#wanted to add something sad to just memorise this day

[buttercupshands]

Happy (almost belated) Birthday, Tenko Shimura!

wanted to draw something light after... you know 419...

[magicshopaholic]

Moving On (Namjoon x OC)

Summary: BTS performs in Amsterdam and Namjoon invites you to the afterparty.

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Genre: Angst, smut

Word count: 8.2K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, angst, sex, nudity, making out, fingering, cumming, arguing,

A/N: Takes place a little over a month after Final Destination.

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2,  @margopinkerton, @faearchives,  @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @sumzysworld, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)

Listen to: "where does the good go" by tegan and sara

namjoon masterlist | main masterlist

Joon [13:45] Did you get the email from Big Hit?

Kaya [13:50] Yes

Joon [13:51] The number at the end is their London office. They’ve been briefed already and have additional security available for all European locations.

Kaya [13:54] Okay

There’s a break in the chat here. Kaya stares at the time stamp, trying to picture him scrambling to find something else to say.

Joon [14:15] The company managed to track down the account that uploaded the video. Account has been taken down and they’ve sued for invasion of privacy.

Kaya [14:20] Okay 

Joon [14:22] They’ve also offered to add damages to the suit, in case we want that. Do you?

Kaya [14:25] Not really

Joon [14:26] Okay then

Another break. Kaya scans the time stamps again, even though she’s memorised it by now. She remembers the three dots indicating him typing, seeing them appear and disappear over and over again. 

Joon [14:40] How are you?

Kaya [14:45] Fine

Joon [14:46] How‘s work?

Kaya [14:48] Fine

Joon [14:50] Kaya I’m trying

Kaya [14:51] Class starting, got to go

He hadn’t responded and she hadn’t expected him to. Four days post break-up hadn’t been nearly long enough for her to let go of her anger but now, four weeks in, it’s only been replaced with an equal amount of sadness and longing.

Every conversation has been exactly this terse and abrupt, the last one being a week ago. It had appeared when she’d been teaching an elective class and it had taken every ounce of her will to not check it until the class ended. As it turned out, she couldn’t even think of a decent response to it.

“How can he possibly think of asking me this?” Kaya mutters, earphones in as she walks home. It’s dusk, a gorgeous time of the day, but she holds no appreciation for it right now.

“Wouldn’t it be worse if he didn’t ask?” Dilara asks reasonably. She’s in her car by the sound of it, a low hum audible of whichever fancy car of hers she’s decided to take out today.

Kaya swallows, pondering this. It might be, but it doesn’t address the problem she’s too embarrassed to voice out loud: it should be harder for him to ask. The thought that he might not be taking this break-up as hard as she is kills something inside of her, as if she’d misunderstood everything in the last three years. 

Her strategy to save herself from hearing the truth had been to distance herself from everyone, including Yoongi, who had texted her out of the blue one day to ask her if she was okay (she hadn’t responded); Seokjin, who seemed to skirt the topic altogether and sounded as though he was speaking to someone very sick; and especially Dilara, who Kaya knew would be the only one with the capacity to ask insightful questions that she herself was too afraid to.

“It’s just… strange,” is all she can manage. “He hopped on a flight, shot a few emails, came over and broke up with me and then went right back to his schedule, all in one day. And now he's inviting me to a party?"

“After-party, so it won’t be, like… crazy,” Dilara clarifies. “And the concert before it.” 

“I’m definitely not going to his concert.”

“Of course not,” she agrees breezily. “I wouldn’t expect you to. But the party… I mean, it’s a good thing, isn’t it? He doesn’t want you to be strangers.”

Kaya slows down as she approaches the river. She’s taken the long route home today - anything to prolong the commute before another night in her tainted apartment with memories on every surface.

“I don’t know if I want to see him.” I don’t know if I can. “He wants to see me, though, apparently,” she states after a moment.

Dilara doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. “I mean -“ She begins before pausing, then trying again. “I’m sure it’s going to be torture for him to see you. But even that’s better than not seeing you.”

Kaya doesn’t even realise she’d been holding her breath; she exhales as slowly as possible so as to not make a sound, both at Dilara’s words as well as her answering the unasked question.

She doesn’t respond immediately, though. Now that they’re down this route of addressing concerns she’s been harbouring in her heart for weeks, Kaya feels the rest of them on the verge of tumbling out of her mouth.

"You've seen him a bit these last couple of months,” she ventures, lowering her voice and leaning backwards against the railing overlooking the river. “Does it seem like he misses me at all?"

Dilara hums, a little too knowingly for Kaya’s liking. “Of course, he does. He’s not the most expressive when it comes to his feelings but aside from Tae last year, I don't think I've met a more miserable person."

Kaya waits for the swell of happiness or relief at this news, but all it brings with it is a new wave of anger and frustration.

“Thanks.”

"Look, speaking from experience, it's not easy seeing your ex after a difficult break-up,” says Dilara, sighing. “But sometimes you don't realise just how much you needed to see them until you see them, even if it's just to gain some closure."

Closure. It sounds… final. Kaya can’t picture it, being virtual strangers eventually, just bits of each other’s past. Ex-boyfriend, girl of his dreams, the one that got away. She hates all those words because they just don’t apply, not really. They can’t.

She closes her eyes and presses the heel of her palms into them to intercept the wetness forming, not caring that Dilara is still on the other end of the line. She and Namjoon had stood right here, years ago, living in the bliss of a new couple in fresh love. He’d brought her a bunch of tiny yellow flowers from the park, part-cheesy and part-genuine, eyes twinkling and dimples soft.

Kaya squeezes her eyes shut at the memory, terrified at how the edges of it are already blurring. 

“I don’t think I’ll go,” she murmurs, opening her eyes to stare at the ground. “I can’t.” 

“Are you sure?” Dilara sounds slightly surprised.

“Yeah. Two days from now is… it’s too soon. I’ll either cry or yell or… I don’t know. It’s too hard.”

“Oh.” She’s quiet for a few seconds. “Okay. If you’re sure. Let me know if you want to get together on Sunday,” she adds. “Brunch or something.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

—

The next day, Kaya is in the library again, grading papers and wishing she could go back to being a grad student who’s biggest problem was a pop quiz. She’s deliberately chosen a table at the back, away from where the students generally sit, which is why she looks up in surprise when someone comes to her table.

“H-hi, Kaya.” The student waves rests one hand on the back of an empty hair and waves hesitantly with the other.

“Um… hi.” Kaya tries not to frown too conspicuously, for she’s sure she knows this girl. 

Svetlana. Savannah. 

“Elena, right?”

“Yeah,” she answers with a nervous smile. “Um… are you busy?”

Kaya glances at the stacks of papers, books and laptop on the table. “Kind of, yeah.”

“Okay. Well… I just wanted to say hi.”

Kaya nods awkwardly and forces a small smile on her face. “Hi.”

Elena nods, tucking her hair behind her ears. She looks like she’s about to leave but at the last moment, sits down at the table. Kaya feels her smile fade for she really, really wants to be alone right now.

“How - how are things going?” She sounds nervous - extremely so. She seems to be fidgeting slightly and constantly touching her hair. 

“Great,” says Kaya shortly, going back to her paper and hoping she’ll take the hint. “You?”

“Not bad, overall. I guess. Classes are hard and mid-terms are coming up as well…” Elena trails off. “Any plans for the weekend?”

Trying not to sigh, Kaya shakes her head. “Not really. You?”

“Well… I’m going to a concert tomorrow,” she answers hurriedly, and it’s clear that she’s been waiting to divulge this information, oblivious to how Kaya’s heart stops. “It should be fun. Do - do you listen to BTS?”

An unexpected notification from this morning floats into her kind. BTS continues their Europe leg by arriving in Amsterdam, ready to kick off the summer in style!

“No,” she answers truthfully.

“Oh.” Elena is quiet for a moment. “They’re really… good.” 

There’s some awkward silence during which Kaya deliberately writes comments on the paper she’s grading, scratching the pen on the paper and wishing Elena would leave.

“It’ll be good to get out of campus. The people here are kind of intimidating. The parties are pretty wild, too,” she murmurs after a moment, sounding uncomfortable.

Kaya nods absently, uncharacteristically satisfied with the knowledge that she might be intimidating this unwanted guest. “Maybe you’re going to the wrong parties,” she offers.

Elena lets out a nervous laugh again. “Maybe. I never see you at them, though. There’s one, tonight, in the common room. Maybe you could come,” she suggests lightly. “Bring a friend or - or your boyfriend.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she answers flatly, not looking up.

“You - oh.” There’s a note of surprise in her voice. “Oh,” she repeats, this time seemingly to herself. “Are you sure?” she blurts out.

Kaya’s eyes snap up to glare at her. “Pretty sure.”

Elena’s eyes widen. “Oh, of - of course,” she stutters. “Sorry, that - that was a stupid question. Sorry.” She swallows and looks at her lap.

Kaya closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, immediately feeling guilty for snapping at an innocent bystander in this situation. “Elena, I… I really need to get these papers done,” she tells her, her voice one of forced calm. “So…”

The blonde finally seems to understand and awkwardly stands up. “Okay. Um, see you around,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear again. 

Kaya nods as she leaves, Namjoon’s invitation swimming in her mind tantalisingly. She can’t ignore it anymore, the fact that they’re in the same city, her city. If she’s not wrong, he’ll do the concert tomorrow night, the group will probably stay the night and depart by Sunday afternoon or evening and she will probably never see him again.

She attempts to continue grading the paper she was working on when Elena interrupted, but when she finds herself reading the same stupid sentence for the fourth time without retaining anything, she begins packing up, ready to head home.

—

Joon [18:42] Hope to see you there tonight

Kaya, with a loss as to how to respond to this, simply did not. She can’t imagine he would be texting her during his concert, but she also knows he has before, if the situation was urgent enough to demand it. 

She straightens the black dress against her hips and tilts her head at her reflection. It’s a simple dress, plain black, form-fitting and reaching below her knees, but it’s quite possibly the most gorgeous, sexiest dress she owns. 

If she and Namjoon were together, she would have worn it tonight with no hesitation because it would have driven him insane. After weeks of being apart, seeing her in this dress would have rendered him incapable of staying in work mode without dirty texts, flirty touches and eyes from across the room undressing her. Even now, with a bare face, her hair tied into a loose bun and no footwear, the dress is a game-changer.

She gives herself a few moments to imagine this paradise, one that might have come true tonight had she never told him about the break-in. Then, she silently unzips the dress and climbs out of the black fabric pooled around her feet. Tucking it back into her closet, she looks for something else.

Dilara [18:50] In case you change your mind, sharing the location here [Location]

Dilara’s text had come minutes after Namjoon’s, and Kaya has to imagine it was a genuine coincidence. Although she’d replied to neither, it was the second text that caused her to change her mind - that, and the lingering fear that if she didn’t go today, she didn’t know how either of them would be able to maneuver a situation to see each other again.

The concert should end in a little over an hour. Her phone pings again and she groans, for she doesn’t think she can take any more of their unsubtle attempts at convincing her to go tonight. It’s not Namjoon or Dilara, though, but Adam Fischer, her thirty-something thesis advisor, asking if she wants to discuss the coming week’s class schedule tonight.

Kaya shakes her head as she types out a reply (Sorry, I can’t tonight. Will set up a meeting for first thing Monday if that’s okay?), a little rueful. Namjoon heavily disliked Adam, despite having no concrete reason for doing so. He’d always suspected Adam of having feelings for her, even though Adam hadn’t said or done anything to make her think he might. Part of her wonders if she could somehow ditch the party for this meeting and still make sure that the news travelled to Namjoon through the grapevine (Dilara), and if that would still piss him off even now.

She immediately cringes at the pettiness of it, however, sending her reply to Adam and heading into the shower.

The party is at the rooftop restaurant of the hotel next to the concert venue, and presumably where BTS is staying while in Amsterdam. It isn’t as crowded as she was anticipating, although the music is fairly loud. It looks more like a fancy houseparty, and even a few seconds in, Kaya can spot a handful of vaguely famous people in attendance. She looks around for a familiar face, preferably Dilara or Yoongi or one of the younger boys, wishing she’d called ahead and trying not to think about the fact that in spite of not RSVP-ing, her name was on the guest list.

She takes another hesitant step in and audibly sighs when she spots Taehyung, who, for reasons best known to himself, has accessorised his outfit with an ascot. He seems to be in an animated conversation with Jungkook, while standing in between them and facing ahead, with loose curls tumbling down her shoulders and looking slightly bored, is…

“Kaya!”

Dilara’s mouth forms her name over the music as she brushes past her boyfriend and his friend and hurries towards Kaya, looking both happy and relieved to see her. “You look hot!” she exclaims when she reaches her.

“Oh -” Kaya looks down self-consciously; she’d settled for a straight strapless top and jeans, unable to justify dressing sexier without seeming like she was trying too hard for her ex-boyfriend. “Thanks. And you look…” She frowns slightly at Dilara’s mini-dress and go-go boots, with a slightly out-of-place gold ring hanging around her neck. “... like Daphne Blake.”

Dilara’s face visibly falls. “I look like a cartoon character?” she asks, wrinkling her nose.

“Well, a very pretty cartoon character,” she adds quickly. “Especially with the headband. But… why?”

She rolls her eyes. “Taehyung picked it - but I’m sure it’s not because of Daphne Blake.” Spotting Kaya’s confused expression, she shrugs sheepishly. “We got into an argument yesterday about who has better taste, so we decided to go shopping at The Nine Streets and pick each other’s outfits for tonight.”

Kaya raises her eyebrows, something seemingly clicking into place. “So the ascot is your doing?”

“M-hm.” She nods in satisfaction before her eyes widen. “Oh, hey! An ascot - like Fred!” She lets out a low whistle at this realisation and laughs, while Kaya nods knowingly, feeling the urge to smile for the first time in what feels like weeks. “Not planned but zero regrets. I wonder if Tae knows that - oh.”

Kaya cuts her off mid-sentence with a hug, suddenly immensely grateful for Dilara. She can’t remember the last time she’d let anyone into her life this much with the exception of Namjoon; but just maybe, when she’d been happy with him and her guard had been lowered, Dilara had slipped in without warning as well.

She tightens her arms around Kaya and rubs her back. “It’s good to see you, too,” she says, sounding part-surprised and part-delighted. “It’s been a while but I promise that we will still - oh, hey.” The change in tone is abrupt. “Incoming.”

By the way her voice immediately lowers, Kaya is sure she knows what Dilara is referring to. Her heart beating a mile a minute, she pulls away from the hug and turns as casually as she can.

Her first thought is that he looks thinner - visibly so. Well, he’s on tour, says a voice in her head but Kaya suspects that’s not the only reason, for he’d been on tour when he’d broken up with her as well.

His hair is a silvery blond, looking almost metallic; dressed simply in a black T-shirt and  jeans, he runs a hand through his hair so it falls gracefully around his face as he approaches her, his face unreadable.

“Hi,” he says, and it sounds like all the breath has been let out of him with just one word. He swallows and straightens his shoulders, a small smile appearing on his face, the dimple faintly visible. “It’s good to see you, Kaya.”

Kaya nods, unable to speak and overcome with a sudden urge to cry. “You, too,” she murmurs, glancing at the floor and blinking rapidly before looking back up at him, a bit defiantly.

“I’m glad you decided to come.”

She nods again, her chest twisting at how normal he sounds. He’s standing far away from her as well, as though to make it clear in every way possible that they’re not together. 

“Hope you had a good concert,” she ventures, recalling the grad student who’d accosted her yesterday, practically beside herself at attending a BTS concert. “Backstage must have been hectic.”

A flicker of something appears in his eyes for a moment, possibly with memories of backstage. Wishes of luck, last minute hugs, sweaty and passionate kisses fueled by adrenaline. But it disappears instantly and Kaya wonders if she imagined it.

“It was,” he answers, nodding. He slides his hands into his pockets smoothly, leaning back on his heels and his smile widening a little. “But worth it as always. The crew did well.”

Kaya doesn’t even bother nodding this time; all of a sudden, she regrets coming here tonight. Dilara has left, she just realises, and Namjoon is acting like they’re acquaintances at best, making her feel stupid and yet immensely grateful that she didn’t wear the sexy black dress.

At that moment, his eyes flicker to something behind her. “I’m sorry, I just need to go and say hi to a couple of people. But enjoy your night. It’s an open bar,” he adds, smiling and nodding politely before brushing past her and walking away.

Kaya doesn’t move; she doesn’t think she can. Something heavy feels like it’s settled on her chest, the weight of confusion, disbelief and crushing disappointment threatening to suffocate her. She has no idea what she’d been expecting; maybe arguing, fighting, crying together again - but not him not caring. Not this.

Namjoon continues walking in the opposite direction for as long as he can keep Kaya in his peripheral vision, both guilty and relieved when she doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t think he can look her in the eye if she does, witness the pain and hurt in her face that close.

He catches Seokjin’s eye and hurries over to him. Seokjin raises his eyebrows and seems to guess what might have transpired, ushering him over to the other end of the circular bar and out of Kaya’s line of sight.

“How did it go?”

Namjoon rests his palms on the bar and shakes his head, no words coming to him at the moment and feeling like he could throw up. He can’t fathom how he did it, how he stood there before her and didn’t immediately pull her to him, or break down and ask her to forgive him for doing the only thing he knew to do.

“Drink this.” Seokjin slides a glass to him and Namjoon takes it without hesitation, taking a huge gulp and waiting for it to sting his sinuses. 

“This is water,” he states hoarsely, frowning at the glass.

“Cold water,” corrects Seokjin. “It’ll help clear your head.”

Namjoon takes another sip and places the glass down, dropping his head into his hands. “I can’t do this. How do I tell her I can’t do this? How do I ask her to -“ But he breaks off here, his mind swimming with the sight of her bare shoulders and exposed collarbones, imagining how they would feel if he held her.

“Okay.” Seokjin exhales through his nose and pauses. “Look, I have to ask. You’ve seen the state she is in. And you’re…” He struggles for a moment “...like this. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to ask her to get back -“

“No.” The answer is instant, although it’s partly a habit by now. As he does every time his mind tries to convince him otherwise, Namjoon forces the memory of her phone call to the forefront of his mind, the fear in her voice and  devastation on her face when he’d entered her apartment.

“But maybe this is -“

“No.” 

Seokjin is silent and Namjoon can tell that he doesn’t approve. Please don’t ask me again, hyung. He doesn’t know if he did the right thing by inviting her but he couldn’t imagine not doing it either, not being right here in her city, knowing she was so close that he could almost smell the coconut and vanilla in the air and still not see her in the flesh.

“If you’re sure,” says Seokjin at last. “If you are, then I guess you did well. Just… just be normal around her. Keep a normal distance, talk about normal things and…” He half-shrugs, sounding uncertain. “She’s smart. She’ll understand. If you’re sure you want to do this, then… she’ll get it.”

Normal. Namjoon knows what he means, but he wants to tell him that none of this is normal. Not touching her, not being honest with her, not being with her - none of it is normal. 

“She’s talking to Yoongi right now,” he adds, and Namjoon turns to see them near the stairs to the top floor. Kaya’s back is to him, her head lowered slightly and her thumbs hooked onto the back pockets of her jeans, the material hugging her hips and curving down her backside… He swallows and looks away.

“This is your chance,” says Seokjin. “Go and mingle. Let her see you moving on - even if you actually aren’t,” he clarifies quickly. “It won’t be pleasant but it might encourage her to do the same.”

Namjoon isn’t sure of the wisdom of this strategy but ever since the cause of his break-up had been revealed to the older members (and surely to Taehyung at least, by Dilara), he’d almost been relieved that he wouldn’t have to make every decision on his own.

He tries his best to navigate the party after that, making empty conversation with guests, using every bit of remaining energy and willpower to plaster a smile on his face. All the while, part of his attention is constantly on Kaya, registering her familiar figure alone at the bar as she nurses a beer, sometimes with Dilara. 

Be normal. Seokjin’s words start holding less and less meaning with every passing minute, especially when he spots Kaya having finished her drink and he’s struck with the sudden fear that she will leave the party. In an effort to be as normal as he can, Namjoon heads over to the bar where she’s scanning the life-size menu half-heartedly, arms folded across her chest.

“Like anything?” he asks humbly. Long Island Iced Tea or a Mai Tai - depends on the flavours. His heart jolts when she shoots him a doubtful look and doesn’t answer, almost as if she’s wary of talking to him. She leans over the bar and gives the bartender a smile that makes his heart drop, especially when he grins back.

“Komt de mai tai in mango?” she asks, half-pouting when he shakes his head. “Een biertje, alsjeblieft,” she says finally, taking her second beer and turning away from the bar.

Namjoon doesn’t remember ever feeling this distant from her. “I’m glad you came tonight,” he tries again, choosing to look at her even though she’s facing away.

Kaya nods, pursing her lips and looking ahead. “Yeah, you said that already.” But her voice trembles ever so slightly, or maybe he just knows her so well that he’s sure it’s not a case of her not wanting to look at him - she can’t look at him.

It’s all on him now. He started this; if there is any hope of them still staying in each other’s lives, it’s down to him to make it happen. 

“How’s your dissertation going?” he asks, hoping her work is a topic she might open up on.

She shrugs after a moment. “Off schedule,” she answers shortly. “A lot of variables hanging in the air.”

“Did you get into the research project you’d applied for?”

It’s momentary but it appears: the corner of her mouth tilts upwards. “Yeah,” she admits, finally looking at him, albeit hesitantly. “Guess I’ll have a lot more time to focus on it now,” she murmurs, the hint of a smile fading.

Namjoon’s heart sinks. She’s so angry with him; it’s palpable and not something he has ever been on the receiving end of. Her hand hangs by her side; his own itches to link his fingers with his, maybe tug her to him or lead her out of this stupid party where he can plead for her to just look at him.

“Well,” he says, then pauses. “I’m glad you could get the time off tonight. Must have been hard.”

“M-hm, not really.” She shakes her head. “Adam wanted to meet but I’ll probably catch up with him later,” she adds nonchalantly.

Namjoon nods, his hand tightening around his glass. He can’t tell if she’s trying to provoke him, for they do work closely; close enough that Adam’s intentions have always been a point of disagreement for them. He’d never been able to explain to her just how much he hated the way her advisor looked at her when she didn’t notice, how his hugs always lingered a moment too long or how he insisted on calling her late in the evenings to discuss work.

