#is taking it out of me and also giving me flashbacks or triggering or whatever

[kweenkatsuki-main]

“You’re getting too good at masking. I’m starting to not even know there’s something wrong.”

[drabblesandsnippets]

Safe

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female reader

Background: TW: (Past) SA. During times when old traumatic memories start to pop up again (for whatever random reason/trigger), I find myself seeking out art that I can connect with to help me process things. Over the years, I’ve spent endless hours searching for stories/books where the main character is dealing with sexual trauma while also trying to have/maintain a healthy sex life - this is my attempt to write that type of story (without delving into the details of the trauma).

Summary: (4k) TW: (Past) SA. Bucky’s girlfriend craves intimacy while struggling with triggers and flashbacks.

Warnings: 18+ Only. TW: Mention of past SA/trauma (very vague), flashbacks (including during sex), anxiety. Established relationship. Bucky doesn’t always sleep with his prosthetic on (who else has this headcanon?). Fluff. Praise. Enthusiastic consent. Soft and sweet Bucky. Pet names (doll, sweetheart, baby). (Unprotected) PiV. Aftercare.

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Trauma has a way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it. 

One minute, you’re laughing and dancing in the kitchen with your boyfriend, his hands around your waist while he sings a song from the 40’s, and the next thing you know, you’re leaning over the sink, your knees nearly giving out as you try to remember how to breathe. 

All it took was one fleeting press of Bucky against your back and you were suddenly transported to a different time, your mind taking you back to those moments when your life irrevocably changed.

Other times, it’s less conspicuous. 

You’re on the back of his motorcycle, enjoying a peaceful ride outside the city, taking the scenic route to enjoy a bit more time together, when you’re hit with a wave of anxiety. Something in your brain made a connection to the past, and the only signal you can give Bucky is a tighter hold around his torso.

There’s not much that fazes him, given his own history and lingering struggles, but it doesn’t always make it easier. You oscillate between wanting to talk it all out and just wanting to pretend you’re fine - Bucky doing his best to meet you wherever you’re at, trying to ease your burden as best he can.

When you’re really lucky, it’s a momentary thing, your mind allowing the memory to fade so you can focus on the present. When that happens, you get to go weeks, sometimes months, without it happening again.

Of course, you’re not always that lucky. There are times when it invades the rest of your day, seeping into moments it has no business being a part of. Trying to control parts of your life that you swore it’d never touch. 

And then, there are times like now, when it sticks around. When it feels like the smallest thing sets you off, brief flashes of things you’d rather not have to think about playing out behind your eyes. Your body constantly on edge, giving you no reprieve, even when the memories finally fade out.

You’re not sure how many days it’s been, or what the initial trigger even was, your mind too preoccupied with trying not to take a trip down memory lane. The only lifeline you can cling to is knowing you have a partner who supports you as much as you support him, especially during dark times, refusing to give up on each other.

As painful as it all can be, it’s a familiar pattern, one you know you’ll eventually break free of, no matter how turbulent it gets. Until then, you ride the wave, doing everything you can to stay afloat, to allow yourself to continue to live your life, seek out the things that bring you joy and pleasure.

Yesterday was filled with laughter and adventures, Bucky taking you to some of his favorite places, whisking you off to the next destination when your anxiety started to get the better of you. As if he’s made it his mission to help you find your footing again.

Bucky’s love and patience is more than you could have ever hoped for, and as you wake up with him snuggled against your back, in the bed you’ve shared for years, the remnants of your dream trying to take hold, his name spills out of you, filling the dark silence.

In an instant, he’s awake enough to breathe your name in return, his voice husky with sleep as he asks, “You okay? S’wrong, doll?” Bucky’s aware it was probably another nightmare, or maybe a flashback, but he’s learned not to assume anything, giving you the space to decide if and how you want to be heard.

It’s not always that simple. Sometimes your voice can fail you, words getting trapped in your throat as you struggle to focus on the moment. You’re not even sure how to describe what’s happening, other than to admit that you feel on edge, like your skin is crawling, your body growing restless.

Bucky doesn’t need more explanation, his hand leaving its normal resting place on your thigh to slide along your back, his intention clear. His familiar touch draws the expected reaction out of you, a soft sigh of relief as a bit of tension leaves your body, his fingertips dancing across your shoulder blade.

Almost immediately you’re curling up, inviting him to keep going, his reverent touch spreading tingles across your skin. As intimate as it is, there’s nothing inherently sexual about it, Bucky wanting nothing more than to help you relax, to lull you back into a peaceful slumber.

Yet, your body seems to have other ideas, each tender caress of your back sending sparks of arousal to your core. It’s far from the first time, even over the past several days, but it’s yet another aspect of your relationship that gets thrown off balance during times like this.

Any other time, Bucky would read your subtle cues, happily accepting the silent invitation to touch more of you, to bring you unspeakable pleasure. Until you’re back on solid ground though, it’s not an option for him. He can’t risk pressuring you, the thought of adding more stress on top of everything you’re already struggling with too unbearable to him. 

You can’t exactly blame him. When the roles are reversed - when Bucky is dealing with his own trauma, ghosts of his past invading his mind - you follow his lead, offering him nothing more than a place to rest. A safe space, where he’s completely in control.

That’s what he’s been offering you since your brain decided to spend so much time in the past. Intimacy, in whatever form it takes, is on your terms, things never progressing unless you’re vocalizing your desires. 

Bucky’s patience is unyielding. No matter how much your soft, breathy noises of appreciation stir up his need for you, the path of his hand doesn’t alter. His fingertips continue to draw circles across your skin, exploring the contours of your back, as if he hasn’t already mapped every single inch of you. 

One of his favorite things is to touch you. To bring you comfort, to provide safety, and yes, when you allow him, to bring you pleasure. And right now, despite - or maybe because of - the turmoil broiling beneath the service, it’s what you need.

There’s a risk that things might overwhelm you. That you won’t be able to lose yourself in the moment. You try not to think about that, telling yourself that you at least deserve to try, knowing Bucky will help you through it, wherever it leads.

Your request for more remains subtle, a slight shift of your hips, pressing back into him, the evidence of his own arousal growing against your ass. Nothing changes for Bucky, his gentle touch following a trail up along your spine to the back of your neck, his thumb stroking a particular tense spot, refusing to take advantage of your trust in him.

There’s a part of you that wonders if you should just allow yourself to succumb to the sleep that’s threatening to overtake you again, but you miss him. And, as he drags the back of his fingers down to the dip of your waist, you moan softly, your thighs tensing with need, seeking out friction.

Bucky knows exactly what he’s doing to you, each pass of his hand along sensitive flesh making you tremble, goosebumps spreading across your skin. It’s not long before he’s able to smell you, the knowledge that his touch turns you on so much nearly enough to make him lose his resolve.

Somehow he remains steadfast, even as you shift again, arching your back and angling your hips to find more pressure, his erection trapped against the curve of your ass. There’s an ache building inside of him to grind against you, to give you what your body is so obviously asking for, your shuddering sighs encouraging him to keep touching you, waiting for permission that he knows might not come.

It’s more than okay if it doesn’t, Bucky content with easing your burdens in whatever way you’ll allow him. It’s a privilege he’ll never take for granted. 

As is the privilege of getting to bring you more pleasure. And the moment you whisper his name, followed by a barely audible utterance of “please,” he’s asking you what you need. Desperate to give you everything you desire.

It provides the catalyst to empower you to ask for more, telling him how good he feels as you shamelessly rub against him, Bucky’s own heavy breaths and words of love spurring you on. The gentle caress of his fingers never cease, tentatively dipping lower to tease along your hip, and you leave no room for doubt, quickly letting out a needy moan of “yes.”

His reaction comes as no surprise, your consent making him groan, his hard cock throbbing against you. You’re about to reach back, wanting to feel more of him, when you’re triggered without warning, your breath catching and your back stiffening, unwanted images flashing in your head. 

“Are you okay?”

The concern in his voice keeps you in place, choosing to ignore your body’s instinct to pull away, forcing yourself to breathe through it. As the silence tries to consume you, threatening to derail everything, Bucky’s hand on your hip helps you get the words out, the soft clearing of your throat letting him know a response is forthcoming.

“Yeah,” you finally whisper into the dark, grateful when he doesn’t move, his thighs flush against yours. “I don’t- I’m okay, I don’t wanna stop.” Before he can ask if you’re sure, your hand comes into contact with his arm, your fingers sliding down to gently take hold of his wrist, refusing to second guess yourself as you guide his hand higher up your body, showing him exactly what you want.

The heat of his hand cupping your breast brings you fully back into the present with him, ripping a strangled moan out of you, your back arching to grind harder against him.

“Fuck,” he exhales heavily, Bucky wasting no time in following your lead, your erect nipple pinched between his long fingers, his palm squeezing your tit as he murmurs soft words of praise. His ears are trained on you, listening for every noise he elicits, from the loud moans to the barely audible gasps, ensuring his touch remains welcome.

It’s everything you could possibly want, his leg soon finding its way between yours, Bucky barely getting a chance to ask you if it’s okay before you’re begging him to keep going. Your whine of pleasure drowns out his own noises of appreciation, his thigh pressed to your slick heat, his rock hard cock starting to leak pre-cum.

“You feel so good,” you whisper, one hand gripping the edge of the bed, giving you leverage to grind on his thigh, the fingers of your other hand still gripping his wrist, keeping him pinned to you.

“So do you, baby,” he moans in your ear, nudging his leg higher to find a steady rhythm against your swollen pussy, intent on drawing this out as long as you’ll let him. “Love when you ride my thigh like this, when you let me feel how wet you are.”

Your body takes over, chasing the high, Bucky letting you set the pace, his large hand palming your heavy breasts, the occasional pinch and playful tug of your nipples building you higher. He never lets the silence settle for too long, filling the moments between heavy breaths and barely coherent words with a string of praises, reminding you how much he loves every inch of you.

The darkness seems to amplify your senses, allowing you to get lost in the sensations, your walls pulsing with every delicious grind against your clit. You’re on the verge of begging him to fuck you, the words on the tip of your tongue when a wave of tension takes over, ruining all your plans.

Your hips falter the same time Bucky’s do, his gentle assurance of, “it’s okay,” calming your racing heart before it can beat out of control. Keeping his hand pressed to your stomach, you breathe through the confusion, trying to pinpoint the trigger before deciding to focus on how to move forward instead.

A request for more comes in the form of asking him to turn on a light, the need to see him overpowering everything else, and Bucky’s climbing off the bed, a lingering kiss and touch to keep you company until he returns. You’re kicking the covers off just as he clicks the adjoining bathroom light on, your eyes adjusting quickly to the soft glow now illuminating the room.

The irresistible image of you waiting for him has him returning to the bed within record time, his feet only pausing when his gaze drifts to his prosthetic arm, safe in its resting place in the corner of the room. He doesn’t always wear it to bed, your sex life never suffering without it, but he knows how much you enjoy having both his arms wrapped around you, the slight furrow of his brow telling you exactly what he’s thinking.

You interrupt the unspoken question, your voice pulling Bucky’s attention back to you, your unprompted words taking him by surprise. “I wanna ride you.”

“Oh really?” he asks, the former subject easily forgotten, a grin spreading at the eager nod of your head. He doesn’t need to be told twice, jumping onto the bed with a flourish, landing on his back with a soft thud, a giddy look plastered across his face.

“You’re ridiculous,” you laugh, getting to your knees beside him, not missing the way his eyes travel along your curves, the peak of his tongue wetting his lips giving you momentary pause, your thighs tensing with need.

Bucky’s obviously thinking the same thing, his laughter sending a thrill down your spine as he asks, “Whatcha thinking about ridin’, doll?”

You enjoy having his head between your thighs just as much as he does, the teasing flick of his tongue along his top teeth having you shaking your head at him. “Your cock, if that’s okay with you,” you tell him, the playful grin on your face masking your concern of being triggered again if you can’t see his eyes.

“Oh, no complaints from me,” he emphatically promises, offering out his hand to help you climb on top, your worry not lost on him. You’ve been through so much together, Bucky having learned to read your body, understanding your emotions even better than you sometimes. As obsessed as he is with you, his mouth watering at the thought of tasting you, he won’t push for it, especially not tonight.

Your bodies fit together perfectly, puzzle pieces interlocking like you were made for each other, his thick cock stretching you slowly with each roll of your hips, taking him inch by glorious inch. His firm grip on your thigh encourages you to keep going, his audible grunts and gasps filling your ears, unable to tear your eyes away from him.

“Jesus,” Bucky pants, his lashes fluttering every time you let him slide in just a bit deeper, his hips tense underneath you, determined to give you complete control. “Feel so good, baby. God, I love you.”

You’re quick to nod your head, your hands finding their way to his chest, allowing you to find an easy rhythm, your eyes nearly rolling back when he bottoms out inside of you. “Oh fuck,” you whine, your hips moving on autopilot, grinding in slow circles, soon finding the perfect pressure against your clit that has you trembling on top of him.

There’s something incredibly intoxicating about being in charge of your own pleasure, especially when Bucky could easily overpower you, the occasional twitch of his hips signaling just how hard he’s working to control himself.

It leaves you breathless, your body finding a quicker pace, the head of his cock hitting that spot deep inside of you that has you seeing stars. When his name starts to fall past your lips like a prayer, his thighs tense, shifting underneath you, the new angle forcing out the words burning the back of your throat, “Bucky… baby, please. Please, fuck me.”

“Co’mere,” he growls, pulling you down on top of him, your palms finding purchase against the mattress on either side of his head, his eyes never leaving yours. With his arm wrapped around your waist, hand splayed across your lower back, he starts a slow pace, watching the pleasure play out across your face.

Bucky pulls out until your walls pulse, a prideful grin twitching at the corners of his mouth at how greedily you welcome him back in, his eyes darkening when he bottoms out, your thrusts soon meeting his.

“That’s it,” he pants, nodding his head, his hold on you grower firmer, doing his best to keep the right amount of friction against your clit. “Just like that, take whatever you need baby.” He’s aware your muscles are going to grow tired soon, your knees likely needing a break before long, but he refuses to stop until you tell him to, gritting his teeth with effort to hold his own orgasm back.

You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve come close to the edge yourself, only for the feeling to fade, your mind threatening to spiral into unwanted territory. Until this very moment, you’ve done a good job at holding the unwanted feelings at bay, your desire for intimacy and connection driving your actions.

