#and a prolonged mental break down for her to then realize she needs to talk about the bad feelings to other people for them to go away

[wildstar25]

This reply really made me go 🥺 !!

Likewise, Arsay sees Nivienne as a valued friend and exemplary adventurer of whom she can put her trust in. Nivenne is always on the list of first people to contact when recruiting aid for dangerous missions. She believes Nivienne to be an incredibly skilled caster rivalled only by her partners, a beautiful dancer who can manage to maintain her graceful appearance despite how calculated her movements are, and a fantastic healer in any situation.

That said, It didn't take long for Arsay to pin the Elezen down as a bit of a high-strung know-it-all, however, that sort of thing wouldn't bother Arsay one bit. Arsay is always trying to be what she thinks she should be for others. When matched with someone like Nivienne, - Someone who got visibly frustrated upon hearing an explanation arcane geometry without the slightest mention of actual geometric theorems - Arsay would double down on her silly antics, bullheaded optimism, and can-do attitude, all in an attempt to get her friend to loosen up. A part because she would legitimately think it's what Nivienne needs to bring some more happiness to her life; and a part because Arsay herself is arguably just as high-strung. So she'd be trying really hard not to feed into that kind of energy. It's a bit of a shame, since I'm sure if Arsay was willing to be more open and acknowledge a negative emotion, they'd likely realize the similarities between them and provide some much needed emotional support.

But, Nivienne transparently trying to distract Arsay with things to do TM is so nice and a gesture I think Arsay would greatly appreciate. That gap of time was very hard for a busybody like her. Though, I don't think Nivienne would be able to teach Arsay any thing more than a chain stitch... G'raha will be gifted so many hand knit scarves in that case. And Nivienne would get a bunch of mini tea towels to clean her glasses with! The knit quality going up as Arsay regains strength in her hands <3 Thank you Nivienne <33

If there are occasions where Arsay does pick up on Nivienne's bitterness towards their disparities, Arsay would honestly feel quite bad about it. The last thing she wants is to be a sore spot to her friend. A younger Arsay would probably pull herself away from the situation entirely. Eliminating the problem, so to speak. Thankfully the Arsay Nivienne is familiar with is much more determined to maintain the friendships she has. So, instead, Arsay would proceed to ramble on with a lot of "glass half full" statements to try and cheer her tall friend up!! Especially if it came to some so serious as her love life!

"Sure, you can't see each other every day, but, doesn't that make the times you can be together all the more special? That tingle you get when you know you're about to have 'em close, the way your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet again. The sudden knot in your belly when you realize they're some how more beautiful than you remember, and you can't but feel like you're falling in love for the first time all over again? 'N when she gives you back that look you know is just for you?" Arsay cups her hands to her cheeks. With a tilt of her head, she lets out a dreamy sigh. "All that... It makes you feel so alive. The heartache is worth it for that, don't you think? If not, the part where you 'make up for lost time' surely is~" She snickers, bumping Nivienne with her elbow in jest. Arsay gives pause for a moment hoping her crude joke would land. Her tail dropping at the sight of her friend's unimpressed glare. She crosses her arms as she continues to speak, "I'm ever grateful for the time I get to share with Shtola and Raha; but I'll admit it's made things harder too. The times we have to go our own ways? Right awful. Mhmm. Like I'm caught in the southern front with a deathclaw comin' at me and my daggers are missin'!" Arsay lets out a reflexive hiss at the picture she painted herself. Her ears twitch back and she looks up at Nivienne with a sorry look on her face. "...It's real hard being alone- feeling alone. All you can think about is how they're somewhere far away and out of reach. Knowin' you can only hold on to them in your heart for the time being. A part of you prayin' they're out there doing the same for you... It's amazing how well you manage to power through it, Nivienne." Arsay doesn't allow a second to let the weight of her words sink in. Her expression quickly shifts to something much brighter. Enthusiasm returning to her voice as she beams. "You're really strong! Remember that! Shtola will figure out shard travel in no time I'm sure! Then, the two of you will get to live happily ever after just how want!" With that Arsay gives Nivienne a hardy slap on the back. It doesn’t take long for the miqo'te, grinning ear to ear, to present the elezen with an enlistment sheet for the day's frontline engagement and a quill to hopefully sign with.

shamelessly grabbing this trend from twitter. Can be based on vibes or first impressions from a hypothetical meeting or the like!

[words-for-holland]

Distractions

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Tom and Y/N decide to work in the same room together. The problem...both of them get easily distracted and a whole lotta fluff comes with it.

A/N: Whoa its been awhile but here we are again! Thank you for 1,000+ followers it means the world! Surprises to come 😉

“Hello beautiful.” Tom greets Y/N with a cheeky smile on his face. He quickly pecks her soft cheek as he places his laptop across from his lovely girlfriend, who was currently focused on her work.

She takes a second to look up, returning his smile with a soft one. “Hey, good looking. What’s up?”

“Nothing really. Is it okay if I work here with you? I just want to be close to my girl.”Tom pouts.

Y/N’s heart could burst at the sight and reason he gave. An inaudible “aw” prolonging through her mind...until she quickly realized that there could be some complications with this as a slight frown starts to replace her dimpled smile. “Wait...are you sure?”, she asks. “Dont you have press interviews that require absolute silence? I doubt any of you will want to hear the constant typing in the background.”

“Yeah, your typing is horrendous with those lead heavy fingertips of yours.” Tom teases.

“Well these lead heavy fingertips aren’t leaving anytime soon, so youre probably better off working elsewhere.” She suggests, pointing off to the distance. Tom groans at the idea, using his one hand to put her finger down. He engulfs hers with his, lacing her fingers and holding on tightly.

“Noooo. Dont wanna be anywhere else. Please darling? ” He pouts once more.

She giggles at his plea, rolling her eyes. “Course you can, bubz.” Tom excitedly scoots his chair in as he rubs his hands together to prep for the work to come.

And work they did...for at least 10 minutes. Tom was getting antsy as he read through his next script. Occasionally his eyes would roll to the left, and observe Y/N as she continued to read through an article on her screen. Not that Tom didnt find his own work fun but he always found watching Y/N do her thing just a bit more interesting.

He hadn’t realized himself, but his body start to shift and lean more towards her. His arm extending to wrap her in, as it glided up and down in a steady motion. His thumb doodling hearts on her shoulder. Tom could tell it had an effect on Y/N, discreetly smirking to himself as he heard her audible shakey sigh.

He wanted to see what else could make her sigh like that, so instead of his thumb he used pointer and middle finger, running them up and down her shoulder. Tom could see the smile creeping on Y/N’s face and her little head shake. She knew what he was up to and yet, Y/N still wanted him to think that he was not gonna get her that easily. But God was it hard. Every touch felt like tiny fireworks against her skin, goosebumps forming all over her body with every touch. She to stay strong. No distractions.

Tom eyes perked up, at the action. He must go further, he thinks. Tom starts to trace his nose from her shoulder to her neck, leaving kisses at her jawline. “C’mon darling. Think its time for a break.”, he whispers in her ear.

She turns her head towards him as she smiles, leaving a quick kiss on Tom’s lips. “Its only been ten minutes.” She laughs. “Five if you want to count the distractions.”

He backs up, pretending to look appalled. “How dare you. I’ve been a good lad focusing on my script for the whole ten minutes.”

A playful glare formed on Y/N’s soft face which ultimately ended her up with a fit of giggles. She couldnt take him seriously, but then again she never did with anything. Tom has always said if they were kidnapped by a pair of robbers, her first reaction would be to laugh. As the laughter died down, Y/N paid her attention back to the screen which had been inactive during the playful banter and continued to type out those set of documents that she had been meaning to get to.

Tom on the other hand was still reading through his script, taking mental notes on how he was going to approach his character. This time he was completely engrossed in his work. His eyes moving left to right with every line he took in. Until...he felt something ticking his lower calves. Tom knew it was Y/N’s foot, by the way it brushed just as he had done with his hand on her shoulder. The movements never stopped, her legs now curling around his own. Y/N was trying to getting back at him, but one thing she always forgot was that Tom always wins.

Naturally he had to the same, and what once became a playful game of footsie, now ended up with Tom shifting Y/N to sit on his lap. Her legs now wrapped around his waist and his hands holding onto her hips. Both of them connecting their soft lips, feeling every spark and essence of love. He looked up at Y/N with admiration, thinking how lucky he is to have her in his life. Yeah Covid sucked for the most part and limited their ability to even do anything exciting outside, but it gave them the opportunity to be with each other far more than they could have on a normal day. On a normal day, Tom would be jumping around country to country while Y/N would be home miles and miles away from him. Course, nothings changed with jumping from country to country, but Tom gets to bring Y/N with him now and thats all that mattered to them.

But work never stopped them from keeping busy. Just as their kisses were getting more heated, and their hands tangling each others hair both their alarms went off. The couple stopped their antics as they leaned their heads back, groaning in synchronization.

“Ughh. Thats my cue. I have to prep for an interview.” He mumbles as he nuzzles into Y/N’s neck.

“I know. I have to get ready for another business meeting. Whoo.” she speaks in a sarcastic manner, dropping her head.

“What time?” He asked pressing a kiss to the shell of her ear.

“Mm...3. Why?”

Tom plays with the strands of her soft hair. “Was wondering if you’ll stay with me through mine and Ill stay with you through yours.”

“As much fun as that would be. I dont think were allowed to —“

“Im not saying we have to be on camera for each others meeting. But if one of us will be off camera itll be all right.” He plans, still looking at his girl with pleading eyes. Y/N’s mouth twitches to the left, her eyes furrowed with suspicion.

“You’re doing it again.” Tom states, a small chuckle escaping his lips.

“Doing what?”

“You’re making that face again.”

Her expression quickly changes to confusion, not entirely sure of what Tom was noticing that she didnt about her own face. “What face?”, she asks.

“The one where you twitch your lips and make your eyes look angry. You only do it when youre indecisive about something. Its bloody adorable.”

Y/N snorts at his comment, and tries to get off to give him time to prepare, only to be stopped by his hands pushing her back down on his lap.

“I was serious about wanting to stay with my girl the whole day while doing work. Please?” He pleads again, this time bringing out the puppy face. “I’ll be good and do the dishes tonight.”

To be fair, Y/N knew she was always gonna say yes to Tom. Its pretty hard to deny her dorky boyfriend when hes asking so sweetly and just wants to spend the day together. More so, if the roles were switched, she would have done the same thing. “Go get changed movie star, before youre late for your interview.” She murmurs to him, kissing his cheek before she scrambles of his lap to sit across from him.

Tom whoops with victory as he runs out the room quickly changing into his shirt, fixing his hair, and adding glasses for that sophisticated touch. Sure he wanted to look his best for the Cherry Press, but he made sure his outfit was something Y/N would very much adore as well.

“How do I look?” Tom asked coming out of their shared bedroom.

Y/N looks up from her computer, and smiles widely. “Handsome as always.” She couldnt take her eyes off of him, admiring every detail of the clothing and how it perfectly complimented Tom’s feature. She eyed him from top to bottom, until she noticed something. “Uhh..honey....you’re not wearing any pants.” She asked a bit confused. Her eyes engrossed in the muscles of his thighs and the fit of his Calvin Klein boxers.

Tom smirks at her. “Its uncomfortable wearing pants. Besides no one will see...except you.” He teases, gently lifting her head up so that her eyes meets his. “Eyes up here love.”

“Youre something else.” She laughs, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “Well...least we know who wears the pants in the relationship.”

Tom laughs loudly at her comment. He hooks the waistband of Y/N’s sweatpants and snaps them back to further prove her point. “That was a good one. Ill give you that.” Tom and Y/N high five each other, and then it was press time.

Y/N kept quiet and tried her best to minimize the typing unless it was really needed. Seeing Tom talk about his work and dedication was something that she had always admired about him. He loved his job and everyone can see that. Occasionally they’d steal glances from each other, smiling and holding each others hand under table so that no one could see. But it was just one of those moments that Tom and Y/N couldnt help themselves too. Two hours passed and Tom was free.

“You did so well.” Y/N praised Tom and awarded him with a quick kiss. “I love it when you talk about your passion.”

“Thanks. I love that you were there with me to sit through it all.” He smiles. “I believe its your turn now. It’s almost 3.”

Y/N frowns, knowing shed have to dread through hers. Instead of getting to talk about her passions, itd all be about business, business, business. “Ugh. Do I have to?”she groans.

“Come on now. Dont be like that, you’re gonna be fine. Ill be here with you the whole time.” Tom reassures her with kisses all over her face.

“No distractions?” She asks.

“No distractions.”

[taechaos]

Social Media

from Textbook Love drabbles

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble(?), smut, college au

synopsis: “She’s too sweet,” Taehyung begins, “too kind, too nice, everything you’re not. You wouldn’t be trying to keep me away from her if you didn’t know that. Are you afraid she’ll like me better?”

warnings: slight angst, arguing, dubcon, mild violence

word count: 4.7k

a/n: ima need yall to submit jk gifs cuz it is taking me TOO long to find a good one 👺 not proofread.

The weekend is fun: students’ two days of temporary rest and catching up on their assignments. Jungkook doesn’t concern himself with the latter, but he does enjoy waking up later in the day and lying down on the grass with his arms crossed under his head, bathing in the sun without any worries. It’s peaceful, thinking thoughts of you with dimmed eyes while the breeze gently wafts past him.

But of course, Taehyung wouldn’t let him just enjoy his day without a hint of irritation. Good things never last anyway. He’s sitting in the middle of the field, a hot spot for relaxation, and feels the soil under his palms while observing his surroundings. Yoongi is with them, munching on a few snacks while scrolling through his phone as it quietly plays music.

“The girl at the party,” Taehyung begins before glancing at Jungkook through his sunglasses, “she was alone when I came back. You weren’t around either; did you cum too soon or something? I saw you two kiss.”

“I left,” Jungkook mumbles without opening his eyes.

“Why?”

“I was bored.”

“And where did you go?” he pries.

“None of your business.”

Taehyung scoffs at his dismissal before averting his gaze elsewhere. “I do have a guess.”

“Don’t start,” Yoongi warns him without looking up. The two best friends usually get into arguments in a matter of seconds daily, and Yoongi just wants to spend his day without having to break up a fight. Just this once, he hopes… but hope doesn’t save him.

“I’m just wondering if you actually went all the way back to campus to fuck another girl, who coincidentally also does your homework.” His tone is cool and collected, but it borders on mocking that usually goes unnoticed. He’s been around these two too long for them to miss, however. Yoongi sighs, dreading the response already.

Jungkook sits up on his elbows with a glare directed towards Taehyung. “How’s your ex holding up, Tae? You think she cheated on another guy yet?”

Neither of the two friends have a filter around them, no consideration for their words as they apathetically insult one another; but Jungkook can go too far, especially by bringing up old wounds. 

Taehyung was in a toxic relationship with his first girlfriend of two years, which took a huge toll on his mindset. Constant infidelity, endless forgiving, make up sex and catching her with another man after: a cycle that went on for over 24 months. The concept of love became tainted in his eyes, no longer interacting with the opposite gender if not to get laid, and Jungkook’s commensalistic - rather parasitic - relationship doesn’t disprove his hateful ideology. Love only consists of two people: a host who provides, and the parasite that selfishly takes it all. 

But he isn’t over the pain that lasted a year after the break up, which was shamelessly executed by the parasite: his former girlfriend. It took a lot of trust to open up about it to his friends, and it lifted a heavy weight off of his chest. Only this year did he stop thinking about her, until Jungkook asked about her so casually. It stings his heart only for a second, and he scoffs as Yoongi intervenes, “Both of you need to shut the fuck up.”

“If you guys want to talk about my relationships, then don’t get all whiny when I talk about yours.”

Taehyung swallows his pride and confidently answers, “I don’t know, Jungkook. I hear she’s doing well, but no information on her boyfriends. Your turn: what’s going on with that nerd?”

“Elaborate.”

“Are you two dating?” Yoongi asks exhaustedly. They just keep taking every opportunity to annoy each other, and it’s even overwhelming him at this point. 

Rolling his neck side to side in thought, Jungkook takes a moment to answer, “No.”

“Bullshit,” Taehyung spits. “You know what? Let’s just move on. I’m sure I could get proper answers from someone else.”

“If you have a death wish, that is,” he warns with a slight seethe before lying back down.

He doesn’t respond and hides a smirk, a couple having a romantic picnic ahead of him from a distance. He watches them for a few seconds before muttering to himself, “It’s not going to be my death.”

Yoongi and Jungkook chill on their own after Taehyung leaves. He’s roaming the campus in hopes of finding that one girl who is always wearing some school skirt and working 24/7 to find out what is so special about her. Jungkook might think he doesn’t notice them interacting, but behind that airhead facade, he’s observant. It’s not that big of a fucking secret either, they’re not deliberately hiding their strangely beneficial friendship or whatever. You stick out like a sore thumb in the yard, though there’s not many people to tell you apart from anyway.

He approaches you rather slowly, inspecting your figure first before meeting you. Your posture is straight and composed, fingers quickly typing away on your keyboard without even looking at them. You look so serious to him, a contrast to the radiant butterflies flying past you in such a bright environment. He wonders if you ever procrastinate or take breaks, and most importantly, how someone that appears so smart has fallen into such an obvious trap set by his best friend of all people. 

His hands are in his pockets as he speaks his first words to you. “Hi, I’m Taehyung.”

Your reaction is instant: a quick look at him and you’re already frowning. “I’m Jungkook’s best friend,” he adds in case you’ve seen him around before. 

“I don’t know you.” And with that distant reply, you return to your essay. If meeting Jimin has taught you anything, it’s that you can’t trust anyone who claims to know your lover. They are just using it against you… 

“Well, shit,” he laughs, “I didn’t realize you were so cold.” Your eyes don’t waver from your screen, so he tries another approach: “Are you the girl Jungkook left the party a few days back for?”

Your ears perk up in his direction, but you don’t show it. But he notices the pause in your taps before you continue typing, and he holds that against you. He takes a seat across from you, and your laptop covers your face from him. “I just wanted to meet the person that’s got him whipped enough to get high and run off to them.” You bite down on a smile and prolong your silence. “I guess I’ll talk to you when you’re not busy.” 

He stands up just as you tell him, “Wait, no, I’m not busy.” You close your laptop mid-way before hesitating, but slam it shut nonetheless. “Sorry.”

“You’re good.” He sits back down and clasps his hands on the table. “So what’s going on between you and him? He refuses to tell me, as if you’re his little secret.”

You shyly look down at your flats and twiddle your fingers on your lap. “We’re together… but he is very mysterious.”

It’s a good thing you don’t glance at him to hide your blush, because he’s a little skeptical. He puckers his lips and furrows his brows but controls his expression when you look up. He mentally curses for taking longer than a few seconds to respond; it’s suspicious. “I know right? I don’t know why he’s so reluctant to talk about you. You’re a total sweetheart.”

Approval from Jungkook’s friend: check. Will he like you more if you get along with his friends? The thought excites you, because at least this is someone he likes, unlike Jimin. “Thank you,” you shy a smile. “Um…”

You’re awkward: not Jungkook’s type, Taehyung notes. You’re obviously the host... “So is this a fling, or are you two serious?”

“We’re serious!” you immediately answer. “I love him, and he recently told me he loves me too. He used to kiss me for doing his homework, but now he does it out of nowhere.”

Wow… romantic. He suppresses a chuckle because he doesn’t want to laugh in your face, not when you’re so cute when you talk about him. Your eyes light up with a gleam, a lovesick smile gracing your face and now desperate to befriend him. You look like him when he was supposedly in love. You’re serious about Jungkook, but for how long? Especially when the other side of the relationship is not so committed. It should be mutual: with two hosts.

“Yeah?” he acts interested and raises his sunglasses up to his hair. “How does he act around you?”

“Well,” you start gushing, “he is a little closed off with his emotions.” True. “He doesn’t like me talking to other guys.” Ooh, interesting. “He can’t stand being ignored,” you chuckle. Can he now? “And… he is so cute when he’s jealous. He has this glare whenever I don’t give him enough attention, but he would never admit it. He likes being intimate with me, likes it when I reassure him. He never says it out loud though, I can just tell by looking at him. I’ve never felt this way for anyone, never fell in love with someone until I met Jungkook. I just want to make him happy because he used to look so sad when I watched him from afar.” A hopeless romantic.

Maybe if you didn’t sound so genuine and innocent, he would’ve made fun of you. But he just feels pity for someone who is so giving to someone who gives back so little. You don’t deserve it; don’t deserve to stay up working on so many assignments; don’t deserve to not have any hobbies; don’t deserve to be so unloved. You are pathetic, but it doesn’t turn him off.

Taehyung is a host too.

He clears his throat at the unexpected stirring emotions in his heart, “What do you love about him? Do you like being treated like shit or something?”

“He doesn’t treat me badly! He is like a light switch, you know? He doesn’t know how to act, sometimes sweet and sometimes… a little mean. I love him for his pure heart, and I believe that we are similar in a lot of ways.”

Taehyung can’t contain his snort. Similar? You are opposites. You are similar to him, not Jungkook. He feels… jealous. The pairing is just so ridiculous and flawed, but you’re neither of the two; you are just good. Taehyung can be good too. “So, what’s your Instagram user?”

The lack of commentary and escalation of the topic catches you off guard. It’s a distraction. “I don’t have an account,” you reply in confusion.

“Wow, I’d expect you to cyberstalk Jungkook on there,” he jokes with a laugh.

“He has an Instagram?”

He purses his lips, his grin faltering as he nods. He takes out his phone from his pocket to show you the account, and holds it in your face. Your lips part as you gently take it from him, curiously inspecting the collage of images. 

“He plays the guitar?” you ask in awe. You click on each picture to zoom in on them, and your heart jumps upon seeing his selfies while Taehyung hums. He is gorgeous in your eyes, and you want to keep up with his posts in hopes of seeing another selfie. These are hidden gems that Taehyung had the courtesy of providing to you.

“He’s learning,” Taehyung says, “you should sign up and post some pictures as well. You’re really cute.” His cheeky compliment makes you happy; he is basically giving you his blessing! 

“Thank you, and you’re right,” you chirp, “I will make an account after I finish this essay. Want to take a picture with me?”