He’s distracted momentarily by Jungkook, who approaches them while bopping effortlessly to the music and stops in between them, turning to face in the same direction as Namjoon and Kaya. He’s definitely tipsy; the smile on his face is too big and he doesn’t seem to be reading the room at all.

“Dilara is a really good dancer, isn’t she?” he says loudly in English to no one in particular. Namjoon frowns and follows his gaze to see Dilara, Taehyung and Hoseok dancing, before turning back to look at Jungkook. On his other side, Kaya is also frowning at him, tilting her head curiously. Their eyes meet and she raises her eyebrows slightly.

Namjoon fights a smile as Kaya half-chuckles and looks away, his heart twisting with longing at how much he misses her. She looks so incredibly beautiful; his eyes sting when he realises that there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.

“I’m gonna -“ He gestures vaguely and walks away in the opposite direction, desperate to be anywhere but around her before his resolve breaks.

The next half hour is a flurry of faces; Namjoon distracts himself with every single individual at the party, making small talk and exchanging unfunny jokes and hyper aware of Kaya occasionally glancing at him.

He knows, because he’s watching her, too, doing his best to make sure she doesn’t see him looking. He can’t even help it; it’s almost muscle memory at this point.

“Who are you looking at?” The woman he’s talking to asks him point-blank.

Namjoon flushes, realising he’d been staring at Kaya over her shoulder while she’d been speaking.

“No one,” he answers quickly. “Sorry.”

The twenty-something woman frowns curiously. “Are you sure? I’m not offended.”

“It’s… nothing.” He shakes his head and looks at the floor. 

“Ex-girlfriend?”

Ex. Not trusting himself to speak, Namjoon nods. 

“Hm.” She hums, somewhat sympathetically. “Bad break-up?”

“Pretty bad.”

“I’m sorry,” she says after a moment. “It’s never easy to be around an ex if it hasn’t ended well.”

“Yeah, well,” he says, desperate to change the topic. “All part of the process, right?”

“Right,” she says encouragingly. “Plus, once you’re past this phase, the one where you constantly want to die, you can begin the drink and eat and hook up as much as you want stage with no judgement.”

He chuckles politely, the prospect sounding horrendous. “Thanks. Feels good to laugh for real.”

She smiles wider and, before he knows it, leans forward and presses a kiss against his lips.

It takes Namjoon a couple of seconds of pure shock before he jumps backwards. “Whoa. What -“ His heart races uncomfortably. “What was that?”

“Sorry,” she says slowly, looking a little confused. “I thought… you wanted to make your ex jealous. Isn’t that where you were going with this?”

“No,” he clarifies immediately. “No. Absolutely not. I don’t want to - no.” In the midst of his minor crisis, he notes how the woman looks almost mortified.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to -”

“It’s fine,” he cuts her off, suddenly feeling horribly guilty. He looks up out of habit and sees, unmistakably, Kaya leaving the restaurant, her long dark hair and the shimmery dark blue of her top disappearing out the door.

—

The night has gotten chillier in the last couple of hours and the cool wind hits her bare shoulders the moment she steps out, but Kaya barely feels it. She’s not thinking right now; thinking is what’s got them here, thinking about everything and overthinking to the point of fleeing a restaurant.

“Kaya!” 

Her feet increase their pace automatically the same time her stomach flips, but he’s taller and faster and he reaches her before she can even reach the elevator.

“Kaya,” he repeats hurriedly, reaching and grabbing her elbow. “Wait, please. I’m sorry -”

“Why did you even invite me here?” she asks, cutting him off and turning around to face him. She’s so tired; she didn’t think break-ups could be this exhausting. “You’ve barely said anything to me. Was it to show me in person how you’re moving on? Because if that’s the case, then… message received.”

Namjoon shakes his head immediately; he looks exhausted as well, and Kaya is once again struck by how much thinner he is, overcome with a mixture of empathy and frustration at him. 

“That was not - I didn’t plan that,” he says, sighing. “I don’t even know who she is. She kissed me and it wasn’t… come on, does it look like I’m moving on?” he asks, raising his arms helplessly.

Kaya stares at him and then sighs, shaking her head. “Why did you invite me here?” she asks again, less defensive this time.

“Because I wanted to see you,” he says at once.

She stares at him. “Well, you’ve seen me,” she says, sniffing. “Can I go now?”

“Kaya…”

“What?”

Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, looking lost for words. “Please don’t -“ He breaks off abruptly before taking a step closer to her, his height both large and comforting. “I don’t want you to be sad. I’m sorry.”

Too late. “You’re not supposed to care how I feel. Not anymore.”

He lets out a humourless chuckle. “What?”

“We’re over.” She can hear the tremble in her voice as she crosses her arms across her chest again. “You said it yourself. You’re not supposed to care how I feel.”

“Really?” He narrows his eyes at her. “You think this break-up had anything to do with how I feel about you? You know as I do that it didn’t.” When she doesn’t answer, he sighs. “I did this because I care.”

“If you say so.”

He pokes his tongue into his cheek. “Are you deliberately trying to provoke me or something?”

“Provoke you into what?” she blurts out. “What - what is that you want, exactly? What do you want us to do? Just circle around in each other’s orbits for the rest of our lives, while still being - while still feeling the way we do?” she asks, avoiding her almost-slip of tongue. “We’re just supposed to stay not be together and still stay in each other’s lives? What - what do you want?”

Namjoon opens his mouth but falls silent; it’s clear he hasn’t thought that far ahead - or he can’t say it out loud. “I want…” He begins, before pausing and starting again. “I want… you to be happy,” he says eventually. “And safe.” 

She scoffs and he bristles. 

“I’m serious. I -” He breaks off when someone exits the restaurant, his gaze following them until they’re out of sight before he turns back to her. “This is hard for me, too, you know? Why is it so hard for you to believe I might want you to be happy?”

Kaya exhales but doesn’t answer, because it isn’t hard to believe, not even a little bit. It’s unfortunately the most believable thing he’s ever said to her which means she can’t even fight it.

“How?” she asks finally. “By moving on, like you were pretending to do?”

Namjoon bites his lip and his eyes glaze over, and she knows he’s picturing it. His eyes fall to the floor but he nods slowly anyway. “Yeah, I guess. As long as I don’t have to watch it,” he adds in a mutter.

It’s really over. Kaya feels her eyes well up. “Fine,” she answers quietly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find someone to move on with tonight.” She turns to leave but feels him stop her again. “What?” she snarls.

“Kaya, I -” The lift opens and a handful of people tumble out, holding merchandise and talking loudly. Namjoon’s eyes widen and he immediately grabs her arms and walks her back into a corner, just as the group turns into their corridor and towards the restaurant.

“What are you -”

But the second lift opens just then and they hear the sound of a second group of voices. Namjoon swears under his breath and pushes open a door behind her, walking her back further into the tiny dark room and letting the door swing shut behind him.

“What is wrong with -“

“It’s press,” he hisses, and she falls silent.

He peers out into the corridor through the small window in the door; there’s no light except for the bit through the window and from a skylight in the ceiling. Kaya can smell something vaguely citric that she decides is floor cleaner; they are in a janitor’s closet.

She and Namjoon are frozen in place, his hands still on her arms and hers on his torso to keep from losing her balance. It’s been a long time since they’ve been this close; it takes Kaya a few seconds to realise that the voices outside have disappeared, but he still hasn’t moved away.

Almost as if he’s subconsciously heard her, his thumbs stroke her arm once. The simple touch makes all the anger crumble away for a moment, especially now that it’s just them with the rest of the world shut outside. Kaya hesitates for a moment, then gently rests her forehead on his shoulder. Namjoon stiffens but a moment later, she feels his fingers tighten above her elbows, followed by him loosely enveloping her in his arms.

It seems cruel, almost, that the target of her anger and source of her comfort lie in the same person. It isn’t even a hug; it’s a moment of weakness at best, borne from his almost subconscious need to protect her. For the first time, Kaya wonders if she’s being unfair to him.

Resisting the temptation to wrap her arms around his waist, she steps away from him with difficulty, her back touching the wall. His arms fall from around her reluctantly, his expression resigned. It’s dark but she can see him more clearly than she has all night.

“This is a terrible idea,” she murmurs, echoing her words from a month ago. “The worst you’ve ever had.”

Namjoon exhales shakily but doesn’t argue. “I meant everything I said in that note,” he says, not even trying to hide the tremble in his voice anymore. “And I really do want you to be happy.”

The note. The one he’d kept on her bedside table when he’d left her apartment while she slept, the only thing of his that was left when she’d awoken, naked and alone. She’d only had the strength to read it once before she’d broken down and tucked it deep into her drawer, knowing the words would be etched in her memory.

“You know what will make me happy,” she whispers, looking at the ground. She feels him come closer to her, one hand hovering by her side as though unable to decide if she’d want her to touch him. 

He finally rests it lightly on her waist, moving it slightly upward as she looks up at him, her heart twisting at how he’s unable to meet her eyes. She places her hands on his face, thinking vaguely how much she misses seeing his dimple.

“Joon,” she whispers, waiting for him to nod once. “Look at me.”

Namjoon visibly swallows, gaze still fallen. “Kaya, I…”

“No,” she interrupts him. “Look at me.”

With what seems like an enormous effort, he meets her eyes. This is hard for me too, you know? 

She knows. Kaya strokes his cheekbones with her thumbs, her touch feather-light. “Kiss me,” she whispers. She touches her forehead to his and closes her eyes, hoping he’ll give in, for she can’t go further than this. 

His hand tightens around her waist, pressing her into the wall. Their lips brush momentarily and he shivers.

“Do it,” she urges, her voice barely audible now. “Kiss me.”

She feels his lips before she even registers him moving against her and she leans into it, feeling like she can breathe for the first time in weeks. Come back to me, she thinks desperately. Come back to where you belong.

It’s like he can hear her. Namjoon pulls away, one hand on the wall beside her face for support, the other holding her.

“Fuck,” he whispers, and it sends a jolt of anticipation through her heart. “I love you, Kaya,” he adds, voice full of emotion. Kaya nods, unable to speak, wishing he would meet her eyes. He moves his hands to her face and touches his forehead to hers again, swallowing.

Look at me.

But he doesn’t. “But you have no idea,” he continues, every word sounding like it's costing him effort, “how I felt when you called me that night. The things that went through my mind…” He sniffs, and Kaya’s heart sinks. “I can’t let that happen again baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

She can feel her face start to contort and she drops her hands from his shoulders, for she knows this part by heart. “Goodbye, Namjoon,” she mutters thickly, sliding out from between him and the wall. She pushes open the door and hurries out, leaving him behind.

—

When she hears the knock on her front door the next morning, Kaya is just about to step into the shower. She freezes and sighs, for she really, really needs this shower. She considers ignoring it but the knock sounds again and she groans, abandoning the activity of tying up her hair and letting it fall loose instead. 

Grabbing the old, threadbare robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, she pulls it around herself and shuffles to the front door. She peers through the peephole and her heart stops for a moment, but she steels herself and opens the door.

Namjoon stands before her, hands in his pockets and shoulders slightly hunched. “Hey. I just wanted to - oh, God,” he switches abruptly, his expression changing from vaguely apologetic to shocked, and he slips inside the apartment.

“What?” Kaya asks, taken off guard and stumbling backwards.

“You really opened the door wearing that?” he hisses, shutting the door behind him. “I could’ve been anyone!”

“I knew it was you,” she argues, tightening the belt around her waist and realising, for the first time, how short the robe is. But she isn’t about to admit that to him, especially not when he’s turned up unannounced and decided to begin his visit by berating her. She folds her arms across her chest. “What do you want, Namjoon?”

He hesitates, almost as though he’s just noticing how displeased she is. “Sorry,” he mutters, looking a bit ashamed. “I didn’t mean to… anyway,” he says quickly, wringing his hands and slipping them back in his pockets. “How are you?”

Kaya shrugs suspiciously. He looks remarkably different from where she’d left him last night, almost breaking down and apologising to her. Right now, he seems almost… calm. She can almost imagine that last night had been a slip-up of emotion, possibly due to tiredness and an open bar, whereas in the light of day, he’s back to being the responsible ex who’s fulfilling his obligations by checking up on her each day.

“I’m great.”

He nods after a moment, clearly not believing her. “Well, I came here because…” He sighs and a glimmer of last night’s emotion appears on his face. “I thought about what you said last night. And you were right.”

The jolt in her stomach is almost painful, but Kaya hangs on. If he was talking about what she thinks he is, he would be delivering it far more differently.

“We can’t keep doing this. I can’t expect you to keep doing this,” he adds. “Staying in this limbo, not knowing…” He bites his lip and lowers his gaze, removing his hands from his pockets. “You have every right to move on. I want you to - to be happy.”

Kaya licks her lips slowly. “This,” she says coldly, “could’ve been a text.”

“I didn’t want to leave things the way they were last night,” he tells her, his voice softer. “You’re, uh…” His voice breaks off for a moment. “You’re the love of my life. And we were together for a long time and I… I loved every moment of it. I just want to say goodbye the right way.”

Her throat hurts holding back the rush of emotion that threatens to overwhelm her. 

“Are you sure?” She can’t resist asking, in a whisper. When he nods and lowers his eyes, she feels the heavy, heavy anchor of acceptance settle in her stomach. 

Namjoon hesitantly reaches out with one hand but when she gives him a look, he nods and steps forward, and they meet in their last hug, three and a half years after their first last hug in her apartment.

Kaya hugs him tight, no longer caring about hiding how she feels. There isn’t enough time to try and memorise everything so she doesn’t even try; she just goes higher on her toes and presses her nose into his shoulder, revelling in his scent one last time.

Namjoon doesn’t seem to be doing much better. He’s holding her tight, so tight that it doesn’t seem like he’s ever intending on letting her go. His face is in her hair and his arms stroke her back in small movements, his go-to movement to comfort her since they met.

Just a few more seconds. The sensations increase now; the feel of his shoulders, his chest touching hers - and she’s suddenly conscious of the thin robe being the only thing separating her naked body from him.

At the same time, his hands move to her waist - out of habit, she knows, but she can’t help but be extremely aware of it. His hand stops just above the curve of her hips, quickly and abruptly. 

Her mouth feels dry, but her legs press together. Then, as though he can read her mind and the direction her thoughts are invariably leading in, against her hip, she can feel his body react.

She lets out a soft gasp and feels his body stiffen around her. This is goodbye, a voice reminds her, urging her brain to focus on the matter at hand. But it’s slipping - fading, almost, as a physical urge struggles for dominance. 

Her lips brush his neck as she pulls away - she has to pull away - but it doesn’t matter in the end because somewhere along the way his lips find hers and all thought disappears, replaced by touch, feel and hunger.

Namjoon sighs into her mouth like he’s breathing for the first time, pulling her close. Her robe starts to loosen and he tugs at the belt, groaning when his hands touch her bare skin.

“Fuck, are you really not wearing anything under this?” he murmurs, his voice so low and reverberating so deep inside her that she shivers.

The robe is off; it’s cool and sudden air, a moment where his hands fall from her waist and then their back but this time, it’s skin against skin. It’s lips and sighs and tight grips, the feel of denim, her fingers moving out of habit as they unbutton and unzip - and then there’s pride and relief when she feels his desire for her, still the same as ever, no matter his words.

There’s something solid against her back; somewhere, dimly, her mind registers that her dining table is rickety and has her laptop on it, and then she’s leaning forward and he’s behind her and his chest is against her back and he wants her just as much as he wants him.

“Are you -“

“I’m still on birth control,” she confirms tightly, the next moment feeling his fingers on her hips and then he’s inside her again, after so long. She could almost sob at how good it feels, how right, the lips on her shoulder and his scent and touch.

But it’s over too soon. She gasps and falls forward, her ears ringing and heart hurting at the same time as her heart races. He’s getting close, too; she tries to memorise it now, the exact moment, but then he pulls out. It’s sudden, the emptiness, but the next moment, she feels wetness on her back.

It takes around ten seconds, ten seconds when she’s frozen before she finally hears him sigh and take a step away. A moment later, she reaches across the table and pulls the tissue box towards her, reaching behind and wiping her back.

Kaya turns slightly to see him pulling on his T-shirt, jeans buttoned already. She picks up her robe and pulls it on hurriedly, suddenly not wanting to be naked for even another microsecond in front of him.

Something feels wrong. It’s not the first time he’s finished on her; he’s done it before, on explicit request and without, none of which ever made her feel… like this. Self-conscious. Bare.

Namjoon clears his throat. “I -“ He meets her eyes, still panting slightly. “I still want to… do this right,” he says, sounding almost formal. “Goodbye, Kaya.” 

He starts to take a step forward but pauses. “Maybe we shouldn’t hug,” he murmurs, offering her a small smile. Kaya watches as he hesitantly offers her a hand.

This is goodbye. Kaya can’t remember ever feeling this uncomfortable around him. The momentary loss of her sense of reason feels like it’s returned in full form, and she tightens the robe around her. She starts to reach for his hand but then stops.

“This is what you meant?” she asks quietly. “When you said you wanted to do it the right way? You wanted to see if you could squeeze in one last fuck before you closed this out like a business meeting?”

“What?” Namjoon’s eyes widen. “No! I didn’t - I didn’t want that to happen! I mean - you know that’s not what I meant,” he adds quickly. “I didn’t plan this. You and I both -“

“You planned our break-up and I had no idea,” she cuts him off, the shame and embarrassment creeping up her throat. “I really don’t know anymore.”

He scoffs, but his eyes flicker like he’s been stung. “Is that what you think of me? We were both here, Kaya. It wasn’t just me - you wanted this just as much as I -“

“I slept with Adam.” 

Namjoon freezes. He swallows and his eyes flicker again, rapidly this time. “You’re lying,” he whispers.

Kaya shrugs, holding his gaze with every last bit of willpower in her. “You were the one who told me to move on last night,” she reminds him, watching his expression crumble and doing nothing to stop it.

After what feels like several minutes, or maybe even hours, Namjoon nods slowly. Then, without another word, he turns around and opens the door, walking out of her life and shutting the door behind him.

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

[emptyeyesm]

I wrote this fanfiction yesterday, when the idea popped in my head. At first, I just wanted to create another uncorrect quote, but I wrote way too much for it to just be a joke.

So, I present you "Sad angel" and I apologize right now for the english. It's not my first language and I know it won't be perfect. Anyway, hope you still have fun reading it !

Have a good day sweetheart ❤

--

Crowley likes to spend evenings in Aziraphale's sofa. He would spend more time in this spot, inhaling the reassuring scent and memorising the wooden patterns on the ceiling than at his own house.

But this evening, something was different. Something was off, wrong, really bad even. He didn't like the taste of the air. He hated the look on his angel's face and the invisible twitch in his wings.

Crowley : Aziraphale.

Aziraphale : Yes, dear?

Crowley : Are you... feeling sad?

Aziraphale : A little bit- wait. How did you know?

Crowley : Intuition. Let's do something to change your mood.

Aziraphale, incertain : What are you thinking about?

Crowley : Trust me. I'm planning that for a while.

Crowley got out of the bookshop, on his way to the Bentley, but he came back in.

Crowley : Ah. Follow me.

~Later, in the street~

Aziraphale : What are we doing here?

Crowley didn't answer and put a cardboard in his hands. Then, with a not so rare softness on this specific demon behalf, he placed his hands on Aziraphale's shoulders.

Crowley : Hold this and shower people who show up with compliments and confort words. I'm sure you will do great.

Aziraphale : I must admit I'm kind of confused by your behavior.

Crowley still had his glasses on, but Aziraphale could feel his intense stare on his face. As he waited for a sign, Crowley gave away a soft smile, the kind of smile able to make the angel melt inside.

Crowley : Everything will become clear once you read the sign.

Aziraphale lowered his eyes and read "Free hugs" on the cardboard. He raised his head again with the biggest smile on his lips.

Aziraphale : So, are you my first costumer?

Crowley : What? No, no, I mean... I could be, but it wasn't part of the plan.

Aziraphale : I want you to be my first.

It was Crowley's turn to lower his head. Without a word, he took the last step that separated him from the bookseller and filled the hole in Aziraphale's neck with his head.

Quickly, he felt two arms surrounding his thin body and the demon could have swear he never felt his human heart beat so fast. Crowley shortened the embrace, embarrassed but happier than ever, even though he would never admit it.

Crowley : You already have success.

Aziraphale : All thanks to you.

Crowley gave away that soft smile again and Aziraphale dazedly wondered if he kept it all the time they hugged. At this moment, he felt stupid to be jealous that he didn't get it to see it if that was the case.

Crowley : Anyway, I should move so people can see the panel. I will stay the whole time by your side, don't worry. Unless you prefer that I leave...?

Aziraphale : I would never wish for you not to be around.

Crowley : Obviously, you would miss me real fast.

Aziraphale : Exactly, my dear.

Crowley was just half-joking half-flirting, like he is used to. He surely didn't expect Aziraphale to answer anything to it. He quickly passed by his side and commonly posed on the wall behind, hoping to hide his trouble. Aziraphale didn't add anything, but would have voluntarily admit he took pride in the way he responded.

Crowley's idea soon became an attraction in London. Everyone wanted a gentle hug from the blond guy who looked so happy to open his arms to every person in the world. Everyone wanted to hear one of his kind words that can fix any broken heart.

No need to say Aziraphale sometimes used a miracle or two when he could help a precious human being.

The whole thing gained its populary thanks to an anymous tweet in which the author claimed he had the best hug he could have ever wished for in his entire life. In the comments, other "costumers" claimed they never read anything truer than that.

Some of them explained how the man was so attentive and thoughtful : "I told him things I never said to anyone, he listened the whole thing and empathized to all of it as if it was his own story. I never felt so seen before"; "I told him I was trans and explained how my family rejected me. His first reaction was to tell me there was enough place for anyone in his arms, heart and family. He told me I was invited in his workplace anytime. I will absolutely visit him soon."

The massive and genuine love he received made many perplexed, and the haters comments were magically erased right away...

Crowley hates to share, but he knew this idea he stole on the Internet would make both Aziraphale and the humans he cherishes happy. So, he bore the weight of his half-regrets... at the beginning.