Except, that’s suddenly no longer the case, a particularly sharp burst of pleasure has you closing your eyes and before you realize it, everything’s come to a standstill. The unwarranted apology dies on the tip of your tongue, a heavy sigh of frustration leaving you as you quickly shake your head, sitting up to try to regain some semblance of composure.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky murmurs, taking hold of your hand to bring it to his lips, brushing a kiss across your knuckles to soothe your anxiety. “Tell me what you need.”

You breathe heavily, your bodies still connected, Bucky nestled deep inside of you, your walls spasming uncontrollably around him. There’s no reason to push through this, to ignore your body’s obvious discontent, no matter how much you want to pretend you can handle this.

It’d be unfair to subject either of you to that inevitable discomfort. The only thing you can do is face it, admit that you’re not as strong as you’d like to admit, your independent nature wanting to fight you the entire way. A gentle clearing of your throat, followed by a rough swallow and you’re bringing your awareness back to the present, your eyes finally opening to meet his once again.

One look at him and it’s easy to find your voice, his warm smile breaking down your walls like they’re paper-thin. “I need to feel you on top of me.” To feel the comfort of his weight, the safety of his embrace.

Bucky’s more than happy to oblige, trusting that you understand your own needs, knowing you’ll tell him if it becomes too much. Guiding you back down on top of him, his lips find yours, pouring all his love and devotion into the simple act as he secures an arm around you, cradling you against him in order to roll you both over.

It’s not as seamless as either of you anticipate, your tense muscles and abundant wetness causing him to slip out. Neither of you are able to hide your exhales of disappointment, Bucky’s grin meeting your own when he lines himself back up, the head of his cock nudging your entrance, giving you every opportunity to change your mind.

As grateful as you are, it’s not needed, and your hips shift, telling him everything he needs to know, the nod you give him alleviating any lingering doubt. With his weight settling on top of you, his body aligned with yours, he slides his arm underneath your shoulder to cradle the back of your neck in his palm and finally surges forward, sinking back into your tight heat. 

Your unbridled reaction spurs him on, your gasps and cries of exquisite pleasure causing heat to race up his spine, his hips setting a familiar pace. He can’t stop himself from praising you, watching you start to fall apart for him, your walls fluttering around him with every deep stroke, his body grinding hard against your clit.

You cling to him, nails digging into his back, your orgasm just out of reach, sweat covering your body, the desperation written all over your face. You’re so close, Bucky’s loud groans and animalistic grunts usually enough to send you spiraling, his words causing more arousal to coat his cock, but there’s still something holding you back, your body on the verge of tensing again.

“Tell me I’m okay,” you gasp, your eyes locked on his, your hips meeting his thrusts, your body begging for release.

“You’re okay,” he promises, dropping his forehead to yours, his heavy breath fanning your face, using every ounce of energy to not succumb to the pleasure threatening to overwhelm him. “You’re okay, my sweet girl. You’re safe, I’m not going anywhere.”

His steady stream of assurance has you crying out, tears pricking your eyes, the familiar tingle starting to build to unbearable heights, surely about to tease you again. Bucky refuses to give up, fucking you through it, maintaining the perfect, consistent speed, his cock bottoming out each time, the sounds of your bodies meeting in a heated rush adding to the sensations coursing through you.

“There we go,” he groans, his grip on the back of your neck tightening, holding you in place as you start to tighten around him, refusing to let you push him out. “You feel so fucking good, sweetheart, just let go for me. You’re safe, you’re right where you belong.”

That’s all it takes, your mouth opening in a silent scream as your entire body tenses, your limbs wrapped around him, his movements never faltering, letting you ride out the intense waves taking over your senses. You’re not even aware when your voice returns to you, a string of incoherent noises filling the air as you come hard, sobbing from the onslaught of pleasure, Bucky not missing a single second of the glorious vision unfolding underneath him.

He doesn’t allow himself to let go until he’s sure it’s what you want, your gasping pleas triggering his orgasm. With a groan of your name, he pulls you into a fiery kiss, his hips thrusting just a few more times as his pulsing cock fills you with his release.

You've been reduced to heavy pants and trembling limbs, Bucky's body shaking against yours, more sweet utterances of love and devotion being shared as you both return back to reality.

For the first time in too long, you’re able to stay relaxed in his embrace, refusing to let him move for several moments, the weight of him pressing down on you keeping you grounded. It’s not until your lungs start to ache from lack of deep breaths that you relent, letting Bucky roll you both over, your bodies continuing to draw comfort from each other.

There’s no rush to clean up, no dire need to leave the bed, the two of you remaining there for as long as you want, your mind at ease, Bucky’s steady breaths and gentle caress of your back almost lulling you back to sleep. 

This time, there’s no need to fight it. You let yourself drift off, peaceful rest once again overtaking you, Bucky content to hold you for the rest of the night, promising to keep you safe wherever your dreams take you.

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Main Masterlist

[kosher-martian]

Okay I just had the most messed up Star Wars dream. But also it was really cool and the most screwed up scene Star Wars could have ever produced. It actually woke me up with how messed up but also kind of interesting it was. I'll post this now and then reblog later for the evening crowd.

The dream was clearly supposed to be a deleted scene from the Disney+ Obi-Wan series set at the end of the last episode when Obi-Wan is coming to visit Leia in the epilogue. 

In this version of the show Obi-Wan picks up a sidekick along the way, Nari (the Jedi killed in the first episode to show the normie audience how badass the Inquisitors are). Apparently he wasn't killed in the first episode in this version, but instead badly injured but rescued by Obi-Wan. Now he has a cybernetic hand and leg, which I'm sure didn't trigger any PTSD flashbacks in old Kenobi. 

When asked what he's going to do, Nari says he plans to go off and "continue the fight" by helping Jedi and other force sensitives escape the Empire along the Hidden Path. Leia asks Obi-Wan and Nari if they want to meet someone special. Senator Bail Organa looks uncomfortable, but Leia leads the two Jedi and the Senator  back to a hospital room with medical droids and nurses. The camera zooms in and the droids & nurses move one-by-one out of the way to reveal... (I'm building suspense here)... a greatly diminished Padme Amidala. 

Obi-Wan immediately backpeddles out of the room for a quick anxiety attack.

She didn't die giving birth, but stroked out and is basically a vegetable only capable of staring off into the distance and drooling. They have Natalie Portman done up in a bunch of prosthetics to make it look like her face is drooping heavily on one side. Her hair is buzzcut (I guess narratively to keep Padme from pulling at it?) and she's connected to a bunch of massive medical equipment that makes her look small and fragile. Obi-Wan, out in the hallway and refusing to go in, is horrified because he could have sworn she was dead. Senator Bail reveals that he cooked up the whole dying story and did a switcheroo with one of her body doubles!?! WTF Bail!?!

Leia tries to talk to Padme, as does Nari. She mentions that her mother really doesn't respond but she feels like Padme is in there and listening. Nari recognizes Padme (as a politician who was friends with Anakin Skywalker, not as hi secret lover and eventual wife) and is happy to see her. He says something about how lost he feels but he's found purpose or whatever. He was just a padawan when Order 66 happened and he just knows if Anakin had been there at the Temple (evidently he was not present for the Anakin/Vader fight scene and reveal) ... 

Hearing the name "Anakin" causes Padme to snap back to reality for a second, just as Obi-Wan finds the strength to enter the room. They lock eyes as he enters the room and she slowly de-ages into a long-haired healthy looking Padme. I think it was supposed to be ambiguous whether she was being force healed or whether it was just a symbolic de-aging to what Obi-Wan sees in his mind's eye. She struggles to speak. The medical equipment bugs out. She says his name slowly. 

On Mustafar, Vader is stalking around his castle ranting about Kenobi while a little spidery robot droid walking alongside projects a hologram of the Emperor. He's ranting about Kenobi i living on borrowed time and how he'll tear apart the galaxy to find him and finish what he started and... 

Suddenly he stops dead in his tracks and he looks out a window up at the night sky. There's a lone shimmering star. Sidious tries to move the conversation forward by talking about troop movements or whatever and notices he's being ignored. Just as Vader says "Padme?" under his breath, we see Sidious flick his hand in annoyance and Vader's suit starts malfunctioning, forcing him to take a knee. Because of the timing of Vader speaking and the suit malfunctioning, the "-dme" part of "Padme" is rendered in Hayden Christensen's voice.

Sidious does the line from the original version but more annoyed in tone and with the Kenobi-specific parts removed: "You seem agitated, my friend. I wonder if your thoughts are... clear... on this, Lord Vader? If your past cannot be overcome...". 

Vader's suit malfunctions some more. Vader groans in agony.

"No. Kenobi and- Kenobi means nothing to me. I serve only you."

.

.

.

And that's when I woke up. Screwed up, right?

I HATE the idea of Padme being kept alive but as a vegetable, but I do like the idea of Sidious keeping his metaphorical finger on the kill switch to keep Vader in line.

Normally my dreams are extremely boring. The overwhelming majority of my dreams (80% of the ones I remember) are Grocery Shopping Simulator™ in a procedurally generated grocery store that only sells frozen food and tupperware. Just aisles and aisles of freezer sections and shelves with only plastic containers. The rest of them are either Transcribe Handwritten Table into Excel™ or the very rare Drive aimlessly around empty residential streets of my home town during the mid morning to kill time until the post office opens but the post office never opens, time doesn't appear to really be moving forward, and I just keep driving past the same few houses and sometimes my car radio will play an old rock song I like but otherwise it's just static or my unconscious mind's attempt to make radio ads™.

And then there are dreams like this!?!

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 6 His POV

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

It’s said that in war, 80% of those given guns wouldn’t “dare” to shoot the enemy.

The act of shooting another person is such a grave and immoral act that fills the heart with guilt.

And here I am shooting people with a hunting rifle used to kill beasts—

--

Roger: Kate, I got something for you. The best from Victor’s armory.

(I’m being selfish)

Kate: A…gun?

When I handed it to Kate, who wanted to become strong, she was like a baby given her first toy.

(...Ha. That’s a cuuute face)

(Come to think of it…Not too long ago, she was living in a world without the scent of death)

Roger: Give it here. I’ll teach you how to shoot.

I took the gun back and aimed at a target in the distance.

All three bullets hit the target dead center.

Roger: The height you hold the barrel depends on the opponent’s feet. In close range, point it down. Long range, horizontal.If you’re in a room, on a train, or some place with obstacles, you can point it up. But keeping it steady takes practice.

If the muzzle’s shaking, you have a higher chance of hitting a comrade so the basic rule is to aim down. That’s about it. Now we just have to practice.

Kate: I’ll give it a shot…

I placed the gun back in Kate’s hand and moved behind to guide her.

(...She’s so small)

Roger: Grip it like this. Yeah, good. Keep your finger on the trigger…no, don’t squeeze it. Loosen up.

Kate: Okay.

Roger: Relax. Just pull it back.

When she pulled the trigger, there was a dry sound and a bullet grazed the target.

Roger: A little more to the left. Fire them all.

Kate: …

I watched as Kate continued to reposition her arm and pull the trigger.

(Her arm’s shaking. Well, that’s understandable. However…)

Her determined expression was very Kate-like and I enjoyed it.

Roger: Out of 6 rounds, 1 was a hit. 2 grazed the target. Not bad for a first time.

I’ll add this to your training so you better start doing push-ups every day.

Also—Kate, use this as a last resort. Got it?

--

After gun-handling lessons, I returned to my research.

—The smell of gunpowder wafted from my clothes, bringing back distant memories.

(It was a few days after joining Crown)

When the trickster of a Queen’s Aide cheerfully invited me to the lounge.

~~ Flashback ~~

Victor: This is the lounge where we drink, play, party, and hold strategic meetings. And when you touch the first glass on the left, third row from the top—Ah!

When I touched the “first glass on the left, third row from the top”, things popped out all at once.

Roger: A weapons collection? There’s a lot of them too.

Victor: Aw, you touched it before I could reveal what it was. How naughty of you. Yes, this is my weapons collection! One of the benefits of Crown is getting to use all the weapons you want! You’ll be going on missions soo, so pick whatever weapon you want.

Swords, small guns, sword canes, knives…all of them looked pretty high quality. But something caught my eyes.

Roger: …I’ll go with this one.

Victor: A hunting rifle? I won’t question you, but…

Roger: It’s difficult to use, stands out, not useful in close range, and I have poor eyesight. But to make up for my eyesight—I have my power…

To fulfill my ambitions, I gave up my future as a doctor.

From then on, I was a member of Crown. The opposite of a doctor who saved lives, I killed and condemned people.

With my skills and knowledge on how to save lives, I’ll be bearing the sin of killing people…forever.

Roger: Taking lives with this is what I need to stay myself.

When I said that, the queen’s aide gave a smile that complimented this darkness.

Victor: I understand, Roger. If that is what you want. —Now, pledge your allegiance to evil.

~~ End flashback ~~

It’s said that in war, 80% of those given guns wouldn’t “dare” to shoot the enemy.

The act of shooting another person is such a grave and immoral act that fills the heart with guilt.

And here I am shooting people with a hunting rifle used to kill beasts—what a brute.

(But that’s okay. There’s no regrets or doubts on the choices I’ve made)

(—However)

~~ Flashback ~~ 

Kate: I’m…frustrated…by how weak I am.

Roger: Last question. Kate, what do you want to be?

Kate: I want to be…

Strong…I want to be strong. Because I…don’t want to hate myself.

Besides…life’s too long to live in despair.

Roger: …

~~ End flashback ~~

(I don’t want to lose the lil’ lady…to the same path of a brute I chose)

The thought of Kate, so honest with a desire to be strong, killing someone and falling down that path…

I felt sick, like I was hungover after a day of terrible drinks.

The Webley revolver I gave Kate wasn’t for killing people. It was only to protect herself.

(From here on, there might be moments when Kate will have to kill)

(But, when that time comes…)

(I’ll be the one doing the killing instead) Roger: …Haha. I’m the type of guy who adores my dogs.

Next

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Actually for the recent dreams, I figured Deuce doesn't really want to go back to being a delinquent but he does think things were easier so he somewhat wishes things were still like that (wasn't he somewhat considered an honor student with. whatever weird standarts the school had in his dream? i don't remember)

For Cater.... It did feel kinda relevant that he didn't know why he dreamt of that, actually. I wouldn't know how so exactly... Like idk the fact even then he doesn't want Riddle to know? Someone suggested he masks so much he doesn't even know what he actually wants (which broke me a little). Also I will be overthinking the fact his first flashback was triggered by Trey saying he'll take care of everything thank you. Overall I still hope he'll get more character moments in the next dreams (trey dream save me) but it's probably wishful thinking.

