Yeah! Well, for now we're still stuck here. On earth. Or on the moon, but it's not such a nice place to spend your holidays, really."

Caspian looked at you with shock.

"The moon? What do you mean?"

"Armstrong? He… walked on the moon."

"What?!"

"Decades ago. We sent a group of people to walk on the moon."

He was stopped in his tracks.

"How?"

"We built a very big… ship. And we sent them up there. I have to admit that I can't help you on the technicalities, I'm no scientist."

"You can go to the moon?"

"Well, not personally, but… some of us have been to the moon, and back. Yes."

"The moon?"

"Yes, the moon."

You laughed. That was it, you had broken him.

"That is amazing! Can you go further? Beyond the moon?"

"Not for now. But that's already not that bad I reckon."

"Not that bad?! It's… unbelievable! Can you go to the moon if you want to?"

"Oh, no! No, it's very dangerous and expensive, you don't just go to the moon like that. We haven't sent anyone in years, actually. There has to be a scientific interest or something…"

"This is still unfathomable to me."

"More than travelling from a world to another?"

He let out a laugh.

"I guess that you have a point."

You walked for a few minutes more in silence, and you had to admit that it was nice. Walking down the path, sunlight piercing through the branches of tall trees, red and yellow skeleton leaves gathering at your feet with the wind, and Caspian by your side, who looked so amazed to see all that surrounded him. He didn't seem so scared nor worried anymore. He seemed almost happy, and for some reason, seeing him like this made you happy too.

"What will you do for the two weeks you'll have to wait through to get your passport?" you asked him, tearing his attention away from the children feeding the ducks on your right he was staring at, so he could look at you again.

"I… I don't know. I haven't thought about it," Caspian admitted.

"You should visit New York! I mean… if there's nothing else you can do anyway, why not seize the opportunity."

Caspian shrugged, burying his hands in the pockets of his long black coat.

"I wouldn't want to bother Agatha more than needed. She is already doing a lot for me."

You tried to bite your tongue. You really did. Because your head screamed at you to not say what you were about to say, and yet you just couldn't stop the words as they passed your lips.

"I could help."

Caspian couldn't refrain a grin.

"Really?"

"Sure," you nodded, mentally slapping yourself. "I mean, it could be fun!"

"Well, I would love to, if it doesn't bother you."

"It doesn't bother me at all, I want to show you around," you answered, and your words were too earnest to be stopped.

You guessed that was why you couldn't suppress the offer, the truth was, you wanted to see him again, no matter how crazy his story was, and how much mystery still surrounded him. There was just… something about him. Telling you that you could trust him, making you want to be close to him, even for just a moment longer. And as you looked in your heart for the truth, you found out that you were ready to take the risk to be betrayed in return for now.

"Then, I would love to visit the town with you," he answered with a bright smile that made your heart beat a little faster… or, well… a lot faster…

"What about I pick you up tomorrow after lunch? What would you like to see?"

"I'll leave it all to you. I trust you to choose our destination."

"Great! It'll be a surprise then!"

"A perfect one, I am sure."

You exchanged a smile, and for the first time since he had arrived, Caspian didn't think about going home.

[chocolatetakoyakis]

Hi there ❤️ can I request you some Headcanons for Ohma, Raian, Gaolang ans Saw from Kengan Ashura ! they are near the swimming pool and they noticed their crush coming in a very beautiful/ sexy Bikini. thanks !! ❤️

Iuhcduhefuhucheihiebd writing about sexy Fighters is 100% OKAY 🤤

• KENGAN ASHURA - THE BOYS SEEING THEIR CRUSH IN A BEAUTIFUL BIKINI AT THE SWIMMING POOL OF THE HOTEL •

OHMA TOKITA :

- well he isn’t really emotional in public, like damn the only time we saw him smile was when he was fighting or eating

- however THIS MAN CAN FEEL

- and when he saw you with this beautiful F/c bikini at the swimming pool, trust me he was definitely felling something.

- as you approach him to say hello, he will stare at you without any emotion but his brain is trying to analyse what his feelings are saying.

- Kaede is the first who is complimented you, followed by Lihito and our Ashura is still staring at you with piercing eyes.

- even when Lihito is starting to flirt with you he is not even pissed too focused on assembling the informations your awesome body was giving to his poor brain.

- “ this color looks good on you”

- still with his neutral face but now he is staring at your eyes like he is gonna eat your soul.

- I’m afraid this man doesn’t know how to flirt but you got it right.

- your Adorable “ thank you Ohma” made his day but he didn’t reply to you thinking the conversation was over.

- still watch you while you are talking with Kaede about coming to the Spa together

- he isn’t aware that he is staring at your chest, which made you a little uncomfortable but oddly you know that he isn’t a pervert.

- Lihito telling him discreetly to stop staring because it’s rude.

- now you’re all alone with him because Kaede went to her room to take her VIP card for the Spa you two are going to do and Lihito being Lihito accompanied her

- you are both silent while looking at each other

- you started the conversation by suggesting to go next to the beach waiting for them to come back ( because you were not comfortable with our Ashura’ gaze on you )

- before you walk back, he aggressively took your hands while pronouncing your name.

- BRUH HEART ATTACK

- INTENSE EYE CONTACT ( you’re dying inside )

- “ Y/n you look really Ho.....

- OHMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMA ! ( bruh you know who it is)

- you being push in the water by Karla Kure ( damn she has a lot of strength for a teenager ) who is now stuck on Ohma’ Abs.

- him not realizing what happened started to freak out when he saw Karla’s lips next to his and ran away as fast as he can.

- he was not here anymore when you get out the water but oddly you felt really happy about what he almost said before YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT OR WHO push you on the water lol

⭐️ If you’re his crush and he doesn’t really knows you, he is gonna stare at you without any comment or shame in hope that you will notice him I guess. And then turn his head when he’ll get caught. Like a 10 y old boy basically

RAIAN KURE : my fav

- oh fuck

- Sorry.

- basically like “ This bitch is showing off” “ she is not that pretty hmph”

- he is gonna feel many emotions when he’ll see you sunbathing alone on a long chair.

- First he is gonna mentally insult you I guess like why do you have to be so pretty and all, tries to convince himself that you are just doing it for attention ( DONT TRY TO UNDERSTANT ITS RAIAN )

- is glaring at you like a Mad dog

- Second, while glaring at you he’ll analyze your look and how your hairstyle, skin and bikini fit perfectly

- his gaze softened a bit as you take your sunglasses off, so he can see your beautiful eyes.

- HIS BRAIN DO NOT WANT TO UNDERSTAND THAT HE GOT THE HOTS FOR YOU

- after this 20 long minutes at staring at you and trust me having those dark eyes glaring at you during almost half an hour is SUPER LONG AND SCARY. he finally accepts the fact that you are hot and he is attracted to you ( I mean probably only sexually ) he will finally see you as a prey or as a trophy if he noticed that other men were looking at you.

- will go to see you ( more bother you because Raian is fucking Raian )

- the rest of his family being like : WTF IS THIS KID DOING AGAIN

- the whole swimming pool froze as he started walking toward you. ( this man almost killed a man remember )

- you greeted him with a normal but awesome smile “ Good Afternoon Raian. What’s up ？

- your cool attitude pissed him even more because you’re not afraid or anxious about him being next to you.

- is gonna make mean or childish comments about you and your relaxing position.

- you responding normally because you’re used to the Devil’s manners.

- Him getting even more pissed because you’re not loosing your cool

- showing off his Abs for SUUUUUUUURE

- Raian wouls smirk at every boys that were looking at you while talking to you to make them jealous, inferior and frustrated ( you can’t see him because you’re basically almost sleeping )

- threatens you to throw you into the cold water ( and will fucking do it )

- really don’t try him

- Shit.. too late you are in the swimming pool completely wet.

- he jumped with you in his arms so he is also in the swimming pool with you but doesn’t seem to be affected by the cold water

- if you can swin you’re gonna look at him like WTF IS YOUR PROBLEM ?! Before laughing I guess

- if you cannot swim you are gonna hug Raian very hard because your afraid I suppose. ( + him being proud because your boobs are stick to him )

⭐️ if he doesn’t know you, he is gonna have the same reaction but will not come to you directly. He is gonna try to make you noticing him first so he can catch you and do a famous SEXY SMIRK + SHOWING ABS at you.

GAOLANG WONGSAWAT:

- awww it’s your turn pretty FacePalm guy

- probably at the swimming pool with Saw Paing and some other fighters

- noticed you immediately but didn’t stare because he knows it’s rude

- expects his crush to see him and doesn’t do anything

- finally understand that his Crush saw him but is too intimidated by his group of friends so she is not gonna come to say hello to him ( Bruh they’re so tAll and could kill you a simple flick )

- Gaolang going to the bar alone so you can go to him without being annoyed by his friends

- PINAPPLE JUICE ORDER

- “ hi there Gaolang”

- is a little surprised by your presence at first but greeted you with a very warm smile

- invite you to take a drink with him ( it’s free for both of you because you’re VIP however he would have paid for you )

- interesting conversation

- talking about Japan in general because both of you are foreigners here ( if you are not then he’ll ask you many thing about Japanese cultures )

- is gonna talk about Thailand and ask about your country too

- you don’t even see the time passes because you two are enjoying yourself at the bar

- probably being interrupted by Saw Paing screaming somewhere so Gaolang has to go to stop his friend

- before leaving you he’ll give you a small cute smile meaning I’m coming back

- after stopping Saw Paing from terrorizing everyone he would come back to you and offer you to walk next to the sea while chatting

- You’re not crazy and you ACCEPTED IT OF COURSE

- after a long walk full of laught ( and romantical tension ) he would just says : I found you very pretty Y/n.

- BIG BLUSH ON YOUR FACE

- you didn’t expected that ans you didn’t respond right now which made him feel anxious poor baby

- is finally reassured when you thanked him and is probably blushing

- will make sure you’re back to your hotel room safe and may even ask you for another date later in the week.

⭐️ if he doesn’t know you, he is the type that would observe you from afar before maybe I said maybe try to talk to you if he got the occasion.

SAW PAING YOROIZUKA : babyyyyy

- do I really have to make this one ?

- Y/n YOU LOOK SO AMAZING !

- Screams the second he saw you

- you being scared at first but once you noticed that it was Saw Paing you felt reassured in a way.

- SHOWER OF COMPLIMENTS your ego is fucking boosted to the level 100 easily

- has no shame

- will drag you to the beach with him because a lot of people were glaring at you two and he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable

- IS ACTUALLY A BIG FLIRT WITHOUT NOTICING IT

- take your hands h24 to drag you somewhere

- you two planned to surf, I mean you wanted him to teach you a little ( sounds like a Date Bruh just imagine )

- really want to help you and is very tender in a way with you like he helps you with your position and all by gently touching you.

- in his head he really wanna get close to you only by helping you and not really By hitting on you like others guys ( what a cutie )

- cute nicknames game between you two

- sees you as the perfect teammate

- compliments, compliments, compliments and ALSO COMPLIMENTS

- your Surf class will end up with you two playing in the water like children

- he is very energetic but doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you so he is more calm in a way but still SCREAMING

- “ I Really Had Fun Today Y/n lets doit again !”

- him wanting you to meet Gaolang for sure ( or if you two met because of him, I’ll like the three of you to spend more time together )

- secretly stare at your Ass and legs sometimes

- May threaten you to throw you into the ocean if you don’t give him little kiss for the lesson maybe

- having many fighters shipping you two together

- other thinking WTF IS SHE DOING WITH THIS CRAZY

- probably you two eating snack together at the end of the day

- he is clearly proud to be seen with you for some reason

⭐️ If he didn’t know you and just saw you at the swimming pool, I feel like he would compliment you from afar but SAW PAING BEING SAW PAING you would notice him immediately because he is so fuckin loud and give him a cute smile.

[whatwashernameagain]

Keep him safe - Chapter 33

You can read the previous Chapters here: Ch 1, Ch 5, Ch 10, Ch 15, Ch 20, Ch 25, Ch 30, previous chapter, Ao3 Link, Lo’s, Pat’s and Virgil’s aesthetics, You are Magical, I’m dying to be with you, The Dreamer

Pairings: Logan/Patton, Roman/Virgil

Words: 12.491

Warnings: feeling everyone is against you, self-hate, cursing, mentioned addiction, mentioned past bullying

Summary: Detective Logan Sanders and his best friend and dorky partner Roman Prince have made a dear friend in the lovely pattisier Patton. Logan however, feels a lot more than friendship for the sweet man, even though he knows he cannot possibly have him. Their routine is broken abruptly when Logan finds bruises on Patton’s fair skin and slender wrists he could hardly have received from his costumary clumsiness.   Meanwhile his partner Roman has his own demon to fight, which comes in the form of a little delinquent who seemed to have been pulled into a street gang quite against his will. Roman is determined to help the strange young man. It would be so much easier though if he just stopped hissing at him!

Notes: Thanks so much to my betas @spootilious​ and @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2​ for your continuous support and WELCOME TO ALL THE NEW PEOPLE WHO JOINED THE DISCORS SERVER! I am so happy you are all here! Anyone can join: Invitation:https://discord.gg/Y2WNAND

Also I thought I’d get out my stuffy Ko-fi page again since the story is two years old now and eating up huge portions of my life, in case anyone wants to support me. Reblogs and comments are just as welcome, though ;)

Chapter 33

Knowing how awkward Logan had been the first few days of waking up after a sleepover, and fearing an even worse reaction with Patton after falling asleep tangeld around each other, Roman cautiously chose to peek into the silent room the next morning. He was a valiant hero, after all. He would save his partner. 