It’s safe to assume that Jungkook wouldn’t mind you talking to his best friend, so why not expand your social circle? You’ll be more involved with his life this way. Taehyung stammers slightly before agreeing. He switches benches to sit next to you while you rummage through your backpack to find your phone. He finds it strangely endearing how you hold it, using your index finger to swipe between apps to find the camera. It almost stings his heart that you’re so old-schooled in a cute way. Once you angle it above you with your arm stretched out to your left, Taehyung appears to be behind you as he lowers his glasses. You smile brightly into the lens while he cutely puckers his lips. 

Click.

“Are you wearing perfume?” he asks before he can stop himself. Your scent tickles his nostrils sweetly, and he doesn’t know why he’s noticing so much about you or holding a conversation with a woman without being naked. It’s been a hot minute since Taehyung’s had such a platonic interaction, and it shouldn’t feel this nice. He shouldn’t want to continue it through social media either.

“Yes! Do you smell strawberries? I noticed Jungkook eating them before, so I use just about anything strawberry scented. Lotion, shampoo, shower gel…”

He tunes you out as you gush and focuses on the smooth movement of your lips. You’re too good, and Taehyung knows he isn’t the best person but at least he’s not as bad as Jungkook. I shouldn’t think like this… but am I wrong? He will break your heart. What if it’s the right time to intervene to save you from that misery, and be a friend to both of you? He doesn’t want you to fall apart and be completely crushed right in front of his eyes, not when he just witnessed how childishly happy and naive you are. It wouldn’t be fair to you, nor to the life lesson he was taught years ago.

And he then notices that you're wearing strawberry lip balm. 

“Jungkook kis-” -sed someone else before coming to you. You hum and tilt your head at his interruption, waiting for him to finish his sentence. “Jungkook… does love strawberries.”

Though your work ethics are questionable for how exhausting they are, it gets the job done sooner. The moment you’re assigned a task, you do it, regardless of if it’s yours or Jungkook's. Saturday evening and Sunday are free for you, so you spend your time outside after leaving your backpack in your dorm. You think you look silly, taking pictures of anything you find interesting to post on Instagram. You made an account, but it appears like a bot with its empty feed. Jungkook enjoys doing this, so you want to try it as well. 

You don’t stray far from campus because you’d easily get lost, and your gallery looks boring to you. The only decent photo you have is with Taehyung, but you want to post a picture with Jungkook before anyone else. You grumble under your breath while walking back to the dormitory building. You look through Jungkook’s posts again as you do so with a smile. 

A heavy arm slings over your shoulder and hitches your breath just as the culprit says, “What’s the rush?” He doesn’t even look at you, and you wonder if he recognized you from your clothes after coming up from behind you. 

“Jungkookie!” you cheer excitedly. He glances at you and quirks a brow at the nickname. His eyes then trail to your lit up phone and snatches it from you, which you don’t fight against.

“You’re stalking me?” He scrolls through his profile from your phone and smirks before stating, “I didn’t know you had an Insta.” The both of you enter the building with his arm still wrapped around you, which flutters your heart.

“I made one today, since you use it.” He exits his profile to look at yours. You’re in the elevator as you inform, “Taehyung told me.”

A pause, then a click. Jungkook snapped a photo of you when you pressed the button of your floor. “Pretty,” he comments while looking at your candid shot. You’re flattered and also happy that he’s joining your trip to your dorm. He hasn’t said a word of protest and takes the lead in going to your room. “What else?”

“Hm?”

“What else did he tell you?”

You rack your brain to remember anything significant to tell him. It was a long conversation: getting to know each other and more about Jungkook. “He told me you have an Instagram, then asked for my perfume, and then we talked about your love for strawberries-”

“Your perfume? Why was Instagram even brought up?” he presses, stopping in front of your door. 

You take out your keycard and shrug while swiping, “He asked for mine.”

The dorm is empty when you enter and sit on the edge of your bed. It’s very hard to not grin when you’re around Jungkook, but he doesn’t seem to care as he looks through your gallery. “Can we take a picture together?” you peep hopefully. 

“Of course,” he murmurs absentmindedly, intently staring at your phone. “We’ll take many pictures,” he looks up at you before leveling with the camera, “pose.”

You aren’t very educated on the art of posing per se, so you imitate the peace sign you saw him do with a wide smile and a hand on the bed. He is neutral when he snaps a picture with a shutter. 

“I want you to be in it.”

He drags his eyes away from the screen and his blank expression intimidates you. “Whose idea was it for you to make an account?”

“Um… Taehyung, why?” You lay your hands on your lap at the growing tension.

Taehyung went to this extent to get a reaction out of him? Is it possible that he’s this obnoxious? Or perhaps another motive…?

“I-Is he not your friend?”

Jungkook breaks his silence of thoughts with a scoff, “Oh, only the best.” You sigh in relief, though he says it with menace. Taehyung was curious about his relationship, not about your social media. He forcefully pushes you down on the bed and you hold back a gasp as he wraps his finger around your neck in a light chokehold with a thumb on your nether lip. Click. He then lowers his hand to your thigh, hiding half of it under your skirt with a gentle grap. Click.

Your cheeks flush at the compromising photos he’s taking and you nervously ask, “A-Am I going to post these?”

“Shut up.”

You seal your lips shut and he flips you on your stomach, palming your covered ass with your side profile in the frame, and another shutter resounds in the room. “Sit up.” You follow his command and turn around to face him. He pushes your hair to your back and his mouth latches onto your neck. He’s biting you while sucking on your flesh, and you release a breathy moan at the feeling of his tongue swirling on the sensitive skin. It hurts, but you don’t complain and try to make sense of the growing arousal in your lower region. He only pulls away after half a minute and you’re confused by the satisfied smirk on his face while eyeing the result. He angles your jaw to expose your neck better and snaps another photo. “These are all going on your account.”

At your nod of submission, he starts unbuttoning your shirt. “You’re prettier with a mark. My mark.” Your body tingles at the compliment and you help him undress yourself by unbuttoning the ends. “Take off your skirt,” he demands as he slips off his shirt with ease. All of your clothes go off one by one as he does the same, and you don’t have the time to feel shy as his lips collide so roughly with yours that you’re pressed down against the mattress again. You still haven’t gotten the hang of making out, but it doesn’t matter with Jungkook because although it flows naturally, he also takes complete control over you. He’s not gentle, not with the way his teeth clash against yours and tongue leaving trails of saliva all over your mouth. Your toes curl with desire and anticipation, and you tug at his briefs that outline his erection. The feeling of his warm breath on you silences all your thoughts and you can only react on primal instincts. 

His crotch brushes against your bare folds, slick with your leaking wetness. Kissing him this passionately always leaves you feeling needy, and it embarrasses you that you get turned on so easily. But you don’t realize that is his intention as he glides his fingers all over your labia, making sure you’re ready to take all of him. 

Kissing you this passionately always leaves him feeling horny, and it’s apparent with his cock begging to be taken out of the restraints of his underwear. You don’t know how long you’ve been kissing, but your lips are numb when he pulls away to position himself in your entrance. He doesn’t prepare you, but he doesn’t rush himself either as he painfully slowly enters you. You hold your breath and gawn on your swollen lip, moans catching in your throat and leaving as high-pitched hums. He sighs at the feeling of your pulsating walls. “God… always so tight. Don’t you ever touch yourself?”

He bottoms out and you whimper shakily at how full you are. The fact that he fits you like a puzzle piece convinces you that he’s your forever, your meant to be. Even with your lack of experience with other men, you believe no one can make you feel this dreamy. And to think he’s all yours now… “I-I don’t. I only want to do it with you.”

The atmosphere is so fragile, so romantic. It’s not your delusion this time, because he feels it too and it makes his heartbeat sync with yours: unsteady and rapid. And in the heat of the moment, he reveals, “I think I’m in love with you.”

A whine leaves you, so loud that it can’t be achieved with touch but with his words. It’s the utmost pleasure, and when he realizes what he said, he sets a rushed pace to distract himself from the embarrassment of pouring his feelings. You don’t allow him to forget as you echo, “I’m in love with you too.”

“No, no,” he denies with a shake of his head and it emits more love confessions out of you in a chain of ‘I love you’s, and he grunts, “Stop. Shut up!” He pins your forearms on either side of your head in a bruisening grip and thrusts into you harder. You have no choice but to scream in pleasure, unable to form coherent words when he’s practically fucking your brains out. 

His feelings of humiliation translate to his actions: he pushes himself down to the hilt, throbbing with lust but doesn’t chase his high. He doesn’t want you to talk, not when he’s blushing for more than one reason, so he ignores the contraction of his muscles and just fucks you until he can’t anymore, hypnotized by the bounce of your tits.

Maybe it’s a good thing that he’s so desperate, hitting your most sensitive spot with every thrust and making your eyes screw back. Neither of you can think, so loud and reckless until you reach your climax. It’s core shaking, as you cry out his name and tremble with stimulation. He’s never seen this expression on your face, one so twisted in pleasure and looking so erotic. It comes as a surprise and in the form of a punch in the gut as he savours your appearance before cumming inside you with a groan. A slip-up, a mistake, but he doesn’t care as he paints your walls in white, his load filling you up.

And he can’t regret it when he pulls out, because the drizzle of his cum spilling out of your pussy easily becomes his favorite sight. “Shit,” he whispers as more and more drips while you twitch and spasm from your orgasm. You don’t even realize what he’s done, and that makes his chest swell with pride; the most level-headed woman he knows is leaking with his release and stupidly doesn’t spare it a thought. And with that hickey on your neck? “You look fucking gorgeous,” he exhales. A bashful smile stretches across your face with eyes still tightly shut, and you don’t notice him grab your phone on the other side of the bed to take a picture of your stained pussy. 

“This one is for me,” he mutters to himself. Click.

After posting the softcore photos on your account and tagging himself in them, as well as a note of a pharmacy’s address across campus with a label written for you to get two separate contraceptives as an emergency and for your next creampie, he leaves your dorm. You fell asleep on him, and though he had wanted to join you, he decided to collect his scrambled thoughts and go to Taehyung’s dorm first. He isn’t livid, but he has a few questions to ask.

He’s playing cards with Yoongi, Taehyung’s roommate, as he patiently waits for his arrival. “What’s wrong about asking for her Instagram, though?” Yoongi asks before drawing out a card of ace. “Isn’t she our friend by association anyway?”

“It’s suspicious,” Jungkook murmurs while inspecting his deck. “Have you ever seen Taehyung with a girl before? As friends? He’s clearly trying to fuck her.”

Yoongi stifles a laugh, “That’s a reach. Besides, you two have shared a girl before. Are you actually dating her?”

Shuffling is heard behind the door until it swings open as Taehyung enters. “Kookie! What are you doing here?” He throws his keycard on his bed before hopping on Yoongi’s to watch their game.

It’s strained, Jungkook notices. His excitement is forced; why? “I came here for you,” he states bluntly. “A little birdie told me you’ve been talking to someone who belongs to me.”

���I didn’t realize she was your diary,” he tries to lighten the mood with a joke. “What’s the deal anyway? You said you weren’t dating her.”

Yoongi collects the deck of cards after Jungkook drops them, and shuffles them while eavesdropping. He’s sitting cross-legged across from Jungkook, and Taehyung is sitting on the edge of the bed next to him with his body turned sideways.

“I also said that unless you have a death wish, don’t talk to her,” he grits. “And asking for her social media? Are you into her now?”

Taehyung merely shrugs. “I thought she was pretty chill. I don’t know why you’re so mad.”

“She obviously means something to him, so I think you should just respect that, Taehyung,” Yoongi voices his thoughts while leafing the cards. Jungkook looks to the side and pokes the inner cheek of his mouth with his tongue but doesn’t argue.

“I think he’s just using her.” Jungkook’s reaction is instant as Taehyung’s nose instantly starts to bleed from the impact of his fist. Yoongi doesn’t look up. He holds a hand over his injury with a hiss and continues, “Really, Kook? A little too much, don’t you think?”

“Less than enough,” Jungkook fumes, “I like her, and she likes me. Just fucking leave it at that.”

“Couple of the year,” Taehyung chuckles mockingly, “I give it two days.” He stands up before Jungkook can hit him again. “Can’t wait to console her after your break-up, maybe she’ll fall in love with me next.”

Jungkook starts chasing him around the room as Taehyung runs without stopping his provocation. “Why so upset Jungkook? Do you see it happening too? I’m already imagining how tight-”

“You should leave, Jungkook.” Neither of them listen to Yoongi, so he yells, “Jungkook, leave!”

A moment of deafening silence passes as both of them pause to catch their breaths. “She’s too sweet,” Taehyung begins, “too kind, too nice, everything you’re not. You wouldn’t be trying to keep me away from her if you didn’t know that. Are you afraid she’ll like me better?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Jungkook spits with a heaving chest. “She’s loyal to me, but I’m sure you’re not familiar with that concept. No wonder your relationships only last one night.” With a final glare, he leaves as told to return to you. The only thing he needs right now is one more ‘I love you’ from you, as much as he hates it. Maybe he’s cruel, but he doesn’t know anyone who isn’t aside from you. 

Maybe Taehyung is just as cruel, fantasizing about all the ways he could be better for you before drifting off to sleep with a bandage over his wounded nose. He can just be a friend to both of you… he can be good too… 

[fandomvariousness]

Caught

Pairing: Eren x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, violence, smut: fingering, slight dubcon, power play, choking

Summary: Eren fu*ks you through the bars of his cell. YEP. That’s it.

Word count: 2k

A/N: We love deranged Eren supremacy, don’t we ( ͡• ͜ʖ ͡•)

It always takes just a slightest moment of distraction.

You couldn’t take your eyes of the Attack titan, who has also happened to be your lover, tearing everything apart. You were standing in a stupor on the edge of some building, aware that you’re having an unforgivable meltdown, yet you couldn’t move a limb. How has it come to this?

Just as you were regaining your common sense, a giant hand swatted you away like you were nothing but a pesky fly. You managed to see the Jaw titan scurrying away as your back hit the hard brick wall of another building before you plummeted down, what, 3, 4 stories?

The pain was excruciating: your head was pulsating unbearably, vision fuzzy, taste of blood in your mouth.

“Fuck,” you muttered as you tried to get yourself together and ignoring the severe injuries stood up.

Yet you only managed to get on all fours before feeling your consciousness slip away.

~

Your eyes fluttered open as you felt your consciousness tap back into you. You groaned in slight pain and started to get up, but was pushed back down by a soft hand.

“Please, don’t move.” It was Mikasa.

“Mikasa,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “What’s going on?”

She remained silent as you forced your eyes to open properly and immediately regretted it. You’ve never seen Mikasa with such grim an expression that she wore now.

“Mikasa…” you repeated, afraid to ask what’s wrong.

She gulped. “Sasha’s dead. She’s been shot after two Marleyan kids snuck into the airship.”

You felt the shock run down your throat, dispersing all over your body.

“Shit,” you mumbled, trying to control the shaking. “Shit…”

“She’s already buried. You’ve been unconscious for some time.”

You were wiping your tears away that couldn’t stop streaming. After a while, you mustered up the strength to ask about him.

“And Eren? Where is he?”

Mikasa let her head hang even lower.

~

You sauntered over to the deep basement, where Eren was being held. You told no one you were coming, especially not Hange or Levi. All of the events were too much for you, and you just needed to lay eyes on him to know whether what they say is true.

You don’t want to believe any of it, but you saw with your own eyes how the Attack Titan destroyed the city. No remorse, no hesitation – just destruction.

Dimly lit stone hallways gave off eerie atmosphere, the flames dancing with the shadows in every crack and crevice. You knew no one was here except for you and Eren in his cell further away, but you felt like you were being watched. Watched by the dark.

As you approached his cell, still slightly limping, you heard him muttering something.

“Fight… Fight…”

You gulped and finally stepped into the light, taking in the sight of Eren at the same time: his damp hair was gathered in a bun, his lean yet muscular frame leaning to the sink with his hands, staring dead in the eyes of his own reflection.

You forced yourself to stop staring at his bare, toned torso before you diverted your gaze to his face, trying to catch his eyes, yet he wasn’t interested, he didn’t even acknowledge your presence.

“Eren?” you croaked out, slightly wavering on your intentions. Maybe you shouldn’t’ve come here, especially how he acted with Hange not so long ago.

He sighed silently and let his head hang a little lower, with his eyes closed – obviously annoyed. “I thought the visiting hours were over.”

Oh, so he’s being cheeky? After all of you risked your lives for his selfish intentions, after Sasha died, after you almost died, after each of you abandoned your morals and did what Eren wanted you to do.

You felt yourself burn with odium – you realized you’ve never been this angry on him before.

“Look at me, you, jackass,” you spat angrily, striding over to the bars and rattling them with both of your hands. “All of this so funny to you, huh??”

His knuckles whitened as he was clearly restraining himself from acting out against you.

“Y/N…” he growled alarmingly, few orange sparks jolting around his frame.

Your heart stuck in your throat, yet you forbid yourself to show him how terrified you were.

You chuckled. “Ooh, go ahead, just blow this whole building away, because you don’t even care about us, right??”

You heard the sink creak before he threw himself towards the bars, rattling them in rage a single time, as if to shake you off. Naturally, you drew back a bit, but didn’t let go of the bars.

Both of you were breathing heavily, staring each other dead in the eyes.

“Eren, I swear, I would slap you so hard if –”

If not for these damn bars, you were going to say, but the airflow was cut off when his calloused hand wrapped around your neck and drew you flush against the bars, metal squeezing against your sore skin.

You didn’t lose your cool as your eyes were still having a battle of their own, Eren’s fingers squeezing into your skin to the point of teasing.

“Go ahead and try.”

You slightly bit your lower lip as you stretched out your hand between the bars, squeezing your own dainty palm against his thick neck. That did almost nothing, of course, but you were showing him that you won’t cower before him like he expects you to.

He noted that as the corner of his lips twitched ever so slightly. “You’re feisty today.”

You cursed yourself mentally as you felt blush creep up your cheeks – not in a million years you’d want to give in to him in this situation, but your body was acting on its own.

You curtly pushed him away with the hand you were holding his neck as he released his own grip, yet the look didn’t break.

You were genuinely pissed on Eren – you wanted to have a nice, calm talk with him and find out what’s really going on, but he’s being even more stubborn than usual.

You sighed. “Sorry to disturb your… slumber.” you noted snarkily and turned around to walk away, yet Eren’s hand wrapped around your throat from behind in one swift motion and dragged you back.

Your body hit the bars painfully, making you wince.

“You wound me up, and now you’re going away?” he muttered smokily against the back of your ear, lips as close as the bars allowed.

You grunted as you tried to pry his fingers off of your skin when his other hand snaked around your waist, barring your escape completely.

“Am I your hostage now?” you breathed out, feeling your stomach flutter as Eren’s breath tickled your skin.

The hand around your waist snuck under your white long-sleeve shirt, leaving a scalding-hot trail in its wake. “Kind of.”

You managed to suppress a moan, but your eyelids fluttered down on their own.

“Didn’t you miss me?” he whispered, his hand kneading your breast as the other tightened around your neck.

Heat was continuously pooling in your lower stomach as you hummed in agreement.

“Didn’t catch that,” he jerked your body against the bars, rattling them. “What was it again?”

You winced and gripped the bars above your head with both of your hands. “I missed you.” you wailed louder than intended.

You didn’t see it, but you sure as hell felt him smirk.

His tongue brushed against the nape of your neck, coaxing out a quick moan out of you, making Eren release a breathy laugh. “I missed your cute sounds.”

You blushed even harder as you flailed your hand in air for a second, searching for Eren’s head before you found it and burrowed your fingers in his dark hair, messing up his bun.

“Eren,” you breathed out and he knew exactly what to do – he always did.

Normally, he would tease and edge the shit out of you, but having being apart longer than ever, he himself was eager to touch and feel you.

His hand left your neck and snuck under the waistline of your leggings and panties, gliding his fingers through your slick core.

You shivered as he breathed out. “All that rage got you so wet for me.”

“Yes,” you whined squirming against the bars, feeling his own hardness against your behind.

He circled your clit, his own pants feeling tighter and tighter. You felt like your skin was glowing from all the heat and for a moment you wished so hard these damn bars would melt from that same heat, leaving no barrier between the two of you.

Eren’s expert hands were making you moan louder and louder before you felt an intrusion in your mouth as he slipped two digits inside. “You don’t want Hange to interrupt our quality time, do you?”

You yelped as he pushed a finger inside your core – it was just one finger, but you were already on the brink of overstimulation.

“E-Eren,” you croaked after a few moments. “Need your cock, please,”

The battle between your mind and your body was long non-existent as you admitted you’re such a mess for him, like always. You always got caught in his web, and this time is no exception.

You lowered your hand to stroke the obvious tent in his pants, making him groan oh-so-sexily.

He didn’t hesitate as he hooked his fingers under the hem of your pants and underwear as he pulled them down to your knees, a waft of air hitting your wet center. You didn’t even mind the bars painfully pushing against your skin and bones anymore.

You gripped the metal above your head again as Eren aligned himself with your entrance, his fingers digging into your hips as he pushed inside, the sweet stretching ache turning into blazing pleasure almost immediately.

You let out a prolonged moan at the cacophony of these sensations as Eren started to move.

“So tight, always so tight,” Eren mumbled, losing himself in you too.

His tip hit your G-spot, what wasn’t surprising since he knew every inch of you and was always marking your responses to his ministrations. He knew exactly how to make you lose your mind.

The bars were rattling real loud as he pounded into you as if the barrier was non-existent, both of you ignoring the pain from constantly hitting the hard metal.

“Missed my dick, didn’t you?” it was more like a statement than a question, what made you feel dirty and was a final point of tipping you towards you release.

“Eren!” you yelped. “I’m gonna cum,” you were a hot mess, tongue lolling out of your mouth slightly.

He felt your cunt clench around him, indicating that you’re indeed so close, as he pounded into you hard a few times more, one hand cupping your breast and the other on your stomach. You released a short, high-pitched moan when you finally fell, seemingly straight into his embrace.

He pumped into you chasing his own release as you were coming back to your senses, holding on to the bars for dear life as you finally felt his seed spill inside you, your bodies becoming one despite the obvious division.

He held you against the bars with his arms snaked around your waist for a few moments more as you both tried to steady your breathing.