I guess convenience would make sense for Deuce's dream...? I feel like the same thing could be achieved by making him an actual honors student (while also dumbing down the materials to make it more suitable for his current level of academic understanding). Still, I can't help but feel that the devs took the former route (again, despite Deuce not actively longing for his delinquent days) because the dreams are really just excuses to show us concepts that have been teased for a while (like king!Leona, Savanaclaw!Rook, or delinquent!Deuce) for fanservice.

I definitely felt that Cater's dream was quite wonderlandiful in spirit and a mishmash of various "fun" elements. If it was an issue of him not knowing his own identity due to so frequently masking, I feel like they should have better hinted at it throughout the dream like they did with Deuce. As it currently stands, I'm not sure if they did a good job of leading us to that conclusion. It only makes sense if you extrapolate it or bring in outside details, such as waaay earlier in book 7, where Cater expressed not knowing what he wanted to do for his fourth-year internship(s), or bring in events/vignettes, like how Cater gives superficial and fake wishes to the Star Sending every year.

I don't think it's strange that Cater doesn't want Riddle to know about the contents of his dream. If anything, it's sort of expected. Cater's the type that dislikes confrontation and wishes to avoid his dorm leader's wrath at all times. If Riddle heard about Cater's chaotic version of Heartslabyul and how lenient dream!Riddle was about all of it, Cater would surely lose his head 😭

I hope that we get something more meaningful out of Cater when he comes with us to Trey's dream... Maybe something addressing how he longs for Trey's companionship but can't bring himself to just... be open about it. After all, Cater has expressed on more than one occasion that he lowkey desires this and to be heard out by TREY specifically. Trey is the one person who consistently noticed Cater's fakeness. And, of course, a memory of Trey thanking him is the first vision Cater has when he begins to question the reality of his dream.

[md-confessions]

Trigger Warning for abuse since I am going to be talking about it a lot.

My honest reaction to TSM anon's confessions/posts trying to justify J's treatment of N. (They're so ass)

Ok so uhh... Anyway I'll try to debunk some of the points:

First of all: yes the fuck she is abusive! Search the damn definition on Google or the dictionary, it's exactly what she's doing, like beat for beat.

Let's start with two examples: one from the manor and another from copper-9.

J kicking N in the manor flashback: for context N and V had literally just bumped into each other, made a spark and both were trying to clean up the mess they made, then comes in Ms. Tenth letter of the alphabet with a kick to N's face for like no fucking reason whatsoever.

J stepping on N's chest while he clearly struggles: In the pilot during the scene that introduces the Alphabet squad during J's introduction she has her foot on his chest while saying he's useless, terrible and if she could, she'd kill him herself and N is very clearly struggling to even breath.

Those two very clearly ARE abuse, the second one even has a tinge of verbal abuse!

Ok so TSM tried to justify both these actions by us not knowing the full context.

The context of the kick is that: there is none, that kick was completely unprovoked, so J had absolutely no reason for kicking N aside from him being in her way from the "move it moron" line, and she changes up her attitude completely at Tessa being there, her visor showing those hollow eyes that drones show when worried or scared.

But even if you say "oh but N was in J's way so she kicked him out" but she could have just, you know, MOVED A LITTLE BIT TO THE RIGHT?!?!? And also that does not excuse kicking a person in the face.

Context of the second scene is: THERE IS NONE, ONE AGAIN! The reason that scene exists is to show that A. J is abusive towards N, and B. J is a hypocrite! Let me explain, A is very self explanatory, stepping on someone's chest and verbally abusing them is very clearly well... Abuse and B is to show that even though she calls N useless, N has shown throughout the rest of the series he is a very competent fighter, arguably better than his fellow DDs and also that even though J was pretty much insulting N for being weak, she got killed by a Angsty bisexual 18-year-old with a pen and a Railgun made out of like, scrap.

I don't know how you can genuinely look at those scenes and go "J isn't an abuser" even though yes she fucking is.

Also I dead ass forgot that second post aside from the "why would Cyn put N in the squad if his abuser?" Part, which has a very simple explanation: it wasn't Cyn, it was Mr. Solver of the absolute fabric itself! It used Cyn as a host, Cyn wasn't in control, she prob has been dead for a long ass time.

The solver is sadistic and it likes fucking with the alphabet squad, take V as an example: it allowed V to keep her memories, just to make V's trauma even worse.

The solver thinks it's funny to traumatize people so why wouldn't it think putting a person in the same team as their abuser wouldn't be?

Anyways I've been typing this since 5:30 AM, and now it's 6:50 and I got school so I'll stop here, if you got anything else to add put it in the reblogs ig...

Final note: I haven't been abused myself (not that I remember) so I can't really fully grasp the concept, but still, J's treatment of N is like, the dictionary definition of Abuse, I'm very bad at understanding other people and their emotions and I'm not super great at analysing characters but this shit is so obviously abuse seeing TSM over here trying to say otherwise is giving me a brain aneurysm.

Anyways have a good day/evening/night or whatever time of day it is :D

.

[crysabie]

CG!Sam Cat!Bucky Petre fic!

This is my Petre Bucky fic I brought up a while ago! I decided to publish it here because I found it easier to find Petre fans here than on ao3. The title is "If you would just make one mistake (what a relief that would be)". The title is a reference to "The Only Heartbreaker" by Mitski. Fair warning: this is an introspective angst fic that references canon-typical violence. I hope you enjoy it!

-Sabie 🩷🤎🩶

P.S. - I don't think this fic needs any trigger warnings, but it does feature paranoia/anxiety and mentions flashbacks. It also has unfriendly attitudes towards petre, though they're not from any of our main characters. Let me know if you think I should warn you about anything else!

If you would just make one mistake (what a relief that would be)

-

There's a thing called "maladaptive daydreaming" where you spend your whole life thinking about what it would be like to have a better life. There's another thing called an "unhealthy coping mechanism" which is when you do something bad to try and stop other bad things from happening, like smoking to stop the shakes. His therapist calls him one and Sam calls him the other, but whatever- Bucky likes to be a cat. Sue him.

Bucky doesn't know if he's always wanted to be a cat, but now that Steve's out of the picture and can't give him those big doe eyes when he curls up on the couch or pushes his head against Sam's leg for pets, he does it a lot more often. Sam will sometimes give him a weird look and mutter under his breath, but cats don't care about what their owner says unless it's about food, so he lets it go. And even if he did care, he wouldn't let it bother him, because Sam is a very good owner. He shaves Bucky's face and gives him breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and even buys Bucky a heat lamp so he can stretch out on the carpet in the winter months when the sun sets at five. Bucky thinks he likes Sam more than Steve, a little bit, but Sam gets mad whenever Bucky says that so he doesn't. Instead, he'll push his head against Sam's thigh because he can't curl his big body into his lap like a real cat would. That could be part of why it's maladaptive; that could be why it's not a good way to cope. Bucky shuts the thought down and lets his mind go quiet as Sam runs his fingers through Bucky's hair and pulls gently until the tangles are out. Bucky hardly ever has tangles these days because Sam is so good at doing his hair. Still, Sam makes a noise in the back of his throat.

"I'm thinking we should cut your hair a little. That okay?" Bucky just purrs.

Sometimes Sam wants him to be human. Bucky hates it, because when he's human he has to think Bad Thoughts about Bad People and then feel everything that comes with Bad Thoughts and Bad People, but Sam is his owner and he knows what's important. Bucky has to be human when he goes to the therapist, or when they talk about changes in the routine, or when Sam has his friends over. Sam tells him that all of his friends are Bucky's friends but Bucky doesn't believe that. If Sam's friends were Bucky's friends they would let him be a cat, right? But Bucky has to pack up his dishes, his nice brush, and the big nest of blankets Sam lets him have on the living room floor and move it all into Bucky's bedroom so they can shut the door on it. He tries not to panic when Sam takes the collar off and puts it away but it almost feels like a rejection, like taking the mask off after a mission without getting as much as a 'good boy' from his handlers. Sam always tells him he's been a good boy when he's a cat, even when all he did was brush his teeth without asking or put his hair up. Sam doesn't tell him that now, just looks at him all serious with his intense eyes and tells Bucky that he needs to be human. Bucky nods; he can't trust himself to speak.

Natasha arrives first. Ever since SHIELD went kaput Natasha has been doing a lot of "freelance spy work", which mostly means doing things illegally but being sneaky enough to not get caught. Bucky used to do freelance spy work for a while, back when he didn't know who he was but had gotten away from HYDRA. It was a bad time. He doesn't like to think about it; he likes to lick his paws and hide under the big chairs Sam bought just for him to crawl under instead, but he's human right now.

After Natasha - his mind still calls her Natalia, still remembers that room - Wanda comes. Wanda disturbs him more than Natasha because she joined HYDRA on purpose. Bucky didn't want to and for Natalia, it was an accident, but Wanda wanted it. She is good now, or so Sam tells him, but he still raises his hackles when he sees her. Sam taps his hand lightly to cut off the hissing noise beginning to emanate from his mouth.

"Hey Nat, Wanda," Sam greets carelessly, "glad you could make it." Bucky is still tense, even with Sam's hand on his shoulder now. Bucky remembers hearing about these plans the last time he was human, and Sam had been insistent on inviting-

"Hey, Buck." Bucky wants to throw up. Steve is there, with his big doe eyes, his savior complex, and his tin container of apple pie. Steve always brings food to events even though he can't cook and it's never asked for. Sam makes better pie and Bucky knows that, knows because Sam gave him a little as a treat once with a bowl of milk like he really was a cat having something it shouldn't. Bucky had felt euphoric for days even if he never told Sam. Bucky told his therapist instead and he lets his therapist know every time that they can tell Sam anything, and even if his therapist says they won't he hopes they're lying. But Steve is here even though he tells his therapist and Sam that he makes him uncomfortable, standing there with a sealed pie tin from some artisan bakery and leaning in to hug Bucky. Bucky hunches his shoulders up by his ears, so far that it smushes Sam's hand into his face and he tries not to cry because this is the closest thing he'll get to a pet all day. Steve hugs him for what feels like forever before Sam distracts him and asks Steve to help set the table. Bucky feels relief before he realizes that both Natasha and Wanda are staring at him with their big eyes like they can see through him. He needs to get out of here. Sam is gone and he can't crawl under the big chairs Sam bought for him and he can't feel his collar on his neck and he feels like he's free falling, like he's spinning out of control.

"Are you alright, Yasha?" Natalia asks. She looks at him like she can see the word "maladaptive" written on his forehead. Like she somehow knows he's "unhealthy". Bucky nods tightly and takes little sucking breaths through his nose because he can't purr right now to try and calm down. He inches away from the redheads and scoots closer towards Sam. Sam is better even if he is with Steve.

"Buck," Steve greets kindly, "I was just telling Sam about that Red Sox game you took me to right before I got pneumonia." Steve looks at him expectantly and Bucky feels sick again. Bucky knows the game he's talking about and remembers the midday heat and the sudden storm that somehow didn't stop the game. He remembers little Stevie, wet as paper in a puddle but refusing to go home and getting sick as a dog the next day. He remembers how he coughed like he was drowning on dry land and how Bucky lost his job at the pizzeria because he stayed home to take care of him. It's the expectation on Steve's face, though - it's frightening. Just because Bucky can remember doesn't mean that it was him, not any more than his human is him. Bucky is a cat now, and whatever he is or whatever he pretends to be is dead. He's a zombie when Sam needs him to be and a corpse when Steve wants his old pal. He's not good enough. He'll never be good enough.

"I tried to get you to leave, punk," is what leaves his mouth instead. The words feel like dialing a rotary number based on muscle memory and not knowledge; the phrasing and accent are old tombs Bucky doesn't recall dusting off. And yet they're still there, pristine and pretty when he needs them, but held behind this invisible barrier of 'not his'. Steve breaks into the sunniest smile Bucky's ever seen and Sam runs his fingers over Bucky's knuckles as he sets down the forks. It's not a good job but it's the best he's going to get.

Bucky feels like he's out of his body for the entire conversation with Steve, like the ghost of James Buchanan Barnes possessed him and is having a grand old time speaking to his old friend Steven G. Rogers. Even Sam and Natasha look impressed, though Wanda's eyes bore into him with a unique blankness. They all take a seat at the table and Sam serves them all some fresh greens with a black dressing. Bucky leans down to lick at it like he always does with strange foods but jerks back up at a strange ringing. When Bucky eyes Sam he sees that he's hit his fork against his glass.

"Mmm, salad," Sam says. Everyone at the table laughs; is it funny? It must be, even if it was just a reminder to Bucky that he needs to use his fork. Bucky picks it up in his flesh hand even if it's his non-dominant one, afraid he might scratch the metal with his other one. Bad cats don't get treats and Bucky wants to be a good cat, even if the only reward is a bad imitation of Sam's pie.

The dressing is balsamic vinegar and lays in thin black strands all over Bucky's baby spinach like squid ink pasta. The flavor is strangely sweet and tastes nothing like squid ink pasta, but Bucky still tries very hard not to remember the first time he had it. His therapist said that when he's facing a bad or scary memory he should try and ground himself. He focuses on the sweet taste of the balsamic vinegar and feels the snap of arugula under his teeth while listening to Sam's idle chatter. It is not squid ink pasta. He can be a good cat for Sam.

The next course is pasta. Bucky can't make himself eat it, not even if that makes him the worst cat in the world, so he begs Sam quietly for some day-old soup and a piece of garlic bread instead. Sam gives it to him without comment and directs the group's inquisitive stares away from Bucky's bland and milky soup. Bucky nibbles at his garlic bread in tiny bites and pretends his fangs are sinking into it. It helps. Steve, however, will not be dissuaded.

"No pasta, Buck?" He asks. Bucky shakes his head.

"No."

"Aww, why not? You love pasta?"

"Bucky loved pasta." He mutters vindictively. Even in his anger, he's not loud. He wants to hiss and scratch but he's still too fragile, too human.

"Come again?" Steve asks, the edges of his smile beginning to melt off his face like cherry popsicles off their little wooden sticks.

"Said I wasn't hungry," he repeats louder. "What, you hit a hundred and your ears broke?" Steve starts up a peel of raucous laughter. Wanda is not amused.

"It's not very good manners to eat before a dinner party," she says snidely. Bucky shrugs and pulls his hair out of its bun; he had put his bun up today so he doesn't feel bad about taking it down. Instead, he mostly feels relieved about being able to hide his face.

"What can I say? Sam finished dinner early and it was too good to resist." This is a lie, but he pairs it with his old smile and that twinkle in his eyes and watches Steve settle into "protect Bucky" mode. He has successfully turned the enemy against each other. He feels nauseous.