Upon finding them still asleep - and fully dressed - Roman stormed the room and cheerfully forced himself between them, asking for kisses and breakfast and knowing full well there would have been an awful lot of stuttering and apologizing on both sides without his glittering presence. He grinned smugly as Patton sleepily giggled and snuggled into his arms.

Upon entering the kitchen, Virgil softly asked Patton if he was okay, as he had every morning now that the baker thought about it. Logan on the other hand flushed and tiptoed around him until Patton cornered him. 

“I’m sorry for making you worry.” He apologized once they had a moment to themselves and were able to settle down with some tea and cocoa, respectively, on the couch. Knowing Logan needed to have things explained carefully, he tried to put his stupid emotions into words that would cause as little harm as possible. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong at all, it’s all me! I just got so used to having things go bad every once in a while, when I do something dumb, that I started to expect it. I sometimes – I don’t know - I keep seeing bad things that aren’t there. It’s silly. I’m sorry.” Patton rambled, curling around his warm mug. 

“Your responses are far from silly, Patton. Please do not belittle yourself for your emotions.” Logan responded gently. His voice was deep and warm. He gazed at Patton’s pale, small hands quietly, at the light falling onto his silky curls, at his smooth, lovely face. His chest felt full with longing. The patissier was radiant in the sunlight bathing him, making him look bright and innocent and so brave. Logan could hardly breathe with how much he felt, suddenly. With how much he wanted Patton’s happiness. The urge to make things right was like an entity on its own, pushing at his ribcage, urging him to speak. He selected his words carefully. 

“Something must have caused your worries. It would calm me greatly to understand which behaviors have caused you to respond the way you did so I may prevent them in the future. I truly wish to make you feel safe in this flat. Please support me in my endeavor to understand.”

Patton couldn’t help but feel stupid and guilty as he was confronted with such honest, unjudging support. He swallowed hard. The difference between the image he had made up and the man begging him to be allowed to take care of him couldn’t be more obvious. Logan’s dark eyes were so warm when he looked at him. He wasn’t smiling or complimenting him, or telling him how great he was and promising him gifts and such, but Patton still felt like he mattered more than he ever had. Logan’s attention was entirely focused on him, his tall form angled towards Patton, as if he were everything he cared about. 

He wanted to apologize again and tell the detective that it was all his fault, that he shouldn’t worry. He also knew that Logan had developed a talent for seeing through his excuses. He wouldn’t be satisfied until Patton had told him how to help. 

“It really isn’t your fault, Logan. Please believe me! It’s all in my confused head, you can’t help it when I make things up. And it’s not just you anyway, which shows how much silliness I’m coming up with - you really can’t trust my little head.”

“I do not understand. Did somebody else make you uncomfortable?” Logan asked, straightening in alarm. Patton felt like he had been shoved in the chest. It took him a moment to realize that the fact that Logan had automatically assumed he alone was to blame had hurt. Why was it that they wanted to care for each other so badly and still kept rubbing each other the wrong way? Patton just wanted - he just wanted to give Logan so much. He wanted to touch him in ways that made him smile, not doubt himself.

“Well, it really is all me, when If I’m being really honest!” Patton hastened to remind him. “But I guess it’s really – whenever someone fights or makes loud noises or – or argues about something and gets angry – and that’s okay of course! It’s all my fault and you are not doing anything wrong, it’s all in my head! But- that just, it just makes me an itty bit anxious, you know? I mean- you probably don’t, being a strong detective and all. I just worry that you guys might get in a fight or that I did something wrong. I do that plenty after all. But like I said, it’s all me being oversensitive, you should just laugh about it and go on with your day. I’m sorry for being a bother!” 

Logan grew very silent after Patton’s explanation. Sightlessly staring at the tea in his hands, he tried to categorize the exchanges of the last weeks in the apartment. He had thought that they were all happy here. There hadn’t been any fights, any dramatic outbreaks or terrible mistakes he needed to fix. Virgil had grown so confident and Roman was happy. The pets were healthy and he had thought… he had thought Patton had everything he wanted. What arguments had upset the gentle man? Roman and him had been getting along as well as always. Virgil hadn’t had any visible adverse reactions to his therapy that he could think of either and he was clearly growing closer to Roman. 

Had he been angry? Had he fought with one of them and hadn’t seen the effect it had on Patton? He just couldn’t understand what his friend was referring to for a long moment. Everything had been going so smoothly between him and the others. What could he have been doing that would be considered aggressive by a victim of abuse, such as the pâtissier?

It dawned to him quite abruptly. He’d been angry indeed. Just this morning he had grabbed Roman and growled at him for being dramatic and causing them stress over his gloves. His irritating partner had been howling about it too. Loudly. He had hardly noticed the sheer amount of noise he was making anymore; or the fact that he, himself, was apparently constantly frustrated with him. He didn’t mean it, after all. 

The realization that Logan was indeed annoyed at one thing or another all the time came as a shock to him. He had been so content. He hadn’t noticed…

It was so natural for him to complain and lecture others, especially Roman, who liked to have his attention. It was part of their dynamic. He liked to grumble and his partner liked to wail and whimper and demand he be treated with admiration and given the pity his various plights deserved. They bickered like siblings because this was what had gotten them close to each other in the beginning of their friendship, when they hadn’t felt comfortable enough to ask for friendly cuddles. It was their way. He showed his affection in this manner. Whenever he grabbed Roman, his friend would lean into him or playfully wiggle about, letting him carry his weight. When he wanted to initiate contact, he woefully sighed or whimpered and draped himself over Logan. They shoved and bickered and roughhoused with each other to show their mutual affection and wish for contact. 

Had Patton seen something he had missed? What if he had misinterpreted their interactions all those years? Was Logan actually insulting Roman? Was he unhappy as well? Was he secretly resenting him?

What about Virgil? He’d been so hurt and disappointed by the men he’d trusted. Did he feel threatened? 

Logan felt like a sudden weight pressed on his chest. It hurt so badly he flinched from the sudden rush of agony. He drew a sharp breath, trying to control his twisting features. He was suddenly afraid he would start to cry and be absolutely helpless to stop it. Biting the inside of his cheek hard, he barely managed to place the tea on the table. His hands were shaking. He had to compose himself. Losing control and falling apart in front of Patton would be too much to bear. 

His thoughts kept circling, defying his attempts to force them into order. What had he done? He couldn’t think clearly. His breath hitched. He felt like everyone was looking at him. Like they were talking about him, wishing he was gone. Like they used to in school, like the other children used to, wherever he went. He had thought they had been getting along. He had thought they had liked him – he’d tried so hard to always help with their exercises and tell them about the things he cared about, he had thought that they wanted to hear-  but he’d misread the situation. He just couldn’t understand them. The shock of learning he had been hated by the other students in his class without even knowing, it had felt nothing like the possibility of having forced his family to live with a man that hurt them. 

His mind was racing, churning up more and more scenarios that horrified him. There were so many reasons why they could feel forced to stay with him, to pretend they liked the man that was actually making them miserable. Virgil had nowhere to go. He would have to accept any situation that kept him out of harm’s way or out of prison, and Logan had been the key to his freedom. Roman needed someone to look after him, being all alone in the world without a steady presence, who else would he have turned to, but the man who’d bullied him into living with him? Patton had been pulled out of the steady relationship that had been his life and was now essentially homeless, helpless to go anywhere else, for fear of the man that might be waiting for him, not even able to rent his own place since his finances were still entangled with that man’s. Was it like the last time, where he had been the one that alienated everyone, the one who didn’t understand when he hurt feelings, the one everyone talked about behind his back? Was he suddenly going to be alone again? Before Roman, he had eventually given up. He had isolated himself to protect himself from this feeling, certain he couldn’t bear it a second time. And he had been right. His chest felt like something was breaking. 

He stumbled as he rose, barely seeing what was in front of him through his blurred vision. He couldn’t be looked at anymore. Every look felt like an assault. He needed to hide. 

“I’m sorry. Please- please excuse me. I am so sorry.” He stuttered, shakily wiping his eyes and nearly losing his glasses. He hit his shin on the edge of the coffee table but kept going, feeling his face heat with shame. 

“Logan, wait please! What’s wrong? I’m sorry I upset you, please-” Patton pleaded. He was frightened. Logan had scared him and now he was trying to placate him so he wouldn’t hurt him again- 

This was too much. 

Logan stumbled into the corridor, feeling panic well up in him. There were footsteps behind him, following him. He barely made it to the bedroom and slammed the door behind him too loudly. He hadn’t meant to do that! Every sound he made was too loud, he was doing everything wrong and he hadn’t even noticed. 

He hardly managed to turn the key with his shaking hands, needing the little bit of security it afforded him like the air he breathed. Tears were streaming down his face now. He couldn’t stop remembering Patton’s fear when he had reached out to him in his flat, broken and bleeding. What had he put him through after he’d thought he had rescued him? He’d thought he had finally learned to understand, but everything he believed was wrong again. 

He sank down against the door, covering his ears with his hands so hard the way he squished his glasses against his skull hurt, rocking back and forth in his curled-up position. It was too much. Everything felt overwhelming to him!

There were voices on the other side of the door, loud and rushed. 

 “The fuck happened, man?” Virgil growled. Stress was making his voice rougher than intended. He had seen Logan flee from the room, completely out of it and couldn’t help the tide of protective anger. 

Patton flinched, backing away from the door. His eyes were bright. 

“I- I don’t know! I messed up, I think. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, Virgil!” He cried, hugging himself and looking smaller than he had in weeks. 

Fuck. 

Virgil took a deep, calming breath and told himself not to be an asshole for once. 

“It’s okay, Pat. I’m sorry I yelled. I’m, like, really fucking anxious right now, but I’m sure you didn’t do anything wrong. It happens. I’m not mad at you, man. Please, just- Roman, deal with this?” He asked, knowing when he reached his limit with emotional bullshit. His worry for Logan was already too much and seeing Patton hurt was frankly agonizing. It was more than he could bear. Roman would stay calm and be big and gentle and reassuring no matter what was wrong. He was amazing like that – nothing like Logan and him, who were, if he were quite honest, a mess when if came to vulnerable, emotional shit.

“Hey, it’s all good dearest Patton.” Roman crooned at the frazzled baker softly, reaching out to him with hands that were so tender. “Why don’t you come with me and we’ll hug it out? Our brilliant Virgil will fix everything and we fabulous darlings will get ourselves some well-deserved cuddles. Sounds good?” 

Patton didn’t really get a chance to worry about making a decision since the detective was already bundling him up in the warmest embrace, tugging his little body against his bigger one. Roman allowed them a moment to rub his cheek against soft curls and hum a soothing melody. 

Having moved them both back to the couch, he made sure to pull the smaller body between his legs and wrap him all up in his embrace. Keeping up a calming chatter, he rubbed his hands over the slender back and through his hair, hoping to slow his frightened little heart. 

“I’ve got you, sweetest Patton. No one is angry at you. All will be well, I promise. We love you. Take a deep breath for me, okay? Logan will be just fine. We’ll always fix everything together and no one will be hurt or mad. We’re a family, we’ll get over the drama and have cocoa. That’s it.”

His voice was deeper and softer than usual, lacking all of the shrill, loud notes that had recently made Patton’s nerves flutter fearfully. He sounded certain and loving. Squeezing his eyes shut, he listened to his tender words. 

 Virgil pressed his ear against the wood, trying to determine what to do. He couldn’t hear Logan at all and he didn’t want to upset him even more by demanding anything. Should he call Remy and make him talk to the detective? His phone was out here though, and he’d need to get him to open the door first. 

Pushing the emotional mess onto someone else sounded so tempting, but he knew Logan would be ashamed to talk to his old friend like that. Also, he had an idea about what had happened. Patton had grown frightened of- everything, really. He was starting to put it together properly only now that he had seen just how afraid he’d just looked. He guessed the same insecurity he had gone through himself had to be expected. But of course, it would be different for Patton. Virgil had thought Logan was the right one to fix it because- because he had fixed everything for him. He trusted the man so much because he gave him so much more stability and safety than he had ever experienced before. His touch always felt safe to Virgil and he always trusted him to listen and understand, because the way their minds worked was so similar in a way.

He was a fucking idiot. 

Logan was acting like a father to him, platonically loving him and protecting him. His touch was safe. Virgil’s expectations towards him were safe. But to Patton, he was something else. Patton had been abused by the man he’d loved, so the relapse would of course make him project onto Logan most because he was closest to a romantic partner. The baker liked him. Their cuddles, despite how innocent and well intended, were never as platonic as Virgil’s and Logan’s. Of course he would think that if anyone was going to grow abusive as he clearly expected, it would be the man he unconsciously saw as a potential lover. If he kept projecting the fear that asshat had instilled in him onto Logan, they were in for quite a ride. 

Virgil sighed. He should have seen this coming. He was such a fucking idiotic idiot. 

If Patton had told Logan he was scared of him, Logan would overthink for sure – because he was also an idiot. He was probably in there thinking everyone was afraid of him and feeling like he had run over a baby bird or some shit. Someone with a pathological need to help would of course spiral right into self-hate. Hello, old friend. 

Well, Virgil was nothing if not a manipulative bitch. 

“Logan?” He called softly, knocking on the door far more quietly than he wanted to. 

“Logan, you’re scaring me. Please let me in! I’m worried you’ll hurt yourself, I can’t lose you too. Please let me in!” He begged, making his voice high and frightened and feeling absolutely no remorse whatsoever for once. 

The door was fumbled open as soon as his apparently fearful words had left his lips. The fucking sap. 

Logan was disheveled and looked like he’d tried to wipe his tears off to hide them. He looked heartbroken and painfully shy. And he’d still opened the door because of Virgil’s pleading. 

Fuck him, Virgil loved him so much.