“Really missed you,” Eren muttered quietly, his breath tickling your neck sweetly.

You pulled up your leggings as he did the same with his own pants and turned around to face him, cupping his face with your hand, gently this time.

“I’m so glad you’re back.” was all you could say as you got emotional all of a sudden, seeing his face snuggle into your palm, resembling a small, stray puppy, so desperate for comfort.

He smiled slowly. “You’re not angry on me anymore, are you?”

You released a breathy laugh. “I won’t be if you watch that filthy mouth of yours from time to time.”

“But you like it filthy, don’t you?”

You bit your lower lip. “I do.”

[keilemlucent]

(nsfw) ✧ (dark content warnings) ✧  (minors do not interact) 

hawks | takami keigo x reader

wc: 1.7k

warnings: abuse, noncon/dubcon, yandere, vomit due to illness, delusion, reader is definitely not mentally well, brief description of injury, hawks is Not nice in this, reader has difficulty eating, 

a/n: uhhh it’s 2am, time to post dark drabble lol!! i love like.... deep yandere stuff. when darling’s already been In It for awhile and worn down. mwah. chefs. kiss. anyways, here’s my take!

You want to know what rain tastes like.

Is it different than water from the tap? You had asked him one day. He chuckled but didn’t give you an answer. Just an easy deflection, something unrelated to pull your mind from the outside. 

It is easier this way. 

It’s so much easier to draw the curtains in the morning. Damn the sun, damn the light— You can take vitamin D supplements and pretend you don’t mind how dark the apartment is no matter the time of day.

It’s easier to ignore the multiple locks (seven. you count them sometimes to pass the time) that are bolted into the door. The time it takes him to open them with all their tumbling gears and thundering clicks is the preamble to his comings and goings.

You know to rise from your damn-near sacred spot on the couch to greet him. You go to him with a kiss on his cheek, and to give him hug so hard, it hurts. You can’t tell if it’s from the strain of your arms around his, or the pressure of his embrace around you. You don’t particularly mind either way. It’s the reminder you need that as empty and dark as the apartment is, he’ll always return.

Always.

You lock your hands behind his back, clasped below his wings. Routinely, you bury your face in his chest while he sways you. He asks about your day, but he isn’t listening. You don’t think so, but you don’t mind. Nothing you say means much, and every day is the same. You sit on the couch and stare at the floor. The walls. The ceiling if you’re feeling more adventurous.  

You stopped watching TV alone months ago. No matter what you watched on Keigo’s big, sleek television, it was just a reminder. An awful, unavoidable reminder that the world is quite large, and you weren’t apart of it.

You couldn’t be. You were locked in place— one, two, three, four, five, six, seven — in the little apartment. Wasting away, as much as you tried not to.

...

“You need to eat, baby,” Keigo coax. He holds a deep spoonful of soup to your lips. It smells divine, like chives and cream. “Just a little. For me?”

‘For me.’

Your inability to stomach anything is his problem, just as much as it is yours. That’s just a fact.

“I don’t want to get sick again,” You squeeze your hands. There is a semblance of comfort in the action as Keigo inspects you. Searching.

It isn’t a lie. Your stomach growls and rolls, and it has been all day. Keigo has started to always leave ample leftovers in the fridge in the case you’d actually want to eat them. And you do. Sometimes, you even try! Really try. But the end result is always the same. Your head ends up dangling over the bowl of your toilet while you wretch and writhe. 

Acid stings your throat for hours. 

Despite Keigo’s... previous treatment, he seems genuinely concerned about this development. You’re hardly able to keep anything down, despite being well otherwise.

(You’re so unwell and have been for so long, he can’t begin to see it. The bruises are perpetual. The scars that you didn’t have a year ago are fixtures he can’t remember you without. The constant tremble you carry is from the drafty apartment, not from the deeply instilled fear you carry. The one he had branded (literally) onto you. Into you.)

(Fucker.)

You shake the thought off and open your mouth and accept the bite. And Keigo, bless his heart, is sweet enough to not shove the spoon to the back of your throat. He lets you suck the soup from it, quietly praising your work.

You manage to eat half the bowl before shaking your head, tummy already twisting in the worst, most familiar way.

Keigo gives you pills then. Four of them, all slightly different colors and shapes. You don’t know what they do, and you knew better than to ask (you’d gotten slapped across the face the first and only time you tried.) 

The fourth pill is new, and Keigo, graciously, tells you that it’s for the nausea. That a special doctor is helping him help you. Isn’t that wonderful?

You’re so, so lucky.

 (You hurl the next morning once the meds wear off. Your hands shake and your slam your fist into your temples. Begging. You’re not sure to who. Maybe to yourself. Your body. Crying for your wretched form to just stop hurting you. If you weren’t sick, things would be better.

Maybe, you’re begging Keigo. For help. To make it stop. To take care of you and coo that things will be fine as things are so completely not find that you can’t comprehend it. But he is the one who decides when you hurt. Shouldn’t he be able to make this stop?

Maybe you’re begging him to unlatch those — one, two, three, four, five, six— seven locks so you could dash into the world. Scream at the first person you see that beloved, pro-hero Hawks is so beyond deranged and fucked up. Maybe no civilian would believe you. But you were the evidence. You bore the slashes of his feathers. The perpetual imprint of his fingers on hips and thighs. You even had a brand on the bottom of your foot. K-E-I-G-O.

Maybe, you’re begging to whatever god you once believed in to kill you. You don’t care about the means. Be it your hand, or Keigo’s, or random chance.)

 You spew into the murky water and try to forget.

...

Keigo’s special doctor comes by. You see the two exchange hands by the door when she first arrives. A flash of bills and coins. Paid off, part of you perks up. The doctor won’t talk about Hawks’ little captive. You’re sure it’s a handsome amount, based on the neutrality of her expression as she takes you in.

To care so little about something like you is hardly a surprise.

She examines you, collects some blood and other samples. Prescribes a few more medicines that have long and complicated names that are hard to pronounce. You try to forget them. You’re happy to be quiet. Sit next to Keigo while he wraps a wing around you and rubs your back in little circles. He’s warm and good, unlike the rot in your stomach.

 Keigo praises you once she leaves, wrapping you up in him, scarlet feathers and all. Kisses your cheeks, telling you how well you did. How you didn’t falter, didn’t scream, didn’t let her touch you too much. How you were so perfect for him. You deserve a reward! 

He treats you to fresh sheets and more kisses. The kind that feels like how lovers are supposed to kiss. There isn’t too much teeth or tongue, just slow, open-mouthed pressing that makes your tummy flutter in a good way (for once.)

“Isn’t this nice?” Keigo hums against your lips. 

You nod, barely eager but not apprehensive either. Treading lightly on a carefully, self-cultivated path between wanting and revulsion. As good as it feels, you don’t want to give him. You don’t remember how.

His lips trail to your neck, to your collarbones. He pushes up your shirt and only leaves little pecks over your nipples and chest. No wounds that draw blood. No hickeys that last weeks. 

You don’t realize you start trembling until Keigo has to grip your inner thighs to still you. So, he can coo blessed, little reminders.

“This feels good, doesn’t it?”

“I always make you feel so good.”

“You deserve this, all of this,” he says before pressing his lips to your clit. You’re just wet enough for him to fuck you on his fingers. Enough that when he bullies the bundle of nerves inside you, you coat his fingers in slick and whine. Your voice breaks, over and over, and little, unwanted tears leak into your hairline.

Keigo ignores them as usual. You can be so dramatic.

And Keigo, ever gracious, let’s you shatter on his fingers. Doesn’t make you beg, just whispered hushed adorations as you come undone on his tongue. He hardly toys with you after, and instead lets you fall into the sheets. Properly spend, though not exhausted.

You still shake, but that’s okay. It’s manageable.

Keigo cleans you up with a silken cloth. He wipes between the swell of your breasts, down your navel and to your cunt. His feathers ruffle as he does his work, clearly focused. There’s no speaking during it, only watching and observing.

“Thank you.” You speak without prompting. 

Your words are dry and underused. Your lips feel chapped, and your vision is hazy in the dark of the bedroom. 

Keigo gives you a smile (full of white-hot pride), clicking his tongue, “Of course, dovey. You deserve to feel good for me. I want you to. I like you like this.”

(He carries that same sentiment that no matter your ‘post-fuck’ state. Whether you’re twitching and dumb from overstimulation. Whether you’re bawling from pain and holding your hand over a too deep, ‘accidental’ wound. Whether your expression is blank, lips ajar, and face tilted to the ceiling.)

You can only agree with him.

What other option do you have?

...

(The doctor calls the following week. Keigo speaks to her in hushed tones from his office, muffled and stern. You only catch pieces of it.

“They do not appear to be suffering from anything specific illness.” The doctor pauses. “The weakness, fatigue, shakiness, forgetfulness, and nausea all seem to be tied back to prolonged anxiety. Constant surges of adrenaline that have pushed them to this point.”

Keigo doesn’t bother asking the source.

He knows it.

(And honestly? He seems a little proud.)

 You return to settle on the couch. Ever practiced, you turn towards the door and find the locks.

One, two, three four—

That four one wouldn’t be too hard to pick, would it?

(You’d already tried months ago. It was just a chain lock, but Keigo had nearly snapped your wrist when he caught you trying to tamper with it.)

Five, six, seven—

Your stomach rolls and your hug your knees, still managing a smile when Keigo rejoins you. His wings flex, and he flashes you a golden smile. His phone is locked and in his hand, and you know he’ll ignore it for the night. He’ll wrap you in his arms and smother you with his wings.

It’s better this way, you remind yourself, turning from the locks.

[ibuki-loves-you]

I know that requests are closed and all that stuff but I'm putting it here so that I don't forget. Danganronpa v3 boys reacting to reader snapping during a class trial like Mikan did. That's it. Feel free to ignore this ask and have a great time.

DRV3 Boys reacting to their S/O snapping during a trial like Mikan

Warnings: Death

Mod Ibuki: Hope you enjoy!

Shuichi:

Shuichi had no choice but to suspect you

All evidence pointed to you

The minute he questioned you, you snapped

It’s like your personality before was gone, replaced with this violent one

And he didn’t like it

“I always get blamed, i-it’s always my fault! N-Now you too!? Well, guess what? I’m done with that! You hear me!? I’m done!!” “Y-Y/N…”

What scared him more was when you went from screaming to your voice dropping to a soft hum

“It’s always my fault, right? You just need someone to pin the blame on...find someone else. I’m not the culprit…” “Yes you are, Y/N…” “NO I'M NOT!”

His heart broke every single time you objected

He just wanted to get this over with

When you finally came clean about the murder, you were still convinced you had done no wrong, that it was justified

Shuichi gave up trying to convince you

“I love you, Y/N. I really do. I-I’m so sorry…”

Rantaro:

When you lost it, he lost it

“Y-You’re just a bunch of bullies, huh? I see...I’m not the culprit. I did nothing wrong. N-Nothing wrong...! NOTHING AT ALL!”

Shuichi had to convince Rantaro that you were the culprit first

It took a bit, but Rantaro had no choice but to believe it

“I did nothing wrong! Why are you convicting me, huh!? Is it because you’re desperate for a culprit! That-” “Stop, Y/N. It’s over. Just, admit it. You did it.”

It broke Rantaro to say that to you, but he had no choice

When everyone voted for you and the trial was over, everyone, not just Rantaro, wanted to know what happened

“Forgive me…” “What?” “F-Forgive me! I-If it was you, you’d forgive yourself right away, right!? S-So just forgive me already!”

Rantaro pulled you into a hug, mumbling over and over how he forgave you and how he wasn’t mad

“I love you so much, Y/N. I forgive you, I’ll always forgive you.”

Ryoma:

Ryoma thought it was karma

He got to be happy, and this was the punishment

“I’ve been through this so many times. Hehe…” “What do you mean? Talk to me, Y/N.” “‘I-It’s all their fault.’ ‘T-They’re the one with the problem.’ I’M DONE WITH THAT! YOU HEAR ME!? I’M DONE!”

Ryoma couldn’t bring himself to say anything else, he let Shuichi handle the conviction

He wanted no part in it

“W-Why won’t you forgive me!? Y-You’re all looking at me l-like you hate me! JUST FORGIVE ME ALREADY!!!” “Y/N, I’ll always forgive you.” “T-Then why are you looking at me like that!?” “Because I don’t want to lose you.”

When he said that, you confessed

You didn’t want to prolong Ryoma’s mental torture any longer

Before you got dragged off to your execution, Ryoma held your hands and kissed your head

“I don’t hate you, okay? I could never hate you. I love you, I always will.”

Korekiyo:

Kiyo immediately came to your aid

He was not about to lose you

When you weren’t screaming, he was

“You’re idiots! You’re only pushing the blame on me because I-I’m an easy target! Y-You hate me! Why do you hate me!?”

Everytime Kiyo defended you, it got more and more incoherent

His evidence wasn’t accurate and he knew that

He just wanted you to live

Eventually, Shuichi broke through to Kiyo about you being the killer, now everyone had to break through to you

“I-It’s not fair. Not fair. Not fair, not fair, not fair, NOT FAIR NOT FAIR NOT FAIR NOT FAIR NOT FAIR NOT FAIR NOT FAIR!!!!” “I know, dear. It’s not fair. Believe me, I know. But please, just admit you had killed them.”

It took a while, but you had finally broke and confessed to the killing

The minute you were voted, Kiyo grabbed you and held you as close as he possibly could

If Monokuma wanted you, he had to rip you from Kiyo himself

Even then, you weren’t going without him

“I love you so much, my love. It’s okay, no tears. We will see each other shortly, I swear. I refuse to leave you alone.”

Gonta:

Gonta got scared

He was so used to your quiet self before

When you started screaming at Shuichi he started crying

“It’s not fair! Not fair, not fair, not fair, not fair!!” “Y-Y/N!” “What!? Do you agree with them!?” “N-No, not at all! W-Why you think Y/N culprit!?”

Gonta tried to convince them otherwise, he really did

Nothing was working, though

Like most of the others, they had to convince Gonta you were the culprit because they weren’t getting anywhere with you

“Y/N...Please tell truth. Tell Gonta the truth. Gonta won’t be mad, Gonta promise.”

After a few minutes of contemplation, you calmed down and came clean

You couldn’t persist any longer

It was only gonna hurt Gonta

“Gonta love you, Y/N. Gonta never gonna forget you. Gonta gonna miss you a lot…”

Kokichi:

Kokichi found your meltdown hilarious!

...That’s a lie

Every time you screamed at Shuichi, he felt his heart break all over again

He knew you were trying upon trying to survive

That’s when he began lying for you

“You’re convicting the wrong person.” “What?” “You heard me. You’re forgetting, Tsumugi has no alibi and isn’t she just as close to the crime as Y/N? Evaluate her. You have the wrong person.”

Surprisingly, it worked

Shuichi evaluated the whole case all over again, buying you and Kokichi more time

Kokichi held your hand, even kissing it a few times while Shuichi evaluated

When he was finished, the results still came back to you

“Forgive me…” “W-What? Y/N, you didn’t do anything! Tsumugi did it! Not you!” “Why won’t you forgive me?” “I can’t forgive what you didn’t do!” “Just forgive me already…” “W-What?” “I SAID JUST FORGIVE ME ALREADY! WHY WON”T YOU FORGIVE ME!?” “Baby…” “JUST FORGIVE ME!” “Okay! Okay, I forgive you…”

The second you were voted it hit him that you were going to die

He latched onto you and wouldn’t let go

He kissed you over and over, as if he was trying to memorize the feeling of your lips against his

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you. I promise, I’ll see you soon, okay? I love you. I’m not lying, I promise. I love you, I love you.”

Kaito:

The minute Shuichi began suspecting you, Kaito was on his ass about it

No way in hell were you the culprit

He fought for you for a while until you snapped

It scared him and everyone in the room

“You’re just a bully, huh? It’s my fault...right? It’s always my fault…! I’m a-always the one with the problem! It’s always me and no one else!” “Y/N-” “I’M DONE WITH THAT! DO YOU HEAR ME!? I’M DONE!!!” “Y/N! What the hell are you talkin’ about? You didn’t do anything! You aren’t the culprit!”

Shuichi never got it through to Kaito that you were the culprit, so he had to break you

The minute you were voted, Kaito punched Shuichi right across the face

He knew deep down it wasn’t his fault, but he couldn’t help but blame him

He would apologize later because he knew that’s what you would’ve wanted

“Y/N, baby. I’m sorry, okay? I’m really sorry. I love you, to the moon and back.”

Kiibo:

Kiibo thought he was malfunctioning

You weren’t the culprit, there was no way

“That’s ridiculous, Shuichi! There’s no way Y/N is the culprit! They couldn’t hurt a fly!”

Like the majority of the others, Shuichi had to drill it into his head that you were the culprit

The moment he realized was when you started freaking out on Shuichi

“It’s not fair! Why me, huh!? Why are you convicting me!? I did nothing wrong! It’s not fair, not fair, not fair, not fair, not fair, NOT FAIR!!!” “Y/N, please calm down!”

Kiibo’s efforts proved fruitless, as you didn’t calm down until you were voted

Once it hit the two of you that you were about to die, Kiibo embraced you and tried to comfort you as best he could

“It’ll be over soon, Y/N. Hopefully, we’ll meet again. I’m grateful for everything you’ve ever done for me, okay? I love you.”

[twoidiotwriters1]

The 3 Rules (Bucky Barnes x F! reader)

A/N: I also need my dose of Bucky Barnes. I simp for him too,*sigh* What a time to be alive -Val

Words: 1, 390

Twoidiots Masterlist

Sam Wilson has had Bucky Barnes as a partner for a short time, just a few months, but since they met thanks to Steve, neither has been able to hide their mutual dislike.

Sam is the charming one of the group, while Bucky is the grumpiest.

However, Steve and Tony keep putting them together on every mission they could think of, with the poor excuse that they’re a great team for those types of duties, but the truth is that they put them together to make peace.

For this reason, Sam has managed to know a little about the soldier and has deduced three important things.

1. Bucky doesn't share anything. No food, clothes, nothing.

2. Don't touch Bucky, not even as a greeting. Don’t do it. The only one who can get close enough is Steve.

3. Bucky doesn't smile. If you try to make him laugh, he’ll kick you.

Sam now knows that he shouldn’t do any of these actions and he’s told the others in the group to avoid any problems.

However, before the arrival of the new girl, Y/N, the others forgot to tell her this.

Since Tony Stark discovered her great ability for technology, she was immediately invited to live in the compound. Everyone managed to make a connection, but Sam still sees something strange about her.

"Stupid Sam, once I see him, I'll get my revenge," says the girl through her teeth as she tries to reach for her favorite mug, which is on the top shelf. She stretches her body, raising herself on tiptoe with difficulty.

"Damn fool..."

"Need help?" Says a deep voice.

She jumps and spins, meeting Bucky. Y/N is surprised to see him and especially to hear him. He’d never spoken to her since she joined.

"Uh- I, yeah!" She points to her mug. "Could you pass me the blue one?" He nods and walks over. Y/N moves to give him more space.

"What were you saying a few minutes ago?" Bucky asks, handing her the mug.

She makes a face.

“I was insulting Sam. He's the one who always puts my stuff in high places, where he knows I can’t reach,” She rolls her eyes.

Bucky frowns.

"Yeah, he's always making jokes," He growls, "But I didn't think you were a victim. You haven't been here long."

"I don't think that stops Sam from teasing."

He nods in agreement.

"Thanks," She says when Bucky is about to leave. "For the cup."

"S’nothing."

The interaction is interrupted when Sam walks into the kitchen. His amused grin is replaced by a frown upon seeing Y/N with her mug.

"Oh, man," He complains and looks over to Bucky. "Did you give it to her? You just ruined my favorite part of the morning, Barnes."

“Don't be a child and stop bothering her,” Bucky sentences and then leaves.

Sam looks at him in surprise, then looks at the girl.

"What did you do to make him defend you?" He questions.

"I did nothing. He's fed up with your jokes too, Wilson,” She replies, preparing her much-desired coffee.

"I don't know what you're talking about, darling. Everyone loves my jokes."

That was their first interaction, nothing out of the ordinary. Could’ve been worst.

After the others gathered in the kitchen for breakfast, Y/N slipped away with two mugs in hand. No one but Sam noticed this and he couldn't help but follow her without making any noise.

The girl walked into the rooms and left one of them outside Bucky's, she knocked on the door and continued on her way.

Bucky opened the door, finding the gift, he took it and looked down the hall, seeing the girl entering her room. He returned his gaze to the cup, shook his head with a small, almost imperceptible smile, and then returned to his room.

All of this happened under Sam's surprised gaze.

***

The second time Sam witnessed something strange was on movie night, where everyone was gathered in the screening room.

As soon as he enters, he notices that Y/N and Bucky are sitting together, on the same couch in front of the screen, near the chair where Sam decides to sit.

The movie starts and only a few lights go out, but Sam can still make out their bodies.

"What are you eating?" She whispers to Bucky.

“Candy, but they’re kinda salty. They're the ones I ate when I was a kid, uh— well, the most recent version of them,” He explains.

"Can I try one?"

Sam snorts at her question, expecting rejection from the super-soldier.

"Sure," says Bucky.

Sam can't believe what he just heard. He quickly leans over to the other side of his chair and pulls the collar of Steve's shirt closer.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You’ll not believe what just happened."

Sam points out the couple and when Steve sees that Bucky continues to share his favorite treats, he can't believe it at first either. He doesn't even share them with him.

***

The third time was the turning point in Wilson's mental health.

He, Wanda, Bruce, Steve, and Bucky are at the high table that faces the kitchen. Each one talking about different topics, the two super soldiers and Sam are planning a strategy for the next mission, but a few seconds later they’re interrupted by the arrival of Y/N.

"Hey, Buck," She says touching Barnes's right arm. He turns to see her and smiles at her. "I need you to come to the lab, Tony has some upgrades for you."

"Okay," He answers immediately.

"Wow, wow. Stop right there,” Sam says before Bucky can get up from his chair. Now everyone looks at him confused. "Come on, I can't be the only one panicking seeing this," He points out to the couple.

"What?" The girl asks.

"Maybe no one told you because you're new," starts Wilson. "But the grumpy machine next to you has his limits and we all have to follow his damn rules to avoid a broken arm."