"Alright, knock it off you two." Even in his scolding Sam is amicable. Then, "Steve, come and help me cut this pie." Bucky excuses himself to go to the bathroom.

Bucky uses his metal hand to tie his hair up because his flesh one is shaking too badly. Bucky had tied his hair up this morning and Sam had been proud of him. He had been doing a good job of being human, but now he's started three problems and Sam has had to fix all of them. The least he can do is try to be a good cat and keep up with his grooming. The bun isn't as neat or as high up as it was before, betraying his anxiety and lack of coordination, but neither humans nor cats are very good at doing their hair. Sam says he keeps his short because he doesn't like the hassle. Sam wants to cut his because of the same reason. A messy bun will be okay. When he sits back down at the table there's a slice of pie and a scoop of vanilla ice cream in his spot. The ice cream is melted on the edges like whoever scooped it used a hot implement and the pie is still warm. Bucky wants to be a cat and give the pie-filling little kitten licks.

"I've always hated pie crust," he says as Steve comments "You always hated pie crust." They look at each other and share a laugh while Bucky's heart beats like a jackrabbit. What does he do now? Eat around the crust? Suck out the filling? Bucky eats the soggy, store-bought crust and the eggy ice cream Sam owns that he claims goes good with brownies. Bucky doesn't know because cats can't eat chocolate. Chocolate isn't a treat like pie; for him, it's deadly. Bucky shakes through the rest of the dinner and sweats through the movie and makes himself not cry while he hugs Steve and then finally, finally, they're all gone. Sam pats his face and goes to take a shower.

Most nights, Bucky sleeps in his blanket nest, but today he curls his body over Sam's feet. He wants to be the small, cuddly kind of cat that sleeps on its owner's feet today, the kind of cat that deserves to. Sam winces.

"You're too heavy for that man." Bucky doesn't mean to start crying but he does, long, plaintive mewls that are only broken by coughs or tears. Sam tutts at him gently and pats the space on the bed next to his torso.

"Aw, did you have a tough day Kitty? Why don't you come up here and I'll give you some pats." Bucky crawls upwards with his large, sinuous body, more like a jungle cat than a domestic breed, but Sam pets him all the same. "Like this, I can pet you all night," Sam says. "Isn't that better than laying on my feet?" Bucky is a cat, and he may not know much, but he knows the closer he is to Sam, the better.

Sam has a job. Bucky thinks that if Sam was different Bucky might not like the job very much, but Sam always leaves right after Bucky gets in sunning position and comes back after his second nap of the day. Sam always leaves food that can be eaten hot or cold too, so if Bucky doesn't feel like using the microwave it will be okay. Today Sam left him a turkey and Swiss sandwich with some apple juice. Bucky rips up the sandwich with his claws and licks at the apple juice until he isn't thirsty, then he washes his hands and lays down in the sun. There are a lot of different ways to stretch, Bucky has discovered, and none of them remind him of HYDRA. Nothing here reminds him of HYDRA anymore unless he's human, not even the bumps that the upstairs people make sometimes while Sam is gone. Before Sam, Bucky couldn't sleep at all because of the bumps. He was so afraid, all the time, and he couldn't sleep or eat or take care of himself. And then Sam started taking care of him, and Bucky eventually slept enough and ate enough that he started taking care of himself. Sam always calls him a good boy for eating all of his food and then washing his hands. Bucky used to not wash them, but then his hands would be sticky and he would cry without understanding why. Now it's better. Things are easier with Sam, and the way it's going, it may be easy without him too. Sam opens the door right as Bucky wakes up and Bucky watches with slit eyes as Sam sheds the stress of the day. The way Bucky was used to stress Sam, but now Bucky sees the way lines of tension fall away as Sam idly rubs his foot on Bucky's stomach. Bucky pantomimes biting him as playing cats often do and Sam laughs.

"Hey, buddy. Did you like lunch?" Bucky purrs happily.

[asher-agere]

um um

caregiver atsushi with a little with ptsd,,,, projecting hard but sometimes i just want someone who understands me if not thats okay sorry to bother you

@atsumrow (so i can find it later)

Your request’s are never a bother! I loooove seeing proof that people like my writing (And my general atmosphere apparently? (๑﹏๑//)) and I love getting to write things for people to enjoy! Especially something like this that helps someone feel understood!

Also warning, I do not have PTSD, my writing will be based off of research and what we’ve actually seen from Atsushi in the show. If anything I write is inaccurate or offensive please let me know and something will be done!

Caregiver Atsushi + Little with PTSD

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

�� Atsushi has PTSD of his own, so he’d definitely understand what his little one is going through! He’d ask what event led to them having PTSD to better understand how to help them. But he wouldn’t push! If they don’t wanna say he won’t ask again! If they do tell him then he’ll gently hold them and rub their back to soothe them as they talk. He’d never judge! He’s always there to offer support

☆ Atsushi has been shown to mainly suffer from flashbacks, so he’d be the best at comforting someone from that! He’ll gently hold them and talk to them, trying to gently urge them out of the flashback. Remind them that they’re in the present! They’re safe now, he’ll keep them safe, they don’t need to worry about a single thing. Not when Atsushi’s there to protect them! And Byakko helps of course! Mama tiger wants to protect her baby too

☆ On the topic of Byakko… Atsushi definitely uses his ability to help calm the baby down! I mean, a giant fluffy tiger? That’s gotta be the most helpful thing ever! He’ll curl up around his little one, the loud purring helps them to regulate their breathing and to ground them! The soft fur is so pleasing to the touch! The baby just gets to lean against him and it’s so soft, and warm, and so soft…

☆ Nightmares are another big one! If Atsushi notices his little one thrashing or crying in their sleep he instantly snoops them up! He’ll quietly hum to them and shush them, rubbing their back to try and soothe them! Hopefully they’ll be able to sleep peacefully, but if not he’d rather wake them up then watch them suffer! He’ll lightly bounce them in his lap and mutter quiet gentle praise, he’ll get a pacifier to put in their mouth and he’ll coo at them, reassuring them that they’re safe with him. They’re safe now. Nothing to hurt them anymore

☆ Atsushi takes note of everything that seems to trigger his little one! If he notices they seem less enthusiastic about a specific snack, a little to tense watching something, he’ll make sure to avoid it! Even if they don’t explain, or they don’t even say that something is wrong. If he notices he’s going to fix it! Or if a certain time of year upsets them then he’ll plan distractions! For example if they get sad around New Years he’ll set up time to go visit a shrine or something, maybe a festival (๑•̀ㅁ•́๑)✧ He wants to give them new happy memories of whatever season is causing problems!

☆ So much praise and affection! Atsushi loves getting to hold his baby and tell them how much he loves them! He’ll rub their back and run his fingers through their hair, whisper about how precious they are to him, how they’re safe, how he wishes he could take all their pain away. A little baby doesn’t deserve to go through this! He just wants to take allllll the pain from them! He’d take on the pain if it meant they didn’t have to deal with it. Sadly that isn’t an option though ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა So he praises them a whole bunch instead!

☆ Atsushi is always careful to explain everything he’s doing! He never wants to set his little one down, and even when he’s holding them! He’ll explain that he’s moving around so much to make them a bottle, explain that he’s putting their blankets in the dryer to make them nice and warm, explain that he’s pressing a pacifier to their lips. He never wants to catch them off guard and accidentally scare them! Always explains exactly what he’s doing so they don’t get startled

☆ Kids shows are already pretty easy to follow, but Atsushi makes sure to pick ones that don’t have much plot! Sometimes it can be tough to focus on and remember things, so if there’s not much plot it’s easy to follow! Plus that means if they fall asleep or walk away they can get back into the story really easy! Even less stress factors to worry about! Because Atsushi never wants his baby stressing out

☆ Atsushi is super patient during outbursts! He understands that it’s not like his little one is mad at him! No negative feelings are directed at him, and if they are the little one would never really hate him! Sometimes emotions can just be hard to express, he gets it! Atsushi will just calmly let them have their tantrum then he’ll comfort them! He definitely explains how what they did wasn’t nice. By no yelling ever! Just some gentle guidance!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

I’m doing very good in my schoolwork so I got some extra time to chill out, that means answering requests! And I’m getting kitty cat snuggles („°0°„) I’m so lucky!

[bengiyo]

Last Twilight Ep 2 Stray Thoughts

Last week, we set the table and met Mhok and Day. Mhok is a mechanic down on his luck because of his legal troubles, who is looking for work to take care of himself and keep his deceased sister's beloved vehicle. Despite his past, he's trying to stay away from trouble. Day is a national level badminton player coping with rapid vision loss, whose family is looking for a caretaker for him. Day was amused by Mhok's attitude when he barged into the interview and suggested they hire him. After initial resistance, Mhok decided to take the job after a second encounter.

Y'all should have been more explicit about the dress code for Mhok, though it is amusing to consider that his style of dress in the house only matters for the family.

8 to 6 six days a week??? WTF

I'm glad Mhok is pleased with his salary because this is basically all he's going to do.

The entire scene of Mhok looking around Day's room is fantastic. It lets the audience learn a little about Day, but we also learned about Mhok because we see what catches his attention. Mhok is so tactile and literally sticks his hand in the fish tank, but touching and rearranging things in a blind person's room is going to cause frustration.

Mhok tossed a cigarette in their yard! That's a good character detail.

I'm with Day. I don't like the smell of cigarettes wafted off someone.

I really like Porjai. I said this last time, but I like how their relationship feels behind them that she can discuss it so casually, even if Mhok doesn't get her lesson.

Aon had so much personality. I am charmed. I love the handshake he has with Day. Whatever Day is working through, I'm glad he has a friend.

Closing the door on Mhok was good comedy.

Unsurprised that Day selected Mhok as a way to make his mom give up on a caretaker.

Ah, the show is continuing to connect the experiences. Mhok's perceived reputation is being presented as similar to Day being considered invalid.

I like day taking Day's expectations as a challenge.

Of course Day needed help and Mhok has to take off his shirt to not smell like smoke. We even go to see him crawl around from behind. Oh, BL, never change, except in the ways I demand of you.

Yes, touch his tiddies so we know they're real.

I wonder how the eye drops help to give him limited improved vision.

Yes, Mhok, make him help you save his fish. We got him out of his room!

Oh, they were having fun, but it seems they haven't disclosed his condition and Night brought friends over.

Curious if they follow up on that terse declaration later for Mhok to give up his eyes. I hope not!

Oh no. Rung flashback. Trigger warning for suicide aftermath.

Yeah, that seems about right for Mhok. Also glad this show is doing nonsexual nudity. Anyone required to care for another person is going to have to be engaged with someone beyond what others might consider polite boundaries.

Porjai jumped to fix this quick!

Oh, I really like that the gift is goldfish slippers. We can feel assured this is something Mhok picked out.

I may be gay, but Namtam looks so goddamn good in this show.

Omg Mhok is trying to understand how Day has to do tasks while wearing a shirt that says FART PROUDLY.

There he goes joking about Mhok's body again.

They just dumped the fish into the tank?? Are they trying to shock and kill it???

Ope. Said the name in the preview. Finish your drink!

This is working for me so far. I'm enjoying a straightforward premise being taken seriously. Really appreciating the lack of slapstick about the situation and dynamics.

[imagoddamnonionmason]

Goose! Please tell me, is there a headcanon about Frank x Jodie's relationship that's been rotating in your mind but you haven't revealed yet?

Hi E!

YES! There is! I'll preface this with I'm pretty certain I've not mentioned it, but if I have, it will have been in passing; at least now I can go into a little more detail about it! I will also be adding a read more cause I think it's gonna get long-

One head canon I have for their relationship is how they ground each other in situations where their emotions either might be heightened or going through something mentally. For example, in some of my writings already, I've shown Jodie's moments of having little flashbacks, or reactions to certain stimuli that trigger a traumatic response due to her brainwashing (and general trauma). This is something that we could also attribute to Frank, too, given his long service in the military.

So, to get to the specifics, it's a small, subtle action. Simply, when either of them notices the other might need a little grounding, a reminder that they're not alone, or that they need to calm down, they will use their fingertips/knuckles of their fingers to either brush or tap lightly on the other person's hand/wrist.

The reason I've been thinking about it is because I knew that Jodie would be the kind of character that, when in turmoil, wouldn't want to be touched. If she's angry, upset, crying, she will not want to be touched (unless you asked and she invited it).

But I was also thinking that, especially given that Jodie has been brainwashed and Frank now has two people in his life that have gone through similar things, Frank would probably have a better idea of how to manage the moments where Jodie is 'not present'.

I've also seen it knocking around that Frank will also do something similar with Alex, those friendly pushes in cutscenes are a tactic Frank uses to make sure Alex is still grounded. Although I saw that after I'd already been thinking about this with Jodie and Frank, but it was nice to see that my understanding of Frank's character seemed to line up! Like, of course Frank would do something like that.

BUT Jodie does this for Frank, too.

I just thought having something so subtly intimate as a way for these two to interact in time of needing comfort (but maybe not wanting to be overwhelmed) is what will give me life right now.

BONUS: I had been speaking with @alypink regarding a face claim post I reblogged where Jodie's face claim, Kate Beckinsale, was wearing glasses. I do have a little headcanon that Jodie wears reading glasses to ensure she doesn't get eye strain.

POINT BEING, when they're in the workplace, maybe Jodie is reading some intel, combing through Birdseye view pictures of terrain - whatever it is. She's intently focused, enough that she wouldn't see Frank walking by. Just a little torment, maybe to break her attention for a split second (because this man knows Jodie will work herself into a hole and not take a break) he gently knocks the side of her glasses and sends them slightly skewed on the bridge of her nose.

Frank gives me an air of being able to be mischievously charming XD she'd look up at him, pouting with the glasses not corrected and he probably gets a little laugh out of it, whilst also achieving making sure that Jodie gets a small break (even if she doesn't realise that's his goal).

Sure he could straight up say, "take a break" but Jodie would also just be like "one more thing and then I will" but... respond that every damn time. Frank gets creative in making her break eye contact with the pages.

This headcanon is something a little softer, less serious, but thanks to Aly I couldn't stop thinking about that scene in my head.

[casketscratch]

Survived therapy. Can’t stop shaking, but survived therapy.

Warnings for mentions of COCSA and I don’t know, doctors (derogatory).

He is going to fax a letter to the psychiatrist explaining my situation. Neither of us are hopeful it’ll matter because this psychiatrist is… bad, but it’ll be a shot.

Keep telling myself the worst the psych can do is say no and then I just have to look elsewhere and it’ll be a terrible few months and I’m already exhausted and dysregulated and plagued by flashbacks but. Whatever.