He gave the startled, wide eyed man a hard push in the chest, angry at being forced to feel so much. How dare he think Virgil didn’t love him?!

“You’re such a- a fucking-” 

He lunged at him and buried his face in the conservative sweater, squeezing so hard Logan wheezed for breath. 

“You’re such a moron, man! Now hug me!” He demanded, holding on for dear life. Clearly utterly confused, Logan obeyed unsteadily. 

“You clueless idiot.” Virgil growled into the cable-knit, hating how wet his voice sounded. Why was there always so much fucking drama in this flat?! 

“Shake all those stupid thoughts out of your head and listen to me, okay? You don’t get to be a paranoid piece of shit, that’s my job!” 

Logan drew a breath to complain and Virgil just knew he would try to tell him that he very much was not an idiot and that Virgil was not allowed to insult himself. Well, Virgil wasn’t going to let him turn this around onto him. However, he wished he was better at this. He wished he could just drop this emotional mess into Remy’s lap and hide under the covers where he could come to terms with how uncomfortably much he cared for Logan. He squeezed him tighter – effectively cutting him off before he could speak – pressing himself as close as he possibly could. There were no words for the things he felt. Patton and Roman probably had some; plenty, in fact. He didn’t, and neither did Logan. But his hands were uncertainly brushing over his back and Virgil liked that helpless, platonic affection very, very much. 

“You absolute dimwit! Don’t ever think we don’t – that we don’t – we want to be here with you, okay? I trust you and I never trust anyone, cause I’m not a moron who adopts people, but I trust you so fucking much and I’ve had to make too many fucking confessions lately; so can you please just believe that we are your family and that Roman wants to be your fucking puppy; and Patton is messed up beyond belief but he’s fricking enamored with you; and that I’d really like to end this conversation right now, alright?? Don’t make me say anything else or I’ll knock myself out on that dresser!”

Unsurprisingly, Logan was at a loss for words. Not that he could have said much, considering how tightly Virgil was currently squeezing his ribcage. His little delinquent’s hug really was quite aggressive. 

He didn’t feel frightened either. His face – as much as Logan could see of it – was bright red. The poor thing was clearly embarrassed and tired of baring his feelings this way. Logan couldn’t shake his insecurity, though. He could feel obligated to calm him, after all. Virgil was so dependent on him. Feeling lost and just wishing he could bury his face in the once again tangled, purple hair he liked to groom, Logan tried to make his embrace as safe and comfortable as possible to his little charge. How he wanted to protect him from the world. The frame under his hands was still so thin and slender. He didn’t know how to articulate the rush of warmth he felt. He wanted to ask more questions, desperate to be reassured the things he wished for so dearly were true, but he felt Virgil’s tiredness, and he shared it. Trying to understand the way people talked - silent and illogical just with their bodies and gestures and the insinuations he failed to understand – it was still confusing to him sometimes, and when he thought he had gotten something wrong, he tended to overanalyze every interaction he had had with that person until he didn’t trust himself anymore. He was just tired. 

Embarrassed and stressed out of his mind, Virgil hid his face in their embrace and wished he could just crawl under the heavy, dark covers of his bed right now - the bed Logan had given him with all the books and space for his things and that citrus geranium that endlessly frustrated him with its wilting leaves. Pitying the poor, nerdy fool for his useless attempts, Virgil had started programming a sensor to monitor the plant’s humidity and sunlight intake for Logan. He had grown worried about the amount of annoyance that one dying plant caused the detective, okay? He didn’t want the dude paying his metaphorical rent to have a fucking stroke, that was all. And maybe he just wanted him to be happy. He had thought it might be something they could do together, though he hadn’t dared approach him about it yet. He didn’t want to annoy Logan with his nerdy ideas, and he hadn’t done something like this in so long. If his fucked-up mind made him mess this up he could never live it down. However, Remy’s voice telling him to quit being a drama queen and like, gush with the other massive nerd about his nerdy projects was clear in his memory. He didn’t want to talk feelings anymore. He wanted to huddle together with Logan and just fucking lose himself in something that made sense. Was it too much to ask to just be together? He thought that perhaps, it actually wasn’t. 

Making a decision, Virgil suddenly used his wiry muscles to push his body against Logan’s, toppling them onto the bed. He wasn’t going to talk this out. No sir, not this time. They both needed a fucking break. 

Logan huffed in surprise, especially since he was unexpectedly being pushed around by sharp elbows and bony shins until he had been shuffled into a position where Virgil could comfortably tuck himself under his arm and lay his head on his shoulder. Wrestling his phone out of his hoodie’s pocket, the younger man pulled up a still blank looking app that showed little else but two buttons on a white screen. 

“Wanna show you something.” Virgil muttered half into his wool sweater before launching into an explanation about the app he was programming. Logan was instantly intrigued. Wrapping his arm around his little one, he pulled Virgil close to navigate the still almost empty display with him, getting lost in the fluttering, enthusiastic feeling a fascinating project gave him. Virgil’s app could monitor the factors influencing growth and compare them to different locations in the flat or different amounts of moisture in the soil. Perhaps this way he could finally attempt to grow a lemon tree once again. He’d failed three times before giving up. The Failure still irked him.  

Before long, both men had comfortably cuddled together, discussing the advantages of a stainless-steel sensor as opposed to the inferior plastic ones other projects were using. Virgil was warm and small in his arm. His muscles were loose and he made sure to push and shove at Logan when he wanted to curl up more or wanted a certain space. Everything about him spoke of trust. 

Though Logan attempted to keep his touch respectful, being acutely aware of the fears that could awaken in his little charge, Virgil gave him no signals of discomfort. His heart beat steadily where his chest was pressed against Logan’s side and his breathing was even and calm. He sounded pleased when Logan complimented his ideas. Undoubtedly, Roman would be able to tell him if he really as relaxed as the factors he was monitoring were suggesting. He could see it all from nothing but a look. 

Roman never failed to tell him when he had messed up or needed to back off. Didn’t that speak of confidence? They had some difficult conversations about his actions in the past and his partner had always trusted him to tell him the truth. Certainly, he had told him plenty of times that he was limiting Roman’s heroic brilliance or ruining his entrance and such, but he had never complained about feeling hurt by Logan. Wouldn’t he at least have told him? But what about Patton? He had always suffered in silence rather than asking for help – or to stop. 

Logan gasped as bony fingers stabbed him in the side. 

“You’re thinking too loudly, dude.” Virgil complained, feeling ignored. He shouldn’t be surprised Logan needed things spelled out for him. He was Logan after all. 

Sighing as if he was forced to do something terrible by disentangling out of the embrace that had been warm and really fucking nice, he rose without much enthusiasm and yanked on Logan’s arm. 

“C’mon, you poor sod. Let Roman tell you how much he loves you. He might want to lick your face.”

“There will be no need for any of that.” The detective grumbled, reluctantly letting the smaller man pull him along. He didn’t know if he would be brave enough to face Patton without the aggressive interference. His face grew hot at the memory of the way he had fallen apart in front of him. He felt quite humiliated by his reaction. Patton had trusted him with his fears and he had made it all about himself and had made a fool of himself. Without the control he protected himself with he felt vulnerable. Naked even, as if his defenses had been torn away. This wasn’t how he’d wanted to be seen. 

Feeling his friend’s feet drag with shame, Virgil wrapped an arm around Logan’s middle and offered him strength through their silent contact. He still did not want to talk about feelings, it was exhausting, but he could always lend the support of his body. He was learning to use it in different ways, lately. 

Patton and Roman both sat up straight as they entered the living-room. From the way Logan hung his head in the futile attempt to hide his blush, it was clear to Roman what his friend needed now. It was his favorite partner’s love! 

Giving Patton an encouraging pat on the shoulder on the way, the young detective wasted no time wrapping Logan (and Virgil – who was conveniently wrapped in Logan’s arm, sue him) into his embrace. His little wildcat gave an irritated little growl but since he was largely ignored in favor of pecking annoying kisses all over his partner’s face, he let the cuddling slide. After all, they both smelled good and were comfy and shit. 

Logan turned his heated face away into Virgil’s hair, grumbling incoherently. He was too hot under the sweater and starting to get the feeling he needn’t have worried about Roman and Virgil after all. The little barista was comfortably leaning against him, letting him take his weight, and his partner was – he was reasonably certain – trying to annoy him in order to lighten the mood. He had overreacted once again. They must think him a dramatic child. He felt very, very inadequate. 

Perceptive as always, Roman angled them so his friend could hide his burning cheeks from sight. The poor man was probably mortified at showing emotions in front of the people who regularly suffered emotional accidents around him. 

“All is well now, my adoring fans. Prince Roman, beloved hero and winner of the Medal of Valor is here!” He cooed, hoping to get a rise out of them and lighten the mood. Virgil snorted. He made sure to push himself close to Logan and allow him to feel the way he was holding on to his sweater for support. 

Virgil would have liked to stay in this position longer and allow Roman to take the weight of the attention onto his broad shoulders, but Patton was still cowering at the edge of the sofa, wide eyed and anxious. His shoulders seemed very small. Though he was entirely silent, his small hands were nervously fidgeting with his long sleeves. He looked lost. 

The barista ached with pain for his friend. He had put himself through years of abuse to shield his piece of shit boyfriend and had blamed himself for his issues whenever he was suffering of whatever bullshit he got himself into. Patton was all about saving people. Having hurt someone he loved must be the worst kind of torture for him. Add to that the fear of retribution and he must be in one hell of a mess. And of course Virgil had attacked him after Logan’s little breakdown. Of course he had. 

Though he was torn about forcing Logan to face his fear of having frightened the baker, Virgil gently tried to free himself from the tangled embrace, which wasn’t easy since he was squished in the middle. 

Being especially weary about restricting his youngest guest, Logan immediately released the shorter man from under his arm, pulling his limbs close to his chest. Roman pounced and pulled his partner in again, humming to him lovingly. He would be patient to take this one step at the time. 

Virgil was feeling less than patient, to be quite honest. Why did they keep stepping into piles of emotional shit when all they wanted was to live quietly with each other and sometimes ogle Roman’s ass? (that might just be him, though) He just wanted Logan and Patton and Roman - the fucking, special dork - to be allowed to be fine. Was that too much to ask?!

Of course, despite Virgil wanting nothing but to protect his friend, Patton saw the frustration written clearly all over the slim features of the moody young man. His breath hitched. 

Aw shit. 

Virgil may be emotionally stunted to the point of still kind of hating Remy for making him want to talk to him, but he wasn’t blind. Especially to Patton. It was easy to see why he was ending up in those emotion-shitpiles. He kept aiming for them and jumped right in. He’d thought Patton would focus on Logan because – well, he still remembered being scared out of his mind as he had sat at his desk, cuffed and desperate and Logan had been furious about the pain of his partner. It had made sense, too. Logan was the responsible adult in the flat and Pat was used to the men responsible for him to turn on him, but it wasn’t just him. Virgil was doing it too, and more often than he had noticed initially. 

Making sure to appear nonthreatening – which normally wasn’t hard, considering how hunched and slim he still was, he pulled his sleeves over his hands and looked at Patton through his purple bangs. The baker swallowed visibly and attempted to smile at him, uncertainly. 

“Look, Pat, can we talk? It’s all good though. I wanna apologize. You’re not in trouble. ‘s fine.” He mumbled, looking down at his shoes. Swallowing hurt, suddenly. His throat felt tight. 

Patton didn’t speak. He was very pale.

‘You can do this.’ Virgil reminded himself as old, familiar pain rose in him upon being surrounded by suffering loved ones. ‘You took care of your mom and you’ll take care of him now. You can fix this. Just start somewhere.’ 

“Um, I – I think I messed up, I guess. ‘m sorry, man. I was really out of line before and I think I kinda scared you just now. Can we, um – can we talk about that? Please?”

Apparently finding the courage to speak in the face of Virgil’s scratchy voice, Patton finally responded with forced cheer in his voice. 

“Don’t you worry, kiddo! It’s all fine! There’s nothing to worry about. I get a little messy sometimes but that’s all my fault. You all don’t need to take it on your shoulders, please don’t do that! I’m really sorry for upsetting you all! This whole thing is my fault – please, just ignore me and don’t let silly little me worry you! I’m really sorry.” He rambled, glancing at Logan still squished in Roman’s embrace. He bit his lip, his eyes suspiciously bright, before he smiled at Virgil once again. Seeing Logan hide in his partner’s arms, clearly feeling too ashamed to face them, appeared to unbalance him. 

Yes, Virgil got that. Logan was supposed to be strong and seeing him insecure hurt in all kinds of ways that resonated deep in Virgil, pulling sharply at old wounds. Seeing the person you relied on weak and helpless cut you as if you were a child losing the protection of a parent. It never stopped hurting. Roman had situation that figured out, though. He joked quietly with his partner and finally simply pulled them both to the ground like a playful child, ignoring the complaints, and settled them against the bookshelves covering the first part of the living-room. Nicodemus had clambered onto the lowest shelf and wanted attention. With a little hop, he jumped onto his human’s shoulder, quieting his annoyance. 

Hidden half behind the couch and visually separated from the others by the wooden beams loosely enclosing the little library, Roman finally managed to give his friend a bit of security by offering the safety of his large body to lean against. They were still close enough to be there for the others and later reassure Logan, but for now he had a moment to compose himself again. 

That worked fine for Virgil. He didn’t know how he would have been expected to ignore the terrible fear for his protector, had Roman not calmly and sweetly taken over soothing him. Come to think of it, maybe the dork had the right idea with the cuddly, comfy shit. 

“Um, hey… how about we sit and figure it out together, okay?” He offered tentatively. The kitten and Cat were on the couch as well, unravelling a ball of string and in Cat’s case trying to bite it into submission for tangling around her little hand-paws. 