"Sam, I don't think—" Steve says, but Sam ignores him.

"First, Barnes doesn't share anything and the other day he voluntarily decided to share his precious sweets with you without even making a face," He says, counting with his fingers. "Second, just Steve and some photos at the museum are proof that Barnes is capable of smiling, but apparently, that ability is natural when you arrive, and third," He points to the hand of the girl who continues to touch Bucky's skin. "No one can touch him and you’re doing that right now! "

The others analyze what Sam just said and they realize that this is all true. But the confusion of the majority increases when Bucky smiles mockingly and the girl laughs.

"And does that bother you, Sam?" She asks.

"How are you still alive!?"

She smirks wickedly.

"Then this will drive you crazy," She mentions, grabbing Bucky by the back of his head and bringing her lips together against his in a deep and prolonged kiss, which is pleasantly reciprocated by the super-soldier.

"What's going on!?" Wilson exclaims.

When the two-part ways, they can't help but laugh at Sam's reaction.

"Don't overreact, Sam," says Wanda, grinning at the couple.

"How come no one is freaking out?"

"They make a nice couple," says Bruce with a shrug.

"And you?" says Sam looking at Steve.

"It's what I was trying to tell you, but you didn’t let me speak," answers the blond.

"Traitor," Sam says and then returns to Bucky and Y/N. "I don't understand how this happened," He looks at the man. "I once tried to heal one of your wounds on your good arm and you ended up breaking my nose," He complains.

"The difference is that she’s better than you," Bucky answers hugging the girl's waist.

"Better than me?"

"Yeah, funnier, kinder, cuter, hotter and she smells better," He jokes, getting a little slap from her. "Once you start acting a bit more like her, I’ll reconsider my attitude towards you."

"Is this some kind of joke?" Sam asks.

Y/N laughs again.

"Face it, Wilson. I beat you,” She says. She kisses Bucky's cheek. "Come on, soldier," She takes his hand and they both leave the place.

"Are you okay, Sam?" Steve asks.

"I need an aspirin."

Taglist:

@silenthappyplace​

@yourbonesareinmybody​

@hufflepuffzutara​

@lauramacch​

[prozd]

Bones of the Forgotten

For those unaware, when I was 12 years old, I used to write very gritty Mario fanfiction.  The only reason this exists is because we hit a charity milestone for Extra Life (which by the way you can still donate to here: https://www.extra-life.org/participant/450294)

I decided to write the sort of fanfiction that 12 year old me would've enjoyed writing, so here is my love letter to my youth.

A question block can come in handy in a variety of ways.  You just gotta know how to scrap it down.  Easily done enough with a precision focus Fire Flower blowtorch.  The first thing you gotta do is realize there's nothing bringing that sonuvabitch down; those fuckers float in the air forever no matter how much you push or pull 'em.  Instead, you gotta carve off pieces from it as it's floating up there. Awkward at first, but by the fiftieth time, it's fucking clockwork.

Melt down the pieces and you've got the golden goo perfect for crafting all sorts of nasty tools.  A bat made from question block has just enough lightness for a easy swing, but just enough density to still effectively break a kneecap.  A blade still won't pierce, say, a Chain Chomp, but it can at least pierce most Koopa shells.  Plus, some people just like the gold color; they think it looks sick.

I personally think the best use of question block goo is making bullets out of it.  They're denser than most others and they maintain their speed for longer. The only downside is they stand out if you leave them in a body at a crime scene, but that's irrelevant as long as you're cleaning up your messes properly.  If anyone had the time and resources to search the bottom of the sea near Rogueport Docks, I imagine you'd find a glittering trove of golden bullets scattered among the bones of the forgotten.

One of those bullets dances idly through my fingers as I listen to one of my subordinates, a Craw with the quite frankly unfortunate name of Garf, lament about his recent mistreatment by the Syndicate.

"Ishnail, they just stomped the shit out of us!  Gus and I, we weren't doin' NOTHIN' and those leafy fucks attacked us.  Everyone knows the Plaza's neutral territory, we gotta DO somethin' about this."

Craws get a bad rap, in my opinion.  They get labeled as savage, but I've always found them to be much more thoughtful than people would assume.  Even in this moment, as my eyes gaze upon Garf's tattered, bloodied vest and bandana, and his curved beak squawks in rage, I notice the slightest trace of tears at the very edges of his eyes.  Aw.

"Let me ask you one question, Garf."  Out of respect, Garf immediately goes silent. Again, thoughtful.  "Were you and Gus carrying your spears?"

"I......I mean.....we have to, it's part of Craw culture...."

"I'm well aware, but Garf, I'm sure YOU'RE well aware that no weapons are allowed in the Plaza.  I mean, at the very least, keep a goddamn gun hidden in your pocket, don't wave a fucking SPEAR around.  You're just asking for the Piantas to give you a beating."

I get up from the dingy sofa I've been lounging on and dust myself off.  "But I can't have Don Pianta thinking it's okay to fuck up my guys.  I'll have to have a word with the ol' mustachioed fuck."  I pat Garf on the cheek and wipe a tear away with my thumb.  He nods in appreciation.

I motion to two of my subordinates, a scrappy looking Goomba named Goomfrey and a laidback Hammer Brother named Hamma.  We step outside HQ and into the bustling, grimy streets of Rogueport's east side.  

As long as I've lived in Rogueport, it's always carried the smell of the sea in the air.  It's a welcome scent to me, having grown up in the Seaside Kingdom.  My mom was a Bubblainian; she raised me when my deadbeat Koopa dad left us, and what she gave me was the snail shell on my back and a love for the water.  Merchants shouting and the occasional "STOP, THIEF!" ring out as my muscle and I make our way through the Plaza.  We pass the gallows where the Shadow Queen's corpse was supposedly hung from one thousand years ago.  Fittingly gruesome lore for a city filled with murderous rat-bastards.

A sickly sweet scent starts to mingle with the smell of the sea and garbage I'm used to. It's an indication that we're entering the west side of Rogueport. Sure, it's a much tidier area than where the Robbos and I live; there may be fancy-ass things like "flowers" and "benches," how hoity-toity.  You can put lipstick on a Li'l Oink, but it still smells like shit.

We walk into Westside Goods.  There's no need for the customary password; Peeka, the Boo shopkeeper, knows why I'm here.  She opens up the back door, and we walk up the stairs in the back alley to Don Pianta's office.

"Ishnail, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Don Pianta stands behind his desk; as much as I hate to admit it, his presence is overwhelming.  "And you brought friends, too?" he notes as he sees Goomfrey and Hamma.

If you want to live long in Rogueport, every time you enter a room, you have to mentally gauge 1. the quickest way to escape, 2. who you may need to disable and/or kill to escape, and 3. how easy that's all going to be.  Two giant yellow Pianta in suits stand guard at both sides of the Don's desk. A blue Pianta in a white suit, the Don's underboss Frankie, closes the door behind us.  

Piantas are not easy to injure, let alone kill; I know this from years of tangling with the Don's gang.  The little palm trees and skirts would make you think otherwise, but Piantas are naturally built like fucking dump trucks and hit just as hard.  Hamma's a Glitz Pit fighter, and I've seen what he can do with that hammer.  Goomfrey gets underestimated for his species, but his reputation precedes him; he has bitten off more fingers than your average Rogueportian.  Still, a fight against four Piantas, even with my question block bullets, would be brutal.  It's telling that you never see a Pianta with a weapon because nothing will kill you faster than simply their own fists.

"Your men attacked mine, Don.  And for what, carrying spears?  You and I both know that's bullshit."

"My men....have been on edge.  Your little Bandit friends have been scuttling around, picking too many pockets they shouldn't be.  Keep that shit on the East Side where it belongs, and we'll be fine."

As Don Pianta talks, he habitually cracks his knuckles.  Out of all the Piantas in the syndicate, Don Pianta is truly a mammoth; his muscles are barely contained by the suit he's wearing.  Honestly, if he wasn't my ultimate arch-nemesis in this town, shit, I'd fuck him.  I like my men beefy.

"Alright, Don.  I'll tell my boys to keep their weapons out of the plaza.  You and I both know no one benefits if we fight in the streets.  Bad business for both your establishments and mine.  Let's keep things quiet."

"Agreed," The Don extends a giant hand.  I shake it firmly.

I turn to leave with my muscle in tow.  As I open the door to leave, I hear a whisper.

"Get your slimy shell outta here, you fuck."

I pause.  I give Goomfrey the look, and he smirks.  Goomfrey's eyes quickly dart and I know he's already memorizing every little detail about the yellow Pianta who whispered the insult.  Without another word, I close the door behind me.

---

There's one more use for question block goo I forgot to mention.  It's perfect for weighing things down.  

I breathe in the salty seaport air; it's particularly sweet tonight.  The golden bullet dances between my fingers; I know it's a bad habit, but it's fun to fidget with.  It'll go to good use though.  I load it into my Fire Flower pistol with a few others and carefully attach the silencer.

"Now, listen, uh...what was his name again?"

"Paulie," says Goomfrey, standing to my side with a grin.

"That's right, Paulie.  I'm a pretty patient person, I think most people including your boss would agree, but I've got a real sore spot about the shell, ya know?  It's just, it reminds me of my dear old ma, and I love her to bits.  You understand, right?"

There is no response from Paulie due to his crushed windpipe courtesy of Hamma's hammer.  Quite frankly, I'm impressed he's still conscious from the pain.  He looks up at me from his crouching position eyes filled with hate, his hands and feet encased in reforged golden question blocks.  Piantas are heavy, so four blocks worth is safest.

"I did promise the dear Don that I'd keep things quiet, so let's cut to the chase." I point the gun at his forehead and before he can react, I fire three shots.  There's no need to prolong this shit; I'm not a sadist. Hamma and Goomfrey pick up the body and toss it off the port into the sea.

"For what it's worth, boss," says Hamma in a low, pleasant baritone.  "I like your shell.  Looks good on ya."

"Aww, thanks."

[onmykneesforhotdilfs]

jealous

guess who is back, that’s right, ME. anyway, this was not a request or anything but i needed to do this in order to get back on track. there are bunch of requests sitting in my box over there but i am working on them, i promise. if not in august, then you will get them all in september. k? now that this is out of the way, i hope you enjoy and as always, if you guys wanna talk about my fics or anything really, feel free to message me, i’m always available.

“Are you absolutely sure you want to go?

Bloom sighed and winced as Stella pulled a strand of her fiery hair too hard, sharp pain from the tug settling in her temple lobe making her regret her decision to have her blonde friend help her get ready for, yet another, Eraklyon ball.

“Well it seemed like a good idea to me at the beginning… but judging by the number of times I have been asked that question, I am starting to think it is not such a good idea after all.” Bloom responded sarcastically.

“Look Bloom,” Stella began as she took another strand of Bloom’s hair and curled it around the curling iron, “I get it. You guys broke up on friendly terms, but no one is going to blame you if you choose not to go.” Bloom frowned and she was about to open her mouth to protest, but Stella paid her no mind as she continued to curl her hair. “It’s his engagement party at the end of the day and the one that could turn rather messy considering who the bride-to-be is.”

“I know this might seem slightly unorthodox Stell, but I honestly have no hard feelings towards Sky.” Bloom shrugged one of her shoulders. “Besides, I’ve moved on.”

Stella snorted and tried to cover the sound (not befitting of a royal) with a cough but Bloom saw right through it as she leveled her best friend with a flat look. “Sorry Bloom. But you’ve got to admit that the situation is slightly absurd.”

Bloom sighed, her shoulders slouching forward in a clear sign of defeat. “Well, yes, I admit that the situation might seem weird-“

“Weird?” Stella laughed. “Sweetie, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but the situation ceased to be weird when you decided to spare the bastard.” Bloom saw Stella raise one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows in the mirror but an amused smile full of mirth was present on her lips. “This right now, this is insanity at it’s finest.”

Bloom rolled her eyes. “Okay now you’re exaggerating. Besides, the two of you are getting along quite well. With the way the two of you strive to get on my nerves, I’ll even say, you get along better than him and I do.”

“Okay, that’s just hurtful.” Stella pouted, her bottom lip sticking out and Bloom laughed at the puppy dog look her friend was giving her.

“I’m just kidding Stell.”

“I don’t know Bloom. I now might have to tell your boyfriend you find him annoying.” Bloom never quite considered Stella as a snitch, but the devils dancing in blonde’s eyes reminded her that she needed to thread carefully unless she wanted to be eaten alive by the devil himself and his accomplice.

“Now, don’t be twisting my words. I never said I find you or him annoying…” She stopped for a second to debate whether or not she should say the next sentence. “No matter how true that statement might be.” She mumbled at the end.

Stella burst out laughing and hugged Bloom from behind. “That’s ok Bloom, you annoy us too.” At the red head’s confused look, Stella continued. “Between your constant rushing into danger without thinking and doing the exact opposite of what you’re told, it’s a miracle neither of us has a set of gray hair from worrying too much.”

Bloom felt the heat rushing to her cheeks and she lowered her head to conceal the blush that was climbing up her neck. “I’m not that bad.”

“No, you’re not.” Bloom’s eyes met Stella’s in the mirror. “You’re even worse.”

“Thanks a lot.” Bloom mumbled but she had to bite her lip to stifle a laugh as Stella’s sharp elbow stabbed her in the back making her bend forward slightly.

“Speaking of the devil, how is Valtor?” Stella asked as she started tucking delicate curls into a bun with an elaborate pattern. “I mean, you did leave him with your parents, your real parents, after all. Aren’t you worried that there will be nothing left of him when you come back?”

Bloom grinned. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. He knows he should stay away from the throne room when I’m not there… He had to learn that the hard way though.”

“That hard way wouldn’t happen to be an angry king of Domino with a magic sword?” Stella asked through her giggles as the mental picture of an aristocratic wizard being chased across the hall by Bloom’s father popped up in her head.

“Who blabbed?” Bloom asked with genuine interest painted across her features.

Stella shrugged. “One of the maids that has a cousin working in Solaria’s palace happened to be at the right place and at the right time.” She pinned the final curl to the right place and stepped back to admire her work. “And I happened to be at the right place and at the right time to hear it being passed directly from one person to another.”

“Well, aren’t you lucky?” Bloom mumbled as she stood up from her chair and stretched her stiff muscles.

“Yeah, I guess I am. I never had the misfortune of being chased by your dad with a sword after all.”

Stella laughed as Bloom pushed her slightly, slight grimace present on her face. “Thank you for your help.” She leaned in to give Stella a hug. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss the show for anything.” Stella smiled and wiggled her eyebrows.

Bloom laughed. “You know, it is not nice to rejoice in someone else's misfortune. Dragon knows I would rather jump off the bridge than marry Diaspro.”

Stella waved her arm dismissively. “Each to it’s own. He should’ve sucked it up and come clean right away instead of preventing you from moving on and just prolonging the misery. A bit of suffering might be good for his soul.” She stopped for a second. “Though I’ll admit, marrying Diaspro might be too cruel of a punishment, even for him.”

“Well I am certainly not going to pull a Diaspro card tonight. I just hope he will live to see himself get married. After that, he is beyond my care.”

“Honey, he was beyond your care the moment you ended things, don’t pay too much attention to him.” Stella wiggled her eyebrows playfully. “Valtor might get jealous if you do.”

Bloom shook her head. “He’s not necessarily the jealous type Stell.” When Stella raised an eyebrow and her face morphed into an expression of disbelief, Bloom frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Are you completely blind or something?” When Bloom’s face continued to show nothing but plain confusion, Stella continued. “Are you seriously telling me that you do not see the glares he is sending to other people who look at you for two seconds too long?” Bloom shook her head negative but a stunned expression tensed her facial muscles and if Stella focused, she could probably see the cogs turning in Bloom’s brain.

“I’ve… honestly never noticed.”

Stella smirked. “I’m not sure why I’m even surprised. The two of you separately could conquer the world, but apparently when you’re together your brain cells eat each other or something because you are stupid for anything and everything besides for each other.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Bloom, honey, if there was a picture for ‘crazy in love’ in the dictionary, it would be a picture of the two of you.”

Bloom rolled her eyes. “I’ll have you know that we actually talk quite a lot.”

“I’m sure you do… when you’re not too busy getting lost in each other’s eyes from across the room.”

Bloom exhaled and pinched a bridge of her nose. “Okay I think that’s enough of that. Don’t injure that fashionable brain of yours by thinking too hard about me and Valtor. I’ll see you tonight.” She gave Stella another quick hug, ignoring the ‘Hey!’ she got and opened a portal to Domino. She threw a quick ‘I love you’ to Stella before stepping into the portal.

Shining rays of sun almost blinded her and she had to squint her eyes as she stepped into the throne room, making the people in it stop what they were doing to greet the princess. Bloom dismissed them all with a wave of her hand and a friendly smile as she climbed the steps to greet her parents.

“You look gorgeous honey.” Her mother said as she kept Bloom at an arm’s length to examine the hairstyle. Marion brought her hand to Bloom’s face and twirled a lock of fiery strand that framed her face.

“It’s all Stella mom. But thank you.” Bloom laughed cheerfully and tucked the lock behind her ear. “Have you seen Valtor by any chance?” She ignored a dangerous growl that sounded next to her, courtesy of her father, and continued. “We should get going soon.”

Just as Marion opened her mouth to answer, the door to the room opened and Valtor, wearing classic black pants and white shirt, strode in. Oritel jumped from his chair and Bloom saw, in her peripheral vision, how Marion gripped his forearm when Valtor came closer and started to climb the steps. He acknowledged no one as his eyes locked onto hers and Bloom got a flashback of Stella gushing about him having eyes only for her. Bloom felt the heat rushing to her head but paid it no mind as Valtor’s hands finally wrapped around her waist and he leaned down to kiss her forehead in greeting. She collapsed onto him, feeling almost boneless, her knees barely supporting her. The dragon fire connection burned pleasantly in her veins, carrying even more heat into her cheeks but Bloom was too busy basking in the euphoria that their connection provided to care. His thumb was drawing lazy patterns on her waist and Bloom had to resist the urge to giggle quite childishly. Instead she distanced herself from his embrace slightly, only now realizing they were not in private, and looked up at his face that had the beginning of a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Someone (Oritel) cleared their throat and Bloom broke eye contact with Valtor as unkind lights flashed in his eyes, his hand tightening around her waist, a clear sign of sheer annoyance on his part.

“So…” Bloom began rather awkwardly, clearing her throat as Valtor and Oritel continued to shoot each other unkind looks from across her head. “I trust the day has passed without any incidents involving swords and other sharp objects.”

“That only happened once.” Both of them spoke at the same time, a similar grimace painted at both Oritel’s and Valtor’s face.

“And once was enough, thank you very much.” Bloom said as she looked between the two men, trying to suppress her laughter.

“He started it.” Both men mumbled at once and turned an evil eye to each other.

“Very mature.” Sarcasm was dripping from every word Bloom spoke, her teeth nibbling at the bottom lip as she felt that exploding argument was about to commence and she really had no time for such shenanigans.

“If I remember correctly, your majesty,” Valtor began, sugar coating his voice but his face frozen in a sour expression, “you were the one that chased me with a sword, not the other way around.”

Bloom mumbled an ‘Oh no.’ and pinched Valtor’s side warningly. She squeezed her eyes together as dull pain began thumping against the walls of her skull. Her eyes met the worried but slightly amused eyes of her mother, and the queen shook her head clearly referring to the childish argument between the two grown men.

“Next time I’m simply going to break one of the hardwood chairs against your back then.” Oritel continued with a sheer, his frame slowly molding into one ready for an attack. The men leaned towards each other dangerously, and Bloom was afraid that sooner or later lightning will shoot from their eyes.

“There won’t be a next time. Your luck is that I chose not to defend myself, because otherwise, the outcome of that meeting would’ve been very different.”

“We can test that theory right now!”

“Bring it!”

The two were about to rush at each other, Oritel’s hand reaching for his sword and Valtor’s hand already lit with a spell, but an explosive spell rushed between their faces and forced the two to close their eyes and turn in the opposite direction. When the searing white finally retreated from their retinas and they were able to see clearly again, they turned to the women standing on the side, Marion’s hand raised as remains of the spell still sparked at her fingertips.

“Gentlemen. Please, behave.” The queen’s tone bore no traces of jest and Valtor and Oritel straightened their clothes in an effort to compose themselves, both coming to a conclusion that the continuation of a quarrel could result in serious bodily injury provided by none other than Marion.

Oritel cleared his throat and looked across Valtor’s shoulder towards the open hall. The servants were frozen in surprise, some were even huddled together as numerous whispers passed through the room. He looked towards his wife who was shaking her head in disbelief as if to say ‘Look at what you’ve done now.’ He once again cleared his throat and turned towards the people in the room. “Go back to your duties, there is nothing to see here.” The servants scattered across the room, fearing the wrath of their king, but amused chuckles still broke through some mouth.

“If you’re quite done,” the queen began, “maybe it would be for the best to go separate ways for today.”

“But Marion he-“ what was undoubtedly about to be another epic rant about whose fault it is was put on hold by a simple hand gesture. Marion crossed her lips in an universal ‘Zip it.’ motion and king’s mouth snapped shut. Seeing such scene, Valtor opened his mouth to say something but a sharp elbow to his ribs made him rethink his decision. He cleared his throat and grabbed the owner of the said elbow, a girl who was red in the face and almost had steam coming from her ears, and pulled her towards himself. Bloom struggled against his hold for a second but relaxed fairly quickly when Valtor sneaked his arm across her waist.

“I agree with mom.” She looked at Valtor and the hard look she gave him indicated that there was no room for refusal. “We should go get ready.”

As soon as the door to their room closed, Bloom snatched the shirt she was wearing over her head (weary of her hairstyle) and flopped face first onto the mattress. The dull ache in her head was turning into a full fledged migraine and she had to resist the urge to rip out all the bobby pins Stella placed into her hair. A sigh sounded somewhere next to her and a bed dipped slightly to the side due to the added weight. Bloom reached across the surface of the cool bed sheets blindly until her fingers wrapped around a gloved hand. She tugged on the hand slightly, a chuckle sounding in the room, as Valtor leaned above her to place another kiss at her forehead.

“Are you sure you want to go?”