Told him about whichever part of the system is firmly on the psychiatrist’s side here. Like there is a constant abusive barrage in my head about how if I could just be a good patient and do what I’m told then we can go back to forgetting everything that ever happened and repress it and if I die of stress-related heart attacks in three years then so be it.

I understand this as a defense mechanism that believes literally anything is better than dealing with reality and our memories; but communication also seems one way. I can hear him, I can’t get through to him.

It goes a little something like, the doctor was right because doctors are always right, and if we don’t listen to doctors we will die, so if we just listen to him we’ll be fine. And since he said that we’re addicted to Ativan, shouldn’t have our adhd medication, should just get over everything that happened to us, and would be cured by some CBT and EMDR, that’s all we need. If we do that we can reset and be Normal and go back to work.

Therapist asked us if we honestly believe we abuse medication and no, not really. I have a stash of like 100+ Ativan pills because I was getting it refilled regularly out of fear of the rx expiring the same way my testosterone did and now I’m basically being forced to go without HRT for the first time in 15 years. The lesson I took from that was to Be Good and demonstrate I took my prescriptions by getting them all refilled regularly. I actually take it like, once or twice a week and only if needed. So no. I don’t.

Something about this has triggered a flood of memories around a COCSA… situation? That happened when I was young. We talked about it a little bit and what I remember happening. Therapist suggested it’s the same dynamic: someone in authority is telling me something I should do, and my (trauma) response is to just go along with it and dissociate. Be a good victim turns into be a good patient and just accept what is happening because I’m conditioned to do that and have learned painfully what standing up for myself earns me.

I hate this. I hate that I have to acknowledge that this response is so ingrained and trained in me that to this day it means I cannot advocate for myself. I hate that I can’t control my own actions or trust myself to make the best decision. I hate that I went along with it as a kid and some teenage brother of my sister’s best friend (who killed himself a few years ago, because his own father was sexually abusing him, too), and I hate that I went along with it in that psychiatrist’s office. But!

My god if I haven’t learned a lot about myself in the process, and my triggers, and at least I am in a position where I can admit all of that and ask for help. Feels bad, but…

And frankly. What kind of horrible psychiatrist triggers that kind of reaction. I am right in my perception of this situation. No matter how hard Some Other Alter tries to push back and push me out of the way so he can go along with it.

I sucked it up and asked for permission to take a fucking Ativan when it gets this bad. Because I haven’t been, and now I have at least two infections flaring up (which always happens when I reach a certain threshold of stressed out), constant headaches, my muscles are so locked my hip is in constant agony, and I’m constantly trying to manage urges to SH or binge drink when I try to give myself permission to take something. So. We have permission at least.

Somewhere in there he asked about why I told the psychiatrist about our history of abuse, and I was like… because I’ve done this before and been through CBT and a dozen medications that all backfired or didn’t work. I was trying to do the right thing by being honest and hoping the psychiatrist would meet me where I was at, not belittle every effort I’ve made and trigger the fuck out of me. I thought it was better to tell the truth rather than lie and try to manipulate the medication I needed out of someone. So, lol, there’s a lesson I’m trying not to take from this, too.

[the-bren-system]

Neurodivergent households are great when everyone's brain worms move in sync but if they're not it's difficult. BUT it's still worth it.

Rambling rambling rambling

Like... One of our housemates has a strong comorbidity between OCD and ADHD that causes her to live in a cycle of impulse and self-abuse and it took about 7 months of weekly conversations for us to convince her to get herself a bed frame. But it's taking even longer to convince her to get a rail for her clothing. (her clothes are in piles in the living room which is horribly overwhelming and causes things to get lost constantly)

And the thing is, you can't just confront someone abt self-sabotage or they'll double down on it. So we have to use more subtle methods to teach her how to allow herself basic comforts in life.

And we know enough abt her traumas to understand where it all comes from. It's difficult stuff that isn't her fault.

On one hand, it drives us insane bc her bad habits are extremely triggering. On the other, every time she makes a change for the better we feel proud of her.

Still, it's shocking how much help she needs. She's got a degree and a good job in her field, but still struggles to take care of herself. The amount of neglect that someone has to grow up with to end up like this... It actually is draining to think about.

The fact she got through University with these kinds of mental health struggles is impressive. The fact she landed a good ecologist job is impressive. I just wish she would let herself live in comfort instead of ruining her own life in small but severe ways twice a week.

Especially because it means the house is left in a state that triggers horrible emotional flashbacks in me. The last time I was living in a house that was this messy was when I was in a domestically abusive relationship, trapped in lockdown with an aspiring serial killer who used to make threats with knives and once gave me a serious ribcage injury. I don't need to be reminded of that situation 6 times a week. I don't need to feel deeply vigilant and angry every time I go downstairs to make a meal or something.

We're still focused on helping her bc being constructive is more practical. It's better in the long run to be helpful and to not get too angry. (we make an effort to manage our anger so we don't end up triggering more self-sabotaging from her, because if we act scary or whatever she will take it out on herself)

It's a delicate balance, you know, but when someone else is suffering really badly that means both of us have to adjust to each other's needs. She has to learn to stop sabotaging the household, we have to be patient in our approach so she can learn that.

We're learning to better help people who have grown up neglected, whole she's learning to understand and respect people who have been abused. We're building bridges, really, and building takes effort. She works on herself, finds more comfort with herself and also learns some perspective. We get to understand her, help her, and feel somewhat fulfilled about that.

People like me are naturally inclined to be more aloof and unserious and detached, people like her are more inclined to be self-deprecating and reckless, but we can both help each other to grow in different ways. Sometimes sitting down with her to give an emotional debrief and help her understand her own emotions and needs is enriching for us - it's an opportunity to use our analytical thinking in a helpful way and I'm glad we have the chance to help out.

I won't choose to blame her for the issues she's got; I'll sure as hell give her the advice and the tools she needs to get out of the mess she's in. I'll pass on the things I've learned the hard way so she doesn't have to learn them painfully. That's what found family means for traumatised people.

- Toby

[infinityyrp]

✨️ FOREVER LOOKING FOR PARTNERS✨️

Hi, my name is Sunnie and I'm 29 and looking for a long term roleplay partner that is 25+. And that wants to be friends outside of roleplay.

I've been role-playing for more than 10 years and have even more years of writing experience under my belt.

BELOW you will find my preferences straight forward— Before I explain what I'm looking for as far as roleplay goes. 🧡🫶

I'm looking for someone around daily, for rapid fire— though I'd be okay with one or two responses a day. Otherwise I cannot stay interested in the story. If you go 7+ days without a response and no communication, I will leave the server. Especially if I reach out and you still don't respond.

I know life comes first and I'd never pressure you for replies, but let's be honest, we all have our phones on us at all times and it takes two minutes to send a reply explaining the absence. We are ALL adults and should be able to communicate in a healthy way.

With that being said I am NOT ghost friendly. Don't even waste your time trying to plot or write with me if you know you have a history of ghosting.

I have little to NO limits, I prefer someone with the same outlook because it's fiction, your roleplay life shouldn't effect your REAL LIFE morals.

BUt I will respect your limits and triggers, because I won't do deep pedophilia(As in I won't roleplay anything smut wise under legal age of consent which is 17 in most places, and usually what is done on TV shows with vampires, WHO ARE PLAYED BY ADULT ACTRESSES AND ACTORS. Even then, Smut will only be involved with characters 18+.), water sports, or write out rape.

I also will not roleplay my characters under the age of 18+ UNLESS we are in a flashback. Even then, SMUT will not be involved with any character under 18, EVEN THOUGH WE as the writers ARE ADULTS. That should be obvious though guys, come on. I can't believe I even have to say this, but considering a message— that was filled with assumptions— that I recently got, I thought it best to elaborate. Smh

I'm over 21. I'm an adult. So if I want to write an 18 year old college student, I CAN do that. And if I want to write a 17 year old for a flashback scene, I CAN do that! I am not a minor. I am a writer WRITING A CHARACTER FOR A STORYLINE.

I'm looking for someone comfortable with SUPERNATURAL Themes such as werewolves and vampires and witches and all that good stuff. I'm not interested in mundane slice of life roleplays.

Please be comfortable with DARK and Mature themes. Taboo subjects as well(pregnancy, cheating, love triangles) etc. My real life is fluffy enough, I don't want my roleplay the same way.

I do NOT fade to black. I like a good amount of smut as well as story. So expect a good 50/50.

I prefer the female role. I've been burned one too many times in the past with partners not being fair in a double— however I'd be open to discussing a double and trying it out, everyone new gets a fair chance. Though I do prefer the female role.

NOW for what I'm looking for when it comes to roleplay.

I am looking to world build.

I am looking for something original at the moment but I also have a list of fandoms I'll post as well.

I am looking for someone to build a story with me, taking place in a supernaturally inclined town called 'Cedar Grove' or 'Cape Thorne'.

My character will be a druid and lioness mix.

I'm looking for someone to make a werewolf OC out of Tyler Hoechlin for me.

If we double I'll make an OC out of anyone you choose and we can do whatever you want as far as a plot! That's what I mean by fair. I give you what you want no matter what if you give me what I want no matter what.

I roleplay exclusively on discord and I can write in 3rd or 1st person! You choose.

I write 3+ paragraphs but won't mind whatever you send as long as I can work with it and it's at least a paragraph.

These days my motto is Quality over Quantity.

Please also be comfortable with text style roleplays..sometimes I get lazy and that's all I can do some days. They're fun— don't knock it til you try it.

Hopefully you've made it this far and want to write! I'm looking forward to hearing from you and I Definitely like to be friends with my partners!

My discord servers are also organized and I prefer you to be familiar with tupperbox.

Now even though at the moment I'm not looking for Fandom roleplays, here's a list of the ones I'd be persuaded to write for.

•Teen wolf: I'd want to write against Derek Hale and Scott McCall.

I'd be able to play Stiles, Theo, Isaac, Malia and Kira for you.

•ACOTAR: I'd be looking to write against Rhysand and Tamlin. I can play Cassian, Azriel or Lucien for you, I also have an OC high lord of the winter court if you'd be interested. (FC Jason Momoa).

•Haunting Adeline: I'm looking to write against Zade Meadows. Drama with Adeline will be involved of course.

•Yellowstone: I'm looking to write against Kayce. (We'd make it supernatural.)

•The Vampire Diaries: I'm looking to write against Damon Salvatore.

I can write Stefan, Klaus or Katherine for you.

ARE WE BESTIES YET? 😉

My discord UN is infinityyrp

Can't wait to hear from you!

[vermillionsails]

Marc Spector Headcannons part 1

I've been playing Marc Spector on a Discord group and have fics in the works for him but, these are the headcanons that my brain decides to come up with and bonk him over the head with the tragedy sick with. There will be a part two of him in a relationship and NSFW stuff related to that. After this, I will be posting my Jake fic so enjoy! ps. sorry for the clickbait gif, I promise there will be suit-related content in the Future.

Quick A/N I'm finally almost done with the Jake fic I'm working on I only have two more scenes to write. then I'll be updating Fountain pen and uppercut. I'll be posting two Miguel o'hara fics after that then ill be working on a Poe fic. that's my line up so far. for anyone that's interested. also, I googled some stuff to try and be accurate to the character. the marc I have in my head also doesn't practice Judaism anymore but Steven does so if the food headcanons leave you confused that's why. Also Tumbler decided it was too long so there will be a second part which annoys me but it is what it is.

Trigger warnings: child abuse, food, music, taking of his life, Military service, and training. NSFW stuff about puberty. That's all I can think of.

childhood

• He is uncomfortable with staring. When Wendy wasn't physical, she would go nonverbal and stare a hole into the back of his head until he would get out of her sight whether it be him running up to his room or getting on his bike and riding to the park.

it wasn't just his birthday that Wendy wouldn't join or get drunk and blame him again. It was every holiday and the anniversary of his brother's death. It even expanded into Wendy going off on him if he was visibly enjoying himself. It has caused him to curb his enthusiasm about things and not want to celebrate holidays.

Bathing/showering was hard for him to get back into after the accident. The spray and the sound of the shower would give him flashbacks to when the cave was filling up. Baths would give him the same flashbacks. It took him months to get to a place where he could clean himself and get out fast enough that it wouldn't send him spiraling. He still showers fast to this day. He doesn't like the sound of rain either.

He has to be quiet. If he was quiet then, he could be in his room and read or play a little bit with his toys. He walks quietly too or won't make much noise still. He accidentally sneaks up on people because of it.

Wendy wasn't hostile all the time, and on those days he would let Steven front unless he wanted the day to himself but that would be very rare. He always tried to protect Steven and take the brunt of it.

He doesn't trust himself to cook, mainly because Wendy would snatch whatever pan or utensil out of his hand and told him that he didn't need to ruin anything else in the house. His dad found out it happened so he would get things for the microwave or have Marc wait until he could cook dinner for the two of them. He only knows how to cook two things.

After his brothers Shiva and Wendy's outbursts, their family members quit hanging around. He would rarely get to see his dad's mom who was the only other woman figure that treated him warmly.

His dad made him go to Hebrew school. He didn't get a bar mitzvah either. His dad would make him go to the temple but after he turned 15 his dad quit asking or making him. He could see Marc lose his faith.

He and his dad would watch replays of Cubs and Bears games late at night as Wendy was sleeping. It was the only time his dad could show affection to him as well. Mostly a hair ruffle or a shoulder squeeze.

Marc was able to do enough to be passing in school, He didn't make friends after everything with his brother and Steven showing up. He couldn't risk spending the night or hanging out and switching. He spent most of his time at the park walking around or reading or drawing sometimes. 

(warning his edgy phase) He was at the park one day and saw a couple of goth kids walk by. He went to the library and looked up what he saw on their shirts and was hooked for a while. He wore mainly black and painted his nails until the bottle ran out. He got a long black coat and a choker too at the thrift store but the choker fell apart a week after he bought it. He tried to dye his hair and give himself streaks but his dad talked him out of it in fear of what Wendy would do to him. 

He would listen to The Cure, Nine Inch Nails, Bauhaus, the sisters of Mercy, Depeche Mode, HIM, Deftones, pearl jam, Alice in Chains, Nirvana, foo fighters, smashing pumpkins, L7, Bush, Incubus, Kittie, slipknot, Korn, Mudvayne, a system of a down, limp bizkit, linkin park, disturbed, Alanis morissette, Green day, he even listened to the cradle of filth and cannibal corpse for a while. 

He used to wear eyeliner. It was only in his waterline but Wendy found the nub of it he had left and threw it away. He didn't rebuy it when he found it in the trash. 