Patton nodded obediently, quickly rushing to clean up a place for them by tidying away Roman’s drawings and his knitting needles. Whatever progress he seemed to have made with Logan yesterday seemed to have crumbled in the face of actually making their most reliable protector crumble from his words. Virgil knew those moments where no amount of rationality could cut through the pain of having failed the person you love. Even if you had given up your education, your dreams, your time and health and safety, every failure replayed in your mind, pressing you down with guilt. 

Virgil tried to swallow his memories through the heaviness in his chest. He ran a suddenly shaking hand over his face. He had relied on Logan and Patton so much to give him strength and structure and confidence and now one of them was still silently cowering on the floor, uncharacteristically small and fearful of the confrontation with Patton and still flushed hot with shame, and the other looked at him like he expected him to shout. His Patton. It was a position he had never expected to be in, anymore. One of the reasons he had left the Scorpions was because he couldn’t forget the pale, frightened face of the slight baker and now they were back, full circle, knee deep in a pile of emotional shit. 

“Hey, no no no, c’mere, kiddo.” Patton cooed suddenly. His hands were still warm while Virgil’s had grown weak and cold. He pulled Virgil on the couch with him and without hesitation, into his arms. His little body folded against the barista like a cat’s, flexible and trusting. Running his fingers through the purple mess, Patton rocked him slightly. 

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine. I’m so sorry for scaring you, Kiddo. I just get like that sometimes. I know I shouldn’t and it’s stupid, so you can just ignore it and it’ll go away. There’s no reason to feel bad at all - you are doing wonderfully. Please don’t think about it. I love you so very much.” He promised, his voice tender and honey sweet. He nuzzled their faces together and curled them up comfortably, making Virgil feel so so small. Like a child in his mother’s arms. Taking a shuddering breath, he held on. 

“That’s okay, Pat. I get like that, too. Just… different. I um – Remy says I get aggressive instead, and try to – to push people away and expect the worst of them – cause… cause of the – because after my mom… when she got – she got sick I…”

“You don’t have to tell me.” Patton mercifully whispered against his hair, impossibly loving. Virgil hadn’t even realized how irregular his breathing had become. He had almost told him about- his heart hammered in his chest with a sudden rush of terror. What the fuck had possessed him?! 

After counting his breathing to get his shit together, Virgil tried again to make his point. 

“Pat, I’m trying to- to tell you that I get it. I totally do. You go through all that shit and it fucks you up – sorry, I’m sorry – it messes you up and you expect to see sh-stuff around every corner and – and that’s fine! Remy says it’s normal and if we talk about it with – with them, they’ll get it. We’ve got triggers, man, and that’s okay. We triggered Logan a little bit and that happens, too. Now we know, right? I’ve got triggers and you’ve got them too, and we walked right in cause we’re all morons cause we don’t talk – cause it’s f-ing horrible. But – can we talk about it? Please?”

“Oh, of course. I’d like to know what makes you and… and Logan anxious. I didn’t want to hurt him.” Patton mumble quietly, very aware that the detective was still in the same room and they hadn’t cleared up the situation yet. His heart raced with anxiety over his reaction. 

A little grunt signaled Roman wordlessly telling Logan his moment had arrived. With his elbow. 

The detectives slunk around the couch and gently folded themselves on the free space on the couch, Roman shamelessly curling close to his partner and laying his arm over the armrest against Logan’s shoulders. Though he didn’t seem quite able to look Patton in the eye yet, Logan hesitantly spoke up.

“I believe a substantial amount of anxiety could have been prevented on every side had our communication been more efficient. I would like to discuss the situation in a nonjudgmental setting. Would you be willing to talk to us, Patton?” 

The baker fidgeted with Virgil’s hoodie nervously, shrinking a little under all the attention. The younger man in his arm gave him comfort, though. 

“Of course! I’ll do anything to make it okay. I’m really sorry I did this.” He promised softly. 

Logan took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with it. Patton feared he was trying to hold back his anger. They were all here and stressed because of him. He had thought they had figured it out together yesterday but this time, he really was the one who had messed up. Never, in a million years, had he expected Logan to fall apart like that because of something he had said. He was still shaken to the core by the detective’s sudden vulnerability. 

“Patton, may I ask you to stop apologizing?” Logan asked gently, finally looking at him through slightly reddened eyes. “There is no need to blame yourself. You have done nothing wrong. No one is upset with you. We merely wish to prevent further misunderstandings.”

“Oh.” Patton muttered, suddenly realizing just how much he’d been apologizing with a rush of shame. Trevor had told him how irritating his stupid repetitions were. 

“I’m sorry.” 

The words were out before he had any hope of composing himself. His breath caught in his throat, heat flooding his cheeks. He barely swallowed the urge to apologize for failing even at this simple request. Not knowing how to fix the situation, he fell silent, waiting for them to scoff at him. He had been doing so much better yesterday, why was he here again? Couldn’t he learn?

“It is alright, Patton.” Logan offered mercifully. 

“But… I hurt you. I didn’t mean to.” Patton added, somehow trying to convey how sorry he was. He couldn’t seem to forget the look on his friend’s gentle, handsome face. 

“I never believed you would harm me intentionally, Patton. You could not have known that your confession would cause me such anxiety. Addressing a topic that needs to be discussed is your right and I would like to encourage you to continue to bring such issues to my attention without fear. It lies in the nature of psychological triggers to cause severe reactions despite appearing insignificant to others. Perhaps, to improve your comprehension of the situation, I ought to explain that I was taken back to a memory from my childhood. Due to the fact that I am autistic, I read situations wrong quite frequently and thus unknowingly alienate my peers. I am afraid my failure to understand the discomfort you have felt in our home has forcefully reminded me of the possibility of a misinterpretation of the personal relationships in my life.” 

Patton stilled, trying to take Logan’s words in. There was so much that hit him right in the heart. Logan was autistic? He felt like a light had been turned on suddenly and was illuminating their interactions in an entirely different way. He wanted to ask a million questions! This actually made a lot of sense. His head was spinning with the revelation and the new understanding it brought. He could picture little Logan quite clearly now, trying to understand the things that were still difficult to him now, but must have been impossibly confusing back then. He must have been so hurt by the other children! Pain shot through his chest like a living, furious thing ripping at his organs. Little wide eyed, nerdy, vulnerable Logan appeared before his mind’s eye and it felt like a punch, like he was drowning in sorrow. Patton had put him through that again. He was such an idiot, how could he have missed it? Logan had doubted himself so badly and he knew how much that hurt. Patton should have known sooner, Logan had obviously struggled with reading a room, but he had blinded the baker with how skillfully he handled all of his messes with his deep, commanding voice and confident hands. It was just that sometimes he lost control and showed how hard everything must be for him. Though he badly wanted to apologize again, to tell him how sorry he was for causing all of that stress and anger, especially after Logan had comforted him, he wanted to reassure him even more.

“I’m – but – you know that I care about you, right? I was just being stupid. Please don’t think that I or anyone else doesn’t trust you or doesn’t love you so much! You are the best friend I’ve ever had. You protect me and help me and I really – it’s really all my fault, you did nothing wrong! You are the smartest, kindest, most great and amazing man I’ve ever met! Ever! You’re a savior – my savior. Please believe me, everyone here loves you so much!” Patton exclaimed, helplessly grabbing Logan’s hand in his attempt to make him see. There was so much he felt for his friend, his heart was so full, it would burst if he felt more for Logan. He could barely handle himself from how much he wanted. He had never, ever wanted someone to know he was loved as much as him. 

The detective startled as his hand was clutched, gently returning the hold. His smile was bittersweet. 

“Thank you, Patton. Your kindness is appreciated. Perhaps I ought to have told you two sooner. It is possible that I still, subconsciously, attempt to pass for a neurotypical person. A foolish attempt, certainly. I will try to be more honest with you from now on.” 

“You’re not that bad, man.” Virgil mumbled bashfully, awkwardly trying to break the silence that had fallen over them as they processed the detective’s words. They clever young man was clearly unsurprised by Logan’s confession. Roman smiled at him for his contribution, silently comforting his partner. 

“I am… relieved to learn our relationship is not damaged beyond repair. And I would like to remind you once again that you do not need to apologize or take the blame for my issues. They are quite beyond your control.”

“What my bumbling, brilliant best bud is trying to say-” Roman chimed in, giving his friend a break, “is that we all have our little issues. They give us character and that is charming! They are part of our exciting origin stories! Even I, fearless Detective Roman Prince, owner of the Medal of Valor, have my own demons to vanquish.” He boasted, raising his free arm dramatically to pose. Suddenly feeling the supportive, undivided attention of his friends rest heavily on him (even the pest sniffed at his nose), he grew a little more quiet. Talking about his triggers was not fun, even for one as marvelously brave and exceptionally well adjusted as Roman. However, if he wanted his lovely dorks to finally open up, someone needed to make the start. 

“I… you know my sister died from an overdose, right?” 

Patton gasped. 

Or maybe not. Oops.

“Oh my god, I am so so sorry for springing that on you, fair Patton! But all is well, please don’t fret. I shall tell you about it all another time if you like. You truly mustn’t worry about me.”

Patton nodded bravely, clutching onto Logan’s hand hard and holding Virgil so tightly he wheezed a little bit. Roman worried for his ribs. Yet knowing this conversation must be had in order to coax Patton – and perhaps even his stormy night –  to open up, he marched on.

“So, because of my sister, I don’t handle drug abuse and such issues as glamorously as I usually do. And… because of… reasons…” Roman trailed off lamely, not trusting Patton’s bright eyes enough to also tell him about his neglectful childhood. Forcefully cheerful, he continued, “Yes, so sometimes when people ignore me intentionally or not or things get too silent around me and no one pays attention to me I feel really sad and lonely, like no one will ever love me again.” 

Smiling brightly, Roman was met with deafening silence. 

From the other side of their group, Patton lunged at him and yanked him into his arms, squishing Logan and Virgil between them with strength born from pure protectiveness. He appeared emotional beyond words. 

Roman floundered a little, unbalanced by the awkward hug. It wasn’t so bad, though. Patton had somehow managed to climb half into Logan’s lap in order to get his arm around Roman, conveniently allowing the detective to hide his still flushed face in the baker’s neck and cushioning him between Patton and his rat. Poor Virgil had simply been dragged along – which he would have never allowed anyone else to do. To prevent him from tumbling off the couch, Logan had wrapped a quick, steadying arm around him, drawing his skinny body close. Virgil pawed and shifted against them a little, growling and grumbling, before sagging between them with a defeated sigh. The fuck was he supposed to do?! Tell Patton to release the suddenly iron tight grip on his hoodie? He didn’t think so. 

“Uh, are you alright, dearest Patton?” Roman inquired tentatively. The baker nodded, obsessively nuzzling the young detective’s face with his own like a bespectacled cat. It was hard not to feel soft and faint when he was loved so obviously. Carefully, he brought his arms up to wrap around Patton – and Logan as a consequence, and Virgil on the other side, safely pulling him against his large body, lending stability to their embrace. The barista folded his slender limbs just right to fit between Logan and Patton pleasantly, just where they needed him for their comfort. 

“It’s all good, lovely Patton.” Roman rumbled softly, filling the space between them with his deep, smooth voice. “We all fight our dark little demons that cling to our hearts, trying to tell us how small und unwanted we are. They are quite wrong, though, and sometimes we need someone to show us that.”

Remembering the path that brought him to confidently bump shoulders with Logan or push his head against his side for cuddles when they were working too quietly made his insides swell with emotion. It was a path both Patton and Virgil were walking right now; one they could join Logan and him on. 

“Life is like a dance, my dear.” Roman murmured into curly brown locks. “Even when you found the right partner, learning the rhythm and the steps has to be done together, whether it’s a passionate tango where you twirl and dip your partner or a comfortable waltz where you quietly hold each other close. Even Logan and I had to find the right way to twist and twirl around each other. And we stepped onto each other’s feet plenty.”

Logan huffed softly, remembering the tense beginning of their partnership all too well and not missing it in the least. 

“We were blessed with quite differing tempers, Logan and I.” Roman elaborated lightly. “I wanted his attention badly and tried to mold myself to what I believed to be his wishes. Every failed attempt to gain his approval felt like a person failure and discouraged me greatly. At the same time, Logan wanted my glittering friendship but felt irritated since he lacked the competence to appreciate my performance!” 

Logan groaned, tentatively adjusting his hold on Virgil, staying very still otherwise, so as not to make Patton uncomfortable with their close proximity. 

“Our cooperation suffered from a server lack of communication, as it turned out.” He added to Roman’s explanation.

“True! I mistakenly believed my stiff partner to wish for a boringly rugged, brash colleague to brood with – like Bruce Willis and such heroic, bland heterosexuals. There really isn’t a lot of material to mold my performance after, let me tell you! A travesty! But alas, we solved that pesky issue and I got to be the blessing you know and love!” Roman boasted, jostling a grumpy Virgil with his constant need to move around to embellish his story. 

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, the young detective shifted so he could gently capture Patton’s chin to make him look at him. He wanted him to understand how much he understood his continued insecurity. The baker shyly returned his gaze. 

“Having found our style doesn’t mean everything was suddenly easy, though. Friendship takes time, and practice.” He explained kindly. Releasing him again, he made sure to smile lovingly at the unbalanced little thing. 

“Logan tried to show – in his own way – that he accepted me. But we were still two different people with different needs. I was cared for. For a long time, however, I suffered days where I could not see it. Logan needs a professional routine and sometimes silence to be able to work and I… I don’t do well with silence. When we worked a case, I sometimes got lost in my head, thinking Logan ignored me or that I had done something wrong, and he was pushing me away on purpose. As a response, I tried to gain his attention and approval any way I could think of – alienating and irritating him in the process.”