After some time, the customers began to realize they knew each other. It was easy to guess by the way each time Aziraphale hugged someone, he turned around towards that slick-looking ginger guy with a grateful gaze.

Surprisingly, many people asked him for a hug as well when they weren't scared he might be a killer at night. Aziraphale would secretly thanked all of them for not lefting him out.

Everyone assumed they were a married couple and fully accepted it from the start. That's why in the comments, we could also read : "He is the nicer person I've ever met. I wish him the best and I'm glad he found the love of his life" or "I can't believe I was scared of his goth husband ! Mr.Fell told me he was the one who came up with the idea!".

These kind of comments were always liked by the anonymous author.

By the end of the day, there were so many people still wanting to meet him up that he promised to come back the day after. With a lightened heart, Aziraphale hopped in the car. At this moment, he completely forgot how bad of a driver his "husband" was. Crowley sat as well, held the steering wheel, but didn't start the engine right away. In a whisper, he asked Aziraphale if he was still sad. Even though the angel could have said "no" immediately, he took his time to think a bit.

Aziraphale : The sadness I was feeling is nothing compared to my actual happiness. I was sad because I felt like maybe, I could have been a better angel. Today, I felt good but not in an ethereal way. In a human way. I think it's even better.

Crowley : I was scared you might get overwhelmed by so many people.

Aziraphale : I was anxious at my first clients, but when I realized they all just needed that and were enjoying it, I could have hold them all day long ! I made friends today, and you did too.

Crowley : I don't need friends. I just need you, happy and healthy.

Aziraphale pretended he didn't hear that second part.

Aziraphale : I spent years thinking that. Now I realized we all do, and none of today's events would have happened without you ! You should be proud.

Crowley : I'm proud, but not for that reason.

Aziraphale : For what then?

Crowley smirked with a teasing look.

Crowley : I got you out of your comfort zone for an entire evening, and it wasn't because of the apocalypse.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and finally realized where he was.

Aziraphale : You better drive us safe to the bookshop.

Crowley : Safety is your middle name, not mine.

Aziraphale : We don't have mid-

Before he could finish his sentence, Crowley had began to drive way over the speed limits.

On the way back home, the demon was thinking about either or not he should show him the tweet. After all, even though Aziraphale knows nothing about technology, he is not stupid enough to not realize who is behind it..., right?

[timextoxhajima]

The Boyz as things and feelings (just cause)

this is a small thing @haechanhues​ needed help with so i decided to make it an actual post uwu [this is gonna be pretty long cause i might write little scenarios]

[THE BOYZ AS THINGS AND FEELINGS]

SANGYEON - MIRRORS AND PILLOWS

mirrors make a place look bigger than it really is - i feel like sangyeon has that ability to make you feel like you’re more important on your worst days

the things he’ll do just to make sure you’re alright, even when he knows you’re not

he also has the ability to reflect what you need: sad? he’ll come and hug you and let you cry or talk about your shitty day. happy? he’ll joke about the way you snort while laughing then he’d probably do something dumb to keep the energy up there

mirrors also feel very private and at-home, and that exactly how i feel he curates an environment

pillows are self-explanatory ig, smth to cry into, smth to fall asleep with while hugging, has the best homely scents ever, very comfortable

i imagine going home after a long day and finding your partner also tired, but he’s cooking or like in the couch watching tv and he just invites you into his arms uwu

“tell me about everything! whatever that makes you happy or sad and i’ll try my best to be who you need at that point of time!”

JACOB - FLOWERS AND MUSIC

ok like jacob with a guitar is just a stellar sight to behold, he looks like he was born to hold one, and his vocals are super underrated imo, most of tbz’s discography doesnt really suit his voice - i really wish he had a chance to have more lines in more ballads or maybe even a solo thing

he would drag you out to go on walks after he knows you’ve buried yourself in your work the whole day, and he’d be the kind to stop at a pretty flower and contemplate plucking it but he wouldn’t cause he’s a fairy and wouldn’t hurt a fly, much less a pretty flower

would probably play a piece in the background while you’re stressed w work and hum a tune so the singing wouldn’t distract you

would stop when he notices you stopped working and your sad ass is probably crying lmao

he’s a very soft and gentle man imo

he’s the innocent daisy amidst other bright colored, flamboyant flowers but he still stands out

“i’ll grow you a rose bush in the yard so i don’t have to be sad about plucking flowers next time.”

YOUNGHOON - WINTER COATS AND COFFEE AND PASTRIES

he definitely radiates tsundere vibes on first sight, but when you get to know him, he’s obviously the opposite: a crybaby

but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t keep up his model-like appearances when he’s outside - in fact, he’d be the one to influence you into caring more about how you look (of course not materialistically, but more into actually caring about making yourself feel good with your fashion and appearance)

i chose winter coats as a symbol of coverage - he doesn’t show much of himself unless he’s close to you (like when you wear winter coats to keep warm, he’s a burrito because he doesn’t bother too much about sharing his feelings), but when he does, it feels like he has the ability to keep you warm and comfortable, even on the coldest days, even if his inner savage comes out

it’ll be like he scooped you into his coat and has you warm in one of this inner breast pockets

i see him as the kind to get regular coffee and like, a tart or something, at a cafe. it adds on to the warmth, when he remembers what you like. the details. maybe you like your coffee with cinnamon or less sugar or something, but then he tops it up with a muffin and he knows you like it heated up so he specifically asks for them to do so

ok but he’s defo the kind of guy that catches people’s attention at public spaces so every now and then when he’s laughing or smiling, some girl would gawk at him and he would be embarrassed about it, but lucky for you, you’re already wearing matching coats so they know the man’s taken uwu

“if only they knew how long it took to convince you to wear that coat.”

HYUNJAE - CONCERTS AND CONVENIENCE STORE DATES

classy but calm. dream-like but realistic. 

i say concerts as in the instrumental, ballad kinds. he loves it and he knows you probably need the sleep where you have that kind of background white noise/music that provides you the best quality of sleep there is. but when you’re not dosing off, he’s admiring how much time you’re willing to invest into being at something he loves

of course, in turn, he doesn’t complain much when you’re hungry and you meet him down the street at the nearest convenience store for some instant noodles and potato chips with a coke and he lets you ramble about your day 

he would probably buy you an ice cream just so you’d feel better, then regret it when you get a stomachache later cause it was like 2am in the morning

you probably have like 5 of his hoodies at home that you refuse to wash cause his scent is tainted all over it and the only time he gets to take them home is when he stays over or visits and he sneaks one into his bag when you’re in the kitchen making tea or a bowl of noodles

then you’ll get it back without even knowing it was gone

the kind that would probably surprise you after a day of work with a casual date idea to the movies, and i mean showing up at your place, impromptu, after he knows you’re home with two tickets 

“act like my girlfriend for once and go on a date with me, would you? your work isn’t going to be there with you when you die at 90.”

JUYEON - STARGAZING AND VR GAMES

as dumb and sometimes bimbotic as he seems he is, he’s gotten most of the visible constellations memorised and he would not hesitate from telling you all about his childhood with his family when they would travel and try to spot every single constellation they can remember

which brings me to the point where he remembers what you like, but... backhandedly. he doesn’t remember what you like but he remembers what you hate instead, so you don’t ever have to worry about getting that licorice flavoured jelly bean

he would offer a midnight walk to help you relieve your stress, cause he knows you just like seeing the nightsky amidst the peace and quiet while he rambles on for his own satisfaction. not everything has to be so emotionally attached and shared. you can share blissful moments without being the reason for each other’s and that’s totally fine.

juyeon is kind of a scaredy cat in the sense that he isn’t really into horror movies or games but he’s always had that dream to become a pilot and so for his birthday, you brought him to a vr game arcade where he played some plane simulator and ever since, you’ve been taking turns to surprise each other with a new vr arcade spot or adding on to the vr game console set you have at home

“maybe i should digitalise you so i can see you in the vr game”

KEVIN - KARAOKE SESSIONS AND NEON LIGHTS

the best-friend kind of partner you would come across once in a lifetime

a billion film shots of you after he drags you to the karaoke and he beats you at super intense songs like the bohemian rhapsody just cause he can hit those high notes and solely because he was screaming on the floor when he did it

almost left his film camera behind 

absolutely LOVES those walks along streets where there are a million neon lights

would come across that one sus neon light signs that indicate a sex toy store and he would give you that sly smile and probably joke for you to go in 

kevin has a moon neon light in his room and you have a star or something (whatever you want)

corrects your grammar and pronunciation, only for you two to bicker about it even more when you use google translation and there are different pronunciations depending on where/what accent you’re using

he really is your light in the dark, even if he’s known to be introverted. once he’s comfortable enough with you, he makes you feel like the most important person in the world

has one of those portable speaker microphones at home and he drones on and on and on with some billie eilish song until you hurl a pillow at him

“so you’re the tough girl, like it really rough girl, justcan’tgetenoughofkevingirl, chest always so puffed girl”

CHANHEE - DUETS AND STRAWBERRY PICKING

(i could not find a more candid, softer aesthetic pic for chanhee rip)

his entire wardrobe fits you - the only problem is that he’ll never let you wear it in fear that you’d stain or tear something

shared playlists because that’s how similar your taste in music is, and so sometimes when you have your earpiece in and you’re humming the melody of that song, chanhee picks it up immediately despite not hearing that song, and ends up harmonising with you

got kicked out of the library once or twice because it was exam period and the two of you won’t shut up

ironically doesn’t sing that much if you’re not around

chanhee is a true blue introvert - which is a miracle that you’ve managed to tear through that barrier of his and find out that he giggles at every stupid thing you do: he’s having a bad day? trip over the pavement. he’ll laugh. it works

dragging him out to go strawberry picking was so difficult - but of course chanhee isn’t safe from how beautiful and enticing the fresh fruits were.

didn’t touch anything strawberry flavoured OR any strawberries for the next month or so

his straightforwardness comes with the breakdown of his barrier - but that’s what brings you comfort. he will never lie, he will only be sarcastic and even then, you’d know it’s true

i used duets as a symbol of harmony and being in-sync, though never really exactly the same, and that’s how it is with chanhee. your thoughts are very similar even though he’s much more introverted than you, but that’s what binds you 

“i’m gonna tell the librarian i don’t know you if we get kicked out again.”

CHANGMIN - CITY TOURS AND MATCHING OUTFITS

city tours - the kind that you already know inside out and yet you STILL travel the area as if you were a tourist 

that’s exactly how it is with changmin: you know him inside out, after being friends for so long, but it never gets old

you’re used to him biting your hand out of nowhere and yet it startles you all the time. that stupid chucky doll in his living room? old, but it never fails to scare you

he doesn’t ever talk about it that much, but he loves it when you co-ordinate outfits

no, it doesn’t mean you wear couple tees, but it’s aesthetically pleasing to changmin that if he wears cool tones, you would too

he’d be reserved about his thoughts and feelings sometimes but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think or feel them

there’s a strange sense of familiarity with changmin, because you kind of know what to expect but then you’re never disappointed, you know?

“i got you this white pigeon cause it looks like the one i already got... you can give it back to me if you don’t like it though-” /he takes it before you can accept it/

HAKNYEON - STAND UP COMEDY SHOWS AND RUNNING ALONG THE BEACH

there’s something about ju that makes it very casual and easy-going

he hates horror genred themes so fuck that, he would queue online just for the latest ali wong comedy show, even if it’s an online show, and he would laugh until he cried

sometimes he’s a drama queen but that makes it alot easier for you to know what he’s thinking or feeling - it makes communication alot easier

that means a lack of arguments

he’s also very empathetic but straightforward, exactly like how comedy shows are - because they are relatable, they are funny because they bring out the irony and sarcasm and all the dumb things in life that people are sometimes afraid of talking about and hak just says whatever he wants to say, even if he knows it might be hurtful or upsetting

he prioritises truth and honesty over anything else

it makes you a better person, honestly

beach walks - very calming, very liberating. he lets you yell and scream and kick sand back into the water because you can, and he does it with you

tries to teach you how to skip rocks but you suck and you can’t so he just pulls you away from the pile of rocks you amassed

“flick your wrist like that, not like you’re meowing!”

SUNWOO - SOCCER FRIENDLIES AND STUDIO SESSIONS

he will NOT go easy on you in a friendly match: you might be one of the fastest players of the female team but he’s ruthless in his ball-stealing, so even if you were fast enough to keep the ball out of his reach, he’d still be able to snatch it right out between your feet

very, very competitive and does not like to lose

you would always play the ‘ladies first’ card but then he’d throw the ‘feminism’ card back at you 

sometimes you act more like siblings than anything else 

the only time when he isn’t fuming with competition is if you’re injured because he accidentally tackled you - he’ll gracefully give himself a yellow card before absolutely trashing you in the next match

has one foot into the production game recently - likes to play with the beat board and mixing tunes, and since you’ve had your hand in doing music remixes for a deejay job before, you’re there to identify which songs have the same bass line or beat counts for easier mixing

would make you a playlist of remixes but wouldn’t admit that he spent a whole day in the studio without you just so it would be a surprise

a soft boy stuck in the wraps of an egoistic man

“a day? please. i illegally downloaded half these remixes off the internet cause i’d think you’re too internet-dumb to find them.”

ERIC - BAKING AND SKATEBOARDING

full of impromptu, casual ideas to hang out 

baking is a fucking mess - why did he suggest it when he doesn’t even have the right ingredients?

wanted to replace eggs with water - like ok thats supposedly healthier, but why????????????

he likes cleaning so that was the only fucking bonus in baking - had to call his mom for help halfway through because the cookies looked more like goop than playdough

gave up in the end and he repaid his debt by helping clean your kitchen

tried to teach you how to skateboard, but he ended up falling off his own in the process and now he’s got a grazed knee 

the kind of person you’d have so much chaotic fun with, he’s that friend your mom told you to NOT hang out with that much if not you’d get run down by a car 

has the most fucking random pieces of clothing in his wardrobe, like where did he even get that pink coat from?

“no you have to do this and like lift up your leg and then kinda rest your weight on it before flicking your ankle and like- whOA- OH OW OHNO OHOHOH OW”

[heaven-in-a-wild-flower]

Crows Headcanon: In Lockdown

Read this and more Crows headcanons on ao3 using this link

Chapter 1 (the chapters aren't related and do not continue the story, each can be read separately)

Kaz

Kaz yearns to vanquish the last of his enemies, to admire the bright red of their blood. He feels an ache in him that can only be sated by the sight of beautiful stolen kruge. He fantasises of the glorious feeling of having bested another. He shivers with desire when he thinks of all the fear he could be eliciting in people.

In other words, he's bored. What is a crime lord to do if no crimes can be done? (There is the option of ignoring lockdown and venturing out, but he's not stupid enough to risk getting a virus). He wakes up each morning and trudges to the rooftop because he wants to get some fresh air and some quiet (not because that seems to be Inej's favourite spot). He stays there for an hour or so, memorising various details of the city below (not Inej's smile. She loves sunsets and smiles softly at them). He's always incredibly calm after this exercise. It must be because of all the fresh air.

Then he has to go down and deal with the rest of his Crows, some of whom cannot stop talking at him (Jesper, of course). They all eat breakfast together at the table and chatter all through it. He misses being able to scare people away with just a glance and regale them with their secrets, just to watch them quake. The Crows giggle, how dare they, when he tries it on them. They aren't scared of him anymore and he hates it (loves it).

He then locks himself in his room and spends many hours plotting all the schemes he'll enact after the lockdown is lifted. Oh, the people of Ketterdam won't know what hit them. Someone keeps knocking and leaving food outside so eats that for lunch. He hasn't yet figured out who it might be. They're always gone no matter how fast he goes for the door. But no matter, he'll figure it out, he is Kaz Brekker after all, secrets bow to him.

In the evening they all sit down for a round of cards (sometimes even he falls prey to Jesper's charm). Kaz simultaneously trains them.

"What's the easiest way to temporarily blind someone?" he asks (This is more for personal entertainment than true training because he loves to rile Matthias up).

"Dirt in their face?" Inej asks.

"Bright light to the eye?" Jesper says.

"Tighten a blood vessel?" Nina suggests.

"Spit in their eyes?" Wylan adds. (Kaz will never say it, but he is so proud)

"You're all horrible," Matthias responds predictably, yet everyone hears him mutter, "Smoke bomb is best."

He goes to bed somewhat relaxed, an effect of not having to worry about being attacked in your sleep (or robbed, for that matter).

He'll never admit it to anyone, not even if you threaten to rob all his kruge but, maybe this lockdown situation with all his Crows is tolerable.

Inej

Inej misses the freedom. The freedom of being able to climb and slide and jump her way through any part of the city. Being trapped inside due to the lockdown causes a bit of anxiety in her. It does help to at least be able to see the entire city spread out before her like her very own feast and so she'll spend most of her morning on the roof, bottling up the feeling to last her through the day. She loves the sunset, but every time Kaz joins her at the roof, sneaking what he thinks are subtle glances at her, she can't stop smiling (a small gentle smile, but a smile nonetheless).

In the afternoon she, Nina and Jesper will try to cook. She laughs the most with them, her stomach aching in the best way afterwards. She loves them and endures their high energy goofy selves with equal parts fondness and amusement. The food isn't always the best, but the company is so good that she forgets the taste of it (most of the time, sometimes she has to yell at Jesper not to keep burning the food just to finish a good joke).

In the evenings, she'll sometimes practice some of her acrobatics wherever she can. She secretly gets thrilled by slightly scaring Jesper whenever he walks into a room and suddenly finds her dangling from somewhere. Sometimes when she feels anxious and desperately needs to be calmed, she'll ask Wylan to play his flute and fall asleep curled up wherever she is (Jesper loves taking pictures of her asleep in weird places and Kaz makes sure she always has a blanket on her but only when no one is looking).

Some nights she'll make some of her comfort food and Kaz will lean against the counter, claiming that he's helping (his presence helps her, always, even though he does not do any of the cooking). His absolute silence calms her, it feels both comforting and understanding and she loves the weight of his gaze on her, anchoring her. And every time she asks him to hand her something, their fingers brush and warmth bursts through her body. She loves these quiet nights they have, the way they are both magnetic to the other. She'll smile at him and he'll freeze and he'll move a bit closer to her and she'll tingle with awareness.

Jesper

Jesper, as we know, is a raging extrovert. He’s almost dying staying inside all day. He wakes up in the morning and gets dragged back in by Wylan who won't let him leave before he gives him a good cuddle in the morning. He indulges him, of course. He loves it. He didn't know that being wanted, being loved could feel like this. When he's eventually awake, he'll go chat up Matthias who also gets up pretty early to do his workout (although chat at is more accurate, considering that Matthias barely responds). He has taken to calling Matthias 'Matty' and Matthias loathes it (which means that Jesper does it all the time, of course).

Later, after Nina, Jesper and Inej manage to make lunch, he takes some up to Kaz. He leaves it outside his room and once he's in another room, he pushes any small metal object towards the door to make the knocks (because what use is it being Grisha if you don't use it for friendly pranks?). He hangs out with Nina in the afternoons sometimes and they discuss their favourite shows and characters. Those two will go on for hours without realising it and sometimes they won't even realise that they're being very loud (because that's what passionate fangirling/fanboying is like). As the fashion icons of the group, they also often do online shopping together. Sometimes he'll go from room to room (excluding Kaz's, not because it's locked but because it's, well, Kaz's) talking to everyone and trying to join whatever they're doing and he'll end up annoying everyone in one fell swoop, earning many comments along the lines of, "Wylan, what do you see in him?" Wylan would stroke his chin in thought and respond, "Hmm, you know what, now that you bring it up..." After this, Jesper will attack him with kisses all over his face and giggling, Wylan will forget whatever he was about to say.

Evenings are his favourite though, card time! The Crows refuse to bet kruge because they don't want to fuel his gambling addiction so they'll bet on random things. Losing one of the bets, Jesper had to take shots of Tabasco sauce alternating with shots of milk while singing Hot N Cold by Katy Perry (this was a Wylan dare, he is terrifyingly good at setting dares). The best one was when Kaz lost and had to dance to Watch Me (Whip/Nae Nae) by Silentó while following the exact dance steps (this was a Nina dare. She was laughing so hard tears were rolling down her cheeks. Jesper tried to record it, but Kaz knocked the phone out of his hands using his cane.)

In the nights, Jesper watches Wylan write some of his own songs (a hobby he has picked up recently). He simply can't look away, Wylan's face scrunched up in concentration is too captivating.

"Stop staring," Wylan will complain sometimes, blushing and blushing, "I can't focus!"

Jesper will brush his hand through his curls, kiss his head and respond, "I can't help it, maybe I just like your stupid face."

"I'll dare you to do something truly horrifying tomorrow," Wylan threatens with the sweetest smile on his face and Jesper immediately backs off. He loves this side of Wylan, the side only the Crows get to see. The side who isn't quiet and innocent, who isn't afraid to speak his mind, to assert his place. He gives him one long kiss on the lips, leaving both of them just a little bit dazed and goes to sleep. He falls asleep immediately, all his energy drained and the pillow smelling wonderfully like Wylan.

Wylan

Wylan loves waking up with his boyfriend right next to him, even if he grumbles and refuses to get off the bed as early as Jesper does. His laziness certainly pays off, he gets breakfast in bed so many times! When he does wake up, he'll be groggy for the entirety of the morning (Jesper calls him 'Zombie Boy' in the mornings and if he were more awake, Wylan would probably object to this, but since he isn't, he just grumbles and focuses on not falling face first into his food). He only truly wakes up at lunchtime. He loves making little desserts to surprise the Crows. All their pleased reactions make him blush and grin at once.

He sometimes pulls Jesper onto the couch with him to watch a movie (because he loves spending time with him, not because the rest of the Crows have been begging him to distract Jesper, okay, maybe both are true). Shockingly, Jesper does not like action movies, Wylan found this out the hard way when he put on an action movie the first time and Jesper fell asleep not even halfway through it. Jesper actually likes... romcoms. Wylan loves how Jesper cries and laughs simultaneously, clutching Wylan's shirt and burying his face in it during the sad parts and jerking back up to laugh at the jokes or repeat the dialogues with the characters. Wylan loves being needed like this. He never knew he'd enjoy giving comfort as much as he loves receiving it.