He has a fondness for bugs and the ducks and other waterfowl at the park he was at all the time. He use to draw them with an ink pen.

As a kid during the summer, he used to hide and sneak away from the house during block parties. He would set off fireworks and go trick-or-treating with the neighborhood kids then. They let Marc hang out with them cause they knew what happened to his brother and they didn't mind too much Marc was quiet the whole time. 

Marc had a hyper fixation with sharks. It started with him thinking it could help with his water phobia it didn't but he thinks they're cool creatures and knows a bunch of fun facts about them.

When he was a teenager a girl named Hannah asked him over for help with homework. He generally thought she wanted help. She didn't

He loves adventure and horror books. Stephen King and Jules Verne are two of his favorite authors. He also read Jumanji multiple times as a kid and watched the movie multiple times when that came out

(Puberty stuff ahead) when he started to get pubes he didn't understand why hair grew there cause he didn't talk to his mom or dad so he always shaved it off. He would usually nick or cut himself but got better over time. He didn't realize he could trim or grow it out until he watched porn.

When he explored his body for the first time he had to learn how to be completely silent. He went online and learned how to choke himself so he could be quiet. Over time with partners, he learned he didn't have to do that but sometimes he craves having a hand around his throat. 

Kissed his pillow as practice. He froze the first time a girl kissed him. All that practice went out the window. 

Picked at his skin when he had acne. Still does from time to time but Steven and Jake usually have the most consistent skin routine which lessons it. 

Cucumber melon and lip smackers send him back to high school and middle school. He always thought they were nice smells/tastes. If you wear those around him he definitely would give kisses throughout the day or kiss the gloss/chapstick off. He will smell and or sniff you when he hugs or cuddles you. 

Marc used to wear his shoes out so badly that the souls at the bottom would tear off or his toe would poke through the top. He didn't get brand new shoes until his military shoes and after that. He usually would wear what he could find at thrift stores with the money he got from mowing lawns in the summer. 

From the age of 14-18, Marc would mow lawns during the summer for money. He would go wash off at a truck stop cause he didn't want his room or parts of the house to smell like grass and give Wendy another thing to yell at him for. It usually cooled him off during the summer anyway. 

Before Marc left for the military at 18. He mowed a new neighbor's yard for her during one summer. He didn't understand why she would stare at him until later in life. He doesn't know how to take it to this day. 

Marc was a very awkward flirt at first. Hannah had to teach him how. He was very thankful for it. 

During middle school, he got a girl he had a crush on a sticker she wanted for her collection. She kissed his cheek in return. It made him noticeably flush a shade darker. He still will flush that deep if you kiss his cheek. 

Marc used to steal his dad's cologne and wear it. It was Old Spice. Kids at school would say he smelled old but he liked it anyway.

He bought his bike from a thrift store

Constantly fixed flats with duct tape.

  He used to visit and just sit at Randall's grave. It usually ended with him sobbing saying sorry and telling Randall what their mom would do to him. Eventually, it got to the point where Marc would eat lunch or just sit there after. The groundskeeper would give Marc pop during the summers. 

 Before almost shooting himself in Khonshu's temple. Marc tried jumping off a bridge as a teenager but couldn't do it; he was too scared to end up in the water below. 

Space is a hyper fixation for him along with sharks and baseball trivia. He used to collect baseball cards as a kid. 

Use to spend time in a comic book store and read TMNT comics and other superhero comics. He also used to try and watch Saturday

Morning cartoons before his parents woke up. He got to see a couple of episodes of TMNT, Thundercat's, Transformers, Jem and Holograms, sailor moon, gargoyles, and Gi joe if he was lucky. 

Had crushes on Demona, Pumyra, Jem, Sailor Mars, and April O'Neil

calmer headcannons

he listens to "newer" bands like sleep token, I don't know how but they found me, fallout boy, my chemical romance, and Lorna Shore as he works out. 

His music Tastes got expanded when he was in the military due to his fellow soldiers. 

He didn't have very many video games. He didn't get his game system until his housing after the military. Resident Evil and Silent Hill are some of his favorites. 

Marc didn't realize he and Steven were on the spectrum until the military and their assessments of him. He just thought he was weird

He's decent at masking and learned how to hide his fidgeting. He likes fidget toys he can squeeze or rub. It helps his need to be quiet and helps him focus or gives him something else to do when he's overstimulated. 

He's had a few meltdowns when a schedule has changed out of nowhere or when a spot he likes gets crowded with people. 

Has texture issues with shirts and blankets. If they're not cotton or just soft he won't use them. If he has no other choice he will be very grumpy. 

He zones out big time but it's only when he is comfortable other than that he's on high alert

He likes flying and doing parkour in the suit. Gets adrenaline filled easily after. 

Marc sleeps on his side and cuddles a pillow.

Sneezes loud and takes him a minute to function after

Refused to wear sunscreen and had to be broken out of it. (He got a really bad burn and learned his lesson.) 

Knows first aid and CPR. 

[delicatebeauties]

thk Angst/Alternative AU / OOC?

If as script writer you weren't bound by either the show having to be a romance or having a happy ending how would you play with it? Just jotting down some ideas

For Fadelstyle

1 - An AU where after Fadel falls for Style, they retire and become more romantic. Style starts getting distant, not communicating, his clothing style becoming more and more colourless

either Style fades himself and his own identity to become Fadel more socially acceptable partner and Fadel starts falling out of love bc Style the cute waiter at their newly open restaurant all well behaved isn't the man he fell in love for while everyone around him congratulates Fadel the restaurant owner for the cute boyfriend he is

HE still possible with Kant or Bison intervention?

2 Style is claustrophobic in the relationship once he is in it.. Having an assassin pet dog is one thing but the shine of the conquest fades away.. Fadel wants a comfortable cozy life, open a normal restaurant but Style himself? he is bored of it..Fadel speaks of adopting while Style wants to go full speed on his bike alone away..

Every move and affection of Fadel annoys him, why did he fell for him again. Fadel becomes heavily depressed at seeing his love and partner detaching. Bison his brother have to save Fadel from the deep darkness (as Fadel did for Bison)..

Would style come back, can the love be reborn ? "mating in captivity" vibes

3rd AU Style love was never real

Style deluded himself that his love for Fadel is real and goes through the motions but is relieved once Fadel is captured because mission accomplished and he internally fears to much to have to be with fadel as a real relationship and seeing fadel kills someone in cold blood kills whatever attraction he has for him

For Kantbison

1 Bison getting sent a full file anonymously of kant previous targets (Keen/Chris?) , and the emotional aftermath of his victims. Getting absolutely fearful that whatver kant says or promise isn't for real and not believing him even with kant life on the scale.

Or 2 - If during the house stake out fadel had seduced kant as a test to see how far kant would go for his mission, kant goes for it to neutralise fadel.. Originally fadel did it with the full intention of giving all the information to bison but once fadelkant sleep together they hide it from bison who learns it by accident

"Anyone would do? Anyone at any cost?

Have your life, we are done. That's the last weakness you will see from me."

Both kant bison spiralling , kant for not being believed the one time he actually told the truth.. Bison for the doubt that plagues him but knowing he can't even kiss him without hurting in doubts and flashbacks

Fadelbison family relationship also imploding - Babe having to grow up emotionally further to support a broken kant

Or 3 Either Kant or Bison having intense top or sub drop

A scene hard triggering their limits to the point they avoid sexual intimacy

Or 4 kant's fall from grace

kant going along with bison for a mission and killing someone in cold blood. Bison feelings fading either out of guilt of dragging an innocent man into his world or of seeing kant, his beautiful angel becoming darker with the blood and seeing him being thrilled at the idea of purging the world of abusers & not understanding why Bison is wanting to give up on it.

Kantbison or Fadelstyle with them having ptsd

of their past and their partners not coping, becoming shells of themselves trying to take on that pain

Fadel & Bison prequel

All the times their relationship was under stress and their work collaboration bond becoming a brotherhood..

Fadel having to teach Bison how to be a killer and having his heart break bc of it. Living every day with the shame and guilt of what he had to forge Bison into for their own survival

[gnabnahc317cb97]

A History of Pain Part 1

Bang Chan x Female reader

Word count: 7.6K

Synopsis: You've come back to Korea to stay and start living with your adopted brother Minho and his friends, one of which, Chan, you can't help but be drawn to despite your brother's warnings to both of you. When people from your childhood and the things that happened to you keep coming up, you're forced to face things from your past and present. Will you be okay or will the time bomb that is your history finally blow up in your face?

Warnings for this series: This story will have elements of death and flashbacks to abuse (mental, physical and sexual) throughout. It will not be explicit or overly detailed, but it will be a vital part of the plot. If that is a topic that can be triggering or make you uncomfortable, I would suggest skipping this series! There will also be strong language/cursing, adult content, and sexual themes throughout but not in every part so I will be adding warnings for each part accordingly. If I ever miss something that should be in the warnings, PLEASE let me know and I will add it! This is and Idol AU so while they are in a group together it is not Stray Kids, hence no Jeongin and Seungmin and even though a company is mentioned it is not JYP. Just for clarification these are characters and not ment to portray the actual people in any way.

Pt. 1 Warnings: Not much in this one really, suggestive but nothing explicit, night terrors depicted, mentions of nudity. I think that's all. Again let me know if I missed anything!

You weaved your way through the Incheon International airport scanning the faces in the crowd looking for your big brother, who was supposed to be picking you up after your eighteen-hour flight. What you found instead was a stuffy looking chauffeur holding a sign with your name on it. You walked up to the man and pointed at the sign. 

“I’m Lee Y/N.” He looked at you funny and continued to scan the people behind you. You rolled your eyes. You had dealt with things like this your whole life, ever since the Lee’s had adopted you. Your family was Korean and you, very obviously weren’t. You sighed. 

“Minho sent you I assume...” When you mentioned your brother’s name the driver seemed to realize you were in fact telling the truth about who you were. 

“Yes, ma’am. I am to take you to the dorm where he will escort you to your parent’s house.” You nodded, tossed your book bag at him and slid your suitcase over. 

“Whatever you say Jeeves. I’m beat let’s go!” He let out an exasperated sigh and lead you towards the exit. When you were settled in the car you pulled out your phone to call your brother and bitch him out for not at least warning you he wasn’t able to get you. It rang twice and he answered.

"Heeey Minhooo, landed safely. You forget to mention something?" Minho face palmed himself.

"I'm sorry! It’s been a while since you’ve been home. Things have gotten a little crazy. I had to send a company car. I’m so so sorry I meant to tell you I’ve just been so busy with work I forgot." It had been a long time since you’d been there.

You had missed Minho and your parents so much but you had been attending university in America and it wasn’t always easy to get back home. You knew Minho and his rap group had been doing well but when you were in your bubble in America following Korean hip hop groups, even your brother's, wasn’t on the top of your priority list. Whenever you spoke to Minho he was more concerned about how your schooling was going, if you were okay, and updating you on the parents and the cats. Not his career. You wanted to give him a little grief but you were too tired. 

"It’s okay Min, don’t worry about it." You slunk down in your seat, giving in this time.

"Look I’m still at the studio right now. I’ll have to take you to mom and dad’s tomorrow so when you get to the dorm just take the guest room and make yourself at home okay? The guys are gone for the weekend. I’ll let you know when I’m leaving and I’ll take you to dinner to make up for it." The promise of dinner perked you back up, especially if your brother was paying.

"Okay, sounds good. Love you." Minho hummed.

"Hmmmm... ew." And you groaned.

"God you’re such an ass." He laughed.

"Love you too." You gave him a hum this time.

"Mmhmm that’s better. See you later." You hung up and looked out the window as you neared your destination.

When you got to the dorm the driver carried your bags up and put them by the door. 

“Will there be anything else ma’am?” You shook your head. 

“That will be all Jeeves thanks a million!” He shook his head and left. You typed in the key code Minho had given you and went in, dragging your bags behind you. It was a nice place but very clearly lived in by men. There was more weight equipment than furniture in the living room and nothing in the form of pictures or art on the walls. One thing they did have on the wall was a giant tv and video games piled up underneath of course. Off the living room there was a hall. You went down it and investigated. You opened every door trying to get your bearings and figure out where everything was. The first door you opened had a bed a dresser and more weights than the damn living room did. The next room was just a bed, a dresser, and a night stand. There were a few framed pictures and a book on the night stand. Minimal, clean. You didn’t even have to look twice to know it was Minho’s room. The room next to your brother’s looked like a clothes bomb went off in it. Jisung was the only one of the guys you had ever met and from the things your brother had told you about him this was almost definitely his room. The next room had a bed and a desk and a dresser but not much else, similar to Minho’s. Minimal and clean. There was a computer and lot of DJ equipment on the desk and a big set of noise cancelling headphones. You pulled that door closed and opened the one across the hall from it. A bed, a dresser, a night stand, and nothing else. This was clearly the guest room. You sat your stuff down and finished exploring.  

Right at the very end of the hall was the bathroom. You cringed at the idea of a bunch of men sharing one bathroom but when you peeked in you were pleasantly surprised to see that it was rather big with a nice tub and you found it remarkably clean, although, with Minho living there perhaps it shouldn’t have been so surprising. He was a bit of a neat freak at times. You quickly peeked in the other two rooms across the hall. One practically looked like an art studio with a bed and the other had probably the most gaming equipment you’d ever seen per square foot. 

Once you were acquainted with the place you decided to take advantage of that huge tub you saw and take a hot bath. You were exhausted and stunk after that flight and Minho had told you to make yourself at home. You dipped into his room and rummaged through his dresser looking for your favorite t-shirt of his.

You looked down at his night stand and saw the pictures he had set up. One of your parents, you and Minho from the last Christmas you were able to visit, another of Soonie, Doongie, and Dori all wearing top hats and bow ties, and then one of you and Minho the day you were officially adopted. You both had your arms wrapped around each other. You with a giant smile on your face, Minho and his permanent grimace. You picked it up and looked at it smiling remembering this day because it was the day you found out you had a REAL big brother and you were so happy. You fought off the tears of the memory, put the picture back, grabbed the t-shirt, and went to dig out some sweat pants and your travel toiletries.

You ran the bath almost hotter than you could stand it, added some bubble bath you nosed around under the sink for and lit a couple of candles that you had found under there as well. You climbed in and drew the curtain mostly closed. You leaned back in the tub soaking in the warmth of, not only the water but the candle light. You were just drifting into a quiet relaxation, finally, after that shitty eighteen-hour flight when suddenly that peace went out the metaphorical door with the opening of the literal door.