“Oh RoRo, I’m so sorry!” Patton mumbled tearfully. 

“Oh no, Patton, love, it’s all good – all’s well that ends well, right? Logan might have been unsure of what to do with a colorful delight such as myself, but having learned how much I wanted our friendship, he was determined to be there for me.”

Logan, having tensed during the story about their frictions, relaxed very slightly. 

“Being the literal nerd that he is, he decided to do what worked last time and took me out for a drink. Cocoa, this time, since alcohol is vile and disgusting, seriously! And he asked me what I needed from him, which is charming, but also slightly lacking in presentation – a renewed declaration of platonic love and perhaps a bouquet would not have gone amiss- ow!”

Feeling Logan’s annoyance and knowing he was still too mortified to draw attention to himself, Virgil took pity on him and poked Roman on his older friend’s behalf. All of them cringed at Roman’s high-pitched wail. 

“Alright, alright!” The dramatic detective whined, trying to get back to the story. “So, my dearest, most beloved partner made an effort to adjust to my needs and we talked – dreadfully boring, I know. No grand declarations of friendship for me! However, we found ways to make me feel more welcome and cared about, which took a bit of experimenting, as you can imagine! Oh! I was sure Logan made a book about it with graphs and such but I never asked!”

The stubborn silence of the older detective spoke volumes. Roman grinned brightly. 

“See, lovely Patton, the result of our efforts! Before learning to understand each other I would have missed the romance of a journal dedicated to my wellbeing – which I wanna see, pronto! And I would not have gotten quiet cuddles during his silent phases to be reminded of his undying devotion to me, or have his bickering, which is his attempt to reach out and shower me with the attention I so deserve!” Roman cheerfully explained, his eyes shining. He loved remembering all the little ways Logan tried to make him feel loved. 

“A dance between two people can look all sorts of ways, you know?” He elaborated. “Ours includes little ways of supporting each other which might not even look that nice to the uninvited spectator. How is one to know that our bickering and roughhousing is a sigh of our epic bromance, grown through trial and tenacity?”

Quietly, Logan spoke up finally. 

“I am afraid Roman is giving me too much credit. He actually handled our relationship with much more skill and subtlety than I would have ever been capable of. I had long feared making him uncomfortable with my unapproachable ways and complaints and had few, ineffective ideas about how to rectify the situation.”

Curiously, Patton eased his death grip on Roman, wanting to give Logan all of his attention. Their desperate knot of limbs eased into a comfortable huddle, thanks to Roman and Patton adjusting their hold on their partner and kiddo. 

“You must certainly have noticed that I tend to come across as rather cold and intimidating, which I am aware of - mostly. Unfortunately, I did not yet know how to make myself more approachable. Additionally, I had offended more than one colleague with my inappropriate reactions and feared a repeat my mistakes with Roman. As a result, I attempted to limit my verbal interactions to the bare essentials, or – frequently failing to uphold this intention – talked too much and too clinically out of nervousness. Roman invested a considerable amount of care and effort into the improvement of our communication, which I am grateful for. He supported me by patiently explaining my failures and helping me improve, and even by taking control of situations that have threatened to emotionally overwhelm me.”

“Awww!!!” Roman gushed, grinning so brightly his eyes shone and his whole face lit up attractively. He was stupidly pretty and Virgil was not okay. 

“There is no need for applause, my beloved fans!” The young detective exclaimed, raising his manicured hands to calm imaginary masses. “That bouquet I never got will do just fine! And that journal about your attempts to friend-court me – I demand you hand that over!”

“There is no such thing as a ‘friend-courting’ journal.” Logan growled, shuffling about feeling uncomfortably bashful in their cuddle pile with Roman half draped over his back. He didn’t dislodge his partner’s chin when it came to rest on his shoulder, though. 

Patton watched their grumpy, yet somehow soft interaction though a now clear gaze. Logan looked annoyed and flustered and Roman was being a demanding diva, yet they were intertwined in friendly cuddles. The baker was still feeling a little tense whenever their deep, rumbling voices dropped low (or high, in Roman’s case), but there was no denying the tenderness filling their interactions. Ducking his head close to Virgil, he was reminded of how thoroughly he had messed everything up today. Their love had always been so obvious to him and now he could barely look at Logan without shame. 

Shifting uncomfortably under Patton’s arm, Virgil started fidgeting with a loose thread on the soft cardigan he was pressed against. 

“When I got here, I thought Logan and Roman would lock me in.” He muttered softly even as his face heated and his heart started hammering. Nausea was already making its way into his throat, yet he knew Patton needed to know he wasn’t alone in this. 

The pâtissier tensed, his breath catching with surprise. Startled, he looked up at the pained faces of the detectives looking down at the bowed, purple head. 

“They didn’t, f’course. I was just being stupid paranoid. Logan gave me a key and a room I could lock and Roman was – he was a good guy. They both were. They never asked for anything or pushed me or… I was making a lot of stuff up and kept making everyone nervous cause of it. Logan had to arrest me, you see, cause of the Scorpions. I wanted to leave and he didn’t know that yet, cause I’d botched it, and I’d hurt Roman and… I should’ve been in jail and I didn’t understand why I wasn’t. They even risked their lives to save me which I just didn’t get. So, you know – I made up reasons for their kindness for a long time and started looking for clues to support my ideas and I kept reading things Roman did wrong, and he knew. I was a screw up and kinda anxious and aggressive and Logan kept calming me and Roman kept miserably trying to not scare the screw up, which is nice, man. Thank you.” He muttered softly, daring to glance up at Roman for just a moment. 

“But it’s okay, man. I’m starting to understand them better. There’s stuff I can do here – stuff I’m good at. I’m getting more comfortable with myself and that makes me less anxious about them and that makes them more calm – especially Roman. Logan is just – he’s really good at handling all that. He’s calm and - steady. And now I feel like… like things are getting better? But even that doesn’t mean they are perfect. I get… I still get issues and nightmares and stuff and I get angry, kinda a lot. Somehow, Roman knows how to deal with me when I’m like that. I don’t – I have no idea how he does it.” Virgil mumbled, trailing off softly. 

The group was very quiet, sensing he had to gather his courage. 

Clearing his throat and making extra sure not to look up from the protection of his bangs, Virgil took a deep breath. 

“I thought I’d gotten it under control, with you. Helping you. But I messed it up big time, didn’t I? I scared you and I wanna explain it to you, you don’t have to forgive me.” He cut Patton off before he managed to speak, gently capturing his soft hand and squeezing it, trying to swallow the pounding, frantic emotion brewing in him. 

“It’s just - I’m just mad at the world for not leaving you the fuck alone. Things keep happening all the time to you, and Remy and Logan try to help calm me but I -  sometimes I can’t deal with it any other way! I just hate that you get hurt. I just- I just want you to be happy. That’s why I’m mad. Not at you, but… for you, I guess.”

Patton sighed deeply, feeling tears gather. His kiddo. He was so small and frustrated and helpless and Patton could see what he meant. He understood, suddenly. 

“Oh. I hadn’t- I hadn’t thought of that. I just thought you’d be mad at me because – because I-”

“No one’s ever really mad at you, man. You’re a literal fucking angel.” Virgil interrupted tiredly.

“Language!”

“Sorry, man.” Virgil muttered demurely. But fuck him, he was tired. Emotions. He wanted back into Logan’s bed and snuggle up with him. He had the feeling if he fell asleep with his older protector, Logan would end up being the big spoon and that sounded quite safe. 

“I get it, though. I’m doing this a lot to you, aren’t I? I get mad all the time cause I’m an aggressive screw up and you have to take the fall. I didn’t notice I was making you nervous, but I’ll figure it out, okay? We can make you feel safe if you help us understand what’s got you spooked.”

“Okay.” Patton agreed finally. “But you have to stop saying you’re a screw up! You’re not! You’re the smartest kiddo I know and I am so proud of you! You mustn’t feel bad because I get a little anxious sometimes! I just love you a lot and want things to be well!”

“Sure, Pat.” Virgil promised, deflating after his emotion-dumping was finally done. He could see the worry on Patton’s face, see his mind working with his attempt to figure out what exactly Virgil had been afraid the detectives would do to him, but that horrifying conversation could wait till another day. Preferably in ten or twenty years. Or never.

Meanwhile, Patton was looking up at all of them. At Roman comfortably draping himself over Logan’s back, letting him take his weight while he wrapped his arms around his older colleague, lacing his fingers over the others stomach. At Logan still trying to avert his gaze despite keeping a gentle arm wrapped loosely around Patton’s back, and at Virgil who was involving himself in a staring match with Cat who had rolled away, clearly contemplating whether he wanted to drag the moody raccoon into their mess. 

Cat hissed at him. 

Bristling, Virgil hissed back. 

“I- um.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to Patton. 

“I wanted to thank you, for opening up and telling me all that. I know it must have been hard.” He murmured softly. 

There was so much he was still thinking about. Their exchange was like nothing he’d ever experienced. The way they all had learned to look out for each other because they had hurt their friends unintentionally gave him hope. These men were so kind and tender with their loved ones. They truly thought about their friend’s problems and tried to change in any way they could to be what the others needed. He had wondered how men such as Logan and Roman, who were so different, had managed to become so in tune with each other. It seemed like they had worked hard to get where they were and now, they were offering the same effort to Virgil – and to him. He was awed by their willingness to forgive his failures and the pain he had caused. He’d grown used to bearing the pain alone and being the one to keep trying to adjust, to do better and offend less and please a partner who wouldn’t be pleased with himself. He’d never been looked after this way. 

With renewed confidence, he smiled at them, genuine and grateful. 

Finally, Logan smiled back. 

Though his posture was still not as confident as usual, the expression transformed his face and made him look soft and approachable. Like the kind of man that would soothe a defensive creature like Virgil with calm words or heal Patton with his gentle hands on him. 

“There is no need to thank us, Patton. Considering the amount of times we have misunderstood each other, a conversation is long overdue and will benefit all of us.” 

Patton’s little heart fluttered at the smooth tone of that deep voice. It was like Logan was intentionally speaking more quietly in order to soothe him. The pitch made his dark voice all kinds of rumbly. Patton felt a little nervous flutter upon being spoken to that way. Trying not to let his silly reaction show, he plastered a big smile onto his face. 

“Okay. Alright. So it looks like it’s confession time! Buckle up, kids!”  

Roman grinned at him encouragingly. 

“Okay.” Patton said again, trying to sort out his thoughts and make the words come. Whenever he opened his mouth to speak it was as if something lodged itself into his throat, snatching his breath away. How did you tell your friends who had washed the blood off your body and accepted you into their home that he had been uncomfortable in their care? It was impossible. 

Virgil leaned away from him briefly to snatch up Cat, somehow avoiding the sharp claws that tried to free her from emotional support duty. Snorting, Virgil pressed her back against his stomach and settled her into his lap, aggressively loving her. 

“You’re a bristly beast, you know that? You keep pulling threads and gnawing on the furniture and you have an attitude.” Cat snapped her jaws at him. “That’s okay.” Virgil promised. “I dig it.”

Wrapping his arms around her more comfortably, Virgil allowed her to leave if she wanted to. She bit his thumb with sharp little teeth before curling her fluffy, striped tail around his elbow and settling in. 

Patton laughed softly, recognizing the attempt to make him more comfortable with his confession. He loved Virgil so much. 

“Okay.” He whispered one last time. “So, I – I sometimes get a bit antsy, because Trevor and I – we used to fight a lot. I can be a little difficult, after all. And I guess I got a little used to looking for reasons to worry, since there was always another thing to argue about. And you all didn’t do anything wrong! You are all wonderful and I know you wouldn’t do anything mean! But… there are some things I felt- that made me a bit… insecure, I guess.”

“What things are those, sweet Patton?” Roman inquired gently, keeping his voice soft. 

“Oh, just little things. Nothing to worry about! I’m just overly nervous, is all! I guess I’m just too sensitive.” Patton confessed, trying one last time to avoid making his friends uncomfortable. Neither of them took the bait, though. 

“Pat, it’s okay.” Virgil nudged him with his shoulder before grabbing Nugget’s middle as it tried to climb over them to get to its human and settled it into his friend’s arms. It curled its head and rolled into a purring ball.

“Yes, right. Sorry.” Patton amended. “So, I just worry sometimes, when I get nervous from time to time and start expecting things, when someone raises their voice it makes me a bit frightened. And… you guys just bicker with each other sometimes -  when Roman starts complaining I get worried you guys might fight and when Logan has something to complain about because we make a mess, I worry that things might get… bad. And… and sometimes when Virgil gets annoyed at something – which I think is wonderful! I love that you’re passionate – but I – I just hear nothing but the tone, sometimes, and not what is being said. It’s stupid. I’m sorry.”

The group grew very quiet after Patton’s confession. The pâtissier was stoically looking at the kitten, trying to hide the gathering tears, while the men in his life tried to come to terms with his confession.  

Finally, Roman reached around Logan and wrapped a warm, large hand around Patton’s where they were cradling the kitten. “It’s not stupid, sweet Patton. Your feelings are natural and you deserve to have them taken into consideration.” 

“Yeah, man. We’re really sorry.” 

“I too, would like to extend my apologies for causing you discomfort.” Logan added quietly. “I should have realized how our behaviour would affect you, considering your experiences.” 