Sometimes it scares him how much he loves the Crows. He hasn't ever known family that didn't hurt him, that liked him as is, no modifications needed. To help deal with this deluge of feelings without getting overwhelmed, he writes music. He pours all of his feelings into his flute and when they come out of it, they are sweet and painful, loud and whispery, sharp and smooth. He doesn't think all the Crows understand this but, it is enough to see a passing smile when they hear it and it is enough for him to get those feelings out there. And the peace he gives Inej when she falls asleep to his music makes him think she understands (she does).

He enjoys torturing the others during card time in the evenings (he absolutely preens when he sees Kaz's approving nod). He'll never tell anyone, but he finds some of his most outrageous dares on Reddit (Kaz knows this, and is even prouder of him at the deception).

He also sometimes lets Nina style his hair. She enjoys it and he does too. He loves the feeling of her hands moving gently through his curls. Closing his eyes, he allows himself to imagine that it's his mother. If he shudders or lets loose a few tears, he pretends it was the cold or the pain from having his hair tugged at. Nina lets him pretend, she understands wanting maternal affection, she's an orphan herself. She thinks having it and then having it taken away due to situations like these is harder than never having had it at all.

He goes to sleep slowly, curling up like a cat and watching Jesper's face in the restfulness of sleep. Oh, how lucky he is.

Nina

Nina has mixed feelings about the lockdown because she's an ambivert. She misses meeting people, but is also really happy and comfortable just staying in and hanging out with the other Crows.

She wakes up in the morning, not too early and not too late, but obviously later than Matthias because who even wakes up that early? Anyway, she stretches and lounges in bed for a while, enjoying the warmth. When she wakes up, Matthias is usually about to go for a shower (so he's sweaty, very very sweaty). He tries to hug her, but she dodges. "No, no! Take a shower first!" He grins and grabs her again (Is this really what all his Fierdan training is meant for? He thinks so, yes). Even though she doesn't quite enjoy the feeling of sweat-slicked arms around her, she loves this side of Matthias. This playful, childish side that only she gets to see. Every time it pops up, she feels proud, honoured even that he trusts her enough to be himself with her. It makes her heart warm.

After all the breakfast shenanigans, she goes into a room and picks up her knitting supplies. She's picked up this hobby in the lockdown to kill time, but now she's actually quite enjoying it. She makes socks and scarfs and sweaters and beanies, all with bright colours and cosily mismatched. She then gifts it to the others. She knows that they don't like it and that is why she pretends that they are genuine gifts. They wear it and she loves how they look it in. It makes her crack up so many times (she also loves them for it).

Wylan lands up with a pink and yellow coloured beanie that is about two times too big for his head. It keeps falling into his eyes and making him look like a little poisonous mushroom. Jesper gets a giant rainbow scarf that he loves. He wears it all the time and makes sure to hit as many people with the ends of it as he rewraps it around his neck over and over again. Inej gets a bright blue sweater with green and orange polka dots that she drowns in. Nina knows that Inej likes the way it covers her hands and keeps them warm. Kaz gets purple and black striped socks that he claims he never wears, yet she sometimes sees them in the wash. Matthias is so aggressively supportive of her that he wears all her creations at once, a beanie, a sweater, two scarves and a pair of socks. He's like a human furnace and she loves to cuddle him in them (she also suspects that he loves this too and this is the real reason he does it, but she, of course, doesn't mind).

She loves using her dares in the evening to embarrass Kaz because that is her true purpose in life, she is simply superb at it. And the glares she gets in return fuel her very soul (and if it makes Inej smile, then that's just an extra benefit).

She sometimes has girl-time with Inej, where they paint each other's nails and talk about Kaz or sometimes they talk about nothing at all. They play music and simply enjoy each other's company.

She and Matthias go to bed cuddling, his warmth wrapped all around her, or her warmth enveloping him. She didn't know a pair of arms could feel this wonderful, but she knows that it wouldn't work with just any pair of arms. Only his, always his.

Matthias

Matthias enjoys the lockdown time. He likes all the extra time, which he fills up with all sorts of activities he's always wanted to try. He also feels anxious if he's being unproductive so it's a win-win. He wakes up early. The waking up part is easier than leaving the circle of Nina's arms, but he manages somehow. He works out, ignoring Jesper and that accursed name (Matty).

Later, he moves on to his current hobby, woodworking. He's working on an extra cupboard so that Nina has space for all her clothes (she keeps buying more because she's bored and online shopping kills time, but Matthias blames it entirely on Jesper). Everybody is a bit jealous of how productive he is during the lockdown, but they also love it because of the gifts they get from it.

Matthias made Kaz a new cane with more modifications and a better grip and took Nina's help to make sure that it matched his "aesthetic" (he's still a bit unsure what that means, but by the way Kaz's eyes widened, he knows Kaz liked it, so that's enough for him). He made Inej some new scabbards and the way she held his gaze and thanked him for it sincerely touched him (this is why Inej gets the most gifts, comparable only to how many Nina gets). Wylan got a dartboard with Jan Van Eck's face on it that he loves (It was supposed to be a bit of a joke gift, but Wylan is now a master of darts and enjoys it quite a bit, so there's that). Jesper got a holster that Nina insisted on bedazzling and when they gave it to him, his whole body stilled and tears filled his eyes. He leapt at them which Matthias nearly took for an attack before he hugged them (Matthias still thinks of this as a different type of attack, but he supposes that it is tolerable) (Jesper now tries to hug him all the time).

The part he enjoys most is relaxing with Nina. When they're cuddling he feels the warmth seep through his skin all the way to his heart. When he asked Nina if she was doing something to his heart with her Heartrender powers, she laughed and laughed and laughed. That made his heart thud louder and louder, making him believe that she really was doing something to it. All the cuddling reminds him of the first time they did it, huddling together in Fierda to conserve warmth. He doesn't know how it happened, but somehow he has her now and it is everything.

(Comment what you think about this, it would mean the world to me! <3)

Next chapter

Let me know if anyone wants to be added to the tag list.

[howlingsaturn]

and in your arms, i will find shelter (1.9k)

i wrote a little hurt/comfort cause the tarlos hug wouldn’t leave my mind so here you go, i guess? spoiler warning for 2x02 of lone star even though no names are dropped. also minor trigger warning for panic attacks and death (always with a happy ending though). stay safe everybody. <3

as you pry the hurt

from my aching body

and the grief

from my shaking hands

i realise

there's nothing more powerful

nothing more healing

than love

When the realisation hits, the weight on his shoulders becomes unbearable. He's surprised it doesn't bury him right where he stands. He takes a look at the rest of his team, small and quiet in the usually so joyful firehouse, and he wonders how he's supposed to survive this, how Judd and Owen can still offer words of encouragement and touches of comfort after all the loss they've suffered. It's excruciating. The whole thing. Every second of it.

Every breath he takes sends a stabbing pain through his chest and his hands start shaking so badly, he can't even ball them into fists. He feels suffocated, like the walls are closing in around him and there's no way out. He feels the sudden, overwhelming urge to run, to get as far away from this place as possible but before he can move there's a hand on his arm and fingers squeezing so hard that he winces.

"TK," his father says alarmingly and his voice sounds so far away, so frighteningly inhuman, that it sends TK into a frenzy.

"I need to go," he breathes out between clenched teeth, his heartbeat echoing in his ears like a stampede. He needs to get out of here. Right now. TK pulls his arm free and turns around, ignoring the calls of his name that follow him out of the door and then he's running. He doesn't know where his legs take him, he can barely focus on the path in front of him through his blurred vision but it doesn't matter. None of it matters. They've lost one of their own today and TK doesn't know if he can ever fully recover from that.

His legs and chest start burning, begging him to slow down and catch a breath and so his frantic run comes to an abrupt halt. He's heaving now, seemingly unable to get enough air into his lungs and it doesn't help the feeling of panic that's been sitting in his gut all day. He fears he might pass out but he manages to get his breathing under control, enough so that he can keep walking. His mind is still too chaotic to rest and there's only one place he wants to be in right now, this one person who might be able to shoulder some of that weight he carries, and so with weak knees and his heart in his throat, TK makes his way to Carlo's condo.

It doesn't take long for the familiar building to appear in his line of sight, he's covered quite a few miles with that run, but it doesn't fill him with the relief he had hoped it would. He's overwhelmed all over again.

Is he overstepping? Should he even come here this late and pull Carlos out of his sleep? He's had a tough day too, shouldn't he let him rest? He can't pour all of this grief on him unnoticed, can he? Does Carlos even know what happened?

He doesn't know what to do, torn between wanting to seek comfort and knowing he will be a burden to Carlos. He longs for him though, his gentle eyes and warm smile and TK is too tired, too upset, to deny himself of Carlos' embrace. Eventually, TK pulls out the key Carlos handed him one night, for safekeeping, he had said with a smile, and TK knew in that moment, with a frightening clarity, that Carlos was his forever, his one.

He takes a few more minutes to collect himself before he opens the door, careful to be as silent as possible in case Carlos was already asleep, and when he lets the door fall shut behind him, he surprisingly finds those brown eyes he's been aching for already locked on him. Carlos is right there, sitting in the middle of the staircase in his pyjamas, looking at TK like he was expecting him all along, and TK feels his heart swell with gratitude. As he stares at him, the pain in his chest slowly eases and he suddenly doesn't know why he was so worried about coming here. He doesn't understand why he was so insecure about seeking out Carlos' presence and asking him to deal with a pain that wasn't his own. It's so clear now, in the way Carlos wordlessly opens his arms and holds out a hand, that he will gladly shoulder some of TK's pain.

TK's legs move on their own account and he all but stumbles into Carlos' waiting embrace, reaching for whatever warmth he can find and hoping it will fill the cold that has seeped into his heart. When Carlos' arms close around him, holding the broken pieces of himself together, TK feels safe.

They stay there for a long time, neither of them talking, and TK finds comfort in the silence Carlos offers. He focuses on the strong beat of Carlos' heart against his ear, matching his own to its rhythm, and when he feels like he won't fall apart with every breath he takes, he opens his eyes and raises his head to look at Carlos. Carlos reaches for him immediately, stroking his cheek with a sad but kind smile, and TK wonders, for the millionth time, how he got so lucky. He wants to tell Carlos how grateful he is and how much he adores him but the words are stuck in his throat. He only hopes Carlos can read some of it in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Carlos finally breaks the silence, and the agony in his voice is evident. He doesn't know what else he can say, there's nothing that will make it okay. TK looks at him for a long time, eyes scanning over his boyfriend's face in a futile attempt to memorise all that he is. He's overcome with emotions, torn between gratitude and the fear of losing him.

He's lost someone today. He can lose someone else tomorrow. Time is not guaranteed, not for anyone, and he's hit with the sudden urge to create a bubble where time doesn't exist and lock the both of them in, if only for just a moment. Carlos swipes his thumb over TK's brow, seemingly having noticed his mind drifting, and TK falls back into his painful reality. He reaches for Carlos' shirt, holding onto him as if he's afraid he's going to disappear, and when he looks back into Carlos' eyes, he finds nothing but understanding.

I love you, he thinks suddenly, feverishly. I love you, I love you, I love you.

He doesn't say the words that are echoing in his head and his heart is yearning to hear, instead he pulls Carlos down and presses their lips together in a desperate kiss. Carlos reciprocates but pulls back quicker than TK would've liked, though he keeps him close, gently holding his face in the palms of his hands.

"I'm right here," he says softly, lovingly pressing a kiss to TK's forehead, and somehow that causes the dam to break. It catches TK so off guard that he can only hold onto Carlos as the waves of grief wash over him, drowning him in a series of uncontrolled and horrible sobs. He barely listens to the soothing words Carlos whispers into his ears, he's too focused on getting his breathing back under control and swallowing down the nausea that hits him. He feels the panic advance on him like a shark, pulling him back underwater and TK needs it all to stop, he can't do this anymore, his limbs are too tired to swim. He tries to tell Carlos as much but his throat produces nothing but broken hiccups. Carlos tries to soothe him, telling TK to breathe and assuring him that he's going to be okay, and after a few agonising minutes, the water finally calms.

There's nothing left of him then. TK feels wrung out and hollow and if it weren't for Carlos still holding him close, he probably would've passed out right where they sit. But Carlos is here, curling a strong arm around his back, and TK lets himself be cared for.

He doesn't remember much of what happened after his panic attack but he wakes up in a warm bed, Carlos wide awake at his side and a few strands of sunlight making their way through the blinds.

He blinks up at Carlos who's already looking at him, a worried frown between his eyes but he smiles upon noticing TK's gaze. He lets his fingers move through TK's hair in a soothing manner and something about that loving gesture makes TK feel less alienated. He's oh so thankful that Carlos is right here next to him.

"How are you feeling?" Carlos asks quietly, pulling TK out of his haze, and TK takes a few seconds to think about his question.

"I don't know. Tired, I guess. Like I've run a marathon. My head hurts. And I'm just…" he breaks off, lost in thought.

"Sad?" Carlos offers.

"Yeah," he agrees, "Sad."

"Me too," Carlos confesses and that's it. He too has lost a friend and co-worker, he too has suffered through a loss that isn't easily accepted, and all of the sudden TK feels guilty for not realising it sooner, for not being able to keep his emotions under control and checking in on Carlos. TK opens his mouth to apologise but Carlos raises a hand in warning, aware of TK's train of thought.

"Don't even think about it," he says but there's kindness behind it. "I'm okay. You were not. And that's alright, it's understandable. But you have nothing to apologise for, Ty." He says it with such conviction that TK doesn't even try to argue with him.

"I'm always here for you if you need me," Carlos adds, "It's what partners do, right?"

"Yeah, I know," he admits, "I just want you to know that I'm here for you too. If you ever need me."

Carlos smiles at him and adjusts his position on the bed so that they're on eye level, his gaze wandering to the fingers that instinctively reach back into TK's hair.

"I care about you," TK goes on and he waits for Carlos to look at him before he continues, "I care about you a lot, actually. More than I can comprehend sometimes. And after what happened yesterday I-- I realised I'm terrified of losing you."

The confession catches Carlos off guard and his hand in TK's hair stills abruptly.

"You're not gonna lose me," Carlos says, a little dumbfounded.

"I could. It's not unreasonable considering our lines of work and I'm --" he breaks off, leaving his self destructive thoughts unsaid but Carlos knows. He always knows.

"No, it's not unreasonable," he sighs, "but listen to me carefully, I'm in this for the long run. I won't leave, not ever, not on my own accord and believe me when I say that I will do anything to come back home to you each day, unharmed. I can promise you that much."

There's a fire in his eyes that TK has rarely seen and he finds that it isn't difficult to trust his promise at all because TK will do the exact same thing. He reaches out a hand then, tightly clutching Carlos' fingers in his own, and there they are again, these terrifying three words. They're itching beneath his skin and tickling in his throat, desperate to be said out loud, but TK decides to keep them for himself for now. There will be a time for them, there will be a time to love and to hope. Right now, he needs to let himself heal. There is, after all, no safer place to do so than in Carlos' warm embrace.

[zosonils-art]

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Relationship: Ferb Fletcher & Phineas Flynn

Characters: Ferb Fletcher, Phineas Flynn, Perry the Platypus (Phineas and Ferb), Linda Flynn-Fletcher

Additional Tags: Autistic Ferb, Autistic Phineas, autistic phineas is more implied and could also be taken as adhd but he has both anyway so, Autistic Meltdown, Autism, Sensory Overload, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Illustrations, Canon Continuation, Fix-It of Sorts, i think????? i don't frequent this goddamn website i don't know, Brotherly Love, Crying, some of the crying is me

Summary: A stressful day pushes Ferb past his breaking point, and Phineas feels that he has a responsibility to set things right. Takes place immediately after Ready For The Bettys. Was supposed to be a simple continuation fic but got wildly out of hand. Ph*n*rb shippers fuck off this isn't for you.

---

as you’ve probably figured out if you’re following my main, i recently wrote my first fic since i was about 13! it’s available on ao3 at the link above, but you can also read it on tumblr by clicking the readmore on this post! i put a lot of effort into this and it took a lot of courage to post, so feedback is greatly appreciated!

"Mom! Guess what Ferb did!"

Phineas bursts into the kitchen energetically, still buzzing with adrenaline from the day's adventure. Ferb follows a step or two behind. Linda turns her attention from the freshly baked pie in her hands to her sons, although Phineas is too beside himself with excitement to consider whether or not she's paying attention. "He made a secret tunnel, and a spy headquarters, and a villain's lair, and a hover jet shaped like Perry- tell her, Ferb!"

Ferb doesn't match Phineas' enthusiasm. In fact, at the moment, he's sick to death of it. He prepares to launch into the explanation he's been trying all day to give. "Actually, I-"

"Wait a second," Linda interrupts, eyeing the boys with suspicion. "Why are you two soaking wet?"

The interruption is just too much for Ferb. He doesn't even process the question, just lets out a harsh shout of frustration. Phineas recoils - Ferb almost never shouts. "I give UP!" Ferb yells, his voice shaking on the last syllable, and before either of his surprised family members can respond, he turns around and storms off, his destination betrayed by the distinct clunking rhythm of stairs being stomped on too hard and the sound of a door slamming upstairs.

For a moment, the kitchen is silent. Linda recovers before Phineas does, her eyes narrowing in disapproval. "Young man, that is not how we talk to each other in this house!" she calls, setting the pie tin and her oven mitts down on the kitchen counter and following Ferb's path to his room. Before she can make it to the doorway, though, her progress is halted.

"Mom, wait!" Phineas pleads. He's finally caught onto what's been going on all day, and although he's still only half processed it, he knows he doesn't want Ferb to be in trouble for it. He frantically tugs on Linda's arm to draw her attention. Once he's sure that she's stopped, he withdraws his hand (he's still wet, after all, he doesn't want to make her uncomfortable), but sidesteps around her to put his tiny body firmly between her and the doorway to the living room. "Mom, please don't be mad at Ferb, it- it's not his fault! I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it, he's just..." Phineas' voice trails off briefly, but he forces it back into action, complete with the most serious expression he can manage. "If you're gonna be mad at either of us, it should be me, okay?"

At first, Linda returns Phineas' gaze with suspicion, then her face softens with realisation. She crouches down to her son's eye level, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Phineas, did something else happen today?" she asks, the anger gone from her voice.

Phineas hesitates, dropping eye contact again. He's almost certain about the cause of Ferb's outburst, and he can't help but mentally beat himself up for it to a degree. "Well, Ferb's been trying to tell me something all day, but he kept getting interrupted by our spy mission, and I guess it must have been really frustrating because he hates being interrupted but I didn't realise and-" he pauses to breathe, and shudders as he inhales as if on the verge of tears - "and I should have asked at some point but I just kept getting distracted and I didn't even realise how upset it was making him but-"

"Phineas," Linda says gently, and he gladly accepts the invitation to cut his rambling short. His breathing is shaky, but he doesn't cry just yet, even though his emotional state has nosedived in barely a minute. After giving him a moment to snap back into focus, Linda continues. "Phineas, honey, it sounds like this has just been a misunderstanding. On my end, too," she adds, regretting having snapped at Ferb earlier. Phineas nods with a nondescript mumble of agreement. Although he still obviously isn't looking, Linda gives him a reassuring smile anyway, accompanied by a gentle squeeze of his shoulder. "Thank you for telling the truth, sweetheart," she praises him.

"Mmh," Phineas mumbles, tugging at his shirt collar. He tends to fiddle with his shirt when he's nervous or overexcited. It doesn't hold a candle to bouncing his leg or flapping his hands, as far as stimming goes, but it's a lot easier to do while someone is touching you. "I just should've realised what was up earlier, then he probably wouldn't have freaked out..."

He finally glances up again, and the look his mom is giving him tells him that he should drop the argument, so he stops. Linda ruffles his hair affectionately, leaning forward to reach all the way behind Phineas' oddly-shaped head, and flinches at the unpleasant reminder of how waterlogged he still is. She stands up, flicking her hand dry. "I'm sure he knows you didn't mean to hurt his feelings," she reassures Phineas. "Why don't you dry yourself off and then go talk to him? Which reminds me," Linda motions towards the puddles tracked all over the kitchen floor, "why are you two so wet?"

"Oh, we fell in Isabella's pool," Phineas answers matter-of-factly. He isn't quite back to his usual blindingly sunny disposition, but the panicky tremble in his voice has at least disappeared.

Linda smiles, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Well, that I believe," she says. She'd tactfully decided not to comment on whatever that secret spy headquarters spiel was that Phineas had been getting worked up over, but she suspects his latest imaginary game took the boys to Isabella's backyard and ended up having some real-life consequences. "Oh, hi, Perry," she adds, as the platypus in question waddles into the kitchen.

Perry responds with his familiar chatter. Phineas leans down to pet Perry on the head. "At least you've had a stress-free day, huh," he says, then leaves for the bathroom. Perry stares at him blankly.

---

Ferb is having a meltdown.

He knows what this is, of course. He reads every textbook and blog post on the subject he can find, just in case it helps him make some more sense of himself. If he misses one, Phineas will no doubt have found and memorised it himself for the same reason, and will gladly rattle off anything new. Knowing why there's a raging storm beating at the inside of his head, however, is entirely different from quelling it. By the time he reaches his bedroom, he's trembling so violently that he can barely stand. He stumbles to his bed, pushing his hands down into the mattress to keep himself on his feet.

It's like feeling every feeling from every second of the day all in the same moment, and it hurts. So much is happening in his head that he can't even isolate a single thought, let alone process what it means. Is he angry? That'd make sense, sure, but his mental state isn't exactly conducive to deductive reasoning at the moment. Is he sad? Scared? Something else entirely?? He can't tell what emotion or mixture thereof it is, only that it's hurting his head, and he wants to get it out but he doesn't know how. He's struggling to breathe now, his arms shaking with the effort of keeping his body supported, and as he draws in a desperate shuddering breath Ferb feels something wet in his eye and then on his face, and he remembers that his entire body is wet and he hates it. It's cold, and his hair is sticking to his face and uncomfortably close to his eyes, and his clothes cling to his body oppressively and he wants to tear them off and stop feeling everything. Instead of doing that, he forces himself to breathe in again and looks around the room frantically, hoping to find something other than absolutely everything to concentrate on.