You were a bit startled to see standing there, absolutely bewildered, a guy probably around your brother’s age. Cute, broad shoulders, a mess of curls and confusion. Luckily you weren’t an idiot. Even though it was just supposed to be you and Minho you had pulled the curtain most of the way closed for just this reason, so now there was no way the man standing there could see your nude body even if you were fully submerged in bubbles. The curtain was open only enough for you to see out of as you laid there. The man stood there speechless. 

“Can I help you?” You finally asked as he just looked at you blankly, his mouth agape. He shook his head and quickly looked away realizing he was staring at you while you were naked in a bathtub. 

“I-I-I…” His ears turned bright red and he stammered until he finally cleared his throat. 

“What are you doing?” You quirked your eyebrow at him. 

“Well, I WAS relaxing in the tub…” The guy shook his head still keeping his eyes directed anywhere but you. 

“No, I mean who are you?!” You sighed heavily. 

“Who are you? You walked in on me?” He couldn’t help but finally look at you again. Your eyes locking, an incredulous expression plastered on his face. 

“Yea in MY bathroom!” You shrugged. 

“Fair enough but to be fair to me, it’s also my brother’s bathroom.” God had Minho not even bothered to warn them you would be here JUST in case? You suddenly fought back the urge to giggle when you saw curly had the confused face again.  

“I think you must have the wrong place because I know all my friend’s sisters.” You shrugged your shoulders again.  

“Well clearly you don’t because my brother lives here and I’ve never met you in my life.” Curly man shook his head. 

“No sorry it’s just not possible, no one I live with is American.” This. Again. You shook your head sarcastically in reply. 

“My brother is Korean. I’m adopted.” His face fell a little when you said that. 

“Oh...” You could hear the pity in the two-letter word. You waved him off. 

“Spare me. That was the easiest part of my life. Look sorry, I’m not sure why my brother never told you about me but I assure you he does in fact live here.” You were starting to get irritated with this guy questioning you.  

“How are you SO certain your brother lives here?!” He was clearly losing his patience as well. You were good at wearing that down in people, though it wasn’t always intentional. 

“Because JERK! He had a car drop me off here, I used the code to get into the place, and I’ve already been in his room and saw all his stuff. I snatched a shirt I bought him for Christmas, saw pictures of OUR family. THAT’S how I know. Now if you don’t mind I just got off an airplane that I was in for almost an entire day and it’s hard to relax when there’s a strange man watching me in the tub!” His eyes quickly flew away as if he’d just realized again that he shouldn’t be looking at you, even if the curtain kept you from being exposed. You were taking a mental note, two strikes now, you needed to give Minho a piece of your mind when he got home.  

“Look I’m sorry. I-I... didn’t realize... I’ll leave you to finish. Sorry.” His whole face was red now. He left quickly and you felt a little bad for being so difficult. You could have just said your brother was Minho. It wasn’t his fault any more than it was yours that Minho failed to mention you would be there let alone existed and he seemed like he genuinely meant his apology once he’d realized his mistake. You sighed, blew out the candles and pulled the plug to drain the water. You got out and started drying off and getting dressed.

When you walked out you took your dirty clothes and towel into your room and realized the door to the room across from yours was cracked. You heard soft r&b music coming from it and someone singing. You walked over peeking in. Your eyes went wide and your heart rate picked up a little. Mr. curly man had his back to you, his shirt off, the muscles of his back flexed and relaxed with every movement he made as he folded clothes and sang along to the song that you now realized was Dive In by Trey Songz. His voice was pretty.

You bit your lip as he bent down, unable to stop yourself from checking out his ass in the basketball shorts he was wearing. God he was REALLY cute and the way he was singing that song made you feel things. You didn’t know what to think, you usually didn’t give two shits about guys, relationships, or sex but there was something about him that struck a chord with you.

He turned and you quickly ducked back so that he wouldn’t see you spying. You waited a couple of minutes, then tapped the door frame and pushed the door open a little more. He stopped singing and turned towards you. The front of him looked even better than the back and then you noticed him holding a pair of black briefs he’d been folding. Now your ears were burning red. You cleared your throat looking at the underwear in his hands. When you did he snatched the underwear behind his back, hiding them out of your sight. 

“Ahem... Uh... hey. Um... I just wanted to say sorry. I didn’t mean to be such a pain in the ass. I’m just tired and grumpy from the flight and I was caught off guard, I didn’t think anyone else was going to be here. My name is Lee Y/N, I’m Minho’s little sister.” The man’s jaw dropped.  

“MINHO HAS A LITTLE SISTER?!” You would have laughed at his reaction if you weren’t so irritated that your brother had not disclosed this information to everyone and you were unsure as to why.  

“I’m Chan... er... uh, or Chris. Sorry I didn’t mean to shout it’s just he’s never mentioned you before. Wow Minho’s little sister.” You shrugged your shoulders. 

“I’m not sure why he hasn’t, he has pictures of us in his room.” The gorgeous man, who you now knew was... Chan or Chris? He looked shocked again. 

“That’s you?! Oh! I always wondered who that was in those photos! Lee Know is kind of private about his family life so I never asked. I just kind of assumed you were and old classmate or maybe an ex-girlfriend since he never talked about it.” You smiled at him. 

“Nope. Sister. Either way, I’m sorry for the confusion and for being rude to you Chan.” He scoffed and flashed a bright smile back at you. 

“No, you weren’t really. Also knowing that you grew up with Lee Know your reaction makes so much sense now.” He laughed and his dimples popped out. You couldn’t help but smile back. He was cute and sweet; you felt your face getting red.

Thankfully before you could complete the transformation into a tomato you heard the man of the hour come walking into the dorm. You went out into the living room, shirtless Chan following closely behind. When Minho saw him there, he got a very serious look on his face. 

“What are you doing here Chan?” Chan scoffed. 

“I live here Minho.” Minho shook his head. 

“No, I mean everyone was supposed to be gone this weekend.” Chan nodded. 

“Yea, everyone but me is. I had work I was hoping to do with a little peace and quiet.” Minho eyed shirtless Chan up and down suspiciously. 

“What were you doing back there with my sister?” Chan’s eyes went wide and his ears got red. His mouth opened ready to defend himself of any wrong doing but you immediately interrupted Minho’s line of questioning. You were tired, confused, pissed, hurt.  

“He was finding out you had one asshole.” Minho looked at you and quiet, angry, tears had started welling in your eyes. You stormed off to what was your room for the time being and slammed the door closed. Minho hadn’t made you cry very many times in your life but every time he ever had he felt so guilty. You had been sad enough for an entire lifetime already and he had promised to always protect you. He ran his hand down his face, sighed, and turned towards Chan again. 

“Ugh. SHIT! I wish you would’ve told me you were going to be here.” Chan shook his head at Minho. 

“Why wouldn’t you just mention that you have a sister Minho?!” Minho pushed his fingers into his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“She’s dealt with a lot in her past and I wanted to protect her from this part of my life for as long as possible. You know how these people get Chan. All I need is for the wrong person to get the wrong idea and then the next thing you know she’s being accused of dating one of us or fucking all of us and then her life story is plastered all over the paper. I don’t need anyone digging into her life and dredging up old shit.” Chan huffed a heavy breath out. 

“But not even us man? You couldn’t even tell us?” Minho shook his head. 

“No. She was far away at school and happy that’s all I cared about. No one asked so I just didn’t say. Jisungie figured it out a couple years ago when she was back for Christmas, I made him swear not to tell anyone. Chan I just wanted to try and keep her as far from all of this as possible, that’s why I never told you guys.” Chan understood a thing or two about being protective. He had a little sister too and God knows she’s had to deal with her own share of what this life brought with it but Chan also knew that he wouldn’t always be able to shield her from it and neither could Minho with you. 

“Look you go smooth things over with your sister and I’ll order take out for dinner.” Minho nodded  

“Okay, yea. Maybe put on a shirt too.” Chan laughed and Minho shot him a glare. 

“God calm down I’ll put a shirt on.” Chan started to make the call for dinner as your brother headed towards your room. Minho tapped on the door and cracked it open looking in. 

“Y/N?” You didn’t reply to him, you just sniffled laying on the bed curled up with your back to the door. Minho walked over and sat on the edge of the bed trying to figure out what to say. Before he could say anything though you spoke. 

“Are you ashamed that I’m your sister?” All of Minho’s breath left his body and his eyes went wide. He turned towards you, grabbed your shoulder, and made you look at him. 

“HEY NO! No no, that’s not what this is about Y/N. You just... things are different here now because of my job and it can be hard on our families and friends. It’s not fair but it’s how it is. I just didn’t want you hurt getting caught up in gossip or lies. I just wanted to protect you.” You sat up and hugged your brother glad to know that he wasn’t embarrassed by you, that he was only doing what he always did, trying to protect you. At first Minho sat there just letting you hug him but eventually he put his arms around you, hugging you back. 

“Well, however different things are here now, I’m just gonna have to get used to it Min.” Minho pulled away looking at you confused. 

“What do you mean?” You had something you had been keeping secret also and it was time to spill the beans.  

“I’m back for good Minho. I’m moving back to Korea.” He didn’t understand. 

“Wait... how? You didn’t finish your degree in 4 years.” You shook your head and chewed your lip. 

“No. I didn’t. Look Min there’s a lot to talk about concerning America and school and I’m exhausted from the flight. Can we talk about it tomorrow?” Minho wanted to press you but decided after he had kind of kept your existence secret from the guys the least he could do was let you rest before hounding you about school. 

“Okay. But we ARE talking about this tomorrow!” He put out his pinky and you wrapped yours around it and nodded. 

“Alright come on Chan’s ordering dinner.” You all settled in the living room, Chan now wearing a shirt, and watched a movie while you waited for the food to show up. Minho fought the urge to interrogate you about school and moving home and Chan fought the urge to steal glances at you any time he was certain Minho wasn’t looking.

As soon as he’d seen you earlier he had immediately wondered why there was a gorgeous woman in his tub. He was sure you had noticed him turning red, his skin was on fire almost as soon as he saw you. It’s why he’d taken his shirt off when he’d gone into his room, trying to cool down. Then suddenly you were in his doorway. Your brother’s shirt swallowed you but you looked cute and comfy and Chan was standing there shirtless with his underwear in his hands like an idiot. He was embarrassed as hell when he realized but you had been gracious and acted like you hadn’t seen anything which Chan had been thankful for. Then you said you were Minho’s sister and his brain exploded.

Now he was sitting there with both of you trying not to stare at you and totally failing. When there was a knock at the door Chan sprung up quickly to answer it. 

“Food’s here!” Chan went to get it while you and Minho went to sit at the table in the kitchen. When Chan was back with the food he found Minho sitting at one end of the table and you sitting to the side of him. There was a seat next to you and then one on the other side of Minho across from you. Chan really wanted to sit next to you but he also didn’t have a death wish so he sat across from you, next to Minho, and started passing out food. Chan handed you your food. 

“I wasn’t sure what you like or would want so I got you jajangmyeon like me, I hope that’s okay.” You smiled at him brightly. 

“That’s perfect, I’m bad at spice and I haven’t had it in FOREVER!” You quickly opened the dish and Chan smiled ear to ear, happy to know he’d made a good choice for you.  

“I don’t do spicey either! Well, I try some times, usually when your brother encourages it but it never ends well.” Chan laughed. You all ate and conversated a while, talking about your flight, what it was like growing up with Minho, how things were going for the guys who’s names you were trying to remember. 

“So let me see, I think I have it. Felix, Jisung, who I know, well I have met, Changbin, Chan... Chan... I’m missing one.” Minho laughed. 

“Hyunjin.” You snapped your fingers. 

“Shit! Hyunjin!” You all laughed. 

“Once you meet Hyunjin I’m sure you’ll never forget him again.” Minho stopped laughing and glared at Chan. You continued laughing. 

“What does that mean?” Minho shifted in his seat very much so disliking the direction this converstation seemed to be going. He didn’t want you to think of his friends like that and he CERTAINLY didn’t want them thinking of you like that. Chan elaborated. 

“Most women tend to remember Hyunjin once they’ve seen him. Hyunjin is... cute.” Chan giggled. It was adorable how he laughed like that sometimes. Like a kid at a sleep over trying to stay quiet. 

“Oh? Is he as cute as you are?” Chan turned beet red and he almost choked on his food while your brother immediately cleared his throat. 

“AHEHEHEM! Okay! Y/N I’ll clean up here! Why don’t you go get some sleep since your exhausted from your flight. Yea?” You rolled your eyes at your brother. You were tired though and now full, so you decided it probably was time for bed. You walked over and poked the tip of Minho’s nose. 

“Goodnight grump. Love you.” He made a disgusted face but still made you hug him before he’d let you leave. You walked over and gave Chan a hug from behind. He froze. His arms at his sides and his eyes on Minho who was staring daggers at him. 

“Goodnight Channie. Thanks for the dinner.” You smiled at him and he cleared the lump from his throat. 

“Oh uh... you're welcome. Goodnight Y/N.” You headed through the living room towards your room. Once Minho heard your door click he pointed at Chan. 

“Don’t.” Chan’s eyes went wide. 

“Don’t what?!” Minho rolled his eyes. 

“I’m not blind. Seriously don’t Chan. She’s been through enough.” Chan shook his head. 

“Nonono Lee Know you’ve got it all wrong...” He had it 100% right. 

“It’s not like that!” It definitely was. You gave him butterflies and goosebumps and made his head feel all swimmy but the fact that Minho was your brother, one, terrified him, and two, meant that he had to be respectful and treat you as if you were his own sister. 

“Whatever you say Chan. She’s never been interested boyfriends or dating anyway but just remember this conversation and don’t feel bad because as soon as the rest of the guys are home we’ll be having the exact same talk. She is off limits, out of bounds. Understood?” Chan nodded nervously. Minho cleared the table and headed to bed and Chan went to finish some work in his room. When he got to his door he turned and looked at yours and smiled, then went into his room and shut the door. He put on his headphones and started working feeling more inspired than ever.  

In the middle of the night, after Chan had called it quits on the track he was working on and finally went to bed, he was woken up by a blood curdling scream. His eyes shot open and he leapt from his bed to try to locate the source, forgetting that you were there until he made it to the hall and Minho was already running past him and into your room.

Chan followed him in thinking you were being attacked or something but when he got in there you were alone and thrashing on the bed screaming. Pleas for help falling in between ear-piercing screams. Minho wrapped his arms around you so you wouldn’t hurt yourself, got close to your ear and started whispering something. 