Patton quickly rubbed at his tears and tried to find his smile. He was usually good at pulling himself together and chase away everyone’s worry with a joke, but his tears just kept coming. It was the warmth of Virgil at his side, so slender and still supportive like a solid, graceful steel construction wrapped around him. Logan held him in a tentative hug and Roman towered over him, gently caressing his fingers buried in fur. Patton was warm and surrounded by loving people with tender hands on him and a raccoon that was drooling on his sleeve where it had rested its head. It was so much better than he’d ever dared dream of. He’d forgotten how much he had hoped for this. For a home. The realization that he was right in the middle of this group, cradled and protected and wanted washed over him. Even though he was being stupid. 

“Thank you. So much.” He muttered, his voice thick with tears. “Please don’t change. I’ll be fine. I’m so happy to be here.”

The three men exchanged a look over his light brown curls, silently promising each other to come back to this topic and to make sure Patton always knew he was safe no matter how much their bickering got out of hand. For now, their beloved baker appeared tired enough to fall asleep in their arms. 

“We are pleased to know you are enjoying our company. The feeling is mutual.” Logan noted carefully. “However, if it would be acceptable to you, we would like to continue working on making you feel safe with us like we have done for each other before and like you have been with us since the beginning of our friendship. It will not cause us any trouble. Additionally, I would like inform you of an offer Dr. Emile Harris asked me to relay to you.”

Virgil perked up slightly, hopefully raising his head to listen.  

“Remy mentioned that he would like to visit us soon in order to spend time with me and personally continue his sessions with Virgil. Additionally, he would like to bring his husband with him who he explained appears to be quite fond of you. Roman has graciously offered to take the children to the park to entertain them… if you are amenable to being in the company of Remy’s husband, of course.”

Wiping his eyes dry with his long, soft sleeve, Patton thought the offer through. Remembering Emile with his sweet smile and warm eyes and his gentle playfulness with his children made him feel safe already. Talking to him had cleared so much up. Perhaps he could help him figure things out before they got out of hand next time, so he wouldn’t hurt anyone again. He’d really been silly. Sitting here, on this very couch he’d dreamed about, with his very own adorable baby kitten in his hands, he could hardly understand how he could have forgotten how much he loved it here. He never wanted to forget again. And he wanted to see Emile. It was difficult not to tell Logan it was all fine and to try not to cause more effort for everyone, but he could feel so clearly how much his friends wanted him to get better. Like Patton wanted with Virgil. He wanted his kiddo to heal and be happy and Roman to never feel unloved again and he wanted Logan to know he was so so cared about and just perfect the way he was. He wished he could see how amazing he truly was. Patton had so many feelings about his man. He longed to… do so much. Make him feel so much. They were all here to take care of each other, and if he wanted to look after them, perhaps he should let them help him as well. 

“That would be lovely. Thank you.” 

Roman grinned, immediately cheered up by the idea of going to a playground, dressing up and playing knights and princess and fighting dragons. Virgil, too, seemed to nestle against Patton more calmly. Reassured that his family was feeling secure, Logan finally relaxed properly in their cuddle pile. His breath left him in a deep sigh as Patton carefully leaned against him, rubbing his cheek against his wool sweater. He closed his eyes and buried his face in the silky curls.

***************************************************

End of chapter notes: So we ended in a cuddle pile again because who needs variety.

Once again, if you guys feel like supporting me, here’s the old Ko-fi page link :)

The app Virgil is programming wasn’t supposed to be in the story, actually. It just jumped at me that it would be a cool project from them to share because Virgil needs to build things again and Logan loves his plants and data. And ACTUALLY my boyfriend is making that very same app because our f*cking lemon tree keeps dying. I’ve bought him another one last year and it is constantly on the brink of death. The Failure is real. We manage to make it grow leaves and they keep falling off again. Every.fricking.time. The fucker. (We’re both having issues at this point). The app will be available sometime this year with his sensors and all. If you have a plant that keeps dying on you and you are as stupidly stubborn as Logan, I’ll post a link and you can nerdily try to save it. I’ll keep you updated because my boyfriend is making an app all on his own and I am just so darn proud of him!!! (And Virgil can program it with Logan which will be adorable and get Virge out there again).

ART:

@olcia46​ made another edit I’d die for. I just think they are so pretty! The colours, the outline of the boys, all of it!

and I’m not even certain if I shared this LOVELY picture of @galaxy-sketch​ of Virgil and Nicodemus sitting on a counter yet but it’s lovely enough to look at twice!

Next Chapter

[gaystardust]

through darkness of mind [Kanera Week: trust/vulnerability]

Synopsis: Kanan has nightmares. Hera helps. @kaneraweek Rating: T Warnings: discussion of Kanan’s past, discussion of parental death. Graphic description of panic attacks and anxiety. Trauma-related nightmares, trauma-related alcoholism, possible emetophobia AO3 Link: [link] A/N: Title from Godspeed by Frank Ocean. I’m on a new medication that gives me constant anxiety and regular panic attacks - so this happened. Also, I’m serious. Editing was hard because the panic felt too real - I tried to make it a little less so, but it’s still pretty detailed. Be careful, look after yourself. I am not responsible for your decision to read these.

  The world blurred as he sat up too quickly, barely aware he’d fallen asleep. His heartbeat was loud in his eyes, and his stomach twisted. The air still smelt like burning flesh, both from fire and his lightsaber blade.

The rolling acid of his stomach made him swallow hard. There was nothing in his stomach to bring up, but his body was still trying.

Nightmare. It was a nightmare.

Again.

Kanan made himself breathe hard through his nose, counting in and out. Really, he should have been exhaling through his mouth, creating a perfect circle of breath but the nausea wasn’t going to let him.

He was awake. Sweaty, shaking, and on the edge of hyperventilating, but awake. He was awake, and safe, and alive.

Even if it didn’t feel like it.

Mygeeto was almost a decade behind him. The constant feeling of darkness and despair still sat heavy on his soul, but it was over. Only its shadow remained, an outline only seen behind closed eyes.

He was safe.

Kanan forced his fingers to relax where they were digging into the hard duraplast of the table.

The table. The kitchen table.

He’d fallen asleep in the shared space again. That thing Hera had specifically told him not to do, especially when he could just go to bed - except he had no idea what time it was. They’d been aimlessly floating around space for the last week, and the standard planetary day-night cycle was already gone from his brain.

The world around him moved sluggishly as he looked around, still blurred around the edges. Was it a side effect of waking up mid-sleep cycle, or was he on the edge of a panic attack?

The vibrating under his skin suggested the latter, but maybe it was both. His toes were numb, and his fingers were sluggish and stiff as they tapped on the duraplast of the table. Something close to pins and needles ran up and down his legs.

He ran through a quick battlefield assessment to make sure it was nothing worse - and then immediately slammed down on the reminder than he knew how to do that.

Whatever it had been before, it was easing closer and closer to a panic attack.

Kanan closed his eyes, watching the patterns swirl behind his eyes. He counted his breaths, just like he’d been taught dozens of times in his life. Inhale the recycled air, still cleaner than some planets, and exhale all of the bad feelings.

The door at the other side of the room slid open. Kanan jumped. His muscles seized as he tried to size up the threat, forcing down the panic that rose in his throat.

Even seeing Hera there didn’t stop the rising pain in his chest. His breathing was mostly under control now, but his heart was beating too fast.

“Kanan?” Hera said quietly, hovering in the doorway. She overly still, her lekku held close to her back in a way that must have been uncomfortable. “Are you okay?”

He could feel the thu-thump thu-thump thu-thump behind his eyes, pushing everything out of focus.

He nodded and was caught in a loop of motion. It made him rock back and forth, until he forced himself to slump forward against the table. His fingers started tapping, but that was a good enough reroute. “Sorry.”

“Hey, no, it’s alright.” She moved a little closer, hands held up as if placating a wild animal.

He felt like one. A herd animal trapped between a cliff and a predator, about to make a terrible choice.

“Talk to me, love. What’s the matter?”

The pet name burned in a way he didn’t want to think about. He could hear it mirrored, in another accent, on another set of lips, in another time. The word was different, but the feeling was the same.

He couldn’t shake his head, not without risking another loop. He had to speak. “Just… just a nightmare.”

Hera nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” his voice cracked, “thanks.”

Her approach took too long, but when she sat down on the corner of the bench Kanan realised it was actually too quick. She was nowhere near him, but it was still too close. He could hear her boots tapping on the floor, rhythmic and irritating.

Or maybe those were his boots.

“Is there anything else I can do?”

Kanan took the risk of shaking his head, just catching himself before the repetition kicked in. “It’s fine, I’m used to it.”

The look Hera gave him was full of pity - or maybe his brain was lying. “Do you get nightmares a lot?”

“I used to. They stopped when I started going to sleep too exhausted to dream.” He watched Hera settle herself back into the seat. “Or too drunk to.”

She hummed. “So that’s why you drank so much?”

It felt too obvious, and some awful part of him felt like she should have realised already. Why else would he have been drinking so much, if not to stop his nightmares? Did she think he’d just been doing that for fun?

Or maybe it had been a fact of Kanan’s life for so long, it felt that obvious. That didn’t mean someone who’d known him only a few months would understand, not even someone who knew his darker secrets.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he repeated, which seemed to answer enough for Hera. She nodded, not pushing him any further but not letting the room around them fall quiet. She didn’t seem comfortable with the quiet.

Or maybe he was just projecting.

He couldn’t tell anymore.

“After my mother died, I had nightmares all the time,” she admitted quietly, looking down at the table instead of towards him. It made his skin fizzle less. “I kept thinking that what happened to her would happen to me, or my father. The one day he’d go out, and never come back.” She traced an invisible pattern on the table, all straight lines and slight curves. “I only grew out of it when I realised it didn’t matter whether it happened to us - it had already happened to her. Worrying it would happen to my father wouldn’t do anything.” When Hera looked up again, she looked as anxious as Kanan felt. “It wouldn’t have stopped him, either.”

Maybe (when he was able to sort through his thoughts without uncovering more panic) he would work his way through everything he’d just been told. So much of it was new, but it wouldn’t settle in his thoughts. It would have to wait.

It would have made sense, if Hera thought he was afraid of dying. He hid himself almost completely, unwilling to do anything that would risk identifying him as a Jedi. But she’d seen through him instantly.

Kanan dropped his head into his hands, half in disbelief that he was going to admit. “I keep seeing people I care about die. And not just the battles I was in. Some of them, I only heard about in stories, but I still see everyone die right in front of me,” he gestured to the centre of the room, but didn’t look up.

There was a pause after he stopped talking, as if Hera wanted him to continue. He just shook his head - or shuffled it as much as he could without lifting his head - trying to make it obvious he wasn’t going to.

She seemed to take the hint, at least a little. “Kanan, you were a child. There was nothing you could have done.”

“I know,” he managed quietly, voice crackling. “But I still dream it.”

Even leaning into his arms, his head felt heavy. Shuffling his legs felt like moving dead weight. The adrenaline had left his system as quickly as it entered, leaving nothing but exhausting in its wake. Kanan sighed.

“I felt them, Hera. I felt the Force shrivel up and die, just like the rest of the Jedi Order.”

She reached out a hand, leaving it at the edge of his line of sight but not any further.

It took a moment for Kanan to realise she was asking for permission.

Lifting his head, he dropped his arms to the table. The back of one hand landed in her open palm.

Even with her lekku twitching in discomfort, Hera smiled softly, but not out of pity. More like mutual understanding.

“The Force didn’t die, love. It’s everywhere, all around us.” She laughed softly, barely louder than breathing. “That’s how you explained it, right?”

That had been months ago, just after they’d left Gorse. The fact she still remembered made Kanan’s chest flutter, but not with anxiety.

“Well, it’s all around us, but it’s also in every living thing,” he corrected, practically hearing the repeated lesson in the back of his mind. “That’s the difference between the Unifying Force and the Living Force… I think.” He never really understood the difference, even after so many lessons. It was blurry and difficult to identify, and there was no one to correct him now.

He could feel the spiral before he fell into it. Kanan huffed through his nose, forcing himself to focus on the feeling of air moving through his body.

Hera didn’t notice. “If the Force is in all things, then it definitely can’t be dead. I’m not saying you didn’t feel something awful, but the Force didn’t die.”

“The Order did.”

“Not all of it.” Her eyes were sharp, focused on him. She looked like she had a plan. “You’re still here. And if you are, there has to be others. Even you can’t be self-centred enough to think you’re the only Jedi with the skills to survive the Purge.”

But it wasn’t just the Purge. It was Knightfall. It was the person vendettas some of the Clones still held against their Generals. It was Kardoa, Mygeeto, Kaller.

He had no energy to argue about it, nor to think about the different types of trauma he had, and how that affected his nightmares. He doubted he would ever have the energy for it.

“It’s far more than that,” he just about managed, using all of his strength not to lie on the table again. “But I really don’t want to talk about it, Hera. Can I just go and sleep, please? I’m exhausted.”

Hera squeezed his hand. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.” He had no idea what she’d assumed, but he wasn’t going to ask. Then she stood up, gently pulling him from the bench. “Come on. I want to make sure you’re in bed before you fall asleep sat up again.”

He didn’t argue as Hera lead him to the cabin he was staying in. It was starting to gather the clutter of somewhere well lived in, but the blankets stacked on the bed were the thing he looked forward to most.

As soon as she deposited him on the bed, Kanan slumped sideways, pressing his back close to the wall. He didn’t bother stripping down, too aware of Hera in the room and too exhausted to work out clothes fastenings.

Hera didn’t move, just watching him from the doorway again. “Shout of me if you need anything, okay? I know the intercom is by the door, but you don’t have to say anything. Just press it and I’ll come and check on you.”

It Kanan far longer than it should have to understand, his adrenaline sapped brain not even sure what was words and what was just sounds. “You’re not staying?”

She hesitated, before shaking her head. “No, of course not. Why, did you think I would?”