His eyes land on Phineas' bed, and although his vision is blurring as the panicky tears pour down his face, he recognises the shape instantly. Is he mad at Phineas? Should he be? He should be, right? If Phineas had just stopped to listen to him for once, he wouldn't be here with the world ending inside his brain. Another violent wave of emotion sends a shock through his whole body, and Ferb is still in no state to identify it, but he gets the message. He doesn't want to be angry. Not at Phineas. In fact, he doesn't want to feel anything he's feeling at the moment. Not the turbulent assault of everything inside his head, not the hammering rhythm of his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest, not every tiny thing that touches his skin or the light from outside that still feels blinding through the curtains or the muffled sounds of conversation downstairs that he doesn't have room in his brain to translate into anything but more noise.

Sensory overload is another term Ferb knows, and it's another one that doesn't really help to know in the moment. The feeling of anxiety that's been growing in his chest since that morning finally becomes too much for his body to handle, and he collapses on his bed, weakly gripping the blanket for support. Burying his face in his covers blocks out most of the sunlight, at least, but it doesn't significantly improve his mood. He shivers, partly from cold thanks to still being uncomfortably wet, partly from the sobs making his whole body convulse. (When did those start? He doesn't remember.) He uses the last of his physical strength to pull himself fully onto his bed and curl into himself, trying desperately to calm himself down.

...

It's not working. Why isn't it working?? It's as if every effort to steady his breathing just makes him cry harder, every attempt at a calming thought being shattered into a thousand anxious ones by the merciless torrent of everything whirling around in his mind. Ferb is suddenly hyper-aware of how empty the room around him is, and it makes him feel helpless. It's the first feeling he's managed to connect a name to with absolute certainty this whole time, and it's terrifying.

If he was making any noise before in his attempts to control his breathing, he's stopped now. No sound escapes him as he lies in place, too preoccupied with the overwhelming barrage of thoughts in his brain to move. More than anything, Ferb wants his brain to just shut off. Everything in his mind blends into a horrible white noise that won't stop, threatening to drown him in static.

Through the raging mental cyclone, he just barely hears the knock at the door.

Phineas waits a moment before entering his room. He wants to make sure Ferb has time to process that he's here. A few seconds pass, then he opens the door slowly so that it doesn't make any sound. A stab of guilt hits him when he sees Ferb curled up on his bed, visibly distressed. He's facing the opposite wall, but the way he shudders as he breathes makes it obvious that he's crying. Phineas feels his heart sink. He'd really hoped it wouldn't be this bad.

"Hey," he says softly. Ferb grips himself tighter. Just a minute ago, Phineas would have been the last person he wanted to see, but now his desperation for comfort outweighs any lingering hints of animosity. He doesn't object to his brother's presence, so Phineas gently closes the door and walks over to his side of the room. He sits on the bed, watching Ferb to see if he reacts negatively to the shift in weight distribution, and tenses up slightly at how damp the blanket is. Of course, Ferb wouldn't have stopped to dry off on his way up here. A closer look confirms that while a lot of the water on his body has run off and soaked into his bed, Ferb is still almost as wet as he was when he arrived home. Phineas frowns - that can't be comfortable, and it's probably making him feel even worse. "Are you okay?" he asks.

Ferb curls into himself even more instead of asking. The question is so frustratingly rhetorical that he almost reconsiders the possibility of being angry, but the idea still scares him, so the feeling passes. Fortunately, Phineas understands the unspoken 'obviously not' with no further input, and continues to talk. "I'm really sorry about today," he begins. "I know you don't like being interrupted, and I should've realised that it was making you feel bad but I just wasn't paying enough attention and- and I'm sorry, because it's kinda my fault you got so upset," he apologises, not realising that he's holding back tears until he stops to breathe. He wills himself not to cry. He's here to try and make Ferb feel better, not guilt him into forgiveness.

It takes a second or two for Ferb to process what Phineas is saying. It's a struggle to drag the words through the confusing whirlwind of everything still rampaging through his head. Eventually, after a great deal of mental effort, he shakes his head in response. Perhaps he was angry before, he still can't tell, but he definitely isn't now. He can't manage anything beyond the simple gesture, but it's not the first time he's been utterly uncommunicative, so Phineas understands the meaning as well as he needs to: it's not your fault.

"Th-thanks," he stutters, although Ferb's acceptance does little to settle the crushing feeling of responsibility. "Next time you can speak I'll let you tell me whatever it is you needed to, okay? I promise." He smiles a little. "No more secret agent business to interrupt you."

The last sentence sure prompts a reaction from Ferb - he rolls over so that his face is entirely buried in the blanket and makes a frustrated noise without opening his mouth, his body shaking with some mixture of anger and physical strain. Phineas inhales sharply and recoils, no more prepared for an audible outburst from Ferb than the first time. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, already speed-testing possible answers in his head. "Did you not have fun today? Of- of course you didn't, that's why you're upset, but I thought you did a great job on the spy mission! It was really cool." He's trying to be reassuring, but Ferb just shakes harder, seemingly becoming more aggravated rather than less.

Phineas tilts his head in confusion. "Ferb? Ferb, it's okay, I-I'm sorry. Did... did it not go the way you planned?" he guesses, searching increasingly frantically for any change in Ferb's body language. "Hmm... oh, were you not finished building it yet?" He thinks back to Ferb's numerous attempts at speaking to him throughout the day, hoping that he'll find some clue that makes everything fall into place - and something clicks in his brain. He deflates a little at how painfully obvious the realisation seems in retrospect, with a soft "Oh." Sighing at his own ignorance, he directs his voice to Ferb again as he says, "You didn't actually build all that, did you?"

Ferb sits up slowly and turns to Phineas with his signature deadpan glare, the silent, biting sarcasm undermined significantly by the tears still falling from his eyes. Phineas hums concernedly. "Is that what you were trying to tell me?" he asks. Ferb gets partway through rolling his eyes before giving up and returning to the fetal position.

Phineas sighs sadly. He hates seeing his brother cry. There's nothing he wants to do more than pull him into the tightest hug he can manage, but he knows Ferb won't appreciate being touched in this state, so he opts to fiddle with his shirt again to keep his hands busy. "Who do you think did build that stuff?" he asks. Ferb doesn't care. On any other day, a secret spy lair being hidden under his house would be cause for immeasurable excitement, but after the day's events he's thoroughly sick of thinking about the subject. Phineas picks up on Ferb's antipathy towards the question and, sensing that it might be a sore topic for some time, decides not to bring it up again for a while. He'll satisfy his curiosity sometime when it doesn't come at the expense of Ferb's comfort.

An uncomfortable silence falls over the boys. It's broken when Ferb suddenly sniffles loud enough to make Phineas jump, sits up again, and halfheartedly tries to wipe the tears from his face. "Oh geez, hold on," Phineas says, leaning over to rummage through his short pockets. He eventually pulls out a wad of tissues, somehow unaffected by the earlier impromptu dive into Isabella's pool. He offers them with a gentle "here you go" to Ferb, who takes a few silently and scrubs at his eyes.

While he still doesn't feel good by any stretch of the definition, Ferb at least doesn't feel completely awful anymore. What was once a violent hurricane in his mind has receded enough that he can focus on the world around him without breaking down, at least for the time being, and he's left feeling just drained. He balls up his handful of tissues and tosses them at the bin under his desk. The ball makes it to Phineas' leg before unceremoniously bouncing to a stop. Phineas picks it up and throws it the rest of the way to the trash, standing up to do so.

Rather than sit down again, he kneels down and pulls out one of the drawers conveniently built into the bed. Ferb watches inquisitively, still too out of it to immediately catch onto what's happening. Phineas rummages a little before finally pulling out a pair of pyjamas, suggesting, "You should dry off and change your clothes." He pauses to think. "Can you make it downstairs to the bathroom by yourself?" he asks. At any other time, it would be a silly question, but Ferb is always exhausted after a meltdown. The visible effort it's taking him just to stay upright isn't lost on Phineas. Ferb ponders the question, then gives a tentative nod. He's definitely shaky, but he really wants to change into something dry.

"Great!" Phineas smiles encouragingly. "Should I bring the usual stuff to the living room? Your bed's probably not gonna feel comfortable until it dries out." Ferb glances down at the unmistakable damp silhouette of where he had been lying earlier and nods again, more confidently. He slowly gets to his feet, first pushing against his bed for support, then grasping the hand Phineas offers him. He lets go once he's certain he's regained his balance, and only then does Phineas hand him his pyjamas. "I'll come meet you downstairs, okay?" Phineas says. Then, pulling at the bottom of his shirt, which is still a bit soggy despite his best efforts to towel it off, he adds, "I should probably change into something dry as well."

---

Ferb rubs his eyes as he comes out of the bathroom, his drenched clothes swapped out for his much more comfortable pyjamas. He's stopped crying, it seems, but he's still feeling sensitive enough that the light from outside bothers him. He's relieved to discover that it's much darker in the living room - Phineas must have been here already. The curtains are drawn so that the lamp on the end table is the only light source in the room, softly illuminating its surroundings with a pleasant warm glow. He doesn't have the energy to analyse the entire room, even in these far more bearable conditions, but his attention is drawn to his favourite weighted blanket folded neatly on the couch. He sits down and drags the blanket over him, struggling a bit with the weight, but relaxing once he feels its reassuring pressure on his legs.

It's as he's settling into his position on the couch that Phineas enters with an "Oh, there you are, Ferb!". Perry is firmly but comfortably wedged under one of his arms, like a fuzzy teal football or loaf of bread, and seems altogether unbothered by his position. Ferb gasps quietly at the sight of Perry, his eyes brightening momentarily, and reaches out for him with various soft noises of urgency. Phineas wastes no time in setting Perry down next to Ferb, and the platypus reacts with a gentle, almost soothing chatter. Ferb instinctively mimicks the sound under his breath, and Perry responds with a nearly identical noise. Ferb echoes it again, slightly louder this time, and his face lights up with a weak smile, the first one he's managed all day.

Taking this as a sign of progress, Phineas sighs with relief as he sits on the sofa. He makes sure to maintain a respectful distance from Ferb, who's running a hand through Perry's fur as they echo the same low growling noise back at each other. (It pains Phineas not to join in, but he senses the two have gotten themselves into a groove that would be rude to interrupt.) Ferb's smile fades almost as soon as it appears, but he seems much more relaxed after the change in clothes and scenery. His hair is sticking up in every direction from being towelled dry, and Phineas stifles a laugh at how silly it looks. The back-and-forth chattering eventually dies down, and it's only then that Phineas continues. "Mom's gonna make you some tea, and she says if you aren't feeling better by dinner you can eat in here if you want," he says. Ferb turns to him and raises a thumbs-up briefly before returning his hand and focus to Perry.

Phineas quietly watches his brother for a moment before speaking again. "Do you want me to stay?" he asks. Exactly how sociable Ferb is while he's coming out of a meltdown varies. He almost invariably needs some time on his own to mentally reset, but sometimes it helps if someone he trusts is there to reassure him for a while first. In Phineas' experience, asking is always the best way to tell.

Ferb hesitates for a second, then surprises both of them with his answer, which is to turn and collapse into Phineas' lap with one arm hooked over his legs in a sort of pseudo-hug. Phineas tenses up, not sure how to react. He cautiously puts an arm around Ferb, in a comforting gesture that doesn't fully subject him to the overwhelming sensory experience of a true hug. Ferb doesn't fight it, just repositions himself so that he's lying down with Phineas as a makeshift pillow and sinks further into the gentle embrace. Phineas laughs softly. "Okay, I guess you do."

This is nice, Ferb thinks. Definitely an improvement over violently sobbing alone in his room. Perry must be feeling relaxed too, because he climbs onto Ferb's stomach, circles a few times, lets out one more chatter, then flops down and goes to sleep, purring gently. Phineas giggles at the platypus' behaviour, and Ferb's shoulders shake in silent laughter - his blanket absorbs enough of the sensation that it just tickles. Watching Perry doze off reminds him that he's still exhausted, despite the positive change in environment, and his attempt to stifle a yawn fails. He's still on high alert, and he knows he won't be sleeping for longer than a few minutes until the emotional clutter completely drains from his mind. With that said, both the blanket and Perry weighing down on him make for a pretty cosy combination, and he finds himself fighting to keep his eyes open. Maybe just a moment of rest will be good for him.

Before he knows it, his eyes are closed, and he's powerless to prevent himself from drifting off. Phineas accepts his new career as a pillow without comment, simply adjusting his right hand so that both his arms are positioned protectively around his brother. Being trapped in place for the time being doesn't worry him. Ferb won't mind being stirred awake when their mom arrives with his tea, and until then Phineas can easily occupy himself with thoughts of what to do tomorrow. Besides, he can subject himself to a few minutes of quiet if that's what Ferb needs. What kind of a brother would he be if he couldn't, right?

Ferb half-consciously brings a hand to Phineas' wrist, as if it'll float off if he isn't holding on. He can feel his brain shutting down, and he welcomes the change. The last thing he's aware of before his consciousness finally leaves him in peace for a moment is the sound of Phineas' voice, promising him, "You're gonna be okay."

[silksandcravats]

Unlocked -Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Summary: Flip comes home to find y/n has failed to follow his instructions, punishment and smut ensues.

masterlist

WARNINGS: swearing, smut, spanking, spanking with belt, bratty reader, dom!flip, Flip is MEAN, slight subspace/subdrop, aftercare

A/N: hi there! i haven’t written any kind of fanfiction in quite some time, and this is my very first piece ever with an Adam Driver character, so I may be a bit rusty. Please let me know what you think/if you’d like to see more stuff like this in the future! Also if you’re a regular in the AD community please come say hi!

You realised your mistake as soon as you heard the front door twist open. You had been leaning over the kitchen island, lazily flipping through one of the new cookbooks you had picked up last week, hoping to stumble across something new to try for dinner, when you heard your fiance come home early. 

“Doll…” his voice called out sternly, loud footsteps echoed through the house as he made his way into the kitchen. You could feel your heart drop into your throat as you fought off the urge to run for the hills. Between the halt in his heavy shoes coming down against the hardwood floor and the overwhelming feeling of his presence taking over the room, you didn’t have to look up from your book to know he was now standing in the doorway. Gulping as quietly as possible, you looked up to him, deciding to try your luck at wiggling out of trouble.

“Sorry baby.” You pouted, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Third time this week y/n, how many times have I told you, you lock that fucking door when I’m out.” he scolded, finger pointed, brows furrowed as he took a few more steps towards you.

“I know honey, but I just forget. And besides, it’s still light out.” You turned outwards towards him as he continued to stalk towards you, closing the space between the two of you. 

“I don’t give a shit if it’s light out, just this mornin chief had to send someone into the area for a break in. Two fucking blocks away! And you sit here with the damn door unlocked for anyone to just stroll in!” He scolded glaring down at you. 

“But nobody did! I’m fine baby.” you insisted looking up to him.

“Never fuckin listen to me…” He grumbled. Your brows immediately furrowed, his comment set something off inside of you. You didn’t appreciate him throwing such a fit over something so silly. 

“I do too fucking listen!” you snapped, “You’re just being a fucking dick about shit that doesn’t matter!” Regret began pooling in the pit of your stomach moments after the words left your mouth. You looked away but he responded quickly, his hand reaching out to snatch your jaw, your cheeks squished between his thumb on one side and his pointer finger on the other.

“You wanna say that again?” He asked, eyes daring you. You quickly shook your head no in response, not that you could get a word out properly if you wanted to with the hold he had on your face.

“No? My baby done being a little brat?” He practically cooed in the most condescending tone. You nodded. He looked at you for a moment longer before he seemed satisfied and let you go, only to huff out a “over the fucking counter.” 

You hesitantly complied, getting spanked was not how you wanted your evening to go, but you also knew better than to push him any further. You leaned over pressing your elbows against the cold marble top and pushing your backside out towards him, to which he responded by bringing his hand down on your ass once, still covered by the skirt of your dress, but hard enough to make you yelp.

“You know why I’m punishing you doll?” he asked, lifting up the bottom of your dress to expose your panty-clad ass.

“Because I didn’t lock the door like you told me to.” you mumbled, already feeling sorry for yourself.

“And?” he pinched the back of your thigh lightly, causing you to squirm.

“And I was a brat.” you admitted. Suddenly he grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head up by the makeshift ponytail so that your ear was against his mouth.

“You’re gonna learn to watch that pretty little mouth of yours, or I’m gonna find a more creative way to make you sorry that you’re gonna like a whole lot less, am I being clear, peanut?” He practically snarled making your legs shake.

“Yes sir.” you squeaked.

“Good girl.” he said, releasing his hold on you, allowing you to fall forward against the counter again. He yanked your panties down, exposing your backside and your now slick cunt to the cool air. “Open your legs more, no point in hiding now you little slut.” your face turned pink but you complied, pushing your legs apart so he could have a clear view of both your holes. Your stomach practically churned thinking about how you were fully on display in the middle of the kitchen. 

The next time he touches you, it’s his hand cracking down on the left side of your ass, leaving a stinging red mark. Sometimes you enjoyed when Flip spanked you during sex or when you were teasing each other, it could be quite an arousing act when he wanted it to be, but this clearly wasn’t one of those times. 

As his hand came down again, swatting you on the right side, at the extra sensitive spot right where the top of your thigh began, you knew he was trying to hurt you.

On some level, he must have known it really didn’t matter that much that you left the door unlocked half the time. Known that you’d be fine. But your Flip is fiercely protective, always worrying about you, always wanting to keep you safe and secure, he’d probably tug you along with him to the station every day so he could keep an eye on his girl if he could. 

Flip is also admittedly a bit on the bossy side, and as much as you loved his naturally dominant nature, you often found yourself unable to challenge him and be well, a brat. Which is why he now seems determined to punish you oh-so-cruelly until he was damn sure you wouldn’t leave the door locked ever again.

Your groans and whimpers of protest were becoming more frequent, and you were jolted forward by every sharp burning swat that came down against your poor, unprotected skin. 

Finally you received a moment's relief when his giant rough hand took a break from abusing your poor bottom, to run along the slick that had still somehow managed to collect between your legs.

“It would seem I’m not getting through to you at doll,” he hummed, teasing dragging a single thick finger into your weeping cunt for just a fleeting moment, before he pulled to fumble with his belt, a move he only pulled on rare occasions. “Such a little pain slut hmm? I guess I’m being too soft with you.”

“No Flip not that!” You whined, whipping your head around to plead with him the moment you heard his belt sliding out from the loops in his jeans. “Hurts too much, I've already had enough.”

“Do you need to safeword?” he asked genuinely, gazing down at your backside, pressing the back of his hand against your red skin to feel how hot it had become. And you knew he would stop if you needed him to. And you did want him to stop his attack on your poor bottom, and you certainly didn’t want him to add his belt to the mix, but you never could bring yourself to safeword unless you actually needed to.

“No sir.” 

“Then turn back around.” he said, folding the belt in two. The next thing you felt was the sharp bite of leather against your already sore backside.

“OW! Flip!” you shrieked, raising to your tiptoes to try to get away from the sting. He shushed you, pressing your arched back down against the counter again while the other hand whipped the belt down again in nearly the same spot. A few more hits came down steadily, you must have been dripping down your thighs at this point, but wetness was also pooling in the corners of your eyes, as tears threatened to slide down your cheeks. You took most of the belting quietly until a particularly cruel whack against your sit spots made you lose it.

“I’m sorry! Flip I promise!” You cried, pressing your face against the counter, shoulders shaking as you cried softly. 

He must have believed you this time because he finally set down the dreaded implement and reached for you, running his hand up and down your back and cooing softly at his baby. “I know pumpkin come here.” he helped you up cupping your sad little face in his big warm hands. As you stood your dress fell back into place, mostly covering you, though your panties had long been kicked off to some other spot on the kitchen floor.

“Such a prettier crier,” he hummed running his thumbs across your cheeks collecting the tears you had shed.

“ shoulda locked the door like you asked ‘m really sorry.” you hiccuped looking up into his big brown and hazel eyes. 

“Shh good girl, always m’good girl.” he scooped you up into his arms, gently tucking you into him, you gripping his flannel, wrapping your legs around him, burying your head into the crook of his neck. He held you for a while, mumbling sweet words to you. When he felt you had settled against him he moved, carrying you to bedroom, leaning down he placed you on the bed and followed you down moving sloppy passionate kisses down your neck, as your fingers slide into his dark curls pulling slightly and moaning as he began to work on the little sweet spot he had memorised. 

Finally after enough wiggling he pulls away, allowing you a break and he had to hold back a laugh when his eyes landed on you. “Now you’re gonna start pouting on me?”

“You spanked me really hard.” You whined furrowing your brows. Normally you wouldn’t get away with whining, but he must have decided you had been through enough discipline for one day.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, running his hand up along your bare thigh, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of your nose and then on your lips. You eagerly reached up, unbuttoning his flannel and pushing it off his shoulder to reveal his tight white undershirt, which you worked off of him as well, letting your eyes settle on his wonderful broad chest. His hand slid between your back and pillows, and he pulled you up against him. You pressed a line of kisses across his  jaw, facial hair rubbing roughly against your cheek. You could feel his hands working behind you, one hand busy undoing the little buttons at the top of your dress, then moving to unzip it the rest of the way down, while the other hand held you steady against him. 

Your mouths found each other again as you continued to undress one another, him now moving on to your bra as you did you best to undo and wiggle down his jeans and boxers from your position. You let out a quiet moan as your lower lip was sucked in between his teeth and he bit down playfully. 

One he had you fully naked from the waist down, he moved you down against the bed again, and slid your dress all the way off, leaning down to press little kisses to your exposed sensitive lower tummy. The sensation made you squeal, reaching down in an attempt to pull his head away from the ticklish spot, but your efforts didn’t amount to much. Massive hands quickly captured your wrists, pinning your arms down so he could continue his attack, your sweet laugh music to his ears, he might even like making you laugh a little more than making you cry.

“Flip! Please!” you managed to get out, bucking your core against him trying to get the message across.

“Jesus ketsl.” he finally granted you relief, pulling off of you. “Would you rather I moved my attention elsewhere?” he released your wrists, moving a couple fingers to just barely ghost over your entrance, not granting you the pleasure of any real penetration.

“Shit yes please!”

“Words, honeybun. Gotta tell me what you want, y’know that.” he locked eyes with you making you feel flustered.

“Want you.” you tried to be as vague as possible.

“’m right here baby girl, did you want anything specific?” he probed, but he must have been feeling generous, because he began easing two long fingers into your slippery cunt.