“If another person asks me that today, I am going to scream.” Was her muffled response as she rubbed her face into the pillow she found laying around on the bed. “I’ve sat in the chair for hours, Stella practically tortured me with how much she pulled and tugged on my hair. There is no way, and I cannot stress this enough, no way in hell that I will miss Sky’s engagement ball just because I’d rather stay in bed.”

“If you say so.” He ran his thumb over her knuckles. “But in that case, we should probably start getting ready.”

Bloom groaned and pressed her face harder into a pillow. “Five more minutes.”

Valtor huffed a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh but moved towards the middle of the bed, one of his arms planting in between the bed and Bloom’s head replacing her pillow, while the other arm rested at the curve of her hip, his fingers drawing patterns at the soft skin. Bloom shuffled quietly on the bed as well, her head settling at the space where his neck met his collarbone, while one of her legs settled across his stomach. The hand that was mapping out the skin of her hip trailed teasingly upwards and Bloom twitched when his fingers ghosted over her ribs.

“That tickles.” She whispered against the skin of his neck, her lips brushing over the sensitive nerves with every letter.

“All the more reason for me to keep doing it.” Bloom pouted and lifted herself up on her forearms, her weight supported by her arms placed at his chest. Valtor huffed jokingly when she shifted her weight and he was rewarded for it with a slight punch to his shoulder. She ignored the fake ‘Ouch.’ from his side and moved to straddle his legs. He moved to meet her halfway when she leaned down for a kiss, the movements slow and gentle but no less passionate.

“Maybe we should just stay in.” He murmured when she broke the kiss only to descend down with short pecks to his neck. His hands took hold of her hips, fingers squeezing the tender flesh harder than necessary in a fit of passion.

“Mmmmm no. No. No, we don’t have time for that.” She groaned when his hands reached for the clasp of her bra.

“We can make it quick.” He huffed, annoyed and frustrated, when Bloom reached around to grab his hands and stop his movements. He fell back onto the bed as she moved up towards his face, his hands still held captive by her small fingers.

“No, we can’t.” She giggled and kissed his cheek quickly before swinging her legs off his lap and walking to her closet to pick up her dress.

“You always have to spoil my fun, don’t you?” He groaned and sat sup in bed, his fingers threading through his hair.

“Don’t sulk, we’ll have time to play later.” She didn’t even look at him as she continued rummaging through her stuff, but a teasing note and a promise was very much present in her voice. She let out a victorious ‘Aha!’ when she found the dress. “Besides, as my partner, I want you there.” The dress was tossed carelessly across the chair as she moved to stand in front of him at the foot of the bed. “Are you telling me you’d let me go all alone?” Her voice took on a slightly higher pitch and her lower lip wobbled slightly with every word. “You’d let someone else dance with me, put his hands on me?” She was playing a dangerous game and that was evident by the low growl that escaped from deep within his throat and by the darkening of his eyes.

She squeaked, slightly startled by the sudden movement, as his hands took a firm hold of her thighs and pulled her to him, his mouth attaching to her left hip, his sharp teeth leaving a bruised bite in the area as she wiggled in his hold, the pain from the bite sharp but not unpleasant. He soothed the tender spot by placing gentle, barely there kisses, no more than a brush of lips against the flesh. She hummed and ran her fingers through his hair, making him look up at her mischievous eyes. “You’re jealous.” It was not a question, but a statement and he groaned as he buried his face in her stomach, his arms circling her hips, hands resting on her behind. Bloom chuckled and tapped his shoulder twice before she pushed slightly on them, a clear sign he should let go, and grabbed her dress before she retreated to the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

She emerged ten minutes later, silky turquoise dress sitting on her frame perfectly, loose curls placed behind her ear. Valtor, in the process of buttoning up his vest, stopped what he was doing and smiled at her. She mimicked his movements and stood right in front of him as her hands smoothed out wrinkles on his sleeves before straightening the collar of his shirt. No words were spoken as his large palms took hold of her delicate ones and brought them to his lips. The intimate moment was broken with the loud blaring of a cellphone and Bloom moved to answer it, Valtor’s hands letting go of her.

“Hello Stella.”

“Hey, where are you guys? We just landed. Are you going to be here soon?” Before Bloom even had the chance to answer either of the two questions, Stella continued. “Please say you will, because Bloom, I cannot promise I will not do anything if I see Diaspro.”

Bloom laughed, her hands rummaging through her makeup bag in search for lipstick. “We’ll be there shortly Stell, don’t worry.”

“You’re teleporting, right?”

“Mhm.” Bloom hummed absentmindedly as she continued looking for the lipstick.

“Okay, I’ll see you soon then. I love you.”

“I love you too Stell. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Stella laughed. “No promises. Ciao.”

Bloom threw her phone to the bed as she finally dug out a lipstick from a black hole that is her makeup bag. She leaned over the desk to apply it and she was about to turn around to ask Valtor if he could carry it in his pocket but gasped in surprise when two hands came up from behind and something cold was placed on her neck. Bloom bit her lip when she noticed that the cold object was a beautiful sapphire necklace, the color of the precious stone matching her eyes almost perfectly. Valtor’s hands moved from her neck, following the line of her spine, before settling on her hips. His lips ghosted over her hairline, down the line of her jaw before they settled in the junction of her neck and he placed a proper kiss there.

“You look stunning.” He whispered in her ear, his lips barely touching the shell of her ear, but the hot breath washing over her face made the goosebumps erupt across her skin.

“Thank you.” She spoke, her voice shaky, her fingers twirling the necklace resting at her sternum.

Colder breeze passed over her the very next second as he moved away from her to look at the mirror, spell words already on his lips and his appearance morphed back into perfection, not a hair out of place and no wrinkle on his clothes. He cleared his throat and turned to Bloom, who was still quite red in the face, and offered her his hand.

“Shall we?”

Bloom took his hand as his other one was already busy creating a portal, she moved closer to him, one of her hands searching for a pocket in his blazer. She smiled when she found it and looked up at him with a twinkle in her eye. “We shall, good sir.”

Valtor smirked as his free hand landed on Bloom’s left hip, his thumb tracing the bruise he left there, before the two stepped into a portal and disappeared with a flash.

[inkykeiji]

Hi Clari! I was reading back on some of your Touya-nii universe asks and it got me curious, how would he handle it if reader struggled with prolonged periods of severe depression? You’ve said he himself would NEVER consider getting help but would he let reader? Would he get upset at her if he wasn’t able to change her behavior through his normal routine of just telling her what to do and having her listen? I can’t imagine he’d react well to reader going through a serious depressive episode

that is a very, very interesting question, anon. be warned, my answer is LONG!! <3

tw: mentions of mental illness, therapy + medication

touya isn’t stupid, he understands the difference between her being (what he’d consider to be) disobedient and her having a legitimate depressive episode. he would absolutely get her help, bringing her to each and every session and sitting out in the waiting room until she’s finished. it would take some coaxing; she can’t say anything that will endanger their relationship or put them in the eyes of the law, but ultimately (at this point in their relationship) he trusts her. he doesn’t and wouldn’t ever want her to be sad, you know??? never—the thought absolutely breaks his heart. that being said, he’d absolutely try some other methods before ultimately giving into therapy, but he definitely won’t bar her from going and would never refuse her the help she needs to feel better. his first instinct might be to get upset, his initial reaction being a mix of annoyance and confusion, but he wouldn’t necessarily be angry. he knows her very well, can practically read her thoughts, her feelings, her everything, through her expressions and mannerism alone, and she is always abundantly honest with him, thus he would realize very quickly that something is off, something is gravely wrong. as a result, his reactions to the situation would change almost instantaneously, the moment he realizes that this is more than just simple disobedience or misbehaviour; that this is bigger than him.

touya-nii is a sociopath, meaning he has a very weak—albeit existing—moral compass, and he has trouble feeling compassion etc for anyone except his mother, reader, and natsuo. as i’ve said before his ‘love’ is toxic and twisted and full of thorns, but he still does LOVE her, in some sense, even if it isn’t in the conventional sense, even if it bleeds very heavily into obsession and infatuation, even if it is unhealthy and selfish. he’d still never want her suffering from a mental illness—something they can fix or learn how to cope and manage together. for the most part, he wants what he thinks is best for her—this doesn’t always involve her best interests, obviously, because if it did, he wouldn’t be abusive and manipulative; he would’ve let her free a long time ago. but when it comes to something like mental illness, that’s different in his mind.

after the coaxing and touya moving through his hesitancy, when they finally decide on therapy being the right choice, they’d need to sit down and discuss a few things first, such as topics not to mention, details to be weary of during sessions—because she wants to be good for her niichan, right? she doesn’t ever want them to get separated or in trouble, does she? no, of course not—and he would certainly need to fully vet and background check every potential doctor before she attends any session at all, just to make sure that they are the most perfect match for his princess. after all, niichan knows best, right? <3

if reader wants him to, and if the doctors allow it, he will even sit in on sessions with her. despite the fact that his emotions—and his iron grip on them—go a little haywire whenever his baby is involved, he promises himself that he won’t say a single word during the sessions, that he’ll be the one to sit pretty and perfect and silent as she talks for herself, no matter how badly his palms itch and his throat burns, all in an effort to keep them both safe, to keep from raising any sort of suspicions in the eyes of the doctor. this also enables him to fully and completely listen to what she has to say and attempt to understand better what his little baby is going through—so he can be of more efficient help. however, regardless of how sharp the gnawing teeth of his incessant curiosity is, regardless of how he knows it’ll devour him from the inside out, he will only sit in on the sessions if reader wants him to—if reader feels too anxious to do it alone, if reader feels like she needs her niichan there with her.

admittedly, it does piss him off a little that he can’t do it all by himself, that he can’t abolish this anguish completely on his own, because he feels like he should be able to—he should be able to banish, to defeat, to kill this thing, to make it go away forever—but he wouldn’t be angry at her, he’d be irritated at his own perceived weakness and inferiority.

so in sum: yes, he would absolutely allow her to get help if that’s what she wanted, if that’s what she needed, aiding her in that process in any way he can, either it be financially or otherwise, and ensuring his princess gets the best care in the fucking country—though it definitely would take him some time to fully understand the situation; to really comprehend the magnitude and realize that, begrudgingly, this isn’t something he can fix on his own, as much as he wishes it was, as much as he wishes he could just bundle up her anxiety and agony and whisk it all away, eventually accepting that it just doesn’t work that way, no matter how badly he wants it to. he’d do anything—except letting her go, of course—to alleviate her immense suffering, to take all that pain from her and make her feel better, feel lighter. and if that means therapy + medication—even though that poses potential risks to their relationship—then so be it, that’s okay with him. he trusts her, and he just wants his baby smiling again, he promises <3 touya-nii won’t ever get himself help because, to him, there is nothing wrong with him. but he would notice almost immediately if there was something wrong with his precious little girl, and he would exhaust any and all of his options to make it go away <3

[sysmedsaresexist]

(Thank you)

1. Can you be a system with absolutely no idea what caused you to split? Or to not be aware of your trama at all?

I’ve only very recently come to terms with the fact that I have trauma and haven’t done any work on it yet. I don’t have an event I can point to and go “this traumatized me.”

2. What does it feel like to have an alter front?

3. Are systems usually aware they’re a system before they’re diagnosed?

4. Do alters always know what they look like beforehand? Previously I thought alters knew everything about themselves but one of the answers I got mentioned hosts sometimes helping to figure out names.

I'm curious what kind of answers you've gotten to these so far that made you seek us out, of all people, lol

1. Can you be a system with absolutely no idea what caused you to split? Or to not be aware of your trama at all?

Absolutely, both of these scenarios are not only possible, but completely normal. We're going to switch these around and talk about them in the opposite order, starting with, "not aware of trauma at all". The purpose of a system is to hide trauma. When you're young and going through traumatic situations, and you dissociate, what usually happens is one of two things. Either the child mentally goes away (dissociates, imagining being in a different situation, ignoring what's happening to them in the moment), or they imagine actually being someone else ("this isn't happening to me, it's happening to someone else, I'm (fuck it, uh) Zoro, and I, Zoro, can handle this"). Both of these scenarios lay the groundwork for the creation of a system, and both cases lead to the loss of memory of traumatic events when a child experiences that extreme level of dissociation over prolonged periods.

What this means is, there is no one event that creates a system. It's event, after event, after event, until the child can no longer form a cohesive sense of self. They've become too reliant on dissociation as a coping mechanism, these dissociated parts have taken on a life of their own, and a child's identity has become so fractured and they're so confused that they can't tell who or what they are, and the memories of why are scattered between these parts.

It's not as easy as pointing to an event and saying, "That was it. That was what happened, that's what did this to me-- to us."

This sort of plays in to the next point of, "why did a specific alter split." And this can apply to childhood, later, hell, today, ten years ago, fifteen years from now. It's not always as easy as pointing to a specific event for each alter, either. Some alters take months and years after an event to come forward and make themselves known. This can make pinning down their "origin" almost impossible. What made them could have happened a long time ago. Sometimes it's not a specific event, but a combination of several events, just like in childhood. Are your parents always fighting? Maybe, by the tenth time they're blowing up at each other and you're curled up in your room trying to ignore it, a part finally splits to help you handle that stress. It wasn't specifically the tenth fight-- it was the combination of ALL of the fights.

2. What does it feel like to have an alter front?

This depends. I'm old. I've experienced a lot of different feelings when someone else fronts. When I was kid, it sometimes felt like I was asleep. No memories of it, just blissful darkness, no real time loss, things would go dark for what felt like ten minutes, and then I'd be back, several hours later, barely even realizing I had missed an entire day. I also had pretty bad maladaptive daydreaming, and sometimes I would go into my daydreams while another alter took over. I just thought this was normal. I was just REALLY good at multi-tasking, you know?

When I got older, and I learned more about what was happening, sometimes it would feel like a battle to the death-- two of us fighting desperately for front. Sometimes it honestly felt like a punch to the head-- a knock out when I lost, unpleasant darkness, fear, anxiety, what was I going to come back to? Other times, when I won, I was left with a massive headache and exhausted. Sometimes I welcomed the break, and over time, it became easier. It became like watching things happen through a foggy window. Sometimes I wanted to do something, and I couldn't, and sometimes I felt helpless and lost. As communication got better, I could see more clearly, I could ask for things to happen, I could occasionally... steal a moment, use a hand, set something straight on the counter that was bothering me.

When an alter fronts, it can feel like a lot of things, depending on the situation, depending on communication levels. There's no "one way" or "right way".

3. Are systems usually aware they’re a system before they’re diagnosed?

I would say, in the age of the internet, it's more likely than not that someone is aware they're potentially a system, than it is for them to be completely unaware at the time of diagnosis. Before the internet, before you could just google symptoms, a lot of people weren't aware prior to diagnosis. Even these days, it's not unheard of for someone to only find out around the time of diagnosis, because you don't always realize you're losing time, or have amnesia. Your alters aren't always so completely different that the people around you notice and point it out. The entire point of this disorder is for it to be unnoticeable. It really just depends on the person, their exposure to information about the disorders, and how bad their dissociation is. Some know, some don't. Some go seeking therapy for help with other issues and eventually it just comes out over time that you have something else going on. Sometimes you suspect, and you go to therapy specifically for it. It's different for everyone.

4. Do alters always know what they look like beforehand? Previously I thought alters knew everything about themselves but one of the answers I got mentioned hosts sometimes helping to figure out names.

Not at all. It's actually really common for alters to be... essentially blank slates in the beginning. Let's look at the example above, of the child dissociating out of a bad situation. If they're going away into their daydreams, the body is essentially left unattended. Any alter that forms in that moment could considered to be "blank" at the start. In the other scenario, you know who Zoro is, what they look like, what they like and dislike, what their history is. It doesn't even need to be a character you know of, maybe you, like me, had MaDD, and you'd become one of your characters, your OCs. I had one.

She was strong and had superpowers and was beautiful and confident-- and that was one of my first alters. I imagined being her often enough that I could eventually take the other route, disappear into my mind while she handled it herself (this was totally normal multi-tasking, apparently). She knew who and what she was right off the bat. What she looked like, her history, her personality. In the first scenario, that alter may or may not come up with that information on their own. They may remain blank until communication is good, and then they might start to grow, maybe you do help them find a name, maybe they find it years later on their own. Again, there's no "one way". It depends on the circumstances.

-

You sent a second ask with some more questions, and I think this leads into the next one.

Is it normal for an alter to feel more comfortable in the body than the original host?

Like, you look in a mirror and you think “yeah this is [alter name]” Not really as a negative or positive feeling, just a neutral and true one. Being trans (or mistaking the presence of a different gender alter [the alter in question] for it?) might also effect this.

This can happen, yes! In the case of my OC/alter, of course she looked like me. She was everything I wanted to be when I was a child. She can look in the mirror and say, yup, definitely me. This is what I've always looked like, and I'm perfection.

I have another alter that just... isn't bothered by appearance. He looks in the mirror and it's like, "yup, I guess so, cool -finger guns-"

There's a lot of reasons some alters might be more comfortable in the body than others, and they're all totally normal.

-

And finally. The last question:

What is a tupla?

This is, surprisingly, a very loaded question.

First, right off the bat, the use of the term tulpa is cultural appropriation. I don't claim to be an expert, but to put it simply. The actual practice of tulpamancy is nothing, NOTHING, like what it's being used for in system circles. Here's a really, REALLY good post on how it's been twisted from the original practice and westernized.

The more accepted terms in system circles are willogenic, parogenic, and thoughtforms. These are "headmates" that are intentionally created. They're imaginary friends brought to life through meditation and practice. Some systems claim to be DID/OSDD and say they've intentionally created some alters, making them "mixed origin" (it's more likely that someone has convinced themselves that it was intentional and their choice in an attempt to feel a sense of control over their situation). Some endogenic systems claim to have intentionally created their entire system (which, because on the levels of dissociation needed to create alters, I don't believe is possible without a traumatic origin).

I hope this all helps, I hope it all made sense, if you have more questions, let me know!

[hb-writes]

The Audit

Summary: It’s 1924 in the Little Lady Blinder universe. Clara and Finn make their annual visit to their mother’s grave.

Inspired-ish by this request: Also do the family celebrate her mums birthday? I think it would be a nice occasion where they celebrate her birthday and it’s nice for the twins especially whilst the boys are away polly makes a thing of it. ( I know nothing like this happens on the show, but I think they should) xxx

AN: So while I don’t think the family would celebrate her birthday, and actually find it painful to talk about her most times, I could see Finn and Clara sharing a little tradition like I’ve written about below. It’s not quite what you’ve asked for, but I hope you still like it!

Featuring: Finn Shelby, Clara Shelby (Shelby!Sister), Shelby!Mother

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Clara’s mind was settled on approximately seven things aside from the path she walked along, paying more mind to the questions in her head than the cobblestones at her feet. Truth was Clara had little need to pay attention to where she was going. She was far more familiar with the cemetery and it’s surrounding landscape than she was comfortable with, having buried far too many in her relatively short life. 

“You’re late.” 

Finn flicked his cigarette away, startling his sister as she glanced up from the pavement. He pushed off the pillar he’d been leaning up against, the entrance a sad excuse for a welcome, composed of no more than two crumbling stone columns and a rusted wrought iron gate.

Clara pulled her coat tighter, frowning as she stepped closer to her brother. “Tommy came back early, said he wanted me to go through some things with him before the… I suppose it doesn’t…” Clara took a breath and met Finn’s eye. “I’m sorry.” 

Finn shook his head, closing the remaining distance to pull her into a hug, his chin easily fitting over the top of her head. They hadn’t seen each other for a stretch of time, both of them overly occupied by the vastly different bits of life that customarily kept them apart, the Blinder duties and generally reckless adventures for Finn, and the Shelby Company Ltd. duties, and school, and family business for Clara. It was the recklessness that usually brought them together, the pair accustomed to passing at least a few evenings a week up to nothing particularly good. But with half the family locked away, they’d all had to step up. While Finn found getting up to nonsense revitalizing, Clara had been too busy for it, and far too tired aside. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he offered, settling his arm around her shoulder as they walked the familiar route from the entrance to their mother’s grave. “At least it’s not raining again this year.” 

Clara allowed herself a light snort, conceded a small smile as she leaned into her brother because there’d been more rainy cemetery visits over the years than not. Clara knew her brother didn’t care for the annual trip quite as much as he used to, had an inkling that he found it a bit asinine now compared to when they were kids, just a couple of orphans grasping onto a handful of wispy memories of a woman they knew very little about. That described them even still. 

If Clara was being honest, she found it all a bit silly too, but the ‘do we or do we not?’ of the occasion was never a discussion between them. The only discourse they ever had on the subject, always initiated by Finn about a week ahead out of custom, was in establishing a time they’d both be available on her birthday. 

It had been nearly ten years now that the twins had been coming to their mother’s grave and although they’d never told the others, never asked for a sibling’s accompaniment or gave a hint as to what they were both doing sneaking off on their mother’s birthday, Clara had a feeling they all somehow knew. 

It was why when not an hour before, as she grew antsy, repeatedly shaking out her wrist to check the time while she sat perched on the edge of Tommy’s desk, something shifted in him. Tommy simply asked his questions about the books and let her go, wordlessly accepting her answer of ‘out with Finn. He’ll bring me home’ when he asked where she was heading off to. 

Visiting their mother’s grave usually felt a bit like ringing in a new year but with less of the flair and celebration. Maybe an annual audit was a more apt description, seeing as Clara and Finn kept a ledger, a nondescript notebook stashed in the nightstand of Clara’s bedroom at the Watery Lane house, accessible to them both, though Clara would argue that Finn had more access to the archive now than she did, being as he stayed over on the lane much more often. 

Still, neither of them was likely to touch the book between visits to the cemetery, more likely was it that the ledger passed their minds only in the week or so before their mother’s birthday, and even then, neither of them was apt to do more than think on what they’d be marking down, mentally preparing themselves for the occasion, ensuring things went smoothly. 

The book came with rules, a certain etiquette that went unspoken between the two of them from conception to practice. The implicit secrecy of the whole thing, and the way they constricted their documentation to a particular day and place had been precedents set from the start. They’d only write while at the cemetery, while in their mother’s supposed presence, and there were limits on what was documented, the format decided nearly a decade prior, each of the entries nearly identical in configuration though the content varied. 