He tossed the idea of her leaving around in his head before coming to his conclusion.

“Please stay.”

It sounded like a beg, and perhaps it was. He knew all too well the risks of sleeping alone. At least with someone else there, a heartbeat near him, he’d know everything was okay. That they were somewhere safe.

Hera hesitated before moving into the room. She hesitated again after a few steps, moving to push the flight suit trousers from the body. Underneath were the dark leggings she wore while they were to make up for the lack of heat while they were in space.

As soon as she sat on the edge of the bed, she pulled upright Kanan to remove his jumper, chucking it onto the floor. She moved to pull off his boots and put his own hands on his belt to make him remove it himself. He just about managed it in the time it took Hera to undo two sets of laces.

Then she curled up beside him, back pressed to his chest. One of his arms looped across her waist automatically, holding her close.

She was cool, surprisingly so. Did Twi’leks run cooler than Humans?

“Try and get some sleep,” she said quietly.

He hummed his understanding, the world around him warm and soft. “I’ll try. Don’t leave while I’m asleep, okay?”

If he’d been more awake, perhaps he would have noticed Hera stiffen, and then relax back into his body. “Of course not.”

His “goodnight” was muffled in her shoulder, making Hera laugh quietly.

“Sweet dreams, Kanan.”

[crzytwn]

AJ

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Aimee, DJ’s so tall she has to make up for it somewhere

Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Neither, after the whole exile thing being a real topic that’s not really something either of them considers even while like BIG mad

Who actually keeps their word and leaves? no one!

Who trashes the house? I just feel like they both would on accident?? They need helmets.

Do either of them get physical? Not in a fight.

How often do they argue/disagree? Not That often.

Who is the first to apologise? Neither? I searched sorry on Aimee’s blog and so many convos came up but none were with DJ, I think they’re just those people that like argue, cool off and then whoever wants to make up first goes over to the other one just says some shit like “Do you ever get sad that jellyfish don’t actually make jelly?” and then the fight is forgotten.

Sex:

Who is on top? AIMEE’S A TOP I DIDN’T KNOW

Who is on the bottom? DJ which honestly he’s so big, it’s probably just convenient

Who has the strangest desires? Feels up DJ’s Alley

Any kinks? for sure

Who’s dominant in bed? DJ, Aimee CAN be but she’s definitely specifically into letting DJ tell her what to do.

Is head ever in the equation? Ya sure.

If so, who is better at performing it? I don’t know! I feel like it’s a tie, they’re so obsessed with each other.

Ever had sex in public? No, Aimee would literally faint with how anxious that idea makes her.

Who moans the most? Aimee.

Who leaves the most marks? I don’t KNOW! But I feel like Aimee is an accidental nail digger

Who screams the loudest? So idk maybe DJ since he’s a pincushion apparently

Who is the more experienced of the two? UH! I just do not know! DJ’s fucked Elle and idk if anything will Happen with Karmen but Aimee is humping around with her own fuck buddy so?

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? Aimee would only call it making love, she’s flowery like that.

Rough or soft? I simply cannot imagine them having rough sex without injuries but also they’re not gentle people so that’s fun?

How long do they usually last? 🤔 They are athletic and would presumably have decent stamina...

Is protection used? Tf if I know, Aimee wants kids and DJ needs an heir.

Does it ever get boring? No, they’ve been waiting their entire lives for it. It could never.

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? Swan Lake? That castle is abandoned so it’s safe from Aimee’s public fears.

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? YA ya ya.

If so, how many children do your muses want/have? I think they would have a lot, half out of being stupid but like Aimee would love to spite Uberta and have so many perfect HALF blue blooded heirs and spares for the kingdom.

Who is the favorite parent? DJ, obviously.

Who is the authoritative parent? Aimee.

Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? DJ, but like Aimee would end up tagging along anyway.

Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? DJ but honestly it’s probably Aimee’s candy.

Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? Both of them and they are EMBARRASSING.

Who goes to parent teacher interviews? Aimee. This is her area of expertise for sure.

Who changes the diapers? Maids or Aimee.

Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? Maids, Aimee would WANT to but then never wake up

Who spends the most time with the children? They’d both be so obsessed with their kids are you kidding.

Who packs their lunch boxes? The castle cook.

Who gives their children ‘the talk’? Rogers!

Who cleans up after the kids? Maids, but Aimee would try to do it first.

Who worries the most? AIMEE!!!

Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? Also Aimee.

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? Both of them!

Who is the little spoon? The visual of Aimee jetpacking all six foot one million inches of DJ is too funny and cute for words.

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? DJ, Aimee’s too paranoid

Who struggles to keep their hands to themself?   Both of them honestly, but I think Aimee would be very into hand holding so they can at least have unlimited physical contact.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? I don’t know if either of them like to sit still for that long so probably not for an extended period of time.

Who gives the most kisses? DJ, but Only because it’s harder for Aimee to get to his face but she definitely kisses his hand.

What is their favourite non-sexual activity? Target practice!!

Where is their favourite place to cuddle? Probably in bed?

Who is more likely to playfully grope the other? Could not tell u, def on brand for them both.

How often do they get time to themselves? Enough? They definitely MAKE time!

Sleeping:

Who snores? If both do, who snores the loudest? Dunno.

Do they share a bed or sleep separately? Share!

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? Aimee likes her space but also she probably HAS to touch him while they’re sleeping.

Who talks in their sleep? Dunno

What do they wear to bed? Probably underwear? If anything?

Are either of your muses insomniacs? Mine isn’t, is DJ?

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? Melatonin gummies probs

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? More like draped over each other. Top or bottom is who goes down first.

Who wakes up with bed hair? Aimee has the most hair.

Who wakes up first? Aimee is the more On Top of things one so she probably wakes DJ up even now.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? Aimee but it’s cereal. DJ probably would too but he def would’ve spilled too many times to be allowed ever again.

What is their favourite sleeping position? this

Who hogs the sheets? DJ, Aimee probably kicks sheets off.

Do they set an alarm each night? Aimee naturally wakes up early so probably not unless they have to do something DUMB early.

Can a television be found in their bedroom? Yep

Who has nightmares? Aimee thee Coward

Who has ridiculous dreams? I don’t knooow

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? DJ, he’s big.

Who makes the bed? Aimee, but then the maids probably remake it because she didn’t do That good a job.

What time is bed time? Whenever they feeel like it.

Any routines/rituals before bed? I don’t know!!!

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? They give off morning people vibes but if i’m wrong correct me?

Work:

Who is the busiest? King Derek Jr!

Who rakes in the highest income? The king!

Are any of your muses unemployed? Uh I literally almost said Aimee but I guess being his queen like counts as a job.

Who takes the most sick days? Aimee is both a lil bit of a hypochondriac and also is probably sick a lot.

Who is more likely to turn up late to work? Could not tell you, but I would guess DJ because he like fell or something.

Who sucks up to their boss? Is Aimee’s boss DJ BECAUSE she sure does suck up to him.

What are their jobs? King and Queen of wherever tf, probably.

Who stresses the most? Aimee!

Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? Aimee is probably Uncomfortable with it for a whiiile but I think that’s it?

Are your muses financially stable? Duh.

Home:

Who does the washing? The maids, Aimee doesn’t do her own laundry NOW so she would get over that hang up the fastest.

Who takes out the trash? Idk whoever’s job that is.

Who does the ironing? Aimee and also the maids.

Who does the cooking? The castle cooks.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? Both of them.

Who is messier? DJ

Who leaves the toilet roll empty? DJ

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Does DJ? He pays people to do a lot so idk.

Who forgets to flush the toilet? Ew

Who is the prankster around the house? DJ

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? Aimee! But also probably DJ!

Who mows the lawn? The gardener!

Who answers the telephone? Who calls people!?

Who does the vacuuming? The maids and Aimee.

Who does the groceries? Aimee but only for like her own personal things, she hates asking.

Who takes the longest to shower? DJ has a lot of body to shower also Aimee doesn’t like SHOWERS that much.

Who spends the most time in the bathroom? Aimee, I just KNOW she takes hot baths and then passes out from the temperature shift getting out of the tub.

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? Technically no, but that much money Is a problem to Aimee.

How many cars do they own? I don’t know!

Do they own their home or do they rent? It’s a castle soo

Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? Idk man that kingdom seems a lil coastal?

Do they live in the city or in the country? In a castle!

Do they enjoy their surroundings? Sure!

What’s their song? Today I say Grow As We Go by Ben Platt

What do they do when they’re away from each other? Facetime probably.

Where did they first meet? Idk man wherever people put babies in the castle

How did they first meet? Their dads like waved their lil baby hands at each other.

Who spends the most money when out shopping? DJ

Who’s more likely to flash their assets? DJ with his lil princey frat ass.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? They both do because THEY BOTH TRIP OVER SO MUCH.

Any mental issues? No? But like who doesn’t? Idk?

Who’s terrified of bugs? Who kills the spiders around the house? Aimee is TERRIFIED and would stand in a chair screaming for DJ to kill it for absolutely ever.

Their favourite place? I sure don’t know.

Who pays the bills? DJ but I’m sure Aimee would offer anyway like they wouldn’t have the same money in the future.

Do they have any fears for their future? No? Aimee’s parents got divorced when she was pretty young but like the biggest obstacle was GETTING DJ, she’s not that worried about losing him. Except to death, but she’s always afraid of him dying.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? DJ? But I hope not because Aimee would hate it for like half the time it would take to eat it.

Who uses up all of the hot water?   Does the hot water run out?

Who’s the tallest? TAKE A WILD GUESS

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? Both of them, but Aimee for sure. DJ’s shower times are not his alone time according to her.

Who wanders around in their underwear? Aimeeeeee

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? Aimeeee, it’s very bad but DJ knew what he was getting into

What do they tease each other about? What don’t they tease each other about.

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? I don’t know? Neither of them?

Do they have mutual friends? Who crushed first? Any alcohol or substance related problems?   Yeah Jojo and Karmen and whoever else i’m forgetting rn but i’m sure Aimee will get over her inexplicable Artie disdain, I don’t know who crushed first and i’m sire they don’t either. Nope!

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? DJ!

Who swears the most? I don’t know! I said Aimee is the most likely to teach their kids swears but idk if that necessarily means she’s saying more.

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

BTS Reaction to You Being Chubby/Thick and Embarrassed Maknae Line

Warnings: smut, smut, smut...fluff

Word Count: 2740

Jimin

You'd been dating Jimin for three weeks when you finally decided you couldn't put off sex anymore.

You'd been particularly shy with him, maybe because he was so handsome or because you knew his struggles with his own body image and you were worried he'd be critical of your body.

For his part, Jimin had spent as much time with you as humanly possible and then there was the odd day you couldn't see each other, he was constantly texting and facetiming you.

You had no doubts that he liked you and that he wanted you, but when you were kissing and things got heated and his hands started to roam, you always made an excuse to leave early.

You couldn't help being insecure, but maybe you could push through it because after all, you had needs. You put on the red lace bra and panty set that made you feel the most confident and a simple maxi dress that you hoped wasn't too tight that bared your shoulders.

You'd scheduled a Netflix and chill date under the guise of watching a new show you were interested, and you were in the kitchen making popcorn on the stove when the doorbell rang.

You yelled that the door was unlocked, not wanting to scorch the popcorn, and seconds later you feel Jimin's arms snaking around your waist.

He kisses your bare shoulder. "You look so sexy tonight, Y/n."

His voice is low and you shiver. You pull away from him though, not wanting him to feel the rolls on your stomach, and he frowns a little.

Once you're settled on the couch you swing your legs into his lap and sit the popcorn on your stomach and he raises an eyebrow, surprised.

It isn't ten minutes into first episode when he starts roaming his hands on your bare skin through the slit in one side of your dress, walking his fingers toward your inner thighs.

You look at him and he's smirking at you, waiting for you to give him the go ahead, so you part your thighs slightly.

His eyes light up and his smirk grows wider, and he innocently reaches for popcorn with his right hand while his left brushes against your lace panties, making you tremble.

Another ten minutes in and you're soaking wet and sitting the popcorn on the coffee table and beckoning him toward you.

He complies, still smirking at you, and when covers your body with his own you can feel him hard against your thigh.

When he kisses you you catch his bottom lip with your teeth, making him moan. He kisses down your neck and throat but when he tries to trail kisses down your stomach you take his face in your hands.

"M-maybe we should slow down," you say, wanting anything but. You hate your stupid brain, imagining the disgust in his eyes when he sees your stomach.

He stops instantly, lifting his head up to look at you.

"You're not...a virgin or anything, are you?"

You snort. "Hardly."

He frowns a little at that. "Then...do you...just not want me?"

His voice is soft and your heart aches.

"Of course I want you. I want you so bad, Jimin."

His pupils dilate and he wets his lips.

"Oh, thank God. I like you so much, Y/n and I was beginning to think I wasn't your type or something."

"I know I'm not your type, and that's why I'm nervous."

You can't believe you just blurted it out like that and you feel pathetic for being so insecure. You know confidence is attractive, but right now with this gorgeous man an inch away from your face, you just don't have it.

He's frowning at you. "Not my type? You"re the most beautiful girl in the world, you're everyone's type!"

You scoff. "Jimin, please-"

He's looking into your eyes intensely.

"No, I'm dead serious. Do you not know how insanely hot you are? When I saw you dancing in that club my heart stopped. I had to fight through so many guys to get to you first!"

You're blushing but you can't help your smile.

"Really? You think I'm hot?"

He looks almost offended as he rocks his hips into yours, making you gasp.

"You think I get this hard for girls I'm not attracted to?"

You bite your lower lip and he groans.

"Please let me take this off. I'm dying to see that body." He's whining but his voice is low and you want to comply, you really do, but you're afraid.