“Wantyoutofuckme.” you mumbled shyly, looking off to the wall to avoid his piercing stare. He leaned forward bringing his face close to yours, his fingers working to scissor you open for him, but you would have to ask properly first.

“Didn’t quite catch that baby,” he used his free hand to nudge your face to look at him. “Why don’t you try a little louder this time?” You swallowed.

“I want you to fuck me.” You admitted, blushing furiously. 

“Should’ve just said so honey.” he grins, retracting his hands, moving to give his length a few strokes, the remnants of your wetness on his fingers coating him. Wasting no further time he lined himself and slammed into you. You gasped and reached up to dig your nails in his back for stability, he grunted at the ways your walls wrapped tightly around him, setting a quick, rough pace. 

“Shit shit, honey you’re as tight for me as ever.” he groaned fucking you so deeply your entire body rocked with his thrust. The room around you became foggy, your senses blurring, you squeezed your eyes shut and in that Flip Zimmmerman was your entire world, though if you strained, you think you could vaguely make out the sound of your bed frame slamming against the wall in rhythm, and the slight cries of springs from a poor bed that had put up with too many nights of you two.

“I’m not gonna last long if you keep squeezin’ me pretty girl.” He moaned, reaching down to play with your clit, making you hiss. Every other thrust was landing right against your sweet spot, sending you into orbit.

“Me neither baby feels so good, shit, can I?” you asked, the knot in your stomach tightening further and further. 

“Have to look at me if you wanna cum, got it?” He ordered, soft but firm, clearly on the edge. Your eyes flew open, wanting to be good for him you nodded.

“Yes sir, please can I come-fuck!” your gaze slipped up for a moment, but you quickly corrected yourself, focusing on his deep dark eyes.

“Go ahead gorgeous, come for me.” he gave you permission, before spilling into you with a final loud moan. 

You came hard on command, toes curling, back arching, bliss overriding you systems, as your cunt clenched, milking him through his high as he rocked you through yours. He all but collapsed on you, sweaty and panting but you didn’t mind at all.

You felt dizzy and warm, your head somewhere far up in the clouds, and though you thought Flip might be speaking to you, you couldn’t really tell. Your eyes were closed and your head rolled to the side. Slowly the distant voice grew focused, and you peered your eyes open as you realised the voice was talking to you.

“Peanut? Pumpkin? You ready to come back to me honey?” a wonderful deep soft voice cooed at you. Suddenly, still in your haze, you wanted nothing more than to be as close to the owner of that voice is possible. You groaned reaching up with arms still shaky from your orgasm. Flip chuckled at you before scooping you up, shifting slightly to a seated position, he pulled you in his lap and cradle you to his chest as you re-familiarized yourself with your surroundings. 

At some point Flip had put a new pair of boxers on, and now he was gently coxing one of his big old t-shirts over your head, and then pulling your back into him, your head resting against his should, his calloused hand running up and down your thigh, grounding you, and you found yourself lazily running fingertips along his toned chest.

“Dropped into your headspace there for a little bit baby, was that too much?” He hummed against your hair.

You shook your head, “was good,” was all you could manage to get out.

“Love you so much baby,  y’know that?’ He said pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You nod happily. It’s quiet for a while longer, and Flip was beginning to think you’d fallen asleep when you speak again.

“Made me so sore though,” you mumble, “and my bum really hurts, don’t know how I’m gonna get around tomorrow.” 

Flip has to stop himself from laughing, smirking instead he squeezed you tighter to him, “Y’know I’ll carry you around pumpkin, I’ll always take care of you.” he promised. You allowed yourself to drift off, safe warm in his arms, feeling entirely protected and satisfied. 

Flip stayed up a while longer, just holding his girl, running his hand along your thigh, before forcing himself to lie you down and tuck you into bed. He then quietly moved around the room, putting away the clothes that had been tossed on the floor. He slipped downstairs turning off the lights and smiling and shaking his head as he locked all the doors, knowing despite your bargaining earlier, it wasn’t the last time you’d bicker about them.

And sure enough enough when you woke up in his arms in the morning, much more coherent, and grumbling about your sore ass and your legs feeling like jello, Flip was true to his word. Carrying you around, bringing you whatever you need, doting on you and caring for you all weekend long.

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

i’m an idiot. i screw everything up.

Titans 3.03

still here, still doing this. these reviews take a fair bit of time that i cobble together across days (like, ten minute chunks during breaks, etc) and i tend to struggle to keep up with episodes as they come out. this means that by the time i’m done with one, most of my stuff is jossed (or geoffed in this case? idk) or outdated and the post sinks like a stone into oblivion. so! i’m going to change things up a bit with this one and write as i see the episode rather than collecting my thoughts later. in my experience with spn, that was a faster way to get them done. 

anyway. let’s see how it goes! *shadowboxes*

SPOILERS ahead.

1. an auspicious start with some grave-digging!

digging up a grave and breaking open a coffin is some serious, back-breaking work--that dick did it on his own, likely straight after that fight with red hood, is a testament to the sheer intensity, stamina and discipline that he’s capable of. like, we like to joke about dick cooking cauliflower crust pizzas and making gar and rachel spar and memorise sun tzu--and despair at the obvious consequences of some of bruce’s parenting skills--but imagine crime-fighting almost daily without any superpowers, performing some of the most intense parkour in bulky, uncomfortable armour, doing detective work, pushing through every last barrier of exhaustion and then getting up to repeat it all over again the next day. dick probably thought he was going extra-easy on rachel and gar.

1.5. then again, dick probably had a hundred different easier ways to confirm whether jason was still buried or not, from using equipment to merely asking connor to have a quick look with his x-ray vision. but, no, he’s too caught up in confusion and terror, not really having come to terms with jason’s death in the first place, leave alone the possibility that he could be alive after all. he can’t possibly let the others know until he’s confirmed it himself, even if it means digging all through the night until his arms are jelly, thinking over and over again about jason’s eyes, jason’s voice, from behind that red mask. 

... besides, dick has good reason to believe that he could’ve been hallucinating. wouldn’t be his first psychotic episode, after all.

that just imbues this sweaty, desperate, fingers-scrabbling-in-gravedirt scene with that much more poignancy, and a fair bit of bone-chilling terror. dick is horrified to realise that jason’s grave is empty, but a part of him is also probably relieved.

1.75 (... also it’s curious that we’re never shown any of the team asking to see jason’s grave after they come to wayne manor. i guess it’s because the writers--and the audience--know that jason is actually alive, but these people don’t know that. i don’t know if it’s sad or infuriating or both that they’re barely shown mourning him.)

2. oh GOD the sheer TENSION in kory saying, “i don’t want to say it, but--” and dick quickly interrupting, “it was jason. i saw him,” and hank giving him this loaded sidelong glance. i love how dick’s precarious mental health from last season is still this big elephant in the room but at least nobody’s blowing up in his face and questioning his every decision yet

2.25. i love the relative matter-of-factness with which they’re discussing a possible resurrection. and, of course, ra’s al ghul is brought up and quickly dismissed

(still wouldn’t put it past this show to bring him up at the very last second as the real real mastermind)

2.5. “maybe they can bring donna back” OH KORY

2.75. didn’t they have this same conversation about killing/not killing rose last season? man, the og titans make me tired.

and i don’t know if it’s just hank, but there’s a definite in-group/out-group vibe going on with the og titans, where they’re not only ready to consider killing anybody who threatens the group but makes it difficult for new people to fit in. donna and kory got along well with each other, but the dynamics between hank/donna/dawn and gar/rachel/rose were somewhat strained, and with jason, they were really fucking terrible. it makes sense when you think about how the titans started and how they broke up the first time--both were fairly disruptive events, i’d imagine, in that they probably got together to break away from their mentors and strike out on their own, and when they split up, it was the first time they felt directly responsible for the loss of an innocent life.

but the titans that dick is leading now is explicitly about mentoring a young generation of heroes, about second chances and found family. dick definitely wants to reach out to him first, and i have a feeling he’s going to be forced to make some sort of terrible Choice later on in this episode. 

2.8. (honestly tho, this also seems like hank struggling with his own guilt re: jason; if red hood is not the kid that he failed, it’d be easier to fight him.)

3.

HANK NO

4. honestly this season is already ticking off so many things on my wishlist, but i really wish dick would sit down with the newer members of his team and trust them with important information the same time that he’s telling them to the other members. gar searching for help and reassurance from a man who just dumped all of his responsibilities on his son overnight and went AWOL is a sad sight

4.25. has it only been just 48 hours????? wow! jason’s definitely been planning the red hood gig for a long time now...

5. ezekiel, my man! shady looking guy gets into your cab without a destination in mind... no problem, get right in! said guy gets a call to go to the observatory when he’s barely even looked out of the window so far at gotham... yep, a damn tourist! i want more ezekiel in this show.

5.25. (of course jason has upturned table lamps all along the floor... we have to *gritted teeth* balance the TEAL with the ORANGE don’t we?)

5.5. “dick’s a fucking psycho--he could be following you right now.” hank... has no objection to that lol

5.25. hank, hank... this is bad-decision-palooza. i can’t imagine that hank actually thought that jason was reaching out to him for help, given that the last time hank and jason had any substantial interaction hank had been one of the people accusing jason of sabotaging the team. but for him to go seek out jason and go along with his demands without any backup, weapons or equipment? not the best idea he’s ever come up with.

(add to that getting into the swimming pool of a condemned gym... oh yuck.)

((yes, i have enough self-restraint to not cap his ass.))

(((cap his ass! HA!)))

5.5. do you think jason has bugs/monitoring equipment planted in wayne manor to monitor the titans, or remote access to the cave’s systems? wouldn’t put it past him.

6. oh man, hank came back before dick and the others could meet ezekiel! this is TRAGIC

6.25. i mean, it’s plot-convenient that connor was able to give so much information about the bomb from just looking at it once, but i also like to think it’s the luthor-side of him coming to the fore. it also reminds me of that (in)famous scene from the new52 run of Nightwing comics, where a bomb was attached to nightwing’s heart and luthor disabled it by killing nightwing (temporarily). it’s a neat little callback. 

6.55. “where i come from, you go after family? there’s no mercy.” BUT THAT’S THE PROBLEM ISN’T IT

6.75. i mean, dick’s making sense: this is a game, and they need to get it off playing out on jason’s terms. but having a member of his team in his face, doubting his reasoning and every decision? a very familiar sight. 

6.8. krypto with an a+ sense of humour? also a very familiar sight.

7. wayne enterprises... providing the military with... bombs that can be implanted in humans? a BIIIIG yikes. i guess it’s not too many steps above developing clandestine intra-dermal trackers and implanting them in your own sons, and bruce probably thought they could be used as part of negotiation tactics, but still... YIKES.

7.5. on the other hand, conner being asked to build a deactivation advice seems part of a growth arc that started from last season... he knows so much, but part of growing is learning, and part of learning is using what you know to create something new.

8. oh man, my heart broke at hank going “i’m an idiot... i screw everything up.” like. for him to go like this, after being brought down to such a low last season? struggling with pain and addiction and his relationship with the love of his life? it’s so sad.

9. oh, oh, oh! ronnie from schitt’s creek! i love her!

9.5. “one of jason’s minions” took his body out of the morgue... how deliciously morbid that he planned out his own death like this!

10. TALK TO HANK, DICK

honestly, tho, i’m quite impressed with dick here. trying to think beyond just the most alarming part of the crisis at hand, keeping his cool, delegating tasks, frequently touching base with different members of his team... well done. 

10.25.... whoops, spoke too soon. i’m genuinely confused here, tho. where did the van full of gold bars come from? why did they stop there and get out? how did dawn even know about this?

on the other hand, it’s cool to know dove has bulletproof feathers!

10.5. eh... curran walters isn’t really selling red hood’s menace to me so far. but then again, if titans version of red hood is vulnerable-kid-with-father-issues-trying-to-overcompensate, then yeah! yeah, it makes sense. 

11. “when bats have sex, they gotta have something to hang from” OH GOD HANK

... because i want smiley!gar on my blog :)

11.5. awww. i feel sorry for hank but NONE of these fuckers deserve gar except maybe kory

12. ohhh FUCK! look at jason being exactly one step ahead of the titans at every turn. nice.

no really, i love the building stakes and the building mystery - i feel like the deathstroke arc from last season should’ve been more like this. the flashbacks about jericho and rose came too late and after too much build up, which resulted in a very underwhelming and confusing season throughline.

13. HANK AND DIIIIIICCCKKK

“you’re doing your best by me. always have.” WAILING HERE

it also kills me to think that hank thinks that his imminent death is because of his failure to keep the team together (when he was clearly struggling with his own issues and was spiralling towards rock-bottom) and his fear that he will once again be the cause of the team falling apart. 

also:

14. “i grew up... you can, too. you just have to face your fear.”

yep, got scarecrow’s grubby little fingerprints aaaaalllll over this. 

14.25. nightwing’s got specialised batarangs! yay! (somehow i can’t see this universe’s dick calling them “wingdings”)

15. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

oh man, that was devastating. well done, show. fuck, well done, jason.

this is going to bring up all sorts of “if onlys” for the team. i can’t wait for some fucking aftermath. 

[youarejesting]

Quarantine.70

[Masterlist]

Beta: N/A Pairing: BTS x reader Friends2Lovers Genres: friendship, drama, romance SLOWEST OF BURNS. until the anticipation kills us all… Rating: PG-13 and above Summary: Your brother works with a few BigHit dance teams and whilst having permission to accompany him at work the city shuts down banning anyone from stepping outside for a whole WEEK while they disinfect the streets. If you step outside you might get arrested, shot, or poisoned by the chemicals they are emitting through the city. Words: 1.3k Announcement: This is the end of this Arc we have an interlude and then the final ARC begins there is a great deal of events I am so excited to write about so stay tuned

[Part 1] [Part 69] [Part 71] [Tag Yourself Here]

Mister Dong walked you to the elevator and you took out your phone and began recording hoping to catch a confession to use against him. “Did you tip off the press?”

“Not me, But it happened at the right time, someone else ratted on you, before you could affect the boys career.” He sneered

“You're an asshole, you know that right, I perpetually hate you,” you smiled at him as you got into his car. “The anger is bubbling inside me and I hope you know I won’t go down without a fight”

“I know, that’s why I have an ultimatum, you leave for good from South Korea and take this money and I will let your brother and Areum keep their jobs” he smirked, “think about that.”

“So you're threatening me and my family, that if I don’t leave the country you will fire my brother and his girlfriend?” You were beyond furious with the man, what the hell did he think he was doing, why was he trying to sabotage the boys and yourself. What the hell did he gain? The more you pondered the more you wondered if he was actually working for another company.

He pulled up outside your brother's home and you stepped out phone ringing. Answering you gave mister Dong the finger as he left in his car. “Hello Mal-chin are you okay?”

“Are you okay?” His voice was shaking, he sounded close to tears but not from sadness, he almost sounded like he was in shock “that article, I just saw it. It's from my dad's Pen name. He is a reporter. I didn’t think he would do something like this, I am so sorry?”

“It’s okay, I hated being treated like some kind of saint and getting awards, whilst keeping such a big thing a secret” There really was something freeing about finally getting the judgement you deserved.

“You don’t hate me?” His voice was so tiny and unsure, you smiled softly, no longer feeling the weight on your shoulders but you felt a little sick. Sick that he had to deal with the negative sides of his father's work.

“No I don’t hate you” you sighed, phone buzzing, “I have to go I have another call”

“Hey, Y/n, don’t worry, we have just posted the official article about what happened. The new report says our officers are responsible for shooting the man and you were just present we spun the story a little to pardon you from the limelight” 

“I am sending a statement, read it and memorise it if any reporters ask you to tell them exactly what is written” you agreed and quickly hung up. 

“I was there, with former captain Won-shik and his team, mister Kim Seokjin and we had just rescued Jeon Jungkook, who had been taken by Mister Choi’s people we were heading back in a peaceful rescue mission to retrieve him when we ran straight into Mister Choi he held a gun to Seokjin’s head and told us to stay back. As we were trying to negotiate I got to close and he shot me in the leg while the soldier shot him before he could kill anyone else” You mumbled it felt a little like a lie but the officer on the phone said you were working with Major Won-shik and a part of the team so they consider you in that moment a soldier and are keeping it ambiguous. 

Thanking that you had a spare key to your brothers new house, you headed inside and took a seat on the couch. Jungkook facetimed you, you could see him and Taehyung sitting on the couch in the living room. “Can you sneak over?”

“Not tonight boys, Mister Dong has banned me from seeing you. He is threatening Areum and Thomas’ jobs, I am wondering what I should do?”

“What do you mean wondering?” Yoongi hissed snatching the phone and looking at you through the screen. “If you are even contemplating it then clearly we are dispensable and you should just leave”

“Woah Yoongi that is harsh,” Hoseok said as Jimin tried to calm him down. “We all were contemplating quitting for her and she isn’t thinking the same way?” “Listen if it was my job on the line I would, but it is my brothers and his girlfriend. I would never kill someone to save myself’

“That’s funny, the news says you would” He spat, throwing the phone onto the couch you assumed he left judging by the others calling out his name, Taehyung called your name but you hung up.

Everyone was too stressed but that was such a childish way to handle the situation. You called your brother, hoping the three of you could come to a decision. Needless to say the two refused to let you sacrifice your happiness for their jobs.

~

It had been almost an entire week since you had spoken to the boys, of course they texted you and you texted politely back but you were working through things. Mostly paperwork with Doctor Chang at his little clinic and your liaison with the Korean army was Major Won-shik who was filing the paperwork and you were given a full military scholarship to be Doctor Changs apprentice.

Finally on the friday you were meeting Wendy and Mal-chin after work the three of you were having a wonderful time, eating frozen yoghurt and window shopping, Mal-chin's hair was still so long and you couldn’t see his eyes.

“Hey do you want me to get you an appointment for a haircut?” He didn’t seem to like that idea as in a split second he blanched before trying to tame his expression. “No, it’s okay if you don’t want to, do you want me to pin your hair out of your eyes?”

He nodded and looked up at you softly letting you move his hair to the side retrieving a pin from your hair you frowned, “I only have a little bow clip, is that okay?”

“It will be fine, I don’t know anyone here besides you two. Just don’t make me look silly.” He smiled and you placed them into his hair. He checked his reflection and deemed it appropriate before you each continued on.

“Let’s have some dinner” The three of you had dinner and you walked Mal-chin to the train where he returned the clip.

“Thank you for letting me borrow it” He smiled, “I just don’t want to cut my hair yet, a lot of guys my age have long hair so I want to fit in and make friends”

“I get it, try all these fun things, while you're young, it’s just hair and you have the rest of your life to change how it looks and the colour--” Cut off by a big hug your last words a wheeze.

“Thank you for everything, for just being here even though my dad…” He sniffed eyes watering and he wiped it on the corner of his dress coat sleeve. “If ever you need anything, I will help however I can”

“Well actually, I know your dad is a good reporter, perhaps we can do business, I have someone I want him to look into” 

~

The meeting was called at the end of the week, on Saturday and officially your name was cleared. There wasn’t much to do that morning, Wendy and Mal-chin had already helped pick out a business outfit, ‘something powerful like the girls in Kdrama’s’ Mal-chin had proposed when you presented them with the challenge of appropriate attire.

So here you were feeling bad ass with some heels and it had taken a long time to be able to walk in them again and tight black business pants and a deep purple v neck with cap sleeves. You had your nails and hair done as a group, Mal-chin obviously sitting out when it came to the salon but sporting a navy nail polish.

But you were ready and you meant business, this was going to be one meeting they wouldn’t forget for a long time. Because you had information they didn’t know about Mister Dong.

[Part 1] [Part 69] [Part 71] [Tag Yourself Here]

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If you tell Taehyung you’re in love with Jeongguk...

Word Count: 2,090

Disclaimer: This is part (55) of a Choose Your Own Ending!

Start here:

“Well...I mean...I don’t...I’m not sure how he feels,” you mumble, self-consciously. “But I’m…” You clear your throat nervously. “I’m in love with him,” you finish in a helpless whisper. 

“Oh. Okay,” Tae mutters. “Sorry I...you know...” he adds, blushing. He stands to leave, bowing his head slightly in deference.

“It’s okay!” you tell him quickly, reaching instinctively to take his hand. He gives you a small, sad smile, squeezes your hand gently and sighs deeply. “I’m sorry,” you plead. He shakes his head and gently releases your hand.

“Can we just forget it happened?” he asks you softly. You nod quickly, sending him another smile and patting the couch next to you.

“Of course! Let’s finish watching this,” you suggest. “I was enjoying your company. I always enjoy your company Tae-ssi,” you tell him, as desperate as he is to return things to ‘normal’. He smiles gratefully and sits back down, looking more relaxed than you’ve seen him in ages. Your mind flashes back to the last time you had to tell someone you had feelings for them and it was unrequited. Your warm feelings towards Tae grow and you squeeze his arm companionably. He gives you one of his boxy smiles and passes you the popcorn.

*********************************************************************

“Billiards?” you repeat, confused. Jimin is enthusiastically explaining the concept for their next teaser.

“I’m good at billiards,” he huffs. 

“I’m sure you are,” you reassure him hastily. “But...why?” you interrupt yourself, sure you won’t get a sensible answer, even if you ask the question.

“Why what?” he repeats, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. You fumble for a plausible question.

“Why the retro clothes?” you try.

“Oh!” Jimin obviously buys your slight tweak of question.

“It’s for the Dynamite concept,” he grins. You nod in understanding and gesture to him to go ahead of you into the repurposed gaming hall. None of that explains why he’s wearing an ajumma-style floral headscarf but okay. All of this means you’re thoroughly unprepared for Jeongguk in dangerous black with a hint of animal print at his collar and a black-and-silver belt cinching his immaculate waist. And from the look he gives you he knows how good he looks as well. 

“We’re playing billiards,” he tells you excitedly.

“Uh yeah...Jimin...told me…” you stammer, trying to keep your voice level. Jeongguk preens at your obvious infatuation with him.

“He used to play at school. He was in a club and everything,” he updates you on Jimin’s billiards qualifications. You rearrange your expression to look suitably impressed. This seems to make Jeongguk agitated.

“I’m going to beat him though,” he brags, sulky.