“You’re home, you’re safe, I’m here, it’s okay, wake up Y/N, wake up.” You stopped screaming and convulsing and started calming down. Minho kept whispering. 

“Wake up Y/N, wake up.” Your eyes fluttered open and you found yourself in a bear hug by Minho, a worried expression on his face and you saw Chan standing there totally shell shocked. You didn’t remember anything but you knew what had happened without your brother telling you. You’d had another night terror. It was always overwhelming after having one, whether you remembered it or not. You started to cry and Minho just held you and hugged you tightly. 

“It’s okay. You’re alright.” Minho looked over his shoulder at Chan. 

“Chan.” He stood there his heart still pounding out of his chest.  

“Chan!” Chan snapped out of it and looked at Minho. 

“Will you grab some water for her please?” Chan nodded and headed straight to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water for you from the fridge. He stopped for a second to take a couple of deep breaths and get a hold of himself. Chan had never seen anything like that before. It was like you were possessed or something. When Chan got back to your room you and Minho were both sitting up in your bed and Minho had managed to calm you down for the most part. Chan walked up to the side of your bed and handed you the bottle of water. You took it and gave him a small smile. 

“Thank you Chan.” Your voice was quiet and you wouldn’t look him in the eye. You were embarrassed he’d seen you like that. You couldn’t control it but still, it was embarrassing. You took a drink of the water Chan brought you and your brother pushed a bit of hair out of your eyes. 

“I thought you weren’t having these anymore?” He questioned you now that you were calm. You shook your head. 

“I haven’t been. I think it was just exhaustion from the flight Min, really. I’m okay now.” Minho pressed his lips together not fully believing you. 

“Really Minho, I am, I’m okay.” He nodded and gave you a kiss on the forehead. Chan had never seen Minho treat any human like the way he was with you. Tender, gentle. An animal sure, people no. He was caring but in other ways except with you apparently, which Chan was taking note of.  

“Okay, if you can’t fall back asleep promise you’ll come wake me up.” You agreed and Minho got up to head back to his own bed in his own room and Chan followed. 

“Thanks again for the water Chan.” He turned back and gave you a half smile that made one of his dimples pop out again.  

“No problem Y/N, sleep well.” He pulled your door closed heading back to his own room as well. Minho stopped him. 

“When I say she’s been through a lot this is the kind of stuff I’m talking about Chan. Okay? Stuff she still has night terrors about. She had a HARD life before she came to live with our family. You get what I’m saying?” Chan shook his head and Minho headed to his room.

The rest of the night was peaceful but Chan only half slept, keeping and ear out for you just in case. Minho woke up first in the morning and started coffee and breakfast. You came stumbling out when you smelled the bacon. You drug yourself into the kitchen like a zombie. You had slept okay the rest of the night but jet lag was still kicking your ass. 

“Before you even think about speaking to me you better have caffeine.” Your brother scoffed. 

“Yes your highness, the royal coffee is ready.” You put your finger to your lips. 

“Shhhh shh shh, no words just point me in the direction of the coffee.” Minho laughed. He walked up behind you placing his hands on your shoulders and turning you a little to the left where you saw the coffee pot. 

“Ahhh black gold.” You brother shook his head and went back to cooking. 

“That’s oil.” You grabbed a mug. 

“Maybe to you. This is worth more than any petrol to me.” He laughed and set a plate of food on the table. 

“Eat up, we gotta go see the parents.” You sat down with your coffee and started to eat the breakfast Minho made you. 

“You’ve gotten really good at cooking Min.” He smiled at you and gave you a little bow. 

“Looks like the coffee is working already. Maybe it is more valuable than petrol.” You flipped your brother off as Chan came into the kitchen and you suddenly wished you had made a trip to the bathroom to wash up a bit before coming out there. You were certain you looked like death. Chan looked adorable of course. His curls were even messier than they had been the night before and his eyes were puffy and half closed. He looked like he was sleep walking but then he spoke to you. 

“Good morning.” His voice was deep and sleepy it made you wonder if he would sound like that if you had woken up next to him. What?! You needed to keep those thoughts out of your brain. You shook your head and smiled at him. 

“Good morning Chan.” He smiled back and his eyes actually did close. He was so cute sleepy like that. Minho put another plate down on the table. 

“Eat up Chan.” Chan opened his eyes again. His smile got bigger and he groaned, another sound your imagination didn’t need to go running wild with either. 

“Ughh! Yes! Thanks Minho! I have to go to yoga soon and I was just gonna grab some fruit or something.” Yoga? Is life testing you with yet another thing you were trying to not let your imagination run away with. Chan stretching, bending, sweating... 

“Y/N???” Your brother had said something. 

“What?” He sat down at the table with his own plate. 

“I asked you if you’ve talked to mom or dad since you got in.” You shook your head answering but also trying to get the residual thoughts of Chan doing yoga out of your head. 

“Yea I called mom on the car ride here yesterday and let her know I landed safe and that you said we’d be coming over today.” Minho nonchalantly looked at his plate. 

“Do they know you’re moving back?” Chan’s ears perked a little. You were moving back? Meaning you’d be around more? 

“You’re just gonna jump right into that huh?” Minho nodded and you sighed. 

“Okay Min don’t freak out but... I got kicked out of school and before you ask because of poor grades and my attendance.” Minho held back the urge to immediately go in to lecture mode and let you finish. You hadn’t mentioned this on any of the calls the two of you had. 

“This last semester at school I had a lot of... issues.” Your brother’s eyes narrowed and you continued. 

“Okay well you know the one person I was NEVER supposed to see?” Minho’s face stiffened. Oh, he knew. 

“Well, I found him.” His jaw dropped; he couldn’t help his reaction. He shouted 

“YOU FOUND YOUR DAD!?” Chan suddenly felt like he was in the middle of something that was a very private family thing and it was. Minho cut the topic of converstation off quickly. 

“We’ll be discussing this on the way to mom and dads.” He spoke through gritted teeth and you sunk down in your chair pushing what was left of your breakfast around your plate. You knew Minho would be pissed. You all finished breakfast in relative awkward silence, then Chan left for his yoga class and you got ready to go to your mom and dad’s with Minho. You were about ten minutes into the tense drive to your parent’s place in Gimpo when Minho finally broke the silence. 

“So, how did you fall behind so much and why didn’t you tell me what was happening? I’m here trying to protect you from these people dragging your past up and you’re running around America doing it yourself!” You looked out the window at the passing scenery. 

“I honestly didn’t realize it was getting so out of hand Min. I just... I was convinced I needed to find George and confront him. I knew it wouldn’t be easy but it ended up being even harder than I had expected and I fell behind on classes and assignments, missed tests. I was so caught up in trying to find him and prove something that I fucked up Min. I knew if I told you I was looking for him you’d try and talk me out of it and I knew if I told you about school you’d be disappointed. I know you’re disappointed in me Minho.” You kept looking out the window not wanting to see the look on your brother’s face. He sighed. 

“I’m not disappointed in you Y/N. I just... I wish you would’ve told me what was actually going on. So you did find him though, right?” You shook your head. 

“Yea. I did.” Minho waited for you to continue but you didn’t. 

“And? What happened?” You shrugged and looked a little defeated. 

“I immediately realized falling behind was pointless just like looking for him had been. He was high as a kite. Nothing changed there I guess. He didn’t even realize who I was. I just left. Didn’t bother trying to explain. He always hated me anyway, I don’t know why I was so convinced I had to confront him like it would’ve made some kind of difference.” Minho’s jaw ticked. He absolutely hated your biological dad. He’d only met him twice when you both were younger, before your adoption had been finalized and he still had SOME rights to see you. Minho remembered each time as clear as day and neither left him with particularly fond memories of your father. 

“Is after you saw him when your night terrors started again?” You shook your head yes. 

“God damn it Y/N you said you weren’t having them! Why aren’t you telling me things! You used to tell me everything!” You sat there quietly for a bit with no answer to give, no good answer.

“Min, are you gonna make me tell mom and dad about finding George?” He let out a breath as he considered your question. 

“How are you going to explain school?”  He quizzed.

“I’m just gonna say I had issues and fell behind. It’s the truth technically.” Minho definitely didn’t like hiding things from your parents but this was actually one of the instances he figured, maybe it was best if they didn’t know. 

“As long as you tell them about school and moving back, I won’t mention George. Deal?” You nodded in agreement, smiling at your brother.

Surprisingly enough when you broke the news to your parents about school and moving back during dinner, they took it fairly well. That would probably have been a very different outcome had Minho made you tell your parents about finding your birth father also. You were grateful that he had agreed to not tell your parents. Your mother, always a worrier when it came to you, only wanted to know one thing. 

“Where will you be living sweetheart? You know you’re always welcome to your room here.” You grabbed your mom’s hand and gave it a squeeze smiling at her. 

“Well about that. While I appreciate the offer mom, I was going to ask Minho if he thought I could stay with him until I got a job and a place of my own? I already failed at school and had to move home I don’t think I can to move back in with my parents on top of all that.” Minho’s eyes got big and he hacked on the bite of food he had in his mouth. 

“Well... I don’t know... I live with five other guys Y/N I don’t know if that’s app-” Your mom cut Minho off, pish poshing him. 

“Every one of those boys is an absolute sweet heart and a gentleman Minho. I think as long as they didn’t mind it would be fine. Don’t you?” Minho got that look on his face, the one he gets whenever he knows you’re probably about to get your way, the one that makes him look like an irritated kitty cat. 

“Pleeaaasssee Min Min? Will you ask them? I promise to help around the dorm and I’ll find a job and my own place asap!” He let out a heavy sigh knowing he couldn’t say no to you now. Not in front of your mom, not when you called him Min Min. 

“I'll ASK! But if they say no...” You shook your head. 

“Then I’ll just have to suck it up and stay with mom and dad whether I want to or not.” After spending the day with your parents, having dinner, and you and Minho doing the dishes, you both got loaded up with plenty of left overs and in the car to head back to the dorm. 

“You think I don’t know you pulled that at dinner, knowing mom would take your side?” You looked at your brother feigning innocence. 

“I- Min. Mom is the one that aske-” He scoffed. 

“Cut the shit Y/N.” You smirked. 

“Okay so I had a feeling mom would bring that up and maybe I knew that she would probably take my side but I really meant what I said about not wanting to have to move back with the parents after everything else. It's too much Minho.” Your brother was thrilled to have you staying with him. It’s not like he didn’t want you around, it was the five other men that lived with him that made him uneasy about the arrangement. 

“You have to promise me something Y/N. One thing.” You looked at your brother waiting for what he was going to ask for in return. 

“Don’t try anything funny with any of the guys.” Your face started to burn it was so red. You and Minho never talked about stuff like that.

“MINHO!” He shooed his hand at you to shoosh you. 

“I mean it! If you want to stay you have to promise that you’re not gonna try and date any of them, I mean it Y/N, I’m serious. It will just end with you getting hurt.” You threw up your hands. 

“Minho I don’t even date-” He shook his head. 

“I don’t care, promise or you’re not staying, I’ll turn around and take you back to mom and dad’s right now.” He hit the turn signal to get off the highway. 

‘’Okay okay! Jeeze I promise I won’t date any of your friends. Christ!” You sat in silence in the car for a bit before you broke the awkward silence again. 

“I really will help around the place and find work. I’m not sure where yet but...” Minho sighed. 

“Well, I might be able to help with that too. It won’t be anything fancy but I can probably get you in a temp position at the company. If a full-time position opens, I could put in a word. You bounced in your seat. 

“If I wasn’t absolutely certain you would crash us into the river, I’d hug you.” Minho cocked his eyebrow at you. 

“Bold of you to assume I won’t do it for even considering it.” When you pulled up to the parking lot of the dorm Minho’s text notification went off. He pulled out his phone, looked at it and sighed. 

“What’s up?” He quickly text the person back and put it back in his pocket. 

“It’s Hannie. He’s back in town but he’s stranded at the company so I gotta go get him. Do you want to come?” You were still fighting jet lag and it had been a long day with your parents. You really didn’t want to. 

“I’ll just head up to bed Min. Tell Jisung I said hi and that I’ll see him tomorrow.” You kissed your palm and half smacked your brother in the face a little harder than necessary before quickly getting out of the car. 

“Love you!” You ran towards the doors to the building and Minho rolled his eyes and took off to meet Jisung.

It was already pretty late when you were getting in. Most of the dorm lights were off. You navigated through the living room in the dark as best you could, you managed not to hurt yourself at least. Once you got to the hall you could see a little. Chan’s door was closed but you could see the light was on through the crack at the bottom and heard more of the same kind of soft r&b from the day before. You went over and tapped on it lightly and waited to hear if Chan replied. If he was asleep or working with his headphones on you wouldn’t bother him.

Suddenly the bathroom door opened and there was Chan, fresh out of the shower, water still dripping down the lines of his body, his wet curls clumping together and sticking to his forehead. He had one end of a towel scrunched up in one hand, drying his hair and another end of the towel gripped in his other hand drying his midsection. The rest of the towel happened to drape and keep you from seeing EVERYTHING but only barely and his ass was out for the world. 

“OHFUCK! Sorry! I... Uh... didn’t see anything!” You closed your eyes and covered them with your hands as you screamed the apology. Chan almost dropped the towel and then wrapped it around himself. 

“OH FUCK! FUCK! No Uh I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were back! I uh... I’m covered now.” You opened your eyes again and you both moved, you away from his door, him towards it, tandem movements, almost like dancing. He pushed his hair away from his face and gave you a nervous smile and those damn dimples popped out again. He was equal parts sexy and adorable and he swung wildly back and forth between the two. He walked out dripping wet, firm and naked and then blushed and those dimples showed up and he was the cutest guy you’d ever seen.  

“I’m really really sorry Chan!” He was still gripping the towel around him to make sure he was covered but it hung low and you couldn’t help but notice the curve of his hip leading to what was hiding under the towel now. 

“No seriously it’s totally my fault, I knew you were staying with us I should have been more careful. I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” You shook your head. 

“No, it’s fine. You didn’t.” You both stood there in awkward silence for a minute, completely red faces. 

“I’m... gonna... go get dressed now. Uh can you do me a favor and not tell your brother about this?” Chan opened his door and started backing into his room. 

“RIGHT! Yea no, tell him about what? You know?” Chan let out a sigh of relief 

“Thanks Y/N, uh, goodnight.” He smiled at you. 

“Goodnight Chan.” He closed his door and you went into your room across the hall and shut yours. You leaned against it trying to catch your breath. The way Chan made you feel just the few times you had been around him; no one had ever made you feel like that before and now this? But you had JUST promised your brother. 

“Fuck.”

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