"I just...I really like you, Jimin, and I don't want you to be disappointed. I know how critical you are of your own appearance..."

Jimin's eyes widen. "Disappointed? Baby, no matter what you looked like I wouldn't be disappointed! You're right, I am critical of my own appearance but I'm working on that and I'd never judge anyone else because of that. It's not just your looks I'm attracted to, you know. I like you so much."

"You do?"

He nods enthusiastically, propping up on one elbow to smile at you, way more focused on you than trying to get up your skirt at this point, and it only makes you fall for him harder.

"Crazy about you. It makes my heart flutter every time you smile at me. I grin at my phone so much my friends make fun of me."

Your heart swells. How is he this hot but this sweet? An anomaly, for sure.

You kiss him hard but he pulls away and you whine.

"You're not gonna wake up tomorrow and regret this, right? Now I'm nervous you'll be disappointed with me."

He pouts at you and you laugh.

"Never in a million years."

(You rarely have ever been naked while on top but Jimin worships every inch of you, removing your clothes with reverence and when you're riding him he can't stop praising you in between moans. "You're so fucking hot, Y/n, don't play with your nipples like that, you'll make me come too fast," and you can't stop smiling the next morning, touching your bottom lip at work, swollen from his hungry kisses.)

Taehyung

When you invite Taehyung in for tea after you'd been seeing him for almost a month, you weren't necessarily sure it would happen.

You were prepared, freshly waxed and wearing your favorite white lace bra and thong under your sexiest dress. It was a little revealing, but you thought your legs were among your best features, so you'd worn it to dinner (the dress).

He'd complimented you in a low voice, telling you how beautiful you looked, and it made your heart skip a beat.

When you'd invited him inside, his eyes widened but he broke into a smile.

He didn't talk much once he followed you inside, slipping his shoes off politely at the door when you did, but when you put the kettle on the stove, humming absentmindedly, you felt his arms snake around your waist.

You're a little surprised when he kisses your bare shoulder open mouthed, because although he's been very affectionate with hugs and kisses, this is the first time he's pulled you so close.

"You look so sexy and domestic standing at the stove in your bare feet, Jagi," he says in a low tone close to your ear, and your skin tingles with goosebumps.

You get nervous at his hands locking around your tummy and you pull out of his grasp, batting at him playfully.

"Don't get too used to it. I'm not the barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen type."

"Maybe one day," He pouts at you but his eyes are sparkling mischievously and you laugh and kiss him.

You're not expecting the way he kisses you back, hard, hand on your lower back pulling you close.

Your first kiss was slow and sweet and you'd made out a few times, things getting a little heated, but he'd never taken initiative like this.

You were very excited but also anxious. You were acutely aware that your body didn't fit the typical standard for beauty with your wide hips and large breasts, your tummy that wasn't even near flat, thick thighs.

And he was so beautiful, striking, really, that you felt like a potato next to him.

He never made you feel that he thought so, though, his arm around you as you walked down the street, holding your hand when you were at the movies, hand on your thigh when you sat next to him on couch at a party.

He had introduced you to his friends, seemed proud of you, and it made you feel beautiful, so you fight your insecurities and kiss him back, hands locking behind his head.

He pushes you back against the island with his body and suddenly hefts you up onto the counter, hands on your thighs, bunching up your dress.

When the kettle screams, you yelp into his mouth, startled, and he laughs, backing up a few steps and taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, and you smile to reassure him and hop off the counter to make tea, a little disappointed that the moment had been ruined.

When you're sitting next to him on the couch, he's looking at you intently, fidgeting, as if he wants to say something. You raise an eyebrow at him.

"I didn't mean to push you," he says in a rush. "I like you so much, Y/n, and I'd never want to make you uncomfortable..."

You smile at him.

"Tae, I was far from uncomfortable."

He sighs in relief. "Oh, good. I didn't know if you were ready, or..."

He's put down his tea to talk to you, eyes all earnest, and you place yours down slowly and then stand up and straddle his waist, taking his hands and placing them on your hips.

He's looking at you almost in awe and when you lean down to kiss him and grind down onto his lap, you feel him harden beneath you and he moans into your mouth.

"I'm ready," you whisper into his ear, and when you do he kisses your throat, nipping at your collarbone and making your skin flush.

He trails his mouth down to your chest and impatiently pulls at your dress, which you've bunched around your waist so that you could have more range of motion.

You stop him and he looks up at you quizzically, grip loosening on your hips as if he weren't sure what you wanted.

"No, it's okay. I'm just....a little insecure about my stomach."

He frowns then but his hands move to your ass, rocking your core into his hardness.

"How could you be insecure about anything, Jagi? You're the most beautiful woman in the world, after all."

You chuckle. "Oh my God, Tae, seriously?"

He nods at you, still frowning, eyes wide and honest.

"You are to me."

Your heart melts, literally melts, and you impulsively rip your dress off, revealing your white bra and matching thong.

He takes in a sharp breath, his eyes on your body and then back up to your face as if he can't decide which view is better.

"Fuck, Jagi, you're sexier than I could have imagined," he almost growls, and you raise an eyebrow.

"Kim Taehyung," you say playfully, "you imagined me naked?"

You expect him to blush but he doesn't, nodding slowly and cupping your breasts in his hands through your bra, brushing his thumbs over your already hard nipples. You gasp.

"Dozens of times. I'd take myself in my hand and imagine what you'd look like just like this, tits in my face. I imagined how wet you'd be."

His voice is low and almost hoarse but calm, and you're shaking at this unexpected dirty talk, fire pooling in your lower belly.

"The answer is very," you say in a weak voice, and he smirks at you.

(You make out on the couch for a long while, and he makes you come with his mouth hot on your nipples and his hand down the front of your panties, one long finger teasing your clit. You're on the bed when he finally enters you and he's talking dirty still but also sweet, letting out a low groan when he bottoms out.

"You're so fucking beautiful. You have a perfect cunt, you know that? I've been thinking about this for weeks, how I'd fit inside you. I am so lucky."

The next morning he clings to you like a koala and tells you over and over how amazing you are and how much he likes you. He stutters over the word "like" as if he's struggling not to say something else and when he's back inside you that very night, he does say it.

"I know it's soon, but I'm in love with you, Y/n.")

Jungkook

Jungkook begs you to stay the night with him when you've been dating just over three weeks because it's gotten late when you were talking after dinner and it's storming outside.

He's all cuddles and smiles when you say yes and you change out of your jeans into one of his extra large hoodies to sleep in. You forego a bra but you're self conscious about the way it doesn't quite cover your ass.

You're a big girl and you're mostly okay with that, but you can't help feeling insecure. He's so fit, after all, in the gym all the time, and you worry that he might judge you harshly.

You're contemplating putting your jeans back on, staring at yourself in the full length mirror, when he knocks on his bedroom door but enters without pausing.

You don't try to cover yourself, feeling like the harm was already done.

He exhales forcefully and smiles at you.

"Why do you look so fucking hot in my hoodie, Y/n?"

"I-I don't?" You stutter, and he scoffs at you.

"I know I need to work out," you mutter. "I'm sorry I'm not-"

He walks over and gently places his hand over your mouth.

"Don't be sorry. You're perfect."

While your heart is still melting he turns you to face the mirror, arms going around your waist, chin on your shoulder.

He's looking you up and down in mirror, and you blush and look away.

"Look," he says, tilting your chin up. "See how perfect you look?"

"No," you say, honestly, and he sighs.

"I wish you could see yourself the way I see you," he murmurs in your ear and then he pulls up the fabric of the hoodie so that he can slip his hand into your panties, thumb brushing over your clit and making your back arch.

"See how flushed your skin is when I touch you? I love that. I love the way your pupils widen when you look at me, that sexy half smile you give me."

He's moving his fingers as he talks, low and right into your ear, and you moan his name and he takes his other hand and presses you against him. You feel his cock hard on your ass and he groans as he rocks his hips into you.

"Will you let me take you to bed, baby?"

He's watching your face in the mirror and you nod quickly.

(He kisses you long and sweet for a few minutes and you're afraid he might tease you but the instant you palm him through his sweatpants he hisses and bucks his hips and you know he's needy.

He fucks you with his hoodie pushed up so he can lean down and suckle and nip at your nipples, and they're sore the next day but you've never come so hard in your life.

"You make me so hot, Y/n. I wanted to be gentle the first time but you're so fucking sexy..." He moans when you buck your hips up to meet his and tell him you don't want him to be gentle.

He groans out your name when he comes and afterward he's shy and cuddly, apologizing for jumping you so suddenly.

"You look too good in my clothes. You shouldn't wear them anymore. A guy could fall in love."

From then on, you wear his hoodies, t-shirts, sweatpants, even his boxer briefs, as often as you can, and he has the brightest smile every time he sees you in them.)

[septemberismm]

get to know me uncomfortably well lol

1. What is you middle name? Ann

2. How old are you? 23

3. When is your birthday? January 14th

4. What is your zodiac sign? Capricorn

5. What is your favorite color? pink

6. What’s your lucky number? 13

7. Do you have any pets? not currently ):

8. Where are you from? Pennsylvania, Jersey originally

9. How tall are you? 5′4″

10. What shoe size are you? 7.5

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own? around a dozen

12. What was your last dream about? I was playing some sort of game with my dad

13. What talents do you have? I’m a decent writer

14. Are you psychic in any way? I’d like to think so, but who really knows.

15. Favorite song? currently Serotonin by Gum or Lifeline by Man Overboard

16. Favorite movie? Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind or Halloween

17. Who would be your ideal partner? someone intelligent and compassionate who likes horror and has a dry sense of humor. also I like dark hair

18. Do you want children? I want to adopt/foster

19. Do you want a church wedding? no

20. Are you religious? no

21. Have you ever been to the hospital? many times

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law? I got a speeding ticket once

23. Have you ever met any celebrities? just people from bands

24. Baths or showers? showers 100%

25. What color socks are you wearing? no socks

26. Have you ever been famous? no

27. Would you like to be a big celebrity? I don’t think so

28. What type of music do you like? I’m all over the place, I’ve been listening to a lot of music that makes me feel nostalgic lately.

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping? yes

30. How many pillows do you sleep with? two

31. What position do you usually sleep in? on my sides or my stomach

32. How big is your house? 3 bedrooms, 2 baths

33. What do you typically have for breakfast? a bagel or eggs

34. Have you ever fired a gun? no

35. Have you ever tried archery? yes, I cannot aim

36. Favorite clean word? pulchritudinous

37. Favorite swear word? cunt

38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep? 3 days

39. Do you have any scars? loads

40. Have you ever had a secret admirer? yes

41. Are you a good liar? not really

42. Are you a good judge of character? yes and no haha

43. Can you do any other accents other than your own? not well lmao

44. Do you have a strong accent? I don’t think so, but probably to someone.

45. What is your favorite accent? Kiwi

46. What is your personality type? I’m pretty shy, reserved, a bit on the serious sit and I have a really dry sense of humor.

47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing? I have a couple pairs of designer shoes ew

48. Can you curl your tongue? yes

49. Are you an innie or an outie? innie

50. Left or right handed? right

51. Are you scared of spiders? I have what I think is a bug phobia tbh and its pathetic, probs just another OCD thing

52. Favorite food? caaarbs

53. Favorite foreign food? Italian (carbs)

54. Are you a clean or messy person? clean and organized

55. Most used phrased? “do you hate me?”

56. Most used word? like or fuck

57. How long does it take for you to get ready? it depends but i suck sometimes

58. Do you have much of an ego? yeah but I’m working on it

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops? suck 

60. Do you talk to yourself? yep

61. Do you sing to yourself? in the car

62. Are you a good singer? nope

63. Biggest Fear? my family or significant other dying

64. Are you a gossip? no but I used to be ugh

65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen? Requiem of a Dream and it’s amazing

66. Do you like long or short hair? longggg

67. Can you name all 50 states of America? I wanna say yes but idk

68. Favorite school subject? history in grade school, psych now

69. Extrovert or Introvert? introvert 

70. Have you ever been scuba diving? no and never will haha

71. What makes you nervous? I have an array of anxiety disorders, what doesn’t make me anxious?

72. Are you scared of the dark? yes but only because I can’t see my surroundings, so more like I’m afraid of the unknown and what’s out of my control I guess.

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes? depends on the person and/or the mistake

74. Are you ticklish? yes

75. Have you ever started a rumor? unfortunately 

76. Have you ever been in a position of authority? yes

77. Have you ever drank underage? yes

78. Have you ever done drugs? yes

79. Who was your first real crush? a dude I met on AIM in 6th grade lmfao

80. How many piercings do you have? nostril, tragus, lobes

81. Can you roll your Rs? no

82. How fast can you type? around 84 wpm 

83. How fast can you run? no clue, I haven’t ran since gym class in high school lol

84. What color is your hair? dirty blonde

85. What color is your eyes? blue

86. What are you allergic to? cats, a certain antibiotic, scallops.

87. Do you keep a journal? yes

88. What do your parents do? my dad is a house painter turned trucking dispatcher, my mom is a nurse

89. Do you like your age? its weird and I feel like a child

90. What makes you angry? stupidity, injustice, unwillingness to change/evolve.

91. Do you like your own name? its grown on me

92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they? yes but I don’t share

93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child? girl

94. What are you strengths? I’m kind, empathetic, organized.

95. What are your weaknesses? I’m anxious, strive for an unobtainable level of perfection, and never give myself any credit.

96. How did you get your name? my mom named me after the little girl in Terms of Endearment

97. Were your ancestors royalty? none that I’m aware of, but I do have some pretty cool female ancestors

98. Do you have any scars? tons

99. Color of your bedspread? black and white

100. Color of your room? blue