“Oh really?” you tease, back on safe ground now that he’s in his usual competitive mode and you can rib him a little. He nods, tossing his hair just a little and pats habitually at his cheek with the back of his hand.

“Yup,” he confirms, twirling his pool cue confidently.

“Are you taking bets?” you needle him. He pouts at you in aegyo. You roll your eyes and tell him you’ll bet on Jimin if he doesn’t name his price. His eyes widen in genuine shock. He darts a glance at the rest of Bangtan, milling around the hall and watching the camera crew set up. You follow his eyeline, so you don’t notice him lean into you until you smell his cologne and turn your head, bringing you almost kissing distance to his lips. He smiles kittenishly. 

“If I win, will you come on a date with me?” he purrs in your ear.

“Wha...what if Jimin wins?” you stammer, completely taken by surprise. His eyes narrow as if the proposition is offensive.

“You can take me on a date to cheer me up,” he mutters sullenly. You swallow hard, trying to read the look in his eyes.

“So let me get this straight...If you win, you’ll take me on a date?” he nods, eyes lighting up again at the question. “And if you lose, I take you on a date?” Another nod. “So what you’re trying to tell me...as I understand it…is that you want to go on a date with me?” 

“Yes,” he breathes, barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” you agree, not daring to move any closer to him or even touch his hand despite the fact that his eyes are devouring you and your skin is tingling irresistibly under his heated gaze.

Turns out the game is more of a photo opp so there isn’t really a winner, but there is a general consensus that everyone is impressed with Jimin’s playing and that Jeongguk, as always, picks it up very quickly. The others drift off once the shoot is over, awaiting permission to leave. You sidle over to a rather glum Jeongguk, leaning against the abandoned billiards table.

“I guess nobody won,” you observe. He grunts in acknowledgement of your statement, pouting moodily at the floor. “So I guess we’ll have to put a raincheck on that date,” you tease him, slipping your hand under his resting one to brush his palm with your fingers. He gives you a dazed look that swiftly turns to a shy smile. 

One of the staff members and the van driver come inside to let the boys know they’re free to leave and the van will be embarking in ten minutes, if anyone wants a lift back to the dormitory apartment. Jeongguk looks at you questioningly, but you just shake your head discreetly and glance meaningfully at the billiards table.

“How about I play you for a date?” you suggest. “Once the others leave.” He grins and twirls the pool cue he’s still holding again with a cocky look.

“You’re on,” he accepts.

Of course he beats you soundly, not that you can even concentrate with him looking like such a snack. You just shrug your defeat, letting him hook one finger under your chin and kiss you lingeringly on the lips.

“So where are we going on this date?” you ask him, stroking the back of his head as he drops his kisses below your chin and onto your neck. He doesn’t answer, instead picking you up and placing you on the edge of the billiard table. You roll the remaining balls towards the pockets with your hands, giggling. You’re expecting him to play along, but when you glance back at him, he’s turned the look in his eyes all the way up to smoking seduction-level.

“No...Kookie, no! We can’t. Not here, jagi” you murmur unconvincingly, your legs already instinctively wrapping around him. “Someone will see us,” you make one last ditch effort to resist his charms. “Oh fuck I want you so badly though,” you exhale, pulling him down towards you to kiss him with messy abandon, as his warm hands slide your skirt teasingly up your thighs.

“Do you?” he growls, between kisses. “Want me?”

“Always. But never more than I do right now,” you confirm, before tangling your tongue with his again. He looks shy and a little confused. You edge yourself back on the billiards table, coaxing him to crawl over to you across the felt. His hands grasp your hips, as he trails kisses from your waist up towards your breasts, pushing your top up and out of his way. You gasp as he brings his hands up to cup your breasts, transferring his searing kisses to the half-moons of exposed flesh above your bra.

Quickly yanking your knickers down to your knees so that you can kick them off, you reach for his belt and fumble with the buckle, dropping it onto the table and feverishly unbuttoning his animal-print shirt so that you can get your hands on his immaculate chest and sexy abs. His hips are already thrusting in anticipation and you raise yours from the surface, to grind yourself against him, eliciting a whimper from his parted lips against your skin. 

“Bbali, bbali, we’re going to get in so much trouble if we get caught!” you plead with him urgently. He doesn’t answer, but just kisses you messily, shimmies his pants down his thighs, grabs your legs to spread them to his satisfaction, and then slides himself into you with a satisfied groan. Returning his lips to your neck, he sprinkles passionate kisses over every part of your bare skin that he can expose and reach as his thrusts get wilder and more urgent.

“Oh God, Jeongguk-ah! Are you close,” you beg him, your lips trying to memorise every inch of him as your hips dance to keep up with his.

“Un-huh, wa-yo,” he pants out, biting his bottom lip hard, You watch the orgasm wash over his face just prior to the sticky warmth that fills you up. But he keeps going, even though his thighs and arms are trembling, until he feels you tighten and contract around him and collapses on your chest. You stroke his slightly-damp hair away from his forehead, as the remnants of your own orgasm rampage through your body. 

*****************************************************************

You’re just assuming that’s his “date” fulfilled, so you’re a little surprised when you hear a timid knock on your bedroom door two nights later. You slide it open warily, unsure what to expect, to be confronted with an immaculately-dressed Jeongguk, tugging self-consciously at his jacket lapels and clutching a single red rose that’s nearly as perfect as his lips. His silver earrings flash in the light emanating from your room. He clears his throat, nervously and holds the rose out towards you.

“Erm, I’m here to take you on that date, noona,” he tells you shyly. “I knew you had the night off because we do and I...I checked your appointment calendar so I knew you were staying in,” he mumbles, blushing. You open your mouth, unsure what to say, then close it again quickly. Then it occurs to you that the truth may be the best policy here.

“I thought you were...I mean I didn’t realise you meant a proper date,” you tell him. “Let me just put something more appropriate on.” You leave the door ajar, gesturing to him to enter, which, after a moment of hesitation, he does, seating himself gingerly on the edge of your bed. You keep your back to him as you fix your makeup and adorn yourself in jewellery.

“I honestly thought you were just after...you know...some fun...the other day,” you elaborate, swiftly finishing your winged eyeliner and spraying some perfume on.

You see him shake his head quickly in the reflection from your mirror. You turn to face him, smiling at him warmly.

“I really like you, Jeongguk-ssi,” you tell him softly. He smiles back at you, leaning forward to kiss you gently.

“I like you too, noona,” he murmurs. “Are you ready to go?”

“Almost!” you laugh. “But with all that effort you’ve gone to, it would be a shame not to dress for the occasion. How about I meet you down in the car park in ten minutes?” you suggest. He nods happily and lets himself out of your room, giving you a cute, formal bow.

You change into one of your dresses that he’s commented approvingly on before, along with a cute pair of heeled boots that you know he loves and trot down to the car park, buzzing with anticipation. Only when you get to the car Jeongguk is looking worriedly at his phone.

“Everything okay, jagi?” you check with him, your heart sinking a little. He looks up anxiously and bites his lip.

“Yeah, it’s just…” he stammers, turning the screen to face you. It’s one of the websites that regularly tracks idol movements and his name jumps out at you immediately. “BTS Jungkook’s racy night out with mystery woman!” screams the headline, complete with a press photo of him and a blurry security photo of you guys leaving the gaming room together. You grimace in sympathy. 

“Do you want to still go?” you ask, careful of his feelings. He takes a deep breath, then lets it out in a sigh.

“Yes. I want to,” he tells you, defiantly. “They’ll have something else to talk about in a week and anyway...they’re going to have to get used to me living my life one day.” He climbs into the van, drawing you in after him and slides the door across.

“Gaja!” he calls to the driver, taking your hand in his and resting his head on your shoulder with a sweet little sigh.

THE END

[bearsinpotatosacks]

Based on a prompt by @writeworld-blog

Includes negative self talk and bad days and crying so I avoid if this is a touchy thing for you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You always smile like you're about to cry," 

Jim had said that late one night back in the Academy when they'd drank too much whiskey and sitting on chairs was too much. His face was floating by as he sat, again, on the floor- this time in his shower. 

Tears stung in his eyes, red from crying. His hands were cold and numb. Pins and needles climbed up his legs as they were hunched against his chest. The deep breaths weren’t working. With each one he could feel his head getting lighter and lighter, 

He knew they'd been calling him, they were probably knocking on his door. But deep down he didn't care. He’d been putting on a mask all day and after finally being able to collapse into the arms of everything pulling him down, his stomach flipped at the thought of facing them. It was safer to stay away. 

Did that make him selfish? Probably. Just another quality to add to the list of reasons why he was an awful person. 

Other qualities on the list were how he shouted at innocent staff members, how he excused every hurtful thing he did with his grumpy personality. There was a reason people didn't show up to their appointments- he scared everyone away.

Part of him tried to cry out that none of this was true but it drowned in the viscous gloop of all the negative voices. The gloop weighed him down all day, hanging off his shoulders, trying to pull him to the floor to keep him there.

He'd managed to function all day, completed check-ups, discharged staff, performed surgeries and dealt with the numerous injuries and accidents collected by the engineering crew. Somewhere deep down he was proud of himself for getting through the day. Humorously, it sounded like Jim.

On the topic of Jim, he hadn't caught on about his mood yet, something he didn’t know was good or bad. He had a sixth sense when it came to Bones’ moods, most likely because no one cared for him as a child. If he made too many comments then they’d have his favourite food for dinner. If his lecture had gone on for too long after Jim got hurt then he knew to cuddle him longer that night. Jim made sure to use his brilliant memory for not only memorising all his crew but for all the self-care routines of everyone he loved.

“Hey, Bones, you’re twenty minutes late,” Jim said, his presence almost supernatural. “You know what today is, right? You're missing the new episode of the Real Housewives of Starfleet!”

‘Leave me alone, leave me alone. I don’t have the energy to hide this,’ He rocked faster, digging his fingernails onto the flesh of his leg. 

“Bones? Are you in here?” Jim entered the room and came closer to the bathroom door, continuing to call until he appeared in the doorway.

His face froze. Eyes cracked with love as he fell to his knees and shuffled to the entrance of the shower cubicle, next to the sink and inset into the blue-tiled walls. 

"Can I touch you?" 

Bones nodded and Jim squeezed in next to him. His hands reached around his tensed torso, pushing his head onto his shoulder and rocking him as he hushed his sobs.

"So this is where you've been," He said. "Why didn't you tell me today? You know the main thing I care about is the wellbeing of my crew, even more with you,"

Bones shrugged and nestled closer into Jim's heated body. "Didn't want to bother you while you were working,"

"But I'm not working now, and our friends aren't either,"

"Didn't want to bother you, I've dealt with this alone before,"

Jim tutted, "Doesn't mean you have to be alone with this now,"

He pressed him back down and continued to rock them, back and forth, back and forth. Leonard's breathing went level. His tears dried in streaks down his face. 

"Jim, where are you? Did you find Leonard or not?" Uhura's voice sang through the communicator.

Jim felt Bones tense in his arms. The rocking starting again as he breathed shorter, sharper. He held him harder, not letting Leonard lose himself just as he was coming back.

"I'll tell them to call it off, we don't have to go," He said and buried his nose in the musky, warm scent of his hair. "All we're doing tonight is cuddling, eating your favourite food and watching that soap opera about Vulcans that you refuse to admit to Spock that you love,"

Leonard chuckled and sat up. Jim said to Nyota, "Let's reschedule to tomorrow, Bones isn't doing too good,"

A crackle, "Okay, give him my love,"

He was wobbly on his feet as he stood, his grip white and clammy on Jim's hand. He collapsed onto the bed and followed him around the room as he busied himself with starting the replicator and setting up the holo program on Leonard's favourite show.

Jim returned to him soon, the same grin on his face as he cuddled closer and closer to him. The blanket wafted in the air before they sighed and let themselves melt into the cosy warmth and headaches that always followed tears.

"Thanks, Jim,"

He chuckled, "No need to thank me, I love you, you big grizzly bear,"

"I love you too,"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you enjoyed this, I love (and I mean love) sad Bones or hurt Bones or Bones whump so now I'm trying to get into a routine and am trying to get outside more and eat better to get more motivated I'll hopefully write more of what I want!

[kim-chann]

How would the Matsuno brothers deal with grief from the death of their S/O?

Sorry haha, just has this angsty thought in the middle of the night.

TW: Suicide mentions!

Osomatsu: Osomatsu would be absolutely devastated. He would shut himself out of the world like he was never even born. Ever since his S/O passed away, the sextuplets were often shown as quintuplets. Which would honestly worry the brothers by the strange assumption from strangers. Osomatsu would lock himself in the guest room where he lived with you, avoiding the shared bedroom which you and Osomatsu shared, at all costs. 

Something broke inside him ever since he was screaming for hours, days, and even months. He doesn’t know what to do. He loved you so god damn much, he doesn’t know where to go anymore. He felt like giving up, erasing himself from existence to show that he can’t deal with such grief. The tears that he spend months on were no longer active. He can’t feel anymore. He barely got any sunlight and often talks to himself in the empty house. His brothers would try to make contact with him, but Osomatsu would scream for them to go away, which is highly unlikely of him. 

Osomatsu would be emotionless for a long time. Depression was already intoxicating his mind as the thought of killing himself to be with you came through his head multiple times. But he can’t bring himself to it. Every time he was so close, he can’t. He just can’t. He would break down when he tries to remember your touch and voice. But that wasn’t enough. Because you were gone. Ichimatsu would suspect such a rise of depression of grief, and practically team up with his brothers to take Osomatsu out even if he fights back. His brothers and parents are his only hope on helping him through his stages of grief. So they did. 

Karamatsu: Karamatsu is no longer Karamatsu. His smirk, his painful eyes, sunglasses, songs-- were no longer there like they just disappeared out of existence. It was sudden, the brothers were worried for his sudden change of attitude. Instead of Karamatsu being peppy and poetic towards his brothers, he would just wouldn’t say anything, or just angrily push them away. He always wanted to be alone. He hasn’t even touched his guitar for a while now. Ever since his S/O passes away, he felt something squeeze him, suffocating him. 

He felt like dying then and there, passing out from the amount of shock that was pursed in his veins. He was in denial for the rest of the day, thinking that it was some prank that his brothers and S/O were making up. But when the night came, he was so used to your warmth next to him, and your body being squeezed against him was now gone. Just gone. The sudden realisation that you were truly gone struck him hard. Karamatsu would cry gently, tears running down his cheeks before his quiet sobs would turn into screams of misery. He would be begging that you would come home, to run into his arms and cheer him up and tell him that everything is going to be alright. 

He would lock himself in the house for days, weeks, and almost a few months just like Osomatsu. He would cry every time he rememberers sudden memorises of you and him. The fact that nothing like that can happen again was a knife to the heart. His eyes were so puffy and red, it seemed like his tears were never ending. He tries to avoid pictures, videos, any sort of valuable that was yours or something that reminded him of you. Yet he couldn’t. He can’t just do that. He leaves your stuff as it is, feeling weak every time it catches in his sight. 

This brothers, and even Chibita, would come over to the house and give him dinner while they be gentle with him. They were going to try to help him out of his grief by paying for his therapy sessions. 

Choromatsu: Choromatsu would feel like an ant. So small, so little, so vulnerable to the open world. He would feel like the scum of the earth and questions and questions in his head would turn into self deprecation comments that lead him to a self destructive nature. He would no longer be a bit narcissistic and prideful of his dedication to find jobs, he would just give up. 

His addiction to Nyaa-chan and Totoko-chan would deplete immediately. He would just feel numb inside from being shaky, weak, and scared to leave the shared house where you and Choromatsu stayed. Hell, grief would hit him so hard, instead of going through the stages of grief, he would most likely be diagnosed with schizophrenia because he literally denies that you died. 

He can’t let you go. Not ever. Not now. You were his weren’t you? And he was yours. So why did you go? His brothers and his parents would come over and be confused and worried when Choromatsu was his “usual” self, talking to thin-air, his brain painting up an image that you were still with him. Every time his family would invite him out to take a walk or go to a new Nyaa-chan concert, he would be angry and scared to leave the house, especially to leave “you” alone. His parents and his brothers would come up with a plan to get Choromatsu the help he needs, because his grief cursed him schizophrenia. 

Ichimatsu: Ichimatsu would be hit the hardest amongst the brothers. Ichimatsu would no longer feed the cats in the alleyway, torment Karamatsu, and not even sleep. Sleep was something he was known for in the Matsuno residence for how lazy he can be. But his lazy nature turned into restless nights. The comforting silence filtered with quiet breathes would be replaced by his sobs and screams of grief.

 He wasn’t the loud type, but his screams proved that assumption wrong. Ichimatsu’s self destructive nature would be way worse than it already was. Ever since his S/O was pronounced dead, he immediately skipped to anger instead of denial. Ichimatsu would very pale and skinny every time he was forced out of the house by his brothers. He wouldn’t even bother messing with his brothers anymore. Because the only thing in his mind was you. Every time he was alone, he can feel the urge to end himself right then and there. 

Ichimatsu would start cutting. Crying when he would slice his wrist and hug the pillow that you sleep on until he passes out from the blood loss. Luckily, Jyushimatsu was going to visit his older brother and when he noticed that the door was unlocked and saw his brothers bleeding out. He immediately called the ambulance. Ichimatsu would be angry and saddened that he didn’t die yet and was a bit pissed at Jyushimatsu that he saved his life. Jyushimatsu told Ichimatsu that S/O would not like him beating himself over their death. 

His S/O would want him to be happy with himself. Ichimatsu takes those words to heart, feeling stupid and embarrassed that you might be watching over him and watching him hurt himself when you were completely against that. He even promised that he would get better for you, but now that you were gone. He would fight his grief just for you. 

Jyushimatsu: Oh boy. He doesn’t even know what to do anymore. His smile would fall into a sharp thin line and his eyes were no longer filled with joy. He would stay in the first stage of grief for such a long time. Denying the fact that you died and thinks that this was some prank from you. After days and weeks, he realised that you were never coming back to him.

Just like Choromatsu, he may be diagnosed with schizophrenia and feel like himself again when he finally sees “you” home and gives you a long big hug, saying that he missed you so much. He felt so happy that he went over to his brothers house and presents that S/O is not dead and that you’re right next to him. He can see you, feel you, and hear you. Why can’t his brothers?

Jyushimatsu would be so confused to see the concerned expressions on his brothers’ face and get a bit annoyed, calling them rude, and leave the house. The brothers immediately try to take action, wanting the second youngest to get help as quickly as possible. Because we all know Jyushimatsu, he’s tough to crack. So it might take him years to finally let go of his grief for you.

Todomatsu: Todomatsu would go straight into anger. He would not deny your death, he would be so angry at your death. He would be pissed that you left him alone and that you were so stupid to die all of the sudden. Todomatsu’s attitude might continue for a quite a while, for even weeks maybe. When he moves onto the next stage of grief; bargaining.

 He would insult himself and laugh right in front of his brothers when they go to Chibita’s. “If I were stronger, S/O would still be here right now.” Then he would quickly add, “But I’m the worse aren’t I! I can’t even protect them when they needed me the most... hehe...hahaHAHA!” He would start laughing maniacally before he bursts into tears. His brothers would try to comfort him but he would push them away and run home. 

Todomatsu would be crying to himself, thinking that he was so useless to protect you which moves himself onto the fourth stage: depression. He would need guidance to help with such a thing, so Ichimatsu would Jyushiamatsu would be willing to fill in those roles. He would take his time trying to get better, but soon enough. He’ll go through acceptance. 

I got really sad writing this haaaa.

[kingreywrites]

Make my messes matter - Chapter 3 - Learning

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 1670

Summary: A series of seven ficlets focused on Rapunzel learning to navigate life in different ways after living eighteen years in a tower, with Gothel as a mother.

1. Touching - 2. Arguing - 3. Learning

Read on ao3

The discovery that probably surprised Rapunzel most when she left her tower, was that she was smart - smarter than the average person, in any case. Not that she thought herself especially slow but, without any other frame of reference than what Gothel had told her, she thought that she was nothing much, compared to her mother.

Despite the years, Rapunzel still remembered learning to read as a young child - mostly because she had been so bad at it. Mother had explained every letter painstakingly and yet, Rapunzel hadn't memorised them enough and messed up the next day. Mother had been upset, and that made her tired, and really Rapunzel, you'll be the death of me, don't you love me-

Rapunzel preferred books, anyway. Because she could read any information again and again, until she understood. And again, because she had nothing else to read. And again, and again, until she knew it by heart. She was also good at recognising patterns, and at creating new games and contraptions to spend the time. She hadn't thought much of it, really, until one of her tutors had noticed her skills and decided to go to her parents about it.

Apparently, not everyone had studied the movement of the stars like she did. And not everyone was as good as she was at adapting her knowledge to real life. Her parents had been exastic, and her tutors were happy to give her tougher subjects to study - which she was also happy to discover! Though, to her opinion, they were blowing this way out of proportion.

"I don't get what's the problem," Eugene said when she complained about it, "you're amazing! Of course they noticed that!" His sentence was punctuated by Pascal's loud squeak of affirmation.

Rapunzel smiled and rolled her eyes but, since she had her head in Eugene's lap, he didn't notice. She might have come straight from her lessons to the library, where she knew she would find him, before laying down on him and blurting out what was bothering her. She didn't regret it, though, because being with him helped her calm down a little. Honestly she was flattered that her tutors thought her to be a quick learner - she only wished they hadn't gone directly to her parents.

"I just had a lot of time on my hands," she finally answered as Eugene slowly stroked her hair, "but really, I'm-"

Slow, lazy, naive, a failure, a voice whispered in her mind, that sounded like a mixture of her own and Gothel's. She clamped her mouth shut and breathed deeply - she knew, now, that Gothel was a liar. She knew it upset a lot of people when she repeated those lies, so she was working hard not to do it.

She wasn't fooling Eugene, however, but he said nothing, waiting for her to be ready to talk. She sat up and he let her go easily, but she only did it to reposition herself in his arms, hiding her head in the crook of his neck. She felt his chest rising and falling with his breathing and, slowly, her tongue untied.

"I don't feel like I'm special, but everyone keeps saying I am," she murmured, and Eugene tightened his arms around her. She had a feeling he was trying hard not to assure her that she was indeed special, and she appreciated it. "There's so much I still don't know, and I'm worried- I'm worried that they'll be disappointed once they see me struggle if they expect too much of me."