Finn and Clara recorded what happened in the preceding year, took an audit between the two of them of anything new they learned about the woman, and made a few promises to themselves and each other, intentions expressed just between the two of them. The words held no true pressure for realization, just an assurance of support from the other in the case they chose to move forward. 

This year felt different to them both as they’d prepared though, a bit forlorn and detached and impossible, what with Arthur and John and Michael and Polly locked away, and Ada in America, and Esme and Linda barely speaking with the lot of them, allowing the twins a bit of connection for little more than the sake of the babies, and on the order of their husbands. 

Clara had, on a fair few occasions, pondered what their mother would think of their situation, of Arthur and John locked away, of Clara feeling a bit that way herself while her twin brother was left to flounder, feeling lost and redundant as Tommy did what he did, all of his moves in the name of the family he’d allowed to take the punishment for his sins, and all while Ada played at being a neutral party from a continent away.

They went through the motions without discussions, Finn helping Clara to settle the blanket she always brought and taking a sip from the thermos of nearly cold tea while she found the pen and the appropriate page. 

“Shall we review?” Clara asked, glancing at the page as she marked the year at the top in bold loopy script, 1924. 

Finn took his time with another sip, prolonging the silence with an exhale and with the pen held still against the page Clara trembled, taking no care to pretend that it was only from the cold. 

“She’d be ashamed,” Finn finally said and though Clara nodded, she wasn’t entirely sure of what her brother meant. There was far too much she could be ashamed of. 

Would she be ashamed that her sons and sister-in-law and nephew were criminals of the worst sort? Murderers?

Would she be ashamed that her once sweet, doting Thomas had ordered it all and let the others take the blame? 

Would she be ashamed of the twins? Of their lack of action in the face of the others’ plight?

Despite wanting to fight Finn, despite wanting to say that they didn’t know their mother well enough to say how she would feel, or that they didn’t know Tommy’s plans well enough to decide either way, Clara knew Finn was a bit right, so she swallowed her retort. No mother would wish this for her children, or at least, Clara liked to think that their mother would never wish for this.

And anyway, Clara often questioned those very things herself, pondered if she had put up enough of a fight to Tommy, analyzed at length whether she and Finn and Ada had been too forgiving of it all, but then she thought what choice did they have? Tommy was all they had now, and even if Polly hadn’t been locked away in Winson Green or Ada hadn’t gone off to Boston, Clara didn’t know if she was capable of not forgiving her brother. 

She hoped a certain part of her mother would be proud of her, proud of the advanced education she’d received, proud of Clara’s love of stories, and content with the kindness and loyalty she showed to her family, despite it all. 

Clara took a sip of the tea, grimacing as the cool liquid hit her tongue. 

“Did you learn anything new?” she asked.

Clara hadn’t. The information about their mother, the little anecdotes, usually came so organically, in moments when one of the twins reminded a sibling of some long forgotten trait of hers or when someone was feeling just the right bit of nostalgic, but it had been a busy year, filled with the death and misery and arrests, and very little else. 

Finn’s answer came with the slight shake of his head and Clara felt the same difficult swallow as her brother, her eyes growing wet though she’d told herself she wouldn’t allow it. She’d be strong for Finn today, and for Tommy and Ada and John and Arthur, too.  

Clara took care as she set the thermos down, a small whimper breaking when Finn took her hand. “She’d be proud of you though.”

Clara coughed and cleared her throat. 

“Proud of us,” she said, meeting his gaze.

Something in Finn’s face shifted though he kept his hold on both her hand and her eyes. Clara knew Finn didn’t truly believe it. The sentiment barely registered with him, and she knew that her brother thought that if he had just run a bit quicker, or shouted a bit louder, he could have saved Arthur and John from the current reality. She knew it because despite everything, she similarly held onto the imprisonments, John’s and Arthur’s and Michael’s, like they were her own, like she’d been the one to put them in the cell even if she’d been innocent aside from serving as a bit of fuel to the fire.

Clara put a dash beside the spot she’d designated for the new information and jotted out a few lines below. 

“I think this covers the updates.” Clara turned the book towards Finn. “Is there anything...?”

 Finn shook his head as he glanced at the information she’d inputted, the neutral bullet points that described the past 365 days honest enough though they were far from agreeable. 

“Goals?” Clara asked.

Finn scoffed as she said it and fished out his pack of cigarettes. “You mind?” 

Clara shook her head, watching as he lit the cigarette and took a long draw from it, scoffing again as he looked at her. 

“You know what I wish for?” Finn said, using his cigarette to point at her the same way Tommy often did. “What I long for?” 

Clara shook her head. 

“Nineteen fucking fourteen,” he said.

Clara felt a shiver run up her spine at the thought. 1914. Things had been simpler then, lighter, but Clara only remembered 1914, and the tenderly memorialized years that care before it, like mere glimpses of a distant life. She remembered bedtime stories and the one-off moments that had frightened or surprised or somehow otherwise wormed inside her psyche but she’d not give up the decade between just to go back. 

“I’ll just take having everyone home,” Clara answered. 

“That all?” Finn asked, shaking his head at her. “Can’t believe it would be. I imagine you’re wanting highest marks and employee of the month and a new horse an--”

“That’s what’s most important,” Clara answered, nodding a few times to settle it in her mind. “Fuck the marks and Tommy’s accounting ledgers. I’d just like them all home.” 

Finn smiled. “And I’d like for them to take us seriously for once,” he said. “It’s only Esme who ever really listens.”

“Yeah, cause she’s not an idiot,” Clara said. “And cause she’s nearly the youngest in her own family. She knows what a shit hand it is.” 

“Ah, well, I wouldn’t know much about that,” Finn said. “It’s you who’s the baby.”

Clara shook her head, a smile on her face despite the words she offered. “Fuck off, Finn.” 

Finn smirked at his sister. “Come now, Clara. We’re sitting on mum’s grave, on her birthday of all days, and you’ve gone and cursed twice in less than a minute. What’ll she think of us?”

“It’s been quite a fucking year, Finn. I think she’ll understand.” 

“Yeah,” he echoed. “Quite a fucking year.” 

Finn watched, quiet as his sister etched two words into the bottom of the page, the twins’ wishes for the next year summed up with two simple words, home and respect. 

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Read more Little Lady Blinder here.

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🏷:

@beautycinders​ @buckybluebarnes @cecii22me​ @lovemissyhoneybee​ @marquelapage​ @midnight-dreams-23​ @mo-onstarrs​ @ohhersheybars​ @pollyrepents​ @unicorndetective22

[schrijverr]

Me reflected in your eyes

Since it was so dark on the moon, Tim has no clue what Jonny looks like. When Jonny finds out one of his lovers survived, he is desperate to make sure Tim never finds the link, so that the other can’t become mad at him or blame him. But it is pretty hard to hide such things and Tim never blamed Jonny for a moment.

On AO3.

Ships: Tim x Jonny (x Bertie, but he’s already dead at the start of the fic)

Warnings: grief, low self esteem, mentions of war.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was dark on the moon, this was not uncommon knowledge, but people sometimes didn’t realize to which extent that fact was true. The soldiers would get vitamin D supplements just to survive and most had no clue what their comrades looked like.

This was also true for Jonny and The Toy Soldier, this was great news for The Toy Soldier, since now less people realized how deeply unsettling the wooden soldier could be, but it was less then ideal for Jonny.

You see, Jonny had fallen in love on the moon.

Yes, the great Jonny d’Ville, known for his emotional constipation had found not one, but two people who loved him despite the ways he found himself to be lacking. Tim and Bertie had held him and told him how much they loved him, even if they’d never even seen his face.

Jonny both loved and hated this. On one hand, he was convinced the two would stop loving him the moment they saw him, but on the other hand, the not seeing made this little bit of joy last longer and prolonged the time before he would be rejected.

He knew he wasn’t that much of a catch, many people had told him his manic eyes could be unsettling and he was on the short side with a baby-face. Jonny never liked the way he looked and his personality also wasn’t winner material, but the two had loved him regardless of that.

It probably wouldn’t have lasted, though. Not that it matter now, the moon was gone and so were Tim and Bertie.

Sighing again he looked out of the window of the observation deck once more. The stars were peaceful and Jonny liked getting lost in them.

A small cough pulled him out of his thoughts and he turned to see Nastya. She looked uncertain, which made worry bubble up in Jonnys chest as he asked: “What’s wrong?”

“Uhm, well, you see, Jonny. Me and Brain were clearing out the docs lab and, uhm, there is a person there.” Nastya said.

“What?” Jonny exclaimed.

“I wouldn't have bothered you with it if he wasn’t halfway to mechanized and it seems unlikely we can reverse the process, but that’s not all…” Nastya trailed off, uncertain.

“What are you not telling me?” Jonny said in a vaguely threatening tone.

Nastya reached into her coat and pulled out a necklace as she said: “He had these hanging around his neck.”

Jonny stepped closer taking the necklace to inspect the dangling pieces of metal only to stumble backwards in shock, eyes wide, fear in his heart. It was not just a necklace, it were dog tags. Dog tags that read: Tim, G.

“It- it can’t be.” he said.

“I’m sorry, Jonny. I thought you would like to know.” Nastya told him, “I can complete the process or he can stay half-mechanized, but I don’t know what that will do to him long term. So far only me and Brian know, who he is and that he’s even here, if you’d like us to not tell the others or something, we will.”

“No one can know about this. Take me to him.” Jonny demanded.

In the lab Brian was organizing stacks of papers and clearing away most of the experiments that had been on display, in the center of the room there was a familiar examination table, with on it a prone form of a young man that Jonny recognized to be Tim from their short introduction at the Moon Kaisers throne.

“Are you okay, Jonny?” Brain asked worriedly, when he came strolling in.

“Do I look like I’m alright?” Jonny snapped at him as he walked over to the table, inspecting Tim closely. He was as pretty as Bertie always said he was, even with his face half open and full of metal. Jonnys heart clenched, Tim didn’t deserve this faith.

He carded a hand through Tims long hair and a small strained smile appeared on his face at the familiar sensation. He could feel Brian and Nastya looking at him, but he couldn't find the strength inside him to snap at them for it.

“How did she find him?” he asked softly instead.

“According to his file, she thought it was you in the little space shuttle, but no other details are known.” Brian answered.

A pang went through Jonnys heart, this was his fault. Carmilla had gotten her hands on Tim in an attempt to find him. It was his fault he would never be able to find Bertie in the afterlife, if that even existed, or find peace if it didn’t.

He swallowed heavily and asked: “Do you think you can successfully fix him up completely?”

“I mean, it would take a while and it might not be as seamless as other mechanizations, but I think I can figure it out with her notes.” Nastya told him.

Jonny thought about it for a moment. He looked at Tims ripped open face, then at the slow rise and fall of his chest.

“Do it, don’t tell the others who he is and don’t mention me to him.” it might be selfish, Jonny knew it was selfish, but seeing Tim, alive, he couldn't find it within himself to leave him like that. Tim might be angry, but that would only be once he made the connection, if Jonny just kept his mouth shut, he would be able to witness this, one of the loves of his life, being there, even if it was just out of reach.

With that Jonny turned around and left, only managing to keep up a strong facade until he was in the comforts of his room where he broke down crying, clutching the dog tags.

He stayed in his room for nearly an entire month. He was sure the others had caught on to the fact that something was wrong with him, but he didn’t care. Jonny had no time for Ashes asking if they needed to burn someone alive for him, or The Toy Soldier asking if he needed some tea or even Ivy asking if she could help him in some way.

What he needed was for Tim to be okay and not mad at him. He needed the other to know everything and tell him it wasn’t his fault. For Tim to hold him, like he had done so many times so that Jonny could just take a breath and not feel like the weight of his decision was crushing him and making him feel like he was going to break in two.

The only person he reacted to was Nastya, who knocked on his door and called out: “If everything goes to plan, he should wake up somewhere this week, I though you’d like to know.”

“Thank you. Have the other said anything?” Jonny asked.

“So far they think it’s the reality of the doc being gone that’s crashing down on you.” Nastya told him, “Me and Brian have not discouraged this.”

Jonny nodded even if Nastya couldn't see it. The silence between them hung heavily, until Nastya said: “I have to go now, please take care of yourself, Jonny. Aurora tells me you died too many times in there, I’m getting worried.”

“Piss off.” Jonny managed to push out of his throat, sinking back onto his mattress willing the world away as Nastyas footsteps disappeared down the hall.

About a month later Ashes was knocking at his door as they yelled: “Jonny, I’m fed up with your bullshit, I know everything sucks right now, but I don’t care that you don’t want to meet another one of her creations or something. This new guy needs everyones support, even your grumpy ass, so you better get out there and at least say hi.”

Jonny was quiet, so Ashes said: “He already knows there is another member he hasn’t met yet and he thinks you already hate him for no reason at all. Please, just push your own issues aside for a second.”

That made Jonny look up, the idea that Tim thought he hated him was enough for him to move. He stank like hell and looked a mess, however, so he knocked three times on the door.

“Alright, you get fifteen minutes, but I’m waiting here for you and I will blow up your door if you aren’t here by then.” Ashes said.

Quickly jumping into the shower and getting himself dressed, Jonny was done in ten. He probably still looked like he’d been beaten by the sandman in a bad way, but that couldn't be helped.

“There you are, I was kind of expecting the octokittens to have eaten you by this point.” Ashes joked, but Jonny wasn’t really in a mood for that, if even one person had slipped up and told Tim his name, he would be fucked.

Ashes seemed to catch on and said: “Brian and Nastya really pressed us to not mention your name to the new guy, I don’t know what happened, but he’s not so bad. I’ll respect it, only because I know you wouldn't fuck with another mech for no reason, but don’t be too hard on him, okay.”

Jonny nodded, lump in his throat. He was mentally prepping himself for what to even do when he met Tim. He couldn't talk or Tim would know, but staying silent would be weird.

Lost in his thoughts as he was, he missed getting to the room Tim was in until he heard Ashes say: “This is the latest guy.”

Then a familiar voice said: “Uhm, hello, I’m Gunpowder Tim, but most just call me Tim. No one mentioned your name yet.”

Looking up Jonny came face to face with Tim, his eyes were horrible, and faintly Jonny remember how Bertie used to wax poetry about them and he was sad he never got to see them, but still the beauty of Tim was overpowering.

Alive and standing he seemed more human. He was taller than Jonny had realized and in perfect proportion and when he smiled a shy smile, he could see that all his perfect teeth had survived his mechanization.

In short, Tim was gorgeous and Jonny had never felt less worthy.

If he had been planning on making any noise, it would have died in his throat. Instead he just stood there as silently as he had intended to be.

When the silent dragged on, Tim got more uncomfortable as Ashes raised a brow at him. They asked: “Are you gonna say anything?”

Jonny swallowed and opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He had no clue what to do, if he were to talk he would have to explain and he- he- he just couldn't right now. His mouth snapped closed and he stumbled backwards.

“Are you okay?” Tim asked and all the times he’d asked that after a battle flitted through Jonnys mind as he collapsed to the floor.

He could hear Tim ask Ashes what had happened, while Ashes sighed: “He’s not always the best mentally, I- I have no clue what set him off, but it’s not your fault. Could you be a dear and go see if you can fetch Nastya? Tell her the idiot is being himself again.”

“Yeah, of course.” and Tim ran off.

Ashes then turned to Jonny and crouched down as they asked: “Wanna tell me what the fuck happened?”

“I- I can’t- voice- it won’t.” Jonny stammered, unable to put in to words what was going on with him, as he broke down crying.

Right at that moment Tim returned with Nastya, if Jonnys vision hadn’t been clouded by tears he would have seen the guilty and concerned expression on Tims face. Nastya took in the scene and sighed: “Goddammit.”

“Come here, cowboy.” she told Jonny as she hoisted him up, “No use in giving Tim a guilt complex or something, you don’t want that right?”

Jonny shook his head and Nastya told Tim: “He’s in a bit of a strange head space right now, but I promise you that he is glad to meet you. Sometimes, words, you know? He will write you an apology when he’s up to it.”

She led Jonny away from Tim, hoping Ashes would be of some help on Tims end. The poor lad hadn’t had it easy since he woke up, with the sudden loss of everything he knew and the patch job of a mechanism shoved into his face. The fact that he was coping as well as he was, was frankly a freaking miracle.

Back in Jonnys room she said: “Okay, I know you probably weren’t there by choice, but he is on the edge of breaking. I feel like denial is what’s keeping him going right now, so you’re going to write a nice letter for him and stay out of his way for a while, alright?”

Mutely Jonny nodded, then he whispered: “Thank you, Nastya. Can you- can you keep an eye on him?”

“What do you think me and Aurora have been doing? I got your back, don’t worry about it, just try to figure out what the fuck you’re gonna do, because you’re not going to be able to hide this for forever. And it is going to be forever.” Nastya told him, before she walked out of the room.

That night Jonny spend hours bent over his little desk, fucking up his back in an attempt to get his messy ‘I-went-to-school-for-only-three-years-or-something-give-me-a-break’ handwriting into a neat and coherent apology/explanation:

Deer Tim,

My apologys for my urlyr behaver. I dont know what the others have told you about the crew before you came aboord, but it changed recently and I have been attemting to just work threw that. This has nothing to do with you, sorry.

I hope your ajusting well to this new life. And I hope we can become friends or at leest akwaintences at some point, because you seem like a okay guy.

I will attemt to carry a notebook with me, so that we can talk, because my voice is kind of fucked right now.

Hope this helps.

That would have to do, Jonny thought. It was both a good excuse not to use his voice and make Tim suspicious and it would hopefully make Tim feel better about everything, which had been the final goal.

The letter was nothing like Jonny wished he could say to Tim, nothing like the thousand of apologies that had played through his mind and the million ways he’d come up with to attempt to make things right again and be able to keep Tim close once more.

Jonny handed the letter to Nastya, who promised to hand it on, before he went on his day. He might be dealing with a lot right now, but so were the others and as First Mate, he should be there for them.

It actually went well, the others were getting by as good as possible and it felt good to have the weight that was Carmilla of their shoulders. Jonny was careful with speaking, always checking to see if Tim was near before opening his mouth, but it worked.

After that weeks passed by. Jonny saw Tim a total of three times and had manages each interaction without speaking or making Tim upset in any way.

Tim himself, however, was not doing so hot after a while. The reality of everything had finally caught up to him and he was using his newfound armory to let out his frustrations and anguish on a bunch of crates.

Jonny wanted nothing more than to go over and hug Tim, tell him that he felt his pain and that he missed Bertie too, but he refrained.

It was better to let Tim work through the grief without adding his own to it. It was better for Tim to not know that one of the people he had loved was responsible for what had happened to him. It was better to let him think Jonny was gone too and not have to come to terms with the betrayal.

Through Carmilla, Jonny knew firsthand how it felt to be betrayed by someone you trusted in this way and he wasn’t about to let Tim go through the same.

For about four months explosions and rage echoed through the halls, before it seemed Tim had worked through the anger stage. In that time Jonny had avoided him as much as possible, knowing he would be unable to stop himself if he were to see him.

Tims process was hard on the other members of the crew as well, but all had similar touches with grief and were used to staying quiet and out of the way of someones wrath.

When the raging stopped all had been walking on eggshells, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it became clear after a while that Tim was now just lying in his room, not interacting with the world around him.

Aurora reported his first death of starvation a while later and it was decided that Brian should go up and check on him.

The Pilot came back a long while later to report that Tim had not noticed he died and thought he had fallen asleep and that Tim had freaked out a lot, before collapsing and saying he didn’t care anyway and had wrapped himself up in a bunch of blankets again.

It was about a year after Tim had been pulled aboard the Aurora that he had processed most of what had happened to him the best a mech ever would.

He made fast friends with Ashes and was often found in Brians company as well as rekindling his friendship with TS. He also tried to talk with Jonny, but Jonny wasn’t quite ready for that yet and almost always shut down whenever Tim tried, leaving the poor gun-lover confused.

Jonny had come up with an infinite amount of ways to tell Tim it was him and explain what had happened, but none seemed good enough and every scenario he could come up with ended in Tim hating him.

Beside, it seemed like Tim had finally managed to get himself together and Jonny was determined to not be the one to pull him apart again.

But as Nastya had already said, he wasn’t going to be able to hide this forever and soon enough he found himself caught in a reveal.

Tim had obviously caught on to the fact that he didn’t like talking to him and that everyone referred to the First Mate with a moniker instead of his name, almost as if they were trying to hide something from him and he was confused about what.

He had gathered that Nastya and this mysterious guy were closest and had gone to her to ask what he had done wrong.

Jonny on the other hand considered Auroras engine room, also known as Nastyas safe space, as his own safe space. He’d go there to bitch and whine or to sit in silence comfortably, knowing she wouldn't ask and just offer a hug.

Today, he was coming in to annoy her, since she had been holed up for a week and Jonny had deemed that enough lack of social interaction. He threw open her door, not noting that there were two figures in there, and loudly yelled: “A normal person needs interaction and you had enough you-time with Aurora, lets bitch about life.”

Instead of the groan of annoyance he was expecting, he got a small gasp from Nastya, then a loud yell in an achingly familiar voice: “Jonny? It’s you?”

His eyes met Tims as they grew wide and in his momentary panic, he replied: “If I say no, will you believe me?”

“You- you- you survived? You’re- you’re immortal.” Tims voice broke.

Jonny swallowed, completely unequipped to deal with this. He stood frozen in place until Tim got up, at which point he turned around and got the fuck out of there, the whole situation making his head hazy with stress.

He locked his door behind him. Looking around his messy room, he decided that this was his new home for the rest of eternity now, because he didn’t think he was ever going to be ready to deal with that confrontation ever.

Alas he only got a full three seconds of peace before someone was banging on his door. It wasn’t hard to figure out who it was and his suspicions were confirmed when Tim called out: “Love, angel, darling talk to me. I know you’re in there.”

At first Jonny wanted to stay quiet, pretend he wasn’t in there, but the knocking and calling out continued, until it became weaker and weaker and Jonny could hear sobs from the other side of the door.

“Go away, please.” that had not been what he wanted to say, but Tim was still in shock and the moment he thought about it, he would be mad at Jonny and Jonny didn’t think his heart could take that.

Tim gasped, shocked. Then he heard a chocked back cry before Tims footsteps disappeared down the hall.