"I think I get that," Eugene answered when it was obvious she wouldn't say more, "but I also think that the one putting the most pressure on you is yourself, Sunshine. Everyone is happy that you're adapting way faster than could be expected, but you're already worried about a failure you didn't make yet."

His words rang true, but she wasn't sure what to make of them. So she stayed silent, and he kept hugging her as long as she needed it, Pascal's weight on the top of her head another source of comfort.

For Rapunzel, failure had never been a possibility, but a certitude. No matter how hard she tried, how meek she was, how much she listened, she would always -always- do something to displease her mother. The only control she had over that was over the size of the actual failure, but her mother's constant disappointment still bit harshly at her confidence in her learning abilities. And now that she had seemingly everything to learn, everyone's confidence ironically put more pressure on her shoulders - it was all confusing.

It all came to a head when Arianna - her mom - proposed to teach her how to swim. The topic had come up at breakfast, when her mom had proposed that they could go to a nearby lake, and Rapunzel had stumbled over her words. Her parents immediately backtracked, as they always did when they worried about upsetting her, but Eugene had suggested that she would need to learn to swim at one point and, one thing leading to the other…

"Oh, cold," Rapunzel chuckled as she joined her mom in the water. Pascal, who wanted to come with her, put one little paw in the lake and decided that he'd be better off on dry land, which made Arianna laugh.

"Don't worry, your body will adapt to the temperature quickly. You know, I used to come here a lot when I was a kid," Arianna smiled softly.

This is the fourth time I am touching a body of water in my entire life, Rapunzel thought, but didn't say. She hadn't know her mom for a long time, but she already hated the sad glint that appeared in her eyes whenever Rapunzel mentioned her life in the tower. Arianna obviously loved her a lot - they just didn't know how to deal with each other quite yet.

"So, swimming!" Arianna exclaimed awkwardly. "What do you know about it?"

"I've seen Eugene do it," Rapunzel answered eagerly, mimicking the movement of his arms, "and I managed to swim for a little while, but it wasn't much."

She didn't add the part about the flooding cave, or the near death experience, or the feeling of being swept away by the current until Eugene grabbed her hand and pushed her toward the river bank. She didn't think her mom would appreciate it.

Arianna spent the next hour helping her find her footing in the water, teaching her the different ways she could float and move around. By the end of it, any hint of awkwardness had disappeared between them both, and they were sharing little anecdotes while laughing. They were in deeper water now, but Rapunzel felt confident that she wasn't going to drown - the most important thing Arianna had taught her was that staying calm was the key to swimming.

And of course that, in her new found confidence, she wasn't careful enough with her footing and fell right into the water - and of course, as she went down, she panicked and kicked her mother accidentally.

She barely breathed as she surfaced. "I'm so, so sorry," she babbled, helping her mom get up again and cringing at her now dishevelled state.

"Sweetheart it's-"

"I know you told me the ground was slippery, I really should have been more careful but I won't do it again-"

"Honey-"

"-and, I mean, you taught me so much already, and I listened to you, I swear, but-"

"Rapunzel," Arianna exclaimed, putting both of her hands on her shoulders, "it's fine, I'm not angry. You simply slipped, it happens."

Rapunzel laughed, her voice a little too high as her heart was still beating too quickly in her chest. It was a simple mistake, nothing big, but her body reacted as if her mothe- her mom was going to hate her for it. Which was frankly ridiculous, she told herself firmly, trying to wrangle her emotions back under her control.

"I- Rapunzel, even if you made a mistake because you didn't listen to me, I wouldn't be mad," Arianna continued softly, "god knows I didn't listen to anyone's advice when I was your age."

Here it was, that sad glint her mom always got in her eyes when she was thinking about Rapunzel's life in the tower - exactly what she had wished to avoid. Rapunzel sighed, feeling her shoulders slump, the gentle movement of the water around her a strangely soothing sensation. She knew Eugene and her mom were right - knew that she was too hard on herself, too competitive also, wanting to prove to everyone that they didn't need to explain themselves multiple times. But when she kept pushing these feelings away, hoping for them to disappear, she wasn't fixing anything.

"I'm sorry," she finally sighed, feeling like being honest was the only solution. "I'm not used to people explaining things to me. Gothel- she wasn't the most patient and, as soon as I could read, I learnt most things by myself. This," she smiled, vaguely gesturing to the situation, "is pretty new to me."

Arianna's eyes had softened as she talked, and she looked relieved that Rapunzel was trusting her enough to tell her this.

"This is pretty new to me too. I mean, I did help my sister learn how to ride a bike, but it involved a lot more bickering," she joked, trying to lighten the conversation. "You're a much better student than she ever was!"

"I guess I am," Rapunzel accepted, and the afternoon finished on a nicer tone.

It was hard for her, to relearn how to learn. It was hard for her to not underestimate or overestimate her capacities, to be able to accept help when the only one she had before was herself. But after that day at the lake, she understood that, no matter what, she now had a family to support her, and friends, and Eugene.

She didn't need to be perfect - she just had to remember that.

[nicostolemybones]

How Solangelo Show Affection

Nico

Nico's touch averse so physical contact is often a big nope. But that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy affection. 

He likes to wrap his arms around Will's waist from behind and mutter sweet nothings in Italian in his ear, then he'll spin him around and kiss him. 

He likes to surprise Will with the warmest tightest cuddles and he likes to hold his hand and he likes it when Will runs his fingers through his hair and he loves to run his fingers through Will's curls when they kiss.

He brings back expensive chocolates for no reason, and he makes Will pasta for lunch that he personally delivers to the infirmary, and sometimes Will will say he wants a pizza, so he shadow travels to Venice and comes back with a pizza and flowers and he lights candles and everything. 

He has an old record player in his cabin and he'll put music on and they'll dance. He likes swing and jazz because it was an act of rebellion when he was a kid, but he usually puts on something slow and smooth and they'll sway slowly and he'll hold Will so close and sing to him softly and he'll kiss Will so so tenderly and softly it feels like he's pouring his whole soul into kissing him and suddenly nothing else matters. 

He'll surprise Will with a bath after a long infirmary shift, with an amber bath bomb and rose petals and candles and essential oils, and he'll make sure Will has the fluffiest towels for when he gets out.

He likes to make or buy little trinkets for Will. He'll be walking down the street and see a flower or a shiny rock he thinks Will would like, or he'll see a pin badge or a book in a shop so he'll buy it for Will. He's a little like a magpie giving Will tiny gifts.

He wears Will's hoodies when he's sick or when he's sad, but he especially wears them when Will's having a bad day. They're a tad too big for him and Will thinks it's adorable.

He takes his jacket off to give it to Will. It's kept him warm when he lived on the streets, so it's more than just a jacket to him. It's his way of sharing his safety, his shelter, of protecting Will.

Nico knows Will is tactile, so he tries to show his affection through touch. He'll lean his head on Will's shoulder or place his hand on the small of his back or he'll tuck Will's hair behind his ear. But mainly he'll merely sit besides Will with his back to him- much like a cat, this is Nico's way of saying 'I trust you to watch my back'. 

Nico closes his eyes in response to affection, it's his way of letting Will know he's memorising the feeling, letting himself just be, and lose himself in the moment.

He loves to talk to Will in Italian, especially as they fall asleep. He tells him everything he doesn't know how to express in English, or everything he's not quite ready to say, or everything he wishes he could express more personally. He'll stroke Will's hair as he tells him that he loves him, and that it's all going to be okay, that he's there, he's not going anywhere, that Will can rely on him and depend on him, that Will can trust him with his life and his soul because Nico knows they're soulmates, he'll keep Will's heart safely beside his own. 

He counts Will's freckles silently, in awe at them, like glowing constellations. He paints on Will's back, making galaxies and constellations and angel wings and suns and hearts from his freckles. Will always giggles because it tickles, but that's okay, because that's Nico's favourite sound in the world. Will's laugh is infectious and high pitched and he snorts and wheezes and sometimes even hiccups a light butterfly but it's so melodic, better than any music could ever hope to be.

Will

He likes to leave post it notes everywhere. On the Hades table, on Nico's jacket, on his cabin door, on his pillow, on his chair, in his lunches and on his medication even- with the cheesiest, most heartfelt poetry he can, or little doodles, or gentle reminders to Nico to take care of himself, to eat, to brush his hair, to stay alive.

He likes to lay his head in Nico's lap to take a nap, with Nico's fingers brushing through his hair, and Will always reaches up and cups Nico's cheek in his hand.

He holds Nico so tightly when he cries, and tells him that he is valid, he is loved, he is worth a thousand suns

He likes to lovingly stitch Nico's clothes when they get torn on a quest or in training. He'll take them to his cabin and he'll wash them and he'll stitch every last tear or hole. If it's a big rip, he'll add a few more, attach some chains and spikes and bottle caps and patches, and return them to Nico looking ten times more badass than before.

He has so many alarms on his phone for Nico. When he needs to take his medication down to the times Nico has to go on a quest. His calender is full of special dates.

He takes Nico out to the strawberry fields for picnics- it's quiet and isolated, so they can talk until it's dark, which is when Will takes Nico to the beach and tries to serenade him. He knows he can't sing, but he writes Nico songs and sings to Nico when he's sad or sick or hurt.

He glows softly of a night, because he knows Nico is afraid of the dark, even if he never says it.

With help from the Demeter cabin, Will learned flower code. So he always makes intricate flower crowns for Nico with tender messages of love and support, or he leaves them outside Nico's cabin when he goes for his morning run.

Will kisses Nico all the time, sweet and tender, firery and passionate, desperate and wanting, loving and sweet. He takes Nico's hand and traces 'I love you' on the back and he's always reaching out for Nico, for hugs, for a reason to hold him. But he also knows when Nico just needs Will to sit beside him and glow comfortingly. He always watches Nico's back.

Will traces all of Nico's scars and kisses them softly, apart from the ones that make Nico shiver with bad memories. Will knows which ones he can trace. He'll paint them in gold, in glitter, in sunset amber, to show Nico that he's beautiful, that his scars don't make him ugly. Whenever Nico's insecure about his thin frame and the dark circles under his eyes, Will stands him in front of a mirror, gently kissing every part of Nico that Nico eyes sadly, and he tells Nico how beautiful he is, how perfect he is, how much his heart speeds up in the presence of such ethereal beauty. 

Will doesn't let Nico depend on him. It's hard for Will, because he's a healer, he fixes things, but he knows Nico isn't his to fix. Will doesn't want Nico's recovery dependent on him. But that doesn't mean Will never helps Nico. He helps Nico by trying to make him as comfortable as possible through his distress, by reminding him of self care, or by doing Nico's laundry or sweeping the cabin floor, or by heating up a little so it's less cold, or listening whilst Nico opens up for hours. 

He definitely can't cook. He really shouldn't be allowed near a kitchen. He's also consumed slime more than once. So cooking for Nico is out of the question. So Will collects recipes for Nico, or brings him ingredients, freshly picked fruit or veg from the farmers market. He also brings back chocolates but he eats the strawberry ones- Nico hates them anyway, and it always makes him laugh when Will turns up at his doorstep with chocolate round his mouth and in his teeth glowing proudly and holding out a half eaten box of chocolates.

Will shares everything with Nico, from his favourite songs to his favourite foods to his most random late night thoughts. The late night thoughts often make Nico giggle. Nico's laugh is slow and deep and raspy, haunting, the type of cold laugh that you'd expect of a vampire, but it's such a tender and real and beautiful sound. It makes Will happy to make Nico laugh and smile. Will hopes to make him laugh at least once a day. Even if that means completely embarrassing himself with a sharpie mustache on his finger and pulling silly faces.

[not-from-the-absence-of-violence]

Guiltless

Summary: Virgil, Roman and Logan need some time to themselves tonight, Patton has other plans.

Pairings: Backround Loceit

Warnings: angst, unsympathetic Patton, mentions of Deceit, very brief mention of Remus, mentions of sensory overload, mentions of RSD and let me know if I missed anything!

a/n: Hey everyone! This is the first fanfic I ever posted, I hope you all like it. reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated :). Thank you  @snixxxsmythe for beta reading <3

you can also find it on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/19870198

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

Virgil slowly makes it to Patton's room, anxiety bubbling in his chest.

He tries to tell himself that it's normal that he's afraid of “confronting” Patton like this.

Because he's Anxiety, after all, and he cares about Patton, and disappointing or making him mad will make him feel bad, for obvious reasons.

 You wouldn't feel this way if it was Logan or Roman, his mind helpfully tells him.

What way? he asks himself.

 “Hey kiddo! You need anything?”

 Patton's voice is sickly sweet, it fills the air just like a fresh batch of cookies.

Guilty. Oh so guilty.

Patton is smiling at him, carefree. Cleary he hasn't been noticing Thomas’ feelings, his feelings.

Or maybe he has, and he just doesn't care.

Virgil shoves the thought down.

 “Well, I do actually, need something, that is, sorta.”

 A flush creeps onto his cheeks. Pattons laugh rings like bells.

 “Ask away.”

 He takes a breath, this should be easier, he's been practicing this for God's sake!

 “You need to let Thomas take a break!” he blurts out.

 Patton looks, well mildly surprised, but mostly he looks amused. Amused.

 “Seems like something you should ask Logan.”

 His tone is light. Virgil he can't help but feel it's the way one would talk to a small child, go talk to your other parent about it.

 But of course if he explains it Patton will understand.

 “Usually, yes. But this is the fourth time this week Thomas has agreed to help one of his friends. Tomorrow we have a get together and we are helping put some furniture together. It's draining him.” he adds a whisper, almost an afterthought. “Its draining me.”

 “You don’t think Thomas’ friends are important?”

 Virgil wants to be surprised, shocked Patton would say something like this.

It feels almost worse than he expected.

It doesn't mean he doesn't feel guilty, perhaps it's the sweetness in Patton's voice, his guiltless smile.

 “Of course, but Thomas is important too.”

 “You sound almost like Deceit.”

 He says it in a joking way, something to brush off.

There is no way Patton doesn't know how on many levels that hits him.

“But maybe you're right, I'll try better in the future, I’m sorry.”

 His tone isn't serious enough, although perhaps that is just Virgil's own imagination.

He'll take what he can anyway.

 “Oh,” he remembered “I also won't be at dinner tonight. I just need some time to myself.”

 It's an understatement, between Thomas not getting any alone time, the pressure to get the next video out and him not getting any rest Virgil was jittery, tired and very overstimulated.

Pattons smile shifts to a hurt expression, it's not even anger, just hurt.

 “OK.”

The word lingers, and there is almost hope rising in Virgil.

 “Although-”

It shatters like glass.

 ”I would say dining with your family would make you feel better.”

 He wishes it sounded passive-aggressive, it doesn't. It sounds just as sweet as anything else Patton says, sweet and perfect.

 Something in him wants to argue, it really does. He knows Patton is wrong.

But he's too tired to argue. 

 “Sure, I’ll help set the table.”

 Patton beams at him.

 “Thanks Virgil, I know you do care about your friends. ”

 It stings, but it's impossible to get moral high ground when debating Morality.

So he doesn't try.

 -----------------

When Roman is working, he feels like he's flying. Sometimes he even is literally flying! How great it is to work in the imagination.

When I am done this will be one of the best things I have made, surely! he thinks, enjoying the feeling of new exciting projects rushing through his veins

 Yes, he just needs to add some-

 He is abruptly cut off by loud knocking on the door.

It yanks him out of his concentration, and then he's literally falling out of the imagination roughly onto his bedroom floor.

 For a second he's too perplexed to think.

 Then he's confused, he has asked the rest not to disturb him while working for exactly this reason. In fact, he had told them today at lunch.

 Perhaps he has been working an unhealthy amount of time and someone is legitimately worried.

He checks the time. No, he has been working a few hours, nothing too bad.

So he goes to the door, mostly annoyed, kind of pissed.

 He is then met with Patton's lovely face.

He doesn’t stop being pissed, but he does promptly swallow whatever he was going to say.

 “Ah, Patton, what brings you to my castle on this fine evening?” he says instead.

 Patton giggles.

 “Just wanted to say dinner is almost ready!”

 Hadn't he said at lunch that he would be working? Perhaps Patton had forgotten.

 “Ah, well, you see, I just started working on my new project! I'm afraid if I stop, I'll just lose my flow, you know?”

 Patton’s disappointment is very tangible, perhaps it is because they're in Romans room, perhaps it's that Patton is emotions, to some extent.

 Whatever it is, it fills the air, and Roman isn't not sure he can breathe anymore.

 “Oh.”

 “Are you mad?”

 Roman does not mean for it to sound desperate.

 “I mean, i'm just disappointed-”

 Whatever else Patton says is left unheard, for Roman feels as he has been stabbed.

Or it could be worse, the sharp pain in his chest. It spreads, hot and thick, burning through his body.

He feels himself blush in deep, deep shame.

 He feels dizzy, he might faint, shut down.

 God it hurts, he feels tears threatening to fall.

 He shouldn't have disappointed anyone.

 He hates this feeling and he hates himself.

 What had Logan called it, the one time he had dared to ever explain it? Rejection sensitive something.

 It didn't matter, the only thing that mattered was that he wanted to go back into his room, hide, maybe for a bit, maybe forever.

 “Ok, understand, I'll come down in a minute,” he says, because what else can he say?

 Patton smiles at him, brilliant, sweet, guiltless.

 “Great!”

 It's only later that Roman will wonder. Because Patton knows, he knows how those words sting Roman.

 Surely he must have forgotten.

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

It's no secret that Logan is an introvert, it's also no secret that Logan gets frustrated more easily than one might think.

 The last week has not been particularly fun for him.

 Patton had unrelentingly decided to skip on important planning for future videos and time for Thomas to rest and recharge. They had all let him.

Logan isn't sure what to do about it. Not knowing things was not helping.

 Logan didn't like the state Thomas was in.

It made him slow, drowsy and, although he did not usually admit it, snappish.

 But it was fine, tonight Logan was going to start his own personal planning for the new video.

Then he was going to go to sleep early.

 Or maybe not, maybe he would go to Deceit's room and rant for a while, that was always surprisingly cathartic. Then sleep, not so early.

 Then Patton knocked on his door. He knew it was Patton, recognizing the knocking patterns that he'd memorised by now.

 Well, there goes his planning.

 “Yes, come in Patton.”

 Patton looks all the same as always, a nice easy smile on his face, the smile of someone who knows they're going to get exactly what they want.

 “Just making sure you know dinner is almost ready!”

 Logan knew this, he also expected a reminder.

 “Well, as I have communicated before, tonight I would prefer to eat alone.”

 He looks at Patton, and kind of wished he hadn't.

 Patton is angry, although to anyone else he may seem frustrated at most.

But it's Patton, even the tiniest bit of anger on his face can be terrifying, real, unusual.

 Patton, after all, was at the core of many of Thomas’ emotions.

When he had said it that time, it was meant as a careful reminder.

 In Logan's mind the memory sounded vaguely like a threat.

 Patton was a little too cheery sometimes, happiness crackling through him like waves. At times, sadness hit him harder than the rest, harder than any fake smile could cure.

 But no one had ever seen Patton truly angry.

 It was one of the only things that made Logan fearful.

He did not want to be the one to set it off.

 So Patton just looks at him briefly, for a few seconds.

He doesn’t even need to say anything.

 “On second thought, I am sure a familial meal would be pleasant.”

 Patton’s anger is gone as soon as it appeared, leaving Logan to wonder if it was ever there.

 “I'm glad, everyone is going to be there!” He smiles, satisfaction plain as day.

 Logan hopes somewhere this will not be as horrific as he thought.

 “Will Deceit be joining us too, then?”

 Patton smiles thins.

 “No.”

 Logic reasons, that obviously he has asked Deceit- they all agreed to make an effort to understand him better, after all- but Deceit has successfully avoided coming.

 Perhaps it’s just hopeful thinking.

 “Well, maybe he will agree when you ask him next time.”

 “Oh, I didn't ask him.”

 It's said in a nice, cheery voice. No explanation, malice or thought.

 Logan and Patton walk downstairs.

 In all honesty, Logan hopes Remus comes in to wreak some havoc, at least he would have an excuse to leave.

------------------------------- 

Dinner is simply the best, for Patton.

 He chats excitedly about one thing after another, how fun it is that Thomas is going out tonight, how amazing it is that they can go see Joan tomorrow.

 He doesn’t notice how every noise, every movement hits Virgil like knives. He doesn't notice how he flinches, how he is desperately tapping a breathing pattern into the table. It’s way too much, yet Patton doesn't see.

 He doesn’t notice Logan frustratingly fidgeting with his tie. His eyes closing a little longer than usual, it's either exhaustion or understimulation. Either way, Patton doesn’t see.

 Maybe he just didn’t look, because he does notice Roman spacing out, bouncing his leg.

 “Did you hear me there Roman,” it sounds soft, “I asked you something.”

 Romans face is pale, shame clear on his face.

 Virgil is afraid that if he says anything he'll break, Logan isn't sure what he can do.

 So they quickly eat in the silence of Patton’s empty chatter.

 “Well that was fun, maybe we should do more things together!”

 No one points out that they eat together almost every day.

-------

That night Virgil storms into his room, breaking down immediately, his tears stinging his cheeks, making the oversensitivity so much worse.

 He basically throws his clothes off, the fabric rough and agonizing against his skin.

His weighted blanket offers little comfort.

 Eventually out of sheer exhaustion he collapses on his tear stained pillow, restless.

 Tomorrow he'll stay in his room, the door locked, mostly sleeping.

Hopefully he'll feel better by noon.

  That night Logan quietly makes it to Deceit's room, falling into the other side's arms.

 He rants for a while, and Deceit listens while he ruffles Logan's hair and holds him.

Deceit knows, and Deceit understands.

 They fall asleep tangled up with each other, Logan can't bring himself to care about whether the others will find them, they're well hidden after all.

  That night Roman tries to get back to work, but the concentration doesn't come.

He wants to scream, but he's afraid Patton may somehow hear him.

 Instead he throws his pen to the wall and goes to kill a dragon.

 He doesn't sleep.

He will not come back from his quest the next morning.

  That night Patton does the dishes, then he goes to bed.

He sleeps on time and easily.

When he wakes up he wonders why no one shows up for breakfast.

He'll go ask them.