With Tim gone Jonny allowed himself to fully break down. This was it, Tim knew. Now he was shocked, but then he’d think about it and see how it was Jonnys fault this happened and he’d get mad at Jonny and take back all the times he’d told him he’d loved him, which were the only memories keeping his sane right now.

He would probably tell the others what happened and Tim was a sweetheart and incredibly precious, so who wouldn't be on his side and then they wouldn't want Jonny there and he’d be tossed out and on his own again.

Not that he didn’t deserve it, but it would still hurt.

Jonny didn’t know how long he sat there, but he was pretty sure he died of dehydration a few times and it felt like he had become one with the floor.

A loud knock startled Jonny out of the emotional blocked out trance he had been in and Ashes called out: “Oh my fucking god, Jonny, get you stupid ass out here now and go apologize to Tim and make things right or I swear to everything unpleasant that I will burn all your stuff.”

“What?” Jonny replied, startled.

He of course did not know that Tim had done nearly the same routine of locking himself into his room and crying, however, Tim had been more responsive to outside help and let Ashes in. He had told them everything and they had gotten pissed on his behalf.

You see, Tim had not interpreted everything as Jonny had feared, instead he had assumed that Jonny had never even loved him, but had seen him and Bertie as a little plaything that fell away compared to his immortal lifespan.

When Ashes heard this incredibly stupid explanation of events they had filled the blanks that had confused them about Jonnys behavior the past year and marched to his room to yell at him for being a dumbass.

“He thinks you hate him, go tell him you love him.” Ashes told him.

“What!” Jonny exclaimed, tugging open his door with a shocked face at the same time Tim came running into the hall: “Ashes, no, don’t-”

On the side of his face there was a little blood, it was clear that Ashes had killed him to get a head start to Jonnys room, but he still managed to look breathtakingly beautiful.

For a moment Jonny was speechless, open and closing his mouth helplessly while he waved his arm around meaninglessly. Then he swallowed and brokenly asked: “You really think that?”

“Think what?” Tim replied, sounding so vulnerable.

“Do you really think I hate you?” Jonnys eyes were full of heartbreak and his voice full of disbelief.

“Why are you acting like that’s such a weird conclusion, Jonny?” Tim asked him, “Why are you acting like you didn’t ignore me for a year and desperately tried not to have me find out who you were while I mourned you? While I was alone? I missed you, I needed you and you weren’t there.”

Jonny didn’t know what hurt more, the broken tone of Tims voice or the use of his name. Tim took so much joy in finding the sappiest petnames to use and Jonny had almost forgotten how his own name sounded in that voice.

Tear sprung in his eyes and he hardly noticed Ashes quickly backing away as he answered: “Because you should be hating me right now.”

Tim sighed, all the frustration and anger leaking out of him as he said: “Why do you always think that you’re to blame? We tried so hard to tell you how worthy you are, why do you always do this to yourself?”

The tears now really started to fall as Jonny fell to his knees, sobs tearing from his throat. He didn’t know why he always blamed himself, it just always seemed so logical that he was the thing that messed everything up.

He was just babbling, apologizing over and over again when Tims knees appeared through the watery haze of tears and two arms wrapped around him.

Tim pulled him close and kissed his temple as he rocked him back and forth every so slightly, like all the times Jonny had had a nightmare in the trenches. He whispered into his hair: “It’s okay, it’s alright, love, just let it out. I’m not mad at you, I still love you.”

Jonny was barely able to form words, but his mind clamped onto how important it was that Tim knew how much he loved him as well, so he chocked out: “I love you too, so so much.”

The arms around him squeezed him for a moment and Tim brokenly told him: “I know, dear, I know.”

They could’ve sat there for eternities and not have noticed with how lost they were in one another, just glad to have the other safe in their arms. They might be missing someone, but at least they could bear that heartbreak together, at least they weren’t alone, not again.

Never again.

[majesty-madness]

Warm Water (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

https://tenor.com/view/arthur-morgan-red-dead-redemption2-gif-12884898

Summary: While their relationship isn’t very new, Y/N realizes the lack of intimacy between her and Arthur. She feels like Arthur is hesitating so she makes the decision to try to show him exactly how she feels. 

Word count: 4800+

Warning: Cursing, fluff, nudity, light sexual themes

It was an incredibly slow day. The sun that seemed to rise then immediately set was prolonging it’s stay in the great blue sky.

It didn’t help that there was nothing to do around camp. The laundry was already cleaned and hanging up, dishes were piled neatly onto a table saved for later, Pearson was not currently preparing any meals for the day, and most of the men had gone out to hunt or collect more money.

Camp was silent. All except for the crackling coming from the nearby fire pit.

Y/N sat quietly by that fire with a book propped in her lap. The novel was opened but not being read, Y/N had gotten bored and opted for staring at the orange-yellow flames of the fire.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, a brunette had noticed her intense fascination with the fire and tapped her shoulder.

The contact caused Y/N to jump and Abigail pulled her hand away. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“No it’s okay, I was miles away.” Y/N replied, finally closing the book that had remained open without being touched for who knows how long.

Abigail scoffed as she sat down next to her. “I could tell.” The y/h/c picked up on the scoff.

“I’m just so bored! The day just seems to be going on forever.” She exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air.

“I know what you mean.” Abigail chuckled, deciding to also stare into the flames.

There was a moment of silence between the two women as they sat near the fire pit, admiring the warmth while simultaneously being repulsed by its close proximity.

“So, how have things been between you and Arthur?” Abigail suddenly asked, interrupting the silence.

Y/N sighed and looked to the ground. Abigail turned her gaze, a knowing expression on her face. “That bad?”

“No.” Y/N quickly defended. “It’s just-” she paused.

“Just what?” Abigail inquired.

“It’s just… it’s been seven months, and there still seems to be this wall between us.”

Abigail bobbed her head up and down in a slight nod and leaned back away from her lap. “I see.”

“I mean it’s not like he won’t talk to me or that he’s avoiding me or anything like that, but when I try to be more physically affectionate he-... Well, I feel like I make him uncomfortable and it breaks my heart.”

Abigail smiled. “I really don’t think that’s the case.”

Y/N scoffed this time. “What makes you say that?”

Abigail explained. “Arthur’s been through a lot, I’m sure you know that. He’s opened his heart up to people, and was shot down by the ways of the world we live in.”

Y/N knew what Abigail was talking about. She knew Mary had broken his heart and he continued to put up this metaphorical wall to keep anyone from getting too close. Who could blame him really. Though Mary wasn’t the only one who hurt Arthur. Two other names came to mind.

Eliza. Issac.

The mere thought of their names brought tears to her eyes.

It wasn’t their fault though. They were ripped away from Arthur by the barrel of a gun. It was their deaths that made Arthur realize the real cruelty of reality.

Not many people in the gang knew about Eliza and Issac and the fact that Y/N knew meant that he trusted her despite the lack of intimacy in their relationship.

“But you don’t make Arthur uncomfortable. I see that everytime he looks at you.”

This caused Y/N to look back up to the mother sitting next to her.

Abigail continued. “I’ve known Arthur a long time, and I have never seen him as happy as he looks when he’s with you.”

Y/N smiled.

“I know it’s hard for him to be close to someone, but it’s because he cares for you that he doesn’t want to make a mistake.” Just then there was the sound of horses and chatter approaching the camp.

Abigail and Y/N turned to see that most of the men had come back. Arthur had come back.

The brunette stood up from her spot and started to walk away but before she got far, she turned her head to look at Y/N. “I think you should tell him how you feel and maybe...maybe he’ll open up a bit more.” And just like that she walked away.

Y/N sat and thought for a minute then looked up. Her eyes shifted to admire Arthur’s tall, stocky frame, he was currently talking with Pearson.

She watched the way Arthur carried himself, one knee bent as he stood to show he was comfortable being casual at camp. The way he scratched at the stubble growing on his face from where a beard used to be. The way his lips curled up into a smile as he made a joke about Pearson. The way his laugh reverberated from his throat into the open air. The way he did anything really.

Oh, she was so hopelessly in love with him.

A smile had found a home on Y/N’s features as she sat there staring at the man she loved. Abigail was right, she should tell him how she felt. At least that would get things out in the open and they could discuss where to go from there in their relationship.

The y/h/c hopped up from her spot trying to look casual as she walked over to Arthur who was still talking to Pearson.

“Come on, Arthur.”

“I just got back and now you want me to head back into town for food?” Arthur rhetorically asked, the annoyance palpable in his tone.

“We’re running low on supplies.” Pearson added.

“So go get it yourself.” Arthur retorted. Y/N giggled at his snarky remark.

Arthur whipped his head over to see his girlfriend standing there with a smile on her face. He hoped she couldn’t see the blush on his cheeks.

“Please Arthur? You’re the only one who’ll actually get what I asked for. All these other fools waste money on things we don’t need. Besides, it won’t take long. Ten minutes tops.” Pearson continued to beg.

“I don’t-.” Arthur started but was interrupted by his significant other.

“Why don’t we both go?”

Her suggestion surprised Arthur. Usually, he was the one to ask if she wanted to go into town with him for supplies. Not the other way around.

“You wanna go into town?” Arthur questioned, continuing to hold his unlit cigarette between his fingers.

“Why not? I mean it’s not like I hate going into town.” Y/N paused before adding. “And I’m bored.”

Y/N nearly fainted when Arthur chuckled at her response.

He stood there silently for a few seconds as he thought it over, though Y/N knew she had already roped him in. She knew him too well.

“Arlight, fine.” Arthur huffed then threw his cigarette to the dirt ground.

“Great! Let me go put this away then we can go.” Y/N grinned running off to toss her book back into her tent.

Though Arthur tried to be annoyed, he was secretly glad that Y/N had suggested the idea.

Spending time with her made him forget what he was, what he had done in the past, and that he was an outlaw through and through.

That’s what scared him.

He would fall so deep into every moment he spent with the woman he loved that the dangers that constantly followed him around drifted from his mind, but the world did not forget.

The world always remembered and would remind Arthur of his past deeds by throwing obstacles right back at him.

Damn, the world Arthur often thought to himself.

One part of him wanted to get away. To live a peaceful life with Y/N by his side, hopefully with a ring around her finger and a cabin all to themselves on a plot of land that they’d own. However another part of him understood that he was an outlaw who’d committed many crimes and killed many people so he accepted the fact that he would never truly get away from ‘the life’. He mentally scolded himself for thinking such things when he knew he didn’t deserve it. Didn’t deserve her.

Arthur was pulled back to reality when Y/N came rushing back over to him, a giddy smile still formed on her lips.

“Ya ready?” Arthur asked with a slightly sarcastic undertone.

Y/N nodded dramatically. “Yes sir, Mr. Morgan.”

“Alright then, let’s go.” The outlaw said gesturing to the wagon that sat off to the side of camp.

“Thank you. Both of you. Make sure to bring back what we need.” Pearson called out as the couple made their way toward the wagon.

Arthur grunted as his response to Pearson’s demand about the supplies. If he didn’t love Y/N so much, he wouldn’t be going back out.

“Don’t worry, we will!” Y/N called back amused by Arthur’s lack of interest.

The stocky cowboy stepped up onto the wagon first then extended his hands out for Y/N to grab. She took them firmly in her own and helped Arthur to pull her up onto the wagon as well then on their way they went.

The couple spent the first several minutes basking in silence. It was a bit awkward only because they didn’t know what to say to each other.

Arthur loved spending time with Y/N however, lately he felt as if he were avoiding her in a sense and he wasn’t sure if he was capable of discussing the reason why.

Y/N was glad that they were alone, but she needed to talk to him, tell him how she felt so that way they could get everything out in the open.

Despite her and Abigail’s talk earlier, she was hesitant.

“Beautiful today, isn’t it?” Y/N stated in an attempt to spark a conversation.

The outlaw nodded. “Yeah. Real nice.”

Silence again.

‘Beautiful today? Damn you, Y/N! Talking about the weather.’ Y/N mentally scolded herself.

Why did she have to be as awkward as Arthur when it came to starting a genuine chat?

Something else. She had to talk about something else, something that she could eventually steer in the direction of how she felt.

“Find anything in town? Any solid leads?” She opted for asking about what Arthur had been doing earlier.

Arthur spared her a glance then turned back to the dirt road. “Yeah uh...turns out there’s a train that’s gonna pass through town tomorrow then head into a bit of deserted country. Me, Charles, and John thought about hittin’ it.”

“Hope it’ll be worth it. There’s nothing worse than going through all that trouble only to get a small take from it.” Y/N said with a small chuckle of amusement following as if she were trying to make a joke.  

Arthur scoffed in response. “From what I hear, trains full of rich bastards taking a trip somewhere so it should be a decent score.” He turned the wagon into another dirt road that led into town.

“I’m glad.”

“Glad?” Arthur asked, confusion lacing his voice.

She then realized how odd that must have sounded and was quick to add. “I mean glad in the sense that we’ll have some more money and are that much closer to finally moving on from this place.” Her cheeks were now flushed red.

“You’re glad about us robbing trains and rich folk?” Arthur inquired his lips curling to form a smirk.

Y/N giggled. “No! I just- Oh you know what I meant, Arthur Morgan!”

Arthur laughed along with his girlfriend, admiring the sound of her embarrassed giggling.

The sight made his heart skip a beat like nothing ever had, not even back when he was with Mary.

Yes he had plenty of good times with her, but with Y/N it was by far the best experience he’d ever had.

Soon their laughter settled down and Y/N took a deep breath, plopping her hands in her lap.

For a moment Y/N had forgotten all about her troubles, but with the silence closing in on them again, she suddenly remembered the ache in her heart.

Abigail’s words echoed in her head.

I think you should tell him how you feel.

Should she do it now? Was it too soon?

Her heart willed her to say something while her mind held her back. However, the ache in her chest was growing, pushing her to be honest with him.

Y/N looked up to Arthur, admiring his features. She could tell he was lost in his own thoughts as he directed them toward the store.

The way that the sun was hitting him caused her heart to pound away. It was a sensation that reminded her of when he’d lean in for a kiss. She was overwhelmed with love and admiration for him. It wasn’t like anything she’d known.

She needed to do it now.

Do it. Now.

Y/N opened her mouth. “Arth-”

“Let’s head in and get what we need.” Arthur said as he climbed off the wagon.

Y/N stared at him surprised, mouth still hanging open. She had not realized how close they were to the market. She didn’t even feel the wagon come to a halt.

“You okay?” Arthur asked, seeing as how Y/N was continuing to sit up on the wagon in a daze.

She was snapped back from her thoughts, shaking her head. “O-oh. Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Okay. Let’s head in then.” Arthur suggested, walking off toward the store.

Y/N climbed down from the wagon and followed close behind Arthur.

As they shopped for all the materials and ingredients Pearson had asked for, Y/N kept getting distracted.

She kept thinking about what happened outside the store. As soon as his name was leaving her lips, Arthur was quick to intervene, suggesting they head in and start gathering supplies.

Did he know what she wanted to say? Was he aware that she wanted to talk and was trying to avoid it?

She really wasn’t sure. But she did know, now was not the time to talk about it apparently.

Besides, trying to discuss honest feelings inside a food market was not very intimate anyway.

It took a little while but Y/N and Arthur were eventually done buying the supplies. Arthur loaded them into the back of the wagon and was quick to climb up onto the seat.

Y/N walked over to the side of the wagon, where Arthur was sitting and once again helped him to lift her up.

Arthur snapped the reins, pushing the horses to go, and rode down the town’s path back toward the woods.

Just like on the way to the town, Y/N and Arthur didn’t say much. Instead of the teasing banter from earlier though, nothing was being said.

Each individual thinking miles away.

Y/N felt an obsessive need to somehow discuss her inner feelings to him while trying to be considerate to his feelings as well.

Arthur, on the other hand, was occupied with what happened back at town. Y/N had said his name, and yet he had interrupted her. She said she was okay but she seemed really distracted while they were shopping.

Was she about to say something? And if so, what was it?

As they rode further down the dirt path, Y/N caught a glimpse of another diverging path on her right.

She got an idea.

“Hey Arthur, turn up this path.” Y/N said, pointing to the dirt road they were getting ever nearer to.

“Why? Going that way takes longer to get back to camp.” Arthur stated.

Y/N turned to look Arthur right in the eyes.

“Please Arthur. There’s something I want to show you.” She pleaded, her voice soft and gentle almost like a whisper.

Hearing her voice that way, so quiet and fragile, made his heart skip a beat.

When she asked him for anything in that tone, he gladly did it. If she had asked him to burn down the entire world using that voice, he’d do it.

No problem.

Arthur’s gaze softened, silently turning onto the dirt path.

“I know this path is longer, but it’s more romantic.” Y/N stated a smile spreading across her face.

“Romantic? You tryin’ to butter me up?” The cowboy asked a slight tone of sarcasm.

Y/N laughed. “No, well maybe. I’m just trying to set the mood.”

Arthur smirked which made Y/N turn to him. “Why would you want to set the mood just for me?”

Y/N jabbed his arm with her elbow. “Don’t be like that. Is it so hard for you to believe that I’d want to do something special for you?”

He shook his head, a smile teasing his lips. “I guess I never thought I deserved it.”

“Well it’s not true.” Y/N added shortly pausing before speaking again. “Actually there’s something I really need to talk to you about, but I wanted to wait until we got there.”

Confused, Arthur looked over to his girlfriend, his half smile dying down. “What do you mean?”

She rested one hand on his back and used her other hand to hold Arthur’s arm. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

He chuckled. “I suppose so.”

It was a few minutes when Y/N suddenly patted Arthur’s arm, telling him to stop. He pulled hard on the reins until the horses came to a stop.

Arthur could immediately see the pep in Y/N’s step after she hopped off the wagon and treaded down a small hill, trying her best to avoid rocks and loose dirt.

“This way Arthur!” Y/N said absentmindedly, her eyes fixated on whatever was in front of her. Then her figure disappeared behind the edge of a small cliff.

“Hang on a sec…” Arthur blurted out as he made his way down the steep slope.

When he reached the bottom he was met with a medium sized pond surrounded by tall trees, patches of grass and flowers while a modest waterfall continuously flowed from some unseen river.

The cowboy stared at the beautiful environment as he stepped up beside Y/N who was also admiring the view, standing just an inch away from the water line.

“Isn’t it pretty?” She beamed, her eyes never leaving the shining surface of the water.

Arthur nodded. “Yeah. Real pretty.”

The couple took a moment to admire the scene in front of them. Both set of eyes wandering along each strand of grass, every flower, ever ripple in the water, trying to memorize every little detail as if they would never see it again.

And it was entirely possible.

The next day they could very well run into trouble, either from the O'driscolls or the Pinkertons or whatever bastards wanted to mess with them. They’d have to pack up and move again.

That was the harsh reality of the life Arthur and Y/N were a part of. Which is what gave moments like this more meaning, made them more special.

They might never see it again, but if they could remember it, they could dream about it.

Y/N’s eyes ran along the waterline eventually meeting back to Arthurs figure. Her gaze crawling up from the ground to finally land on his features.

His blue eyes, brown hair, his growing stubble, the scar on his chin. As much time as she had spent observing his features, her memory could never compare to the real thing.

“Hey Arthur?”

“Yeah?” He replied, his gaze not moving away from the pond.

“Let’s go swimming.”

That seemed to grab his attention as Y/N watched his head snap over in her direction.

“Swimming?” He asked in a near whisper, not sure he heard her right.

She smiled. “Yeah. Swimming.”

Y/N could see a redness rise from his neck up to his cheeks.

Arthur lifted up his hand to massage the back on his neck, like he was attempting to wipe away the blush. “I -I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. We’ve been gone long enough, I think it’s better to just head back.”

This time Y/N turned her whole body to face the man she loved. “Please, Arthur? Just this once.”

That damned voice. So soft, so gentle. God, she had him wrapped around her little finger.

He let out a sigh before saying, “Alright. If that’s what you want.”

With a light squeeze on his arm, Y/N stood up on her tippy toes and kissed Arthur’s cheek. “Thank you.” 

Arthur let out a small nervous chuckle as he tried to think of something to say. Unfortunately, he came up blank.

“I’ll head in first then you can follow me in, that okay?” Y/N asked, still pressed into his side.

He hesitantly nodded. “Y-yeah. That...that sounds good.”

He could feel the moment that Y/N stepped away and when he finally looked up, he could already see his girlfriend starting to undress herself.

The cowboy was quick to turn his back once he witnessed Y/N unbuttoning her shirt.

Even though she was the one to suggest the idea, Y/N could feel her own hesitation beginning to rise within her. Her heart started hammering in her chest, her face became hot, and short breaths puffed out of her mouth as she tried to control her breathing.

Why was she so nervous now?

She knew the answer because behind the confidence she had just displayed, she had never exposed herself in front of a man before, let alone the man she loved.

This was just as new for her as it was for him.

Y/N shook her head from those thoughts and proceeded to take her clothes off. She had already come this far, there was no need to feel so hesitant now. She loved Arthur with all her heart, and now she needed to show him that.

Once her undergarments were off, the woman stepped toward the pond, slowly sinking further and further into the water. 

She felt delighted when her skin came into contact with the shining liquid. “Wow, the water is warmer than I thought it’d be!” She called back to Arthur who was standing as stiff as a statue.

The sound of her voice caused Arthur to look over his shoulder to see Y/N’s clothes lying on the grass.

He closed his eyes for a second mumbling to himself. “Shit…”

The cowboy reached up to grab his hat then tossed it to the ground. Slowly but surely, he began taking off his clothes, one piece at a time.

Once he was completely naked, his anxiety was screaming at him. He had never felt so exposed in his life and he knew it wasn’t just because he was wearing nothing out in the open.

He turned to face the direction of the pond, quickly realizing that Y/N had her back turned to him. He also took note of how she was nearly completely submerged in the water, only the top of shoulders and up were visible.

When he stepped into the water, he was surprised.

She was right, the water was warm. It was probably thanks to the scorching hot days they had to deal with.

It took a couple of more seconds as his body was covered more and more by the murky water.

Based on the sounds coming from behind her, Y/N sensed that Arthur had already entered the water and was approaching.

She turned around meeting face to face with her boyfriend, who had stopped just a few inches away. While she’s not surprised it does distract her for a minute as she eyes his muscular chest. It was no secret that Arthur Morgan was built like an ox but seeing it up close like this was quite intriguing.

Arthur noticed Y/N’s eyes looking him up and down, but he made no indication that he wanted her to stop. He simply let her look.

Though his breath hitched in his throat when Y/N inched her way over to him, stopping just a few inches away, their bodies almost touching.

“Arthur, you know that I care about you right? And that I trust you with my life?”

Not being able to come up with a coherent thought, he nodded.

She continued. “Recently, I’ve noticed that when I...try to be more intimate with you, you seem….” she paused, not knowing the right words to use.

“You always seem so...uncomfortable. Like you don’t want that.”

Arthur’s eyes drooped to the water in deep thought before Y/N spoke again.

“I know you’ve been through a lot of pain in your life, and you opened your heart to people who ended up breaking it.”

He knew who she was talking about.

“So I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to do. I love you, and the last I’d ever want is to make you uncomfortable or… make you feel you’re obligated to do things for me.” She raised her hand to cup his cheek.

Feeling him flinch made her want to retreat her hand almost immediately.

“Because you’re not. I just…” She paused again, wondering if she really should say more. She decided yes.

“I just wish you’d talk to me about how you feel and…..and what you want.” She finished, taking in his pensive expressive a clear indicator that he was taking her words to heart.

He didn’t say anything for several seconds. Fairly deep in his own mind.

Y/N let out a nervous, airy chuckle as if she were trying to diffuse the tense atmosphere. “I hope that I’m making sense and not rambling.”

He nodded again. Not saying anything still.

His silence was starting to make Y/N feel insecure, and made her think that maybe doing this was a bad idea.

She pulled her hand away from his face. “I’m sorry. Maybe we should go back.”

Y/N started to walk away when a hand grabbed her arm. She whipped her head back to the cowboy in utter shock.

Arthur stood frozen, his hand tightly gripping Y/N’s arm as he contemplated what he wanted to do right now. It was obvious he was in inner turmoil, trying desperately to come to terms with his own anxiety and hesitations.

However, when he heard Y/N whisper his name quiet enough that he just barely heard it, his resolve became crystal clear.

He yanked Y/N closer to him, pressing her body snugly against his as he lifted her up. He slid one hand under her leg, keeping it wrapped around his waist and used the other to wrap around her back.

The gasp that left Y/N’s mouth caused him to groan as he shortly pressed his lips to hers in a passionate infused kiss.

Y/N could only describe it as absolutely intoxicating. She felt drunk off his love.

In all the time that they had been together, Arthur had never kissed her like this. A perfect mixture of rough and tenderness.

Where had this been all her life?

Unfortunately breathing was becoming a factor so the couple pulled away from each other, panting for air.

“I’m...sorry, Y/N.” Arthur suddenly apologized.

The love of her life had just given her the most amazing kiss she had only ever dreamt of until now and he was apologizing?

How did she deserve him?

She grinned. “Sorry for what?”

“For how I’ve been the last couple of months. I should’ve talked to you sooner.” Arthur explained.

Y/N shook her head. “That’s nothing to be sorry for. You had your reasons.”

“That’s still no excuse.” He paused then added, “I knew I liked you from the beginning but the longer we were together, the more I realized how much I loved you. And it scared me because I thought that by me loving you, I might lose you like ....” He stopped himself, not being able to finish that sentence.

Y/N caressed his cheek again. “It’s okay. I know how much you’ve been through which is why I didn’t push it. I just wanted you to know that you can talk to me, be open with me.”

Arthur nodded his head. “I know I can. I trust you. It’s just most of the time I think of all the bad things I’ve done and can't help but worry about what could happen to you.”

“We’ve all done bad things, but what’s important is how we try to make up for those mistakes, and try to live a good life.” Y/N reassured, wrapping her arms around his neck.

She heard Arthur chuckle. “I’d be willing to try livin’ that good life as long as you’ll live it with me.”

Y/N smirked though a smile soon broke out after it. “Always.”

Arthur smiled back before he leaned in and captured Y/N’s lips once again.

This time, the kiss was much softer than the previous showing that this wasn’t based on lust, but rather originated from an unyielding love.

They pulled away to catch their breath.

“I love you, Y/N.” Arthur whispered as he locked eyes with his girlfriend. The woman he thought he didn’t deserve, but would try with every fiber of his being to do right by her.

Because second chances didn’t come by often, and if she was his, he’d do anything within his power to be a man she could be proud of.

Little did he know, she already was.

Her smile turned into a grin. “I love you too and I always will.”

______

Series Masterlist

[spoppersonality]

SPOP Character Typing: Adora

ESTJ, 9w1, 953, so/sp

I’ve seen Adora typed as ESFJ and ENFJ, and I get why people don’t think she seems “hard” enough to be an extroverted thinking dominant type. But I think this is exactly the kind of mistype that happens when people don’t know Enneagram. Adora is an interesting mix because she has a super soft Enneagram core type and a harder “take-charge” MBTI type.

So, let’s get into that.

MBTI: ESTJ

I think what people forget when they type Adora as an extroverted feeling dominant type, is how incredibly personal and tactful Fe-doms are. (On a good day, anyway.) Adora, however, tends to be more impersonal and straight-to-the-point. Te-doms can also come off as people-oriented, that is not exclusive to Fe-doms, but they go about it differently. There is an Fe-dom in the Best Friends Squad, but that is not Adora.

If you think about it, Adora is a very classic Te-Si type. She likes rules and has a natural inclination towards implementing those rules in a very practical, hands-on type of manner. She’s very action oriented. She sees what needs to be done, and does it. ESTJs are highly effective in the sense that they don’t often stop to ask as much questions as some other types. They go about things based on what gets them from point A to point B, and what has worked in the past, or how they are used to doing things. They can also get quite hooked in moving from one plateau to the next in a routinely manner. This can often be how ESTJs go through life, if they don’t stop to think about why they are doing what they are doing, and specifically what personal values drive their actions. No wonder ESTJs are generally the jockiest jocks to ever jock.

Being a Te-dom doesn’t mean you’re not empathetic. Adora definitely is. It just means that you primarily show it through action. If a friend cries, for an Fe-dom the most natural course of action may be to sit with them and listen, and for a Te-dom it might be eliminating the reason for the crying. This is overly simplified of course, and real people as well as good fictional characters are multifaceted, but you get the idea. This is how Adora most often works. It’s not: “Catra, I can see something is bothering you, do you want to talk about it?” It’s: “Let’s take a skiff for a ride to cheer you up.”

Adora can also be quite funny in a random seeming way, which is due to her tertiary extroverted intuition. ESTJs and ESFJs (tert Ne-types) are often one of the most hilarious people alive, because they like to use their extroverted intuition in tandem with their dominant function. The level of control they have over it isn’t often that great, so it comes off as child-like randomness. Their first two functions lead them towards order and predictability, but when Ne comes into play and they venture out of their usual habits, they may surprise you. The results might be unpredictable: Turns out licking sand didn’t work for Adora but with the help of her friends she managed to play Double Trouble’s game nicely.

In general ESTJs are not in their comfort zone with Ne-type of creativity or innovation but they are not hopeless with it. Adora struggles with the more unpredictable qualities of her sword, like turning it into different objects. She doesn’t use that quality too often and doesn’t have too much variety when she does. While Adora’s first instinct is to simply charge ahead, someone with high Ne would’ve been likely to utilize the flexible qualities of the sword to the max. But Adora can still manage it, her Ne isn’t low enough to be considered her Achille’s heel. She takes a bit of time with it but eventually comes up with solutions that work, such as carrying her sword as a bracelet.

Introverted feeling is what Adora desperately needs in her life and has trouble figuring out. If you think about Fi-doms, they are people who spend a lot of time thinking about who they are, what they want, what they value, and their life builds around that. It’s their most natural state, thinking about whether or not everything they face is something they like/dislike, if it’s good/bad, right/wrong, desirable or not, them or not them.

This is what makes the planets align for an ESTJ. They neglect this function, and when they finally start developing it, the whole world is new for them. This is very literal in Adora’s case, it’s like Etheria’s magic is waking up with her introverted feeling. (Because when all your four functions finally align it IS magic.) That function, introverted feeling, is essentially where she keeps her love for Catra, or rather, it’s the function she needs to be able to make one person, whether it’s Catra or herself, a priority. Te is a rather utilitarian function, and since Adora leads with that and has internalized the belief that her desires don’t matter, there’s nothing in her dominant extroverted thinking process that would justify her “selfish” desires. Te cares about numbers, masses and large scale consequences. She needs Fi, the function that is all about individuality, and essentially yourself. We know how much it takes for that function to surface for her, but when it does, oh boy.

Enneagram

Core type: 9

As a type 9, Adora comes off as unassuming, warm and friendly. 9’s are all about forgiveness, self-neglect and acceptance.

9 is the most “traditionally selfless” type, because unlike Enneagram 2s for example, 9s don’t expect anything in return for what they give to others. Adora’s upbringing has magnified that quality in her (which was obviously very intentional from Shadow Weaver). 9s also have a natural tendency to ignore negative feelings, so they can keep feeling “okay” and unaffected by the external world. This quality makes 9s susceptible to staying in bad situations and bad relationships for a very long time, because they so persistently see the good in others. This is why it took Adora so long, and why she needed evidence that was impossible to ignore to realize that the Horde didn’t have a good cause. 9s are conflict-avoidant because they fear loss and separation above all. That’s why Adora too is such a people pleaser. She would rather live in “fake” harmony, than be the one to create conflict that causes emotional pain. Unfortunately, that’s exactly why 9s sometimes upset others. Like how Adora is unwilling to do anything that would get her on Shadow Weaver’s bad side, which hurts Catra. Or how she pretends to be the She-Ra Plumerians expect her to be so she wouldn’t disappoint them, which only leads her to disappoint them more later. It’s very classic 9 of her to let things develop to a point where everything comes crashing down before addressing the conflict she really needs to address. 9s tend to go with the flow, and sometimes too far.

One of the big things with 9s is that they lack a solid sense of self. They are out of touch with their needs, desires, and identity. Another thing that Shadow Weaver magnified in Adora. Basically, if you break a 9’s sense of self-worth far enough, they’ll become a blank canvas for others to write on, because they already believe they are somehow inherently “less” than others. They always assume to be the least important person in the room. As a 9, what being She-Ra essentially meant to Adora was being everyone else’s servant. For other types it would have meant different things, like to a type 4 it would have been about having personal significance in the world, and to a 3 it would have essentially been about being a celebrity. As a 9 Adora was also one of the most likely people to just roll with it. Like, if you threw something like that at a type 6, they would have most likely just bolted, and half of the storyline would’ve been about “I can’t/don’t want to do this!”. (=a tip for anyone who wants to write certain role swap AUs. ;D)

As a 9, Adora integrates to 3, so at her best mental state, she becomes driven, ambitious, present, and sees her value as a person. She’s no longer someone things happen to, but she’s the driving force in changing her life and the things around her. She disintegrates to 6, so in times of prolonged stress she can get easily irritable, pessimistic, and feel helpless.

Wing: 1

This is where Adora gets her grit, and the moralizing side to her character. Having a strong 1-wing definitely helped her survive in the Horde but it also frequently adds fuel to her self-sacrificing: it’s so easy to back up that 9 quality by telling herself it’s “the right thing to do”. The Right Thing is all 1 cares about. It also plays directly into her dominant Te tendency to follow rules, and makes her the typical “Lawful Good” type of person. Catra’s accusation that Adora “thinks she’s better than everyone” doesn’t miss the mark too far. Even though Adora isn’t a core 1, and as such her whole identity isn’t wrapped up in being morally superior, she does care about having integrity to a certain extend. So, maybe she doesn’t literally think she’s better than everyone, but she still strives to be above certain things, and hates the idea of being “bad”.

Head fix: 5

This is largely where Adora’s nerdy side comes from. 5s want to be competent, and they hate not knowing what to do, so they want a lot of information. Not knowing and not understanding frightens them. The most blatant expression of this with Adora is probably the whole thing with the princess prom. This side of her comes to surface when she can’t just adapt (=9) or do the right thing (=1). 5 is also detached and uncomfortable with their feelings, so this only strengthens Adora’s 9-tendency to not address hers. 5s are also big on compartmentalizing, so this greatly helps Adora to entertain certain difficult realities inside herself as if it’s nothing, such as Catra is an enemy she routinely fights, but she would also die for her in a heartbeat.

Heart fix: 3

If none of the three other strategies work, Adora will try to solve things and get people on her side by showing off. 3s want to be viewed as valuable and useful by others, and in Adora’s case it’s probably best seen in the way she acts when she meets Huntara. 3 is where she gets her cocky side. It’s a funny contrast with her humble 9-core, and in most cases she only has enough confidence to act like this when she’s with Catra, or when she’s She-Ra. Having a 3-fix also plays into her need to be useful, because while 9s often want to be useful to excuse their existence, 3s also want to hear that they are useful, so whatever little vanity Adora has will always directly reinforce the idea that good things come from her overexerting herself.

Instinctual Variant: so/sp

Social instinct is Adora’s primary instinct. She has a natural inclination to play by the rules of the group and acknowledge hierarchy, because social variants get safety from belonging and having a place, a role, in something bigger than themselves. Even though she has her hero complex, she doesn’t tend to fly solo until the stakes are really high. She never questions the Princess Alliance, it’s simply natural for her to move from one group to another, and that She-Ra’s strength belongs for the rebellion. She doesn’t really seem to get why some other people don’t seek the strength in numbers. Losing She-Ra also primarily means losing her place in the group for her, and she very much struggles to accept this.

Self-preservation instinct is Adora’s secondary one. It may seem like it isn’t because she’s so ready to die for others, but self-preservation isn’t really about that. It’s more about being preoccupied with questions of resources. Like, after turning against the Horde, Adora isn’t just concerned about losing the support of the group, her mind also immediately goes to “I don’t have a roof over my head”. She’s not as particular about having her physical needs met as a primary self-pres would be, but it’s included in her priorities. She feels out of place in Bright Moon because she’s used to different kind of surroundings, and losing She-Ra’s power is a hard blow because of losing the physical strength she has as She-Ra: her means for providing physical safety for others. She also desires some amount of independence, and She-Ra gave her that as well.

Sexual instinct is what Adora needs more in her life. That’s so tied to the whole point of the show that I’m not even sure what would be worthwhile for me to say about it at this point. The whole conflict between her and Catra relates so closely to it. Adora will routinely make sacrifices in her personal relationships for the common good, because one-to-one relationships are not her first concern in life. People who neglect their sexual instinct are uncomfortable with their more “primal” and intense feelings, so even in her closest relationships Adora is more about being friendly and accommodating and showing warm feelings to the other. She doesn’t have the “let me stare you deep into the eyes for hours and drown myself in them” quality that is characteristic of the sexual instinct. However, this is exactly the part she needs to accept in herself to be fully satisfied and to take her relationships to another level.

SPOP is so juicy because it’s so much about personal growth. We see Adora face pretty much every weakness and blind spot that relates to her personality, and we get to see her change for the better. At least that makes it very satisfying for me to analyse, because I’m such a fan of growth. Can’t wait to get to analyse the other main characters, and the supporting cast too.

Also, if you wish I would do a particular character, just tell me and I’ll take that into consideration!

[kat-tamin]

Kat Tamin SFW Alphabet

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Her love language is quality time and acts of service. She wants to spend time with people doing fun things that love her. She loves those nights where you just sit on the couch and talk for hours about anything and everything. She shows her love by doing things for you, making you coffee or tea, helping you move, picking up groceries for you. She’s the one who will change the lightbulb in your apartment that’s been out since you moved in.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Kat’s an amazing best friend to have, fiercely loyal and kind. She’s the type to come over in the middle of the night if you need her. She’s also super fun to be around, always with a good energy that seems to last forever. She’s good with a girl’s night in or a night out. She can be friends with the boys, talk sports and beer. She’s the type of person who just has an aura of coolness that draws people in like a magnet.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Actual cuddling, like arms around each other, faces pressed together for endless amounts of time isn’t her favourite. Small, short hugs are better. Her version of cuddling is sitting on the couch with your feet in her lap, her hand on your knee. Small touches are infinitely better than full on cuddling.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

She wants to settle down eventually, but she still has time, so she’s in no rush.

Cooking is a no, unless it is very, very simple. She makes a deal with you as soon as you meet that if you do all the cooking, she will do all the dishes. That’s the only thing she’s good at, because the rest of her apartment is a mess. It’s not dirty, just seems full of things that aren’t in the right place.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

In her younger days, it would have been just a text. If you’re in a casual relationship, it still might be just a text. She doesn’t like to see people sad or disappointed. In longer term relationships, she has to make herself see you in person, she knows she owes you at least that. She absolutely hates it if you cry afterwards, because she feels so awkward and doesn’t know what to do.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Marriage is not a must for Kat, but a commitment is. She really doesn’t see the point of just getting a piece of paper to say you will be together forever. If a wedding is something you really want, she can compromise on a courthouse ceremony and then a small reception at a bar or restaurant, with just a few close friends and family members. 

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Kat can be very soft when she needs to be. She uses techniques that she’s learned from work in emotional situations. In other situations, she might be more of a tough-love, especially to her friends who she thinks needs to hear it. Physically, again she can be. She drops kisses onto your forehead, or a hand brushing against your back as she passes by, but she also doesn’t like prolonged physical touch. 

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

She loves giving hugs to anyone who needs one. She’ll give you a hug when she’s introduced to you. Her favourite hugs are bear hugs, when she sweeps you off your feet, holding you so tight you can’t breathe and you have to laugh. She likes it when you wrap her in your arms, your head in the crook of her shoulder.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Right out of the gate she’ll say things like “God I love you” when you bring her tea or cook her dinner. But when it comes to the big “I love you”, she waits a bit, until you’re in a committed relationship and she actually feels it. You’ll probably end up saying it first, and she’ll get a big smile and say it back, her heart so full.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

She’s not really a jealous person, she trusts you completely. If a random person is hitting on you, she’s more concerned about your feelings of discomfort in the situation. She’ll step in to make you feel more safe, and send them packing.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Kat’s kisses are great of course. Soft, sweet kisses that leave you weak in the knees or hard, messy kisses that take your breath away. Her favourite place to kiss you is the top of your head or forehead. It makes her feel connected to you on an emotional level. She likes kisses on her neck or shoulder, even her ear. A smile is instantly on her face, even if it does tickle and make her squirm.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

She’s the eldest child of four, so she does have experience with kids. She’s comfortable with them, and enjoys spending time with younger children. However, she’s more than happy to send them back to their parents at the end of the night. She’s definitely child-free, no interest in being pregnant. Maybe once she’s higher in the ranks, she’ll take in a couple of teenagers having a rough time, but babies are an absolute no.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Kat sets her alarm ridiculously early, even on her days off. She likes to go to the boxing gym before work and get in a workout, or a jog around the park. She loves it when you join her, but understands when you just want to sleep in. Those days, she leaves the coffee pot or kettle on along with a note saying she loves you.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Weeknights after work are all about relaxation. Take out or you cooking dinner and some good old Netflix and chill. Weekends are when Kat goes out, usually dragging you to a new bar or club with her friends. She just wants to be out with people, having as much fun as she can before she has to go to work, where it’s the opposite of fun.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Kat’s a bit of an open book. She tells you straight up what she wants in a relationship so she doesn’t waste time on someone who doesn’t want the same thing. She always tells dates that she’s bi during the first few minutes after meeting, so can weed out the ones who hate it and the creeps who love it.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

She doesn’t really get angry, not at you. When she’s at work, with perps, yes she can get angry quickly. She’s protective over victims, so her feelings are always out in the open. If she does get angry at you, it’s probably not because of you, you just happen to be in the room. She can take out her frustration over cases on you if she’s not careful. She realizes quickly that she crossed a line and says how sorry she is, and what happened that day to make her angry.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

She’s a detective, so of course she remembers a lot about you. You can talk about a random Aunt and she’ll be like, “the one who lives in Florida with her younger boyfriend you don’t like?”. You don’t even remember you saying half the things she mentions about your life.

R = Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

The day she told you she wants to be your girlfriend. It had been a decision that she’s been mulling over, wondering if she was ready to be with you and only you. But the minute she says it, and you get so happy, she knows she made the right decision. You kiss her and she’s never been happier.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

She works at a job where she sees the worst of the worst, so yeah she’s protective of you. She knows what happens to young people in New York City who aren’t careful. She buys you your first can of mace and shows you basic self-defence skills. She always makes sure to sit between you and randoms on the subway, not afraid to flash her badge if creeps get too close.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

She comes from a home with the motto: It’s the thought that counts. She didn’t grow up with money so she’s uncomfortable with spending huge amounts, especially on things like dates. She’s all about the experience of things, would rather give you concert tickets than jewelry. When it comes to anniversaries, she’ll just take you to your favourite places and give you handmade gifts that remind you of your relationship.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

She’s incredibly stubborn, and doesn’t like to admit when she says or does something wrong. This causes issues, but if you explain carefully about how she hurt you, she’ll apologize sincerely. 

Less seriously, her messy apartment drives you bonkers.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

She likes to look good, but isn’t super vain. She’s careful picking out her wardrobe, wanting to project confidence and a certain image so people can’t judge her. Her makeup and hair are always kept simple, unless it’s a special occasion. She’s most comfortable in her sweats and old t-shirts.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Kat wouldn’t feel incomplete without anyone. She is fiercely independent, a whole woman with her own interests and ambitions. In fact, if you said you felt incomplete without her, she would probably be turned off and end up dumping you.

X = Xtra (A random head canon for them.)

Kat has a mental calendar of every cheap or free event in the city. If you say you’re bored, she has a list of things you could do in that moment. Off-off-off Broadway plays that are terrible, cultural festivals in the park, free art shows at a local college. She reads the flyers that are stuck to light poles and bulletin boards. She’s the only one you know who takes pamphlets that are passed out on the street, advertising something new you could do together.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

She hates neediness. She’s very ambitious, and will always put her job first. If you can’t deal with her ever-changing schedule, you're not the one. If you text her too much, or complain about her not responding, she’s instantly turned off. 

In general, she thinks racists, homophobes, misogynists, TERFs, and Republicans are scum.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

She grew up sharing a bed with her sister, so she always sleeps on her side, curled up small, leaving you lots of room. She’s always cold, so she steals all the blankets. You end up getting your own separate quilt for yourself so you can sleep in